2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

I lifted my brows. What?
He gave me a cocky grin and leaned in to hear the story Mor was telling about—
I forgot what she was talking about as the owner emerged with a metal goblet full of
dark liquid and placed it before Amren.
Rhys’s Second hadn’t touched her plate, but pushed the food around like she might
actually be trying to be polite. When she saw the goblet laid before her, she flicked her
brows up. “You didn’t have to do that.”
The owner shrugged her slim shoulders. “It’s fresh and hot, and we needed the beast for
tomorrow’s roast, anyway.”
I had a horrible feeling I knew what was inside.
Amren swirled the goblet, the dark liquid lapping at the sides like wine, then sipped
from it. “You spiced it nicely.” Blood gleamed on her teeth.
The owner bowed. “No one leaves my place hungry,” she said before walking away.
Indeed, I almost asked Mor to roll me out of the restaurant by the time we were done
and Rhys had paid the tab, despite the owner’s protests. My muscles were barking thanks
to my earlier training in the mortal forest, and at some point during the meal, every part of
me I’d used while tackling Rhys into the snow had started to ache.
Mor rubbed her stomach in lazy circles as we paused beside the river. “I want to go
dancing. I won’t be able to fall asleep when I’m this full. Rita’s is right up the street.”
Dancing. My body groaned in protest and I glanced about for an ally to shoot down this
ridiculous idea.
But Azriel—Azriel said, his eyes wholly on Mor, “I’m in.”
“Of course you are,” Cassian grumbled, frowning at him. “Don’t you have to be off at
dawn?”
Mor’s frown now mirrored Cassian’s—as if she realized where and what he’d be doing
tomorrow. She said to Azriel, “We don’t have to—”
“I want to,” Azriel said, holding her gaze long enough that Mor dropped it, twisted
toward Cassian, and said, “Will you deign to join us, or do you have plans to ogle your
muscles in the mirror?”
Cassian snorted, looping his elbow through hers and leading her up the street. “I’ll go—
for the drinks, you ass. No dancing.”
“Thank the Mother. You nearly shattered my foot the last time you tried.”
It was an effort not to stare at Azriel as he watched them head up the steep street, arm in
arm and bickering with every step. The shadows gathered around his shoulders, like they
were indeed whispering to him, shielding him, perhaps. His broad chest expanded with a
deep breath that sent them skittering, and then he set into an easy, graceful stroll after
them. If Azriel was going with them, then any excuse I might make not to—