2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

Stop stop stop stop stop—
It did.
Like blowing out a candle, the claws vanished into a wisp of shadow.
Lucien’s gaze slid to Tamlin and Ianthe, unaware of what had happened, and then he
silently inclined his head, motioning for me to follow.
We took the sweeping stairs to the second level, the halls deserted. I didn’t look at the
paintings flanking either side. Didn’t look beyond the towering windows to the bright
gardens.
We passed my bedroom door, passed his own—until we entered a small study on the
second level, mostly left unused.
He shut the door after I’d entered the room, and leaned against the wood panel.
“How long have the claws been appearing?” he said softly.
“That was the first time.” My voice rang hollow and dull in my ears.
Lucien surveyed me—the vibrant fuchsia gown Ianthe had selected that morning, the
face I didn’t bother to set into a pleasant expression …
“There’s only so much I can do,” he said hoarsely. “But I’ll ask him tonight. About the
training. The powers will manifest whether we train you or not, no matter who is around.
I’ll ask him tonight,” he repeated.
I already knew what the answer would be, though.
Lucien didn’t stop me as I opened the door he’d been leaning against and left without
another word. I slept until dinner, roused myself enough to eat—and when I went
downstairs, the raised voices of Tamlin, Lucien, and Ianthe sent me right back to the steps.
They will hunt her, and kill her, Ianthe had hissed at Lucien.
Lucien had growled back, They’ll do it anyway, so what’s the difference?
The difference, Ianthe had seethed, lies in us having the advantage of this knowledge—it
won’t be Feyre alone who is targeted for the gifts stolen from those High Lords. Your
children, she then said to Tamlin, will also have such power. Other High Lords will know
that. And if they do not kill Feyre outright, then they might realize what they stand to gain
if gifted with offspring from her, too.
My stomach had turned over at the implication. That I might be stolen—and kept—for
… breeding. Surely … surely no High Lord would go so far.
If they were to do that, Lucien had countered, none of the other High Lords would stand
with them. They would face the wrath of six courts bearing down on them. No one is that
stupid.
Rhysand is that stupid, Ianthe had spat. And with that power of his, he could potentially
withstand it. Imagine, she said, voice softening as she had no doubt turned to Tamlin, a
day might come when he does not return her. You hear the poisoned lies he whispers in her