2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

Darkness rippled, and wings tore from his back. “I am not him,” Rhys breathed. “I will
never be him, act like him. He locked you up and let you wither, and die.”
“He tried—”
“Stop comparing. Stop comparing me to him.”
The words cut me short. I blinked.
“You think I don’t know how stories get written—how this story will be written?” Rhys
put his hands on his chest, his face more open, more anguished than I’d seen it. “I am the
dark lord, who stole away the bride of spring. I am a demon, and a nightmare, and I will
meet a bad end. He is the golden prince—the hero who will get to keep you as his reward
for not dying of stupidity and arrogance.”
The things I love have a tendency to be taken from me. He’d admitted that to me Under
the Mountain.
But his words were kindling to my temper, to whatever pit of fear was yawning open
inside of me. “And what about my story?” I hissed. “What about my reward? What about
what I want?”
“What is it that you want, Feyre?”
I had no answer. I didn’t know. Not anymore.
“What is it that you want, Feyre?”
I stayed silent.
His laugh was bitter, soft. “I thought so. Perhaps you should take some time to figure
that out one of these days.”
“Perhaps I don’t know what I want, but at least I don’t hide what I am behind a mask,” I
seethed. “At least I let them see who I am, broken bits and all. Yes—it’s to save your
people. But what about the other masks, Rhys? What about letting your friends see your
real face? But maybe it’s easier not to. Because what if you did let someone in? And what
if they saw everything, and still walked away? Who could blame them—who would want
to bother with that sort of mess?”
He flinched.
The most powerful High Lord in history flinched. And I knew I’d hit hard—and deep.
Too hard. Too deep.
“Rhys,” I said.
“Let’s go home.”
The word hung between us, and I wondered if he’d take it back—even as I waited for
my own mouth to bark that it wasn’t home. But the thought of the clear, crisp blue skies of
Velaris at sunset, the sparkle of the city lights …
Before I could say yes, he grabbed my hand, not meeting my stare, and winnowed us