2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

“Well, Cresseida is under the impression that her cousin is rather ambitious, so I’d be
careful to read between his words.”
“Oh? Did she tell you that before, during, or after you took her to bed?”
Rhys stood in a graceful, slow movement. “Is that why you wouldn’t look at me?
Because you think I fucked her for information?”
“Information or your own pleasure, I don’t care.”
He came around the bed, and I stood my ground, even as he stopped with hardly a
hand’s breadth between us. “Jealous, Feyre?”
“If I’m jealous, then you’re jealous about Tarquin and his honey pouring.”
Rhysand’s teeth flashed. “Do you think I particularly like having to flirt with a lonely
female to get information about her court, her High Lord? Do you think I feel good about
myself, doing that? Do you think I enjoy doing it just so you have the space to ply Tarquin
with your smiles and pretty eyes, so we can get the Book and go home?”
“You seemed to enjoy yourself plenty last night.”
His snarl was soft—vicious. “I didn’t take her to bed. She wanted to, but I didn’t so
much as kiss her. I took her out for a drink in the city, let her talk about her life, her
pressures, and brought her back to her room, and went no farther than the door. I waited
for you at breakfast, but you slept in. Or avoided me, apparently. And I tried to catch your
eye this afternoon, but you were so good at shutting me out completely.”
“Is that what got under your skin? That I shut you out, or that it was so easy for Tarquin
to get in?”
“What got under my skin,” Rhys said, his breathing a bit uneven, “is that you smiled at
him.”
The rest of the world faded to mist as the words sank in. “You are jealous.”
He shook his head, stalking to the little table against the far wall and knocking back a
glass of amber liquid. He braced his hands on the table, the powerful muscles of his back
quivering beneath his shirt as the shadow of those wings struggled to take form.
“I heard what you told him,” he said. “That you thought it would be easy to fall in love
with him. You meant it, too.”
“So?” It was the only thing I could think of to say.
“I was jealous—of that. That I’m not … that sort of person. For anyone. The Summer
Court has always been neutral; they only showed backbone during those years Under the
Mountain. I spared Tarquin’s life because I’d heard how he wanted to even out the playing
field between High Fae and lesser faeries. I’ve been trying to do that for years.
Unsuccessfully, but … I spared him for that alone. And Tarquin, with his neutral court …
he will never have to worry about someone walking away because the threat against their
life, their children’s lives, will always be there. So, yes, I was jealous of him—because it
will always be easy for him. And he will never know what it is to look up at the night sky