2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

“I left of my own free will,” I said. “And no one is my master.”
Cresseida shrugged. “Think that all you want, lady, but the law is the law. You are—
were his bride. Swearing fealty to another High Lord does not change that. So it is a very
good thing that he respects your decisions. Otherwise, all it would take would be one letter
from him to Tarquin, requesting your return, and we would have to obey. Or risk war
ourselves.”
Rhysand sighed. “You are always a joy, Cresseida.”
Varian said, “Careful, High Lord. My sister speaks the truth.”
Tarquin laid a hand on the pale table. “Rhysand is our guest—his courtiers are our
guests. And we will treat them as such. We will treat them, Cresseida, as we treat people
who saved our necks when all it would have taken was one word from them for us to be
very, very dead.”
Tarquin studied me and Rhysand—whose face was gloriously disinterested. The High
Lord of Summer shook his head and said to Rhys, “We have more to discuss later, you and
I. Tonight, I’m throwing a party for you all on my pleasure barge in the bay. After that,
you’re free to roam in this city wherever you wish. You will forgive its princess if she is
protective of her people. Rebuilding these months has been long and hard. We do not wish
to do it again any time soon.”
Cresseida’s eyes grew dark, haunted.
“Cresseida made many sacrifices on behalf of her people,” Tarquin offered gently—to
me. “Do not take her caution personally.”
“We all made sacrifices,” Rhysand said, the icy boredom now shifting into something
razor-sharp. “And you now sit at this table with your family because of the ones Feyre
made. So you will forgive me, Tarquin, if I tell your princess that if she sends word to
Tamlin, or if any of your people try to bring her to him, their lives will be forfeit.”
Even the sea breeze died.
“Do not threaten me in my own home, Rhysand,” Tarquin said. “My gratitude goes only
so far.”
“It’s not a threat,” Rhys countered, the crab claws on his plate cracking open beneath
invisible hands. “It’s a promise.”
They all looked at me, waiting for any response.
So I lifted my glass of wine, looked them each in the eye, holding Tarquin’s gaze the
longest, and said, “No wonder immortality never gets dull.”
Tarquin chuckled—and I wondered if his loosed breath was one of profound relief.
And through that bond between us, I felt Rhysand’s flicker of approval.