2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

Rhysand said, “I heard a legend that it was written in a tongue of mighty beings who
feared the Cauldron’s power and made the Book to combat it. Mighty beings who were
here … and then vanished. You are the only one who can uncode it.”
It was Mor who warned, “Don’t play those sorts of games, Rhysand.”
But he shook his head. “Not a game. It was a gamble that Amren would be able to read
it—and a lucky one.”
Amren’s nostrils flared delicately, and for a moment, I wondered if she might throttle
him for not telling her his suspicions, that the Book might indeed be more than the key to
our own salvation.
Rhys smiled at her in a way that said he’d be willing to let her try.
Even Cassian slid a hand toward his fighting knife.
But then Rhysand said, “I thought, too, that the Book might also contain the spell to free
you—and send you home. If they were the ones who wrote it in the first place.”
Amren’s throat bobbed—slightly.
Cassian said, “Shit.”
Rhys went on, “I did not tell you my suspicions, because I did not want to get your
hopes up. But if the legends about the language were indeed right … Perhaps you might
find what you’ve been looking for, Amren.”
“I need the other piece before I can begin decoding it.” Her voice was raw.
“Hopefully our request to the mortal queens will be answered soon,” he said, frowning
at the sand and water staining the foyer. “And hopefully the next encounter will go better
than this one.”
Her mouth tightened, yet her eyes were blazing bright. “Thank you.”
Ten thousand years in exile—alone.
Mor sighed—a loud, dramatic sound no doubt meant to break the heavy silence—and
complained about wanting the full story of what happened.
But Azriel said, “Even if the book can nullify the Cauldron … there’s Jurian to contend
with.”
We all looked at him. “That’s the piece that doesn’t fit,” Azriel clarified, tapping a
scarred finger on the table. “Why resurrect him in the first place? And how does the king
keep him bound? What does the king have over Jurian to keep him loyal?”
“I’d considered that,” Rhys said, taking a seat across from me at the table, right between
his two brothers. Of course he had considered it. Rhys shrugged. “Jurian was … obsessive
in his pursuits of things. He died with many of those goals left unfinished.”
Mor’s face paled a bit. “If he suspects Miryam is alive—”
“Odds are, Jurian believes Miryam is gone,” Rhys said. “And who better to raise his