2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

Rhys turned, frowning at me. “Say what it is you came here to say, Mor,” he said
tightly, resuming his pacing.
Mor rolled her eyes for my benefit, but her face turned solemn as she said, “There was
another attack—at a temple in Cesere. Almost every priestess slain, the trove looted.”
Rhys halted. And I didn’t know what to process: her news, or the utter rage conveyed in
one word as Rhys said, “Who.”
“We don’t know,” Mor said. “Same tracks as last time: small group, bodies that showed
signs of wounds from large blades, and no trace of where they came from and how they
disappeared. No survivors. The bodies weren’t even found until a day later, when a group
of pilgrims came by.”
By the Cauldron. I must have made some tiny noise, because Mor gave me a strained,
but sympathetic look.
Rhys, though … First the shadows started—plumes of them from his back.
And then, as if his rage had loosened his grip on that beast he’d once told me he hated
to yield to, those wings became flesh.
Great, beautiful, brutal wings, membranous and clawed like a bat’s, dark as night and
strong as hell. Even the way he stood seemed altered—steadier, grounded. Like some final
piece of him had clicked into place. But Rhysand’s voice was still midnight-soft and he
said, “What did Azriel have to say about it?”
Again, that glance from Mor, as if unsure I should be present for whatever this
conversation was. “He’s pissed. Cassian even more so—he’s convinced it must be one of
the rogue Illyrian war-bands, intent on winning new territory.”
“It’s something to consider,” Rhys mused. “Some of the Illyrian clans gleefully bowed
to Amarantha during those years. Trying to expand their borders could be their way of
seeing how far they can push me and get away with it.” I hated the sound of her name,
focused on it more than the information he was allowing me to glean.
“Cassian and Az are waiting—” She cut herself off and gave me an apologetic wince.
“They’re waiting in the usual spot for your orders.”
Fine—that was fine. I’d seen that blank map on the wall. I was an enemy’s bride. Even
mentioning where his forces were stationed, what they were up to, might be dangerous. I
had no idea where Cesere even was—what it was, actually.
Rhys studied the open air again, the howling wind that shoved dark, roiling clouds over
the distant peaks. Good weather, I realized, for flying.
“Winnowing in would be easier,” Mor said, following the High Lord’s gaze.
“Tell the pricks I’ll be there in a few hours,” he merely said.
Mor gave me a wary grin, and vanished.
I studied the empty space where she’d been, not a trace of her left behind.