2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

The words slipped out of me, low and twisted, “Does he know?”
The Suriel clenched the robes of its new cloak in its bone-fingers. “Yes.”
“For a long while?”
“Yes. Since—”
“No. He can tell me—I want to hear it from his lips.”
The Suriel cocked its head. “You are—you are feeling too much, too fast. I cannot read
it.”
“How can I possibly be his mate?” Mates were equals—matched, at least in some ways.
“He is the most powerful High Lord to ever walk this earth. You are … new. You are
made of all seven High Lords. Unlike anything. Are you two not similar in that? Are you
not matched?”
Mate. And he knew—he’d known.
I glanced toward the river, as if I could see all the way to the cave, to where Rhysand
slept.
When I looked back at the Suriel, it was gone.
I found the pink weed, and ripped it out of the ground as I stalked back to the cave.
Mercifully, Rhys was half-awake, the layers I’d thrown on him now scattered across the
blanket, and he gave me a strained smile as I entered.
I chucked the weed at him, showering his bare chest with soil. “Chew on that.”
He blinked blearily at me.
Mate.
But he obeyed, frowning at the plant before he plucked off a few leaves and started
chewing. He grimaced as he swallowed. I tore off my jacket, shoved up my sleeve, and
strode to him. He’d known, and kept it from me.
Had the others known? Had they guessed?
He’d—he’d promised not to lie, not to keep things from me.
And this—this most important thing in my immortal existence …
I drew a dagger across my forearm, the cut long and deep, and dropped to my knees
before him. I didn’t feel the pain. “Drink this. Now.”
Rhys blinked again, brows raising, but I didn’t give him the chance to object before I
gripped the back of his head, lifted my arm to his mouth, and shoved him against my skin.
He paused as my blood touched his lips. Then his mouth opened wider, his tongue
brushing my arm as he sucked in my blood. One mouthful. Two. Three.