2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

and wish.”
The Court of Dreams.
The people who knew that there was a price, and one worth paying, for that dream. The
bastard-born warriors, the Illyrian half-breed, the monster trapped in a beautiful body, the
dreamer born into a court of nightmares … And the huntress with an artist’s soul.
And perhaps because it was the most vulnerable thing he’d said to me, perhaps it was
the burning in my eyes, but I walked to where he stood over the little bar. I didn’t look at
him as I took the decanter of amber liquid and poured myself a knuckle’s length, then
refilled his.
But I met his stare as I clinked my glass against his, the crystal ringing clear and bright
over the crashing sea far below, and said, “To the people who look at the stars and wish,
Rhys.”
He picked up his glass, his gaze so piercing that I wondered why I had bothered
blushing at all for Tarquin.
Rhys clinked his glass against mine. “To the stars who listen—and the dreams that are
answered.”