A Court of Mist and Fury

You know we can hear you, prick.”
“Secondly,” Rhys went on, “in regard to the two bastards at my door, it’s up to you whether you want to meet them now, or head upstairs like a wise person, take a nap since you’re still looking a little peaky, and then change into city-appropriate clothing while I beat the hell out of one of them for talking to his High Lord like that

“Then I would have torn apart the world to get you back.”

I was burning through books every day—stories about people and places I’d never heard of. They were perhaps the only thing that kept me from teetering into utter despair.

My friend through many dangers.

My lover who had healed my broken and weary soul.

My mate who had waited for me against all hope, despite all odds.

The bastard-born warriors, the Illyrian half-breed, the monster trapped in a beautiful body, the dreamer born into a court of nightmares … And the huntress with an artist’s soul.

One heartbeat, I was staring after him—the next, I had my shoe in a hand.

I hurled it at him with all my strength.

That I would have beauty, for those who knew where to look, and if people didn’t bother to look, but to only fear it … Then I didn’t particularly care for them, anyway

then I learned your name. Hearing you say it … it was like an answer to a question I’d been asking for five hundred years

There you are. I’ve been looking for you.
His first words to me—not a lie at all, not a threat to keep those faeries away.
Thank you for finding her for me

This beautiful, human hand. Holding a brush. Painting—flowers on a table.”
My heart stopped beating