2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

… Rhys safe.
I said to Lucien, low and quiet and as vicious as the talons that formed at the tips of my
fingers, as vicious as the wondrous weight between my shoulder blades, “When you spend
so long trapped in darkness, Lucien, you find that the darkness begins to stare back.”
A pulse of surprise, of wicked delight against my mental shields, at the dark,
membranous wings I knew were now poking over my shoulders. Every icy kiss of rain
sent jolts of cold through me. Sensitive—so sensitive, these Illryian wings.
Lucien backed up a step. “What did you do to yourself?”
I gave him a little smile. “The human girl you knew died Under the Mountain. I have no
interest in spending immortality as a High Lord’s pet.”
Lucien started shaking his head. “Feyre—”
“Tell Tamlin,” I said, choking on his name, on the thought of what he’d done to Rhys,
to his family, “if he sends anyone else into these lands, I will hunt each and every one of
you down. And I will demonstrate exactly what the darkness taught me.”
There was something like genuine pain on his face.
I didn’t care. I just watched him, unyielding and cold and dark. The creature I might one
day have become if I had stayed at the Spring Court, if I had remained broken for decades,
centuries … until I learned to quietly direct those shards of pain outward, learned to savor
the pain of others.
Lucien nodded to his sentinels. Bron and Hart, wide-eyed and shaking, vanished with
the other two.
Lucien lingered for a moment, nothing but air and rain between us. He said softly to
Rhysand, “You’re dead. You, and your entire cursed court.”
Then he was gone. I stared at the empty space where he’d been, waiting, waiting, not
letting that expression off my face until a warm, strong finger traced a line down the edge
of my right wing.
It felt like—like having my ear breathed into.
I shuddered, arching as a gasp came out of me.
And then Rhys was in front of me, scanning my face, the wings behind me. “How?”
“Shape-shifting,” I managed to say, watching the rain slide down his golden-tan face.
And it was distracting enough that the talons, the wings, the rippling darkness faded, and I
was left light and cold in my own skin.
Shape-shifting … at the sight of part of the history, the male I had not really let myself
remember. Shape-shifting—a gift from Tamlin that I had not wanted, or needed … until
now.
Rhys’s eyes softened. “That was a very convincing performance.”
“I gave him what he wanted to see,” I murmured. “We should find another spot.”