2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

CHAPTER
59
I winnowed to a nearby rooftop, an ash arrow clenched in either hand, scanning where the
Attor was high above, flapping—
FEYRE.
I slammed a mental shield of adamant up against that voice; against him.
Not now. Not this moment.
I could vaguely feel him pounding against that shield. Roaring at it. But even he could
not get in.
The Attor was mine.
In the distance, rushing toward me, toward Velaris, a mighty darkness devoured the
world. Soldiers in its path did not emerge again.
My mate. Death incarnate. Night triumphant.
I spotted the Attor again, veering toward the sea, toward Hybern, still over the city.
I winnowed, throwing my awareness toward it like a net, spearing mind to mind, using
the tether like a rope, leading me through time and distance and wind—
I latched onto the oily smear of its malice, pinpointing my being, my focus onto the
core of it. A beacon of corruption and filth.
When I emerged from wind and shadow, I was right atop the Attor.
It shrieked, wings curving as I slammed into it. As I plunged those poisoned ash arrows
through each wing. Right through the main muscle.
The Attor arched in pain, its forked tongue cleaving the air between us. The city was a
blur below, the Sidra a mere stream from the height.
In the span of a heartbeat, I wrapped myself around the Attor. I became a living flame
that burned everywhere I touched, became unbreakable as the adamant wall inside my
mind.
Shrieking, the Attor thrashed against me—but its wings, with those arrows, with my
grip …
Free fall.
Down into the world. Into blood and pain. The wind tore at us.
The Attor could not break free of my flaming grasp. Or from my poisoned arrows
skewering its wings. Laming him. Its burning skin stung my nose.