2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

“A few mouthfuls will do.” A hollow, dry wind—not at all like the misty, cold veils that
usually drifted past—brushed my face. “I helped you before. I have helped you now. And
you will free me before I lose my patience, Cursebreaker.”
Some primal, lingering human part of me trembled as I took in the snare around its legs,
pinning it to the ground. Perhaps this time, the Suriel had let itself be caught. And knew
how to free itself—had learned it the moment I’d spared it from the naga.
A test—of honor. And a favor. For the arrow I’d shot to save it last year.
But I nocked an ash arrow into my bow, cringing at the sheen of poison coating it.
“Thank you for your help,” I said, bracing myself for flight should it charge at me.
The Suriel’s stained teeth clacked against each other. “If you wish to speed your mate’s
healing, in addition to your blood, a pink-flowered weed sprouts by the river. Make him
chew it.”
I fired my arrow at the snare before I finished hearing its words.
The trap sprang free. And the word clicked through me.
Mate.
“What did you say?”
The Suriel rose to its full height, towering over me even from across the clearing. I had
not realized that despite the bone, it was muscled— powerful.
“If you wish to … ” The Suriel paused, and grinned, showing nearly all of those brown,
thick teeth. “You did not know, then.”
“Say it,” I gritted out.
“The High Lord of the Night Court is your mate.”
I wasn’t entirely sure I was breathing.
“Interesting,” the Suriel said.
Mate.
Mate.
Mate.
Rhysand was my mate.
Not lover, not husband, but more than that. A bond so deep, so permanent that it was
honored over all others. Rare, cherished.
Not Tamlin’s mate.
Rhysand’s.
I was jealous, and pissed off …
You’re mine.