2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

His pupils flared, and his gaze dropped to my mouth. The wood dresser groaned
beneath his hands. “You say such atrocious things.” I waited, my heart an uneven beat. He
at last met my eyes again. “You are always free to do what you want, with whomever you
want. So if you want to ride him, go ahead.”
“Maybe I will.” Though a part of me wanted to retort, Liar.
“Fine.” His breath caressed my mouth.
“Fine,” I said, aware of every inch between us, the distance smaller and smaller, the
challenge heightening with each second neither of us moved.
“Do not,” he said softly, his eyes like stars, “jeopardize this mission.”
“I know the cost.” The sheer power of him enveloped me, shaking me awake.
The salt and the sea and the breeze tugged on me, sang to me.
And as if Rhys heard them, too, he inclined his head toward the unlit candle on the
dresser. “Light it.”
I debated arguing, but looked at the candle, summoning fire, summoning that hot anger
he managed to rile—
The candle was knocked off the dresser by a violent splash of water, as if someone had
chucked a bucketful.
I gaped at the water drenching the dresser, its dripping on the marble floor the only
sound.
Rhys, hands still braced on either side of me, laughed quietly. “Can’t you ever follow
orders?”
But whatever it was—being here, close to Tarquin and his power … I could feel that
water answering me. Feel it coating the floor, feel the sea churning and idling in the bay,
taste the salt on the breeze. I held Rhys’s gaze.
No one was my master—but I might be master of everything, if I wished. If I dared.
Like a strange rain, the water rose from the floor as I willed it to become like those stars
Rhys had summoned in his blanket of darkness. I willed the droplets to separate until they
hung around us, catching the light and sparkling like crystals on a chandelier.
Rhys broke my stare to study them. “I suggest,” he murmured, “you not show Tarquin
that little trick in the bedroom.”
I sent each and every one of those droplets shooting for the High Lord’s face.
Too fast, too swiftly for him to shield. Some of them sprayed me as they ricocheted off
him.
Both of us now soaking, Rhys gaped a bit—then smiled. “Good work,” he said, at last
pushing off the dresser. He didn’t bother to wipe away the water gleaming on his skin.
“Keep practicing.”