2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

CHAPTER
57
Spring had at last dawned on the human world, crocuses and daffodils poking their heads
out of the thawed earth.
Only the eldest and the golden-haired queens came this time.
They were escorted by just as many guards, however.
I once again wore my flowing, ivory gown and crown of gold feathers, once again
beside Rhysand as the queens and their sentries winnowed into the sitting room.
But now Rhys and I stood hand in hand—unflinching, a song without end or beginning.
The eldest queen slid her cunning eyes over us, our hands, our crowns, and merely sat
without our bidding, adjusting the skirts of her emerald gown around her. The golden
queen remained standing for a moment longer, her shining, curly head angling slightly.
Her red lips twitched upward as she claimed the seat beside her companion.
Rhys did not so much as lower his head to them as he said, “We appreciate you taking
the time to see us again.”
The younger queen merely gave a little nod, her amber gaze leaping over to our friends
behind us: Cassian and Azriel on either side of the bay of windows where Elain and Nesta
stood in their finery, Elain’s garden in bloom behind them. Nesta’s shoulders were already
locked. Elain bit her lip.
Mor stood on Rhys’s other side, this time in blue-green that reminded me of the Sidra’s
calm waters, the onyx box containing the Veritas in her tan hands.
The ancient queen, surveying us all with narrowed eyes, let out a huff. “After being so
gravely insulted the last time … ” A simmering glare thrown at Nesta. My sister leveled a
look of pure, unyielding flame right back at her. The old woman clicked her tongue. “We
debated for many days whether we should return. As you can see, three of us found the
insult to be unforgivable.”
Liar. To blame it on Nesta, to try to sow discord between us for what Nesta had tried to
defend … I said with surprising calm, “If that is the worst insult any of you have ever
received in your lives, I’d say you’re all in for quite a shock when war comes.”
The younger one’s lips twitched again, amber eyes alight—a lion incarnate. She purred
to me, “So he won your heart after all, Cursebreaker.”
I held her stare as Rhys and I both sat in our chairs, Mor sliding into one beside him. “I
do not think,” I said, “that it was mere coincidence that the Cauldron let us find each other
on the eve of war returning between our two peoples.”