2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

those written here. Perhaps it is our loss to be so contained and isolated, but … ” He
gestured to the city around us. “My people do not seem to be suffering much for it.”
Indeed, they did not. Thanks to Rhys—and his Inner Circle. “Are you worried about Az
going to the mortal lands tomorrow?”
He tapped a finger against the rail. “Of course I am. But Azriel has infiltrated places far
more harrowing than a few mortal courts. He’d find my worrying insulting.”
“Does he mind what he does? Not the spying, I mean. What he did to the Attor today.”
Rhys loosed a breath. “It’s hard to tell with him—and he’d never tell me. I’ve witnessed
Cassian rip apart opponents and then puke his guts up once the carnage stopped,
sometimes even mourn them. But Azriel … Cassian tries, I try—but I think the only
person who ever gets him to admit to any sort of feeling is Mor. And that’s only when
she’s pestered him to the point where even his infinite patience has run out.”
I smiled a bit. “But he and Mor—they never … ?”
“That’s between them—and Cassian. I’m not stupid or arrogant enough to get in the
middle of it.” Which I would certainly be if I shoved my nose in their business.
We walked in silence across the packed bridge to the other side of the river. My muscles
quivered at the steep hills between us and the town house.
I was about to beg Rhys to fly me home when I caught the strands of music pouring
from a group of performers outside a restaurant.
My hands slackened at my sides. A reduced version of the symphony I’d heard in a chill
dungeon, when I had been so lost to terror and despair that I had hallucinated—
hallucinated as this music poured into my cell … and kept me from shattering.
And once more, the beauty of it hit me, the layering and swaying, the joy and peace.
They had never played a piece like it Under the Mountain—never this sort of music.
And I’d never heard music in my cell save for that one time.
“You,” I breathed, not taking my eyes from the musicians playing so skillfully that even
the diners had set down their forks in the cafés nearby. “You sent that music into my cell.
Why?”
Rhysand’s voice was hoarse. “Because you were breaking. And I couldn’t find another
way to save you.”
The music swelled and built. I’d seen a palace in the sky when I’d hallucinated—a
place between sunset and dawn … a house of moonstone pillars. “I saw the Night Court.”
He glanced sidelong at me. “I didn’t send those images to you.”
I didn’t care. “Thank you. For everything—for what you did. Then … and now.”
“Even after the Weaver? After this morning with my trap for the Attor?”
My nostrils flared. “You ruin everything.”