When you give your master his letter, also give him this. And tell him that in the Red Desert, we do not abuse our disciples.
I yielded my grace – my perfect immortality.
The library looked as it had always had: dim, cavernous, achingly beautiful in its ancient stone architecture and endless corridors lined with books. And totally silent.
He calls himself the Prince of Merchants... He told me that he’s got three daughters who live here. And that he failed them for many years. But he would not fail them this time.
And the city would have a library, too. A great, wonderful library. Or a bookshop with a knowledgeable owner who could make sure her thirst for books was always sated.
Amarantha’s court had been the work of a child. The Court of Nightmares was the work of a god.
If Elain’s mental gates were those of a sleeping garden, Nesta’s... They belonged to an ancient fortress, sharp and brutal. The sort I imagined they once impaled people upon.
Centre yourself. Fear will get you killed as easily as a weapon.
If he was truly as old as she suspected, she was likely little more than a speck of dust to him, a fizzle of life in the long-burning fire of his immortality.
It was during those infinite hours that she would fix her stare on her companion. Not the queen’s hunter, who could draw out pain like a musician coaxing a melody from an instrument. But the massive white wolf, chained by invisible bonds. Forced to witness this.
What if you could stand against us – hold your own, a High Lady?” “There are no High Ladies.” His brows furrowed, but he shook his head. “We’ll talk about that later, too. But yes, Feyre – there can be High Ladies.
What’s the point in having a heart if you don’t use it to spare others from the harsh judgments of your mind?
Bring our people home, Manon.
Handsome was a light way of describing what Aedion was. Overwhelming was more like it. Towering and heavily muscled, Aedion was every inch the warrior rumor claimed him to be.
I will cherish it always. No matter what may befall the world. No matter the oceans, or mountains, or forests in the way.
Three stones for the faces of the mother, four bones... for whatever reason the charlatans came up with that I can’t be bothered to remember.
Feyre Archeron.” A labored breath. “I told you – to stay with the High Lord. And you did.
Elide found herself not at all afraid as Lorcan caressed her lips with his own. Not afraid of anything as he did it again, kissing one corner of her mouth, then the other. Such.
I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry. – Aelin, to Lysandra.
And then things would be fine. Then I’d be fine.