2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

“I’ll try to keep my hands to myself.”
My mouth went a bit dry. “I’m hungry.”
He stopped smiling at that. “I’ll go down and get us food while you change.” I lifted a
brow. He said, “Remarkable as my own abilities are to blend in, my face is recognizable.
I’d rather not be down there long enough to be noticed.” Indeed, he fished a cloak from his
pack and slid it on, the panels fitting over his wings—which he wouldn’t risk vanishing
again. He’d used power earlier in the day—small enough, he said, that it might not be
noticed, but we wouldn’t be returning to that part of the forest anytime soon.
He tugged on the hood, and I savored the shadows and menace and wings.
Death on swift wings. That’s what I’d call the painting.
He said softly, “I love it when you look at me like that.”
The purr in his voice heated my blood. “Like what?”
“Like my power isn’t something to run from. Like you see me.”
And to a male who had grown up knowing he was the most powerful High Lord in
Prythian’s history, that he could shred minds if he wasn’t careful, that he was alone—alone
in his power, in his burden, but that fear was his mightiest weapon against the threats to
his people … I’d hit home when we’d fought after the Court of Nightmares.
“I was afraid of you at first.”
His white teeth flashed in the shadows of his hood. “No, you weren’t. Nervous, maybe,
but never afraid. I’ve felt the genuine terror of enough people to know the difference.
Maybe that’s why I couldn’t keep away.”
When? Before I could ask, he walked downstairs, shutting the door behind him.
My half-frozen clothes were a misery to peel off as they clung to my rain-swollen skin,
and I knocked into the slanted ceiling, nearby walls, and slammed my knee into the brass
bedpost as I changed. The room was so cold I had to get undressed in segments: replacing
a freezing shirt for a dry one, pants for fleece-lined leggings, sodden socks for thick, handknit
lovelies that went up to my calves. When I’d tucked myself into an oversized sweater
that smelled faintly of Rhys, I sat cross-legged on the bed and waited.
The bed wasn’t small, but certainly not large enough for me to pretend I wouldn’t be
sleeping next to him. Especially with the wings.
The rain tinkled on the roof mere inches away, a steady beat to the thoughts that now
pulsed in my head.
The Cauldron knew what Lucien was reporting to Tamlin, likely at this very moment, if
not hours ago.
I’d sent that note to Tamlin … and he’d chosen to ignore it. Just as he’d ignored or
rejected nearly all of my requests, acted out of his deluded sense of what he believed was
right for my well-being and safety. And Lucien had been prepared to take me against my