2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

CHAPTER
35
Two days passed. Every moment of it was a balancing act of truth and lies. Rhys saw to it
that I was not invited to the meetings he and Amren held to distract my kind host, granting
me time to scour the city for any hint of the Book.
But not too eagerly; not too intently. I could not look too intrigued as I wandered the
streets and docks, could not ask too many leading questions of the people I encountered
about the treasures and legends of Adriata. Even when I awoke at dawn, I made myself
wait until a reasonable hour before setting out into the city, made myself take an extended
bath to secretly practice that water-magic. And while crafting water-animals grew tedious
after an hour … it came to me easily. Perhaps because of my proximity to Tarquin,
perhaps because of whatever affinity for water was already in my blood, my soul—though
I certainly was in no position to ask.
Once breakfast had finally been served and consumed, I made sure to look a bit bored
and aimless when I finally strode through the shining halls of the palace on my way out
into the awakening city.
Hardly anyone recognized me as I casually examined shops and houses and bridges for
any glimmer of a spell that felt like Tarquin, though I doubted they had reason to. It had
been the High Fae—the nobility—that had been kept Under the Mountain. These people
had been left here … to be tormented.
Scars littered the buildings, the streets, from what had been done in retaliation for their
rebellion: burn marks, gouged bits of stone, entire buildings turned to rubble. The back of
the castle, as Tarquin had claimed, was indeed in the middle of being repaired. Three
turrets were half shattered, the tan stone charred and crumbling. No sign of the Book.
Workers toiled there—and throughout the city—to fix those broken areas.
Just as the people I saw—High Fae and faeries with scales and gills and long, spindly
webbed fingers—all seemed to be slowly healing. There were scars and missing limbs on
more than I could count. But in their eyes … in their eyes, light gleamed.
I had saved them, too.
Freed them from whatever horrors had occurred during those five decades.
I had done a terrible thing to save them … but I had saved them.
And it would never be enough to atone, but … I did not feel quite so heavy, despite not
finding a glimmer of the Book’s presence, when I returned to the palace atop the hill on
the third night to await Rhysand’s report on the day’s meetings—and learn if he’d
managed to discover anything, too.