2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

Tarquin laughed, the sound bouncing off the stone and wealth around us. “I didn’t feel
like going to my meetings this afternoon, anyway.”
“What a reckless, wild young High Lord.”
Tarquin linked elbows with me again, patting my arm as he led me from the chamber.
“You know, I think it might be very easy to love you, too, Feyre. Easier to be your friend.”
I made myself look away shyly as he sealed the door shut behind us, placing a palm flat
on the space above the handle. I listened to the click of locks sliding into place.
He took me to other rooms beneath his palace, some full of jewels, others weapons,
others clothes from eras long since past. He showed me one full of books, and my heart
leaped—but there was nothing in there. Nothing but leather and dust and quiet. No trickle
of power that felt like the male beside me—no hint of the book I needed.
Tarquin brought me to one last room, full of crates and stacks covered in sheets. And as
I beheld all the artwork looming beyond the open door I said, “I think I’ve seen enough
for today.”
He asked no questions as he resealed the chamber and escorted me back to the busy,
sunny upper levels.
There had to be other places where it might be stored. Unless it was in another city.
I had to find it. Soon. There was only so long Rhys and Amren could draw out their
political debates before we had to go home. I just prayed I’d find it fast enough—and not
hate myself any more than I currently did.
Rhysand was lounging on my bed as if he owned it.
I took one look at the hands crossed behind his head, the long legs draped over the edge
of the mattress, and ground my teeth. “What do you want?” I shut the door loud enough to
emphasize the bite in my words.
“Flirting and giggling with Tarquin did you no good, I take it?”
I chucked the box onto the bed beside him. “You tell me.”
The smile faltered as he sat up, flipping open the lid. “This isn’t the Book.”
“No, but it’s a beautiful gift.”
“You want me to buy you jewelry, Feyre, then say the word. Though given your
wardrobe, I thought you were aware that it was all bought for you.”
I hadn’t realized, but I said, “Tarquin is a good male—a good High Lord. You should
just ask him for the damned Book.”
Rhys snapped shut the lid. “So he plies you with jewels and pours honey in your ear,
and now you feel bad?”
“He wants your alliance—desperately. He wants to trust you, rely on you.”