2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

myself a glass of wine—then filled his.
At last, Rhys squeezed between the bed and jutting corner of the wall, his wings tucked
in close. He wore loose, thin pants, and a tight-fitting shirt of what looked to be softest
cotton. “How do you get it over the wings?” I asked while he dug into his own stew.
“The back is made of slats that close with hidden buttons … But in normal
circumstances, I just use magic to seal it shut.”
“It seems like you have a great deal of magic constantly in use at once.”
A shrug. “It helps me work off the strain of my power. The magic needs release—
draining—or else it’ll build up and drive me insane. That’s why we call the Illyrian stones
Siphons—they help them channel the power, empty it when necessary.”
“Actually insane?” I set aside the empty stew bowl and removed the lid from the meat
pie.
“Actually insane. Or so I was warned. I can feel it, though—the pull of it, if I go too
long without releasing it.”
“That’s horrible.”
Another shrug. “Everything has its cost, Feyre. If the price of being strong enough to
shield my people is that I have to struggle with that same power, then I don’t mind. Amren
taught me enough about controlling it. Enough that I owe a great deal to her. Including the
current shield around my city while we’re here.”
Everyone around him had some use, some mighty skill. And yet there I was … nothing
more than a strange hybrid. More trouble than I was worth.
“You’re not,” he said.
“Don’t read my thoughts.”
“I can’t help what you sometimes shout down the bond. And besides, everything is
usually written on your face, if you know where to look. Which made your performance
today so much more impressive.”
He set aside his stew just as I finished devouring my meat pie, and I slid back on the
bed to the pillows, cupping my glass of wine between my chilled hands. I watched him eat
while I drank. “Did you think I would go with him?”
He paused mid-bite, then lowered his fork. “I heard every word between you. I knew
you could take care of yourself, and yet … ” He went back to his pie, swallowing a bite
before continuing. “And yet I found myself deciding that if you took his hand, I would
find a way to live with it. It would be your choice.”
I sipped from my wine. “And if he had grabbed me?”
There was nothing but uncompromising will in his eyes. “Then I would have torn apart
the world to get you back.”
A shiver went down my spine, and I couldn’t look away from him. “I would have fired