A Court of Wings and Ruin ( PDFDrive )

CHAPTER

80

A world divided was not a world that could thrive.

That first meeting went on for hours, many of us short-tempered with exhaustion, but
… channels were made. Stories were exchanged. Tales narrated of either side of the wall.

I told them my story.

All of it.

I told it to the strangers who did not know me, I told it to my friends, and I told it to
Tamlin, hard-faced by the distant wall. I explained the years of poverty, the trials Under
the Mountain, the love I had found and let go, the love that had healed and saved me. My
voice did not quaver. My voice did not break. Nearly everything I had seen in the
Ouroboros—I let them see it, too. Told them.

And when I was done, Miryam and Drakon stepped forward to tell their own story.

Another glimmer of proof—that humans and Fae could not only work together, live
together, but become so much more. I listened to every word of it—and did not bother to
brush away my tears at times. I only clutched Rhys’s hand, and did not let go.

There were several others with tales. Some that went counter to our own. Relations that
had not gone so well. Crimes committed. Hurts that could not be forgiven.

But it was a start.

There was still much work to be done, trust to build, but the matter of crafting a new
wall …

It remained to be seen whether we could agree on that. Many of us were against it.
Many of the humans, rightfully so, were wary. There were still other Fae territories to
contend with—those who had found Hybern’s promises appealing. Seductive.

The High Lords quarreled the most about the possibility of a new wall. And with every
word of it, just as Helion said, that temporary allegiance frayed and snapped. Court lines
were redrawn.

But at least they stayed until the end—until the early hours of the morning when we
finally decided that the rest would be discussed on another day. At another place.

It would take time. Time, and healing, and trust.

And I wondered if the road ahead—the road to true peace—would perhaps be the
hardest and longest one yet.

The others left, winnowing or flying or striding off into the darkness, already peeling
back into their groups and courts and war-bands. I watched them go from the open
doorway of the estate until they were only shadows against the night.

I’d seen Elain staring out the window earlier—watching Graysen leave with his men
without so much as a look back at her. He had meant every word that day at his keep.
Whether he noticed that Elain still wore his engagement ring, that Elain stared and stared
at him as he walked off into the night … I didn’t know. Let Lucien deal with that—for
now.

I sighed, leaning my head against the cracked stone door frame. The grand wooden
door had been shattered completely, the splinters still scattered on the marble entry behind
me.

I recognized his scent before I heard his easy steps approach.

“Where do you go now?” I asked without looking over my shoulder as Jurian paused
beside me and stared into the darkness. Miryam and Drakon had left quickly, needing to
tend to their wounded—and to spirit away the Cauldron to one of their ships before the
other High Lords had a moment to consider its whereabouts.

Jurian leaned against the opposite door frame. “Queen Vassa offered me a place within
her court.” Indeed, Vassa still remained inside, chatting with Lucien animatedly. I
supposed that if she only had until dawn before turning back into that firebird, she wanted
to make every minute count. Lucien, surprisingly, was chuckling, his shoulders loose and
his head angled while he listened.

“Are you going to accept?”

Jurian’s face was solemn—tired. “What sort of court can a cursed queen have? She’s
bound to that death-lord—she has to go back to his lake on the continent at some point.”
He shook his head. “Too bad the king was so spectacularly beheaded by your sister. I bet
he could have found a way to break that curse of hers.”

“Too bad indeed,” I muttered.

Jurian grunted his amusement.

“Do you think we stand a chance?” I asked, motioning to the human figures still
walking, far away, back toward the camp. “Of peace between all of us?”

Jurian was silent for a long moment. “Yes,” he said softly. “I do.”

And I didn’t know why, but it gave me comfort.

I was still mulling over Jurian’s words days later, when that war-camp was at last
dismantled. When we said our final good-byes, and made promises—some more sincere
than others—to see each other again.

When my court, my family, winnowed back to Velaris.

Sunlight still leaked in through the windows of the town house. The scent of citrus and
the sea and baked bread still filled every room.

And distantly … Children were still laughing in the streets.

Home. Home was the same—home was untouched.

I squeezed Rhys’s hand so tightly I thought he’d complain, but he only squeezed right
back.

And even though we had all bathed, as we stood there … there was a grime to us. Like
the blood hadn’t entirely washed off.

And I realized that home was indeed the same, but we … perhaps we were not.

Amren muttered, “I suppose I shall have to eat real food now.”

“A monumental sacrifice,” Cassian quipped.

She gave him a vulgar gesture, but her eyes narrowed at the sight of his still-bandaged
wings. Her eyes—normal silver eyes—slid to Nesta, holding herself by the stair rail, as if
she’d retreat to her room.

My sister had barely spoken, barely eaten these past few days. Had not visited Cassian
in his healing bed. Still had not talked to me about what had happened.

Amren said to her, “I’m surprised you didn’t take the king’s head back to have stuffed
and hung on your wall.”

Nesta’s eyes shot to her.

Mor clicked her tongue. “Some would consider that joke to be in bad taste, Amren.”

“I saved your asses. I’m entitled to say what I want.”

And with that Amren stalked out of the house and into the city streets.

“The new Amren is even crankier than the old one,” Elain said softly.

I burst out laughing. The others joined me, and even Elain smiled—broadly.

All but Nesta, who stared at nothing.

When the Cauldron had broken … I didn’t know if it had broken that power in her, too.
Severed its bond. Or if it still lived, somewhere within her.

“Come on,” Mor said, slinging her arm around Azriel’s shoulders, then one carefully
around Cassian’s and leading them toward the sitting room. “We need a drink.”

“We’re opening the fancy bottles,” Cassian called over his shoulder to Rhys, still
limping on that barely healed leg.

My mate sketched a subservient bow. “Save a bit for me, at least.”

Rhys glanced at my sisters, then winked at me. The shadows of battle still lingered, but
that wink … I was still shaky with terror that it wasn’t real. That it was all some fever
dream inside the Cauldron.

It is real, he purred into my mind. I’ll prove it to you later. For hours.

I snorted, and watched as he made an excuse to no one in particular about finding food
and sauntered down the hall, hands in his pockets.

Alone in the foyer with my sisters, Elain still smiling a bit, Nesta stone-faced, I took a
breath.

Lucien had remained behind to help with any of the human wounded still needing Fae
healing, but had promised to come here when he finished. And as for Tamlin …

I had not spoken to him. Had barely seen him after he’d told me to be happy, and given
me back my mate. He’d left the meeting before I could say anything.

So I gave Lucien a note to hand to him if he saw him. Which I knew—I knew he
would. There was a stop that Lucien had to make before he came here, he’d said. I knew
where he meant.

My note to Tamlin was short. It conveyed everything I needed to say.

Thank you.

I hope you find happiness, too.

And I did. Not just for what he’d done for Rhys, but … Even for an immortal, there
was not enough time in life to waste it on hatred. On feeling it and putting it into the
world.

So I wished him well—I truly did, and hoped that one day … One day, perhaps he
would face those insidious fears, that destructive rage rotting away inside him.

“So,” I said to my sisters. “What now?”

Nesta just turned and went up the stairs, each step slow and stiff. She shut her door
with a decisive click once she got to her bedroom.

“With Father,” Elain whispered, still staring up those steps, “I don’t think Nesta—”

“I know,” I murmured. “I think Nesta needs to sort through … a lot of it.”

Too much of it.

Elain faced me. “Do we help her?”

I fiddled with the end of my braid. “Yes—but not today. Not tomorrow.” I loosed a
breath. “When—when she’s ready.” When we were ready, too.

Elain nodded, smiling up at me, and it was tentative joy—and life that shone in her
eyes. A promise of the future, gleaming and sweet.

I led her into the sitting room, where Cassian had a bottle of amber-colored liquor in
each hand, Azriel was already rubbing his temples, and Mor was grabbing fine-cut crystal
glasses off a shelf.

“What now?” Elain mused, at last answering my question from moments ago as her
attention drifted to the windows facing the sunny street. That smile grew, bright enough
that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. “I would like to build a garden,” she
declared. “After all of this … I think the world needs more gardens.”

My throat was too tight to immediately reply, so I just kissed my sister’s cheek before I
said, “Yes—I think it does.”

CHAPTER

81

Rhysand

Even from the kitchen, I could hear all of them. The lapping of what was surely the oldest
bottle of liquor I owned, then the clink of those equally ancient crystal glasses against
each other.

Then the laughter. The deep rumble—that was Azriel. Laughing at whatever Mor had
said that prompted her into a fit of it as well, the sound cackling and merry.

And then another laugh—silvery and bright. More beautiful than any music played at
one of Velaris’s countless halls and theaters.

I stood at the kitchen window, staring at the garden in full summer splendor, not quite
seeing the blooms Elain Archeron had tended these weeks. Just staring—and listening to
that beautiful laugh. My mate’s laugh.

I rubbed a hand over my chest at that sound—the joy in it.

Their conversation flitted past, falling back into old rhythms and yet … Close. We had
all come so close to not seeing it again. This place. Each other. And I knew that the
laughter … it was in part because of that, too. In defiance and gratitude.

“You coming to drink, or are you just going to stare at the flowers all day?” Cassian’s
voice cut through the melody of sounds.

I turned, finding him and Azriel in the kitchen doorway, each with a drink in hand. A
second lay in Azriel’s other scarred hand—he floated it over to me on a blue-tinged
breeze.

I clasped the cool, heavy crystal tumbler. “Sneaking up on your High Lord is ill-
advised,” I told them, drinking deeply. The liquor burned its way down my throat,
warming my stomach.

“It’s good to keep you on edge in your old age,” Cassian said, drinking himself. He
leaned against the doorway. “Why are you hiding in here?”

Azriel shot him a look, but I snorted, taking another sip. “You really did open the fancy
bottles.”

They waited. But Feyre’s laugh sounded again, followed by Elain’s and Mor’s. And
when I dragged my gaze back to my brothers, I saw the understanding on their faces.

“It’s real,” Azriel said softly.

Neither laughed or commented on the burning in my eyes. I took another drink to wash
away the tightness in my throat, and approached them. “Let’s not do this again for another
five hundred years,” I said a bit hoarsely, and clinked my glass against theirs.

Azriel cracked a smile as Cassian lifted a brow. “And what are we going to do until
then?”

Beyond brokering peace, beyond those queens who were sure to be a problem, beyond
healing our fractured world …

Mor called for us, demanding we bring them a spread of food. An impressive one, she
added. With extra bread.

I smiled. Smiled wider as Feyre’s laugh sounded again—as I felt it down the bond,
sparkling brighter than the entirety of Starfall.

“Until then,” I said to my brothers, slinging my arms around their shoulders and
leading them back to the sitting room. I looked ahead, toward that laugh, that light—and
that vision of the future Feyre had shown me, more beautiful than anything I could have
ever wished for—anything I had wished for, on those long-ago, solitary nights with only
the stars for company. A dream still unanswered—but not forever. “Until then, we enjoy
every heartbeat of it.”

CHAPTER

82

Feyre

Rhysand was on the roof, the stars bright and low, the tiles beneath my bare feet still warm
from the day’s sun.

He sat in one of those small iron chairs, no light, no bottle of liquor—just him, and the
stars, and the city.

I slid into his lap and let him wrap his arms around me.
We sat in silence for a long time. We’d barely had a moment alone in the aftermath of
the battle, and had been too tired to do anything but sleep. But tonight … His hand ran
down my thigh, bared with the way my nightgown had hitched.
He startled when he actually looked at me, then huffed a laugh against my shoulder.
“I should have known.”
“The shop ladies gave it to me for free. As thanks for saving them from Hybern. Maybe
I should do it more often, if it gets me free lingerie.”
For I indeed wore that pair of red, lacy underthings—beneath a matching red
nightgown that was so scandalously sheer it showed them off.
“Hasn’t anyone told you? You’re disgustingly rich.”
“Just because I have money doesn’t mean I need to spend it.”
He squeezed my knee. “Good. We need someone with a head for money around here.
I’ve been bleeding out gold left and right thanks to our Court of Dreams taking advantage
of my ridiculous generosity.”
A laugh rumbled deep in my throat as I leaned my head back against his shoulder. “Is
Amren still your Second?”
“Our Second.”
“Semantics.”
Rhys traced idle circles on my bare skin, along my knee and lower thigh. “If she wants
it, it’s hers.”
“Even if she doesn’t have her powers anymore?”

“She’s now High Fae. I’m sure she’ll discover some hidden talent to terrorize us with.”

I laughed again, savoring the feel of his hand on my skin, the warmth of his body
around me.

“I heard you,” he said softly. “When I was—gone.”

I began to tense at the lingering terror that had driven me from sleep these past few
nights—the terror I doubted I’d soon recover from. “Those minutes,” I said once he began
making long, soothing strokes down my thigh. “Rhys … I never want to feel that again.”

“Now you know how I felt Under the Mountain.”

I craned my neck to look up at him. “Never lie to me again. Not about that.”

“But about other things?”

I pinched his arm hard enough that he laughed and batted away my hand. “I couldn’t let
all you ladies take the credit for saving us. Some male had to claim a bit of glory so you
don’t trample us until the end of time with your bragging.”

I punched his arm this time.

But he wrapped his arm around my waist and squeezed, breathing me in. “I heard you,
even in death. It made me look back. Made me stay—a little longer.”

Before going to that place I had once tried to describe to the Carver.

“When it’s time to go there,” I said quietly, “we go together.”

“It’s a bargain,” he said, and kissed me gently.

I murmured back onto his lips, “Yes, it is.”

The skin on my left arm tingled. A lick of warmth snaked down it.

I looked down to find another tattoo there—the twin to the one that had once graced it,
save for that black band of the bargain I’d made with Bryaxis. He’d modified this one to
fit around it, to be seamlessly integrated amid the whorls and swirls.

“I missed the old one,” he said innocently.

On his own left arm, the same tattoo flowed. Not to his fingers the way mine did, but
rather from his wrist to his elbow.

“Copycat,” I said tartly. “It looks better on me.”

“Hmmm.” He traced a line down my spine, then poked two spots along it. “Sweet
Bryaxis has vanished. Do you know what that means?”

“That I have to go hunt it down and put it back in the library?”

“Oh, you most certainly do.”

I twisted in his lap, looping my arms around his neck as I said, “And will you come
with me? On this adventure—and all the rest?”

Rhys leaned forward and kissed me. “Always.”

The stars seemed to burn brighter in response, creeping closer to watch. His wings
rustled as he shifted us in the chair and deepened the kiss until I was breathless.

And then I was flying.

Rhys gathered me up in his arms, shooting us high into the starry night, the city a
glimmering reflection beneath.

Music flitted out from the riverfront cafés. People laughed as they walked arm in arm
down the streets and across the bridges spanning the Sidra. Dark spots still stained some
of the glimmering expanse—piles of rubble and ruined buildings—but even some of those
had been lit up with small lights. Candles. Defiant and lovely against the blackness.

We would need more of that in the days to come—on the long road ahead. To a new
world. One I would leave a better place than how I’d found it.

But for now … this moment, with the city below us, the world around us, savoring that
hard-won peace … I savored it, too. Every heartbeat. Every sound and smell and image
that planted itself in my mind, so many that it would take me a lifetime—several of them
—to paint.

Rhys leveled out, sent a thought into my mind, and grinned broadly as I summoned
wings.

He let go of me and I swept smoothly out of his arms, basking in the warm wind
caressing every inch of me, drinking in the air laced with salt and citrus. It took me a few
flaps to get it right—the feel and rhythm. But then I was steady, even.

Then I was flying. Soaring.

Rhys fell into flight beside me, and when he smiled at me again as we sailed through
the stars and the lights and the sea-kissed breeze, when he showed me all the wonders of
Velaris, the glittering Rainbow a living river of color beneath us … When he brushed his
wing against mine, just because he could, because he wanted to and we’d have an eternity
of nights to do this, to see everything together …

A gift.

All of it.

There are more tales to be told in the land of
Prythian …

THE SERIES WILL CONTINUE IN

2018

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Even after nine books, it never gets any easier to express my tremendous gratitude to the
people in my life, both personally and professionally, who make my world brighter just by
being in it.

To Josh: Every moment with you is a gift. Long ago, when I looked up at the stars and
wished, it was for someone like you to be in my life. I truly believe those stars listened,
because getting to share this wild adventure with you has been a dream answered. I love
you more than words can convey.

To Annie: Thank you for the cuddles, the sass, and the constant demands for more
treats that keep me on my toes. I love you forever and ever and ever, babypup (and no
matter what anyone says, I swear you can read this).

To my agent, Tamar, who works so tirelessly and is the fiercest badass I know: none of
this would be possible without you, and I will never stop being grateful for it. Thank you
for everything.

To Cat Onder: Working with you was such an enormous privilege and joy. Thank you
for being such a creative, caring, and insightful editor, and for all the years of friendship.

To the genius team at Bloomsbury worldwide: Cindy Loh, Cristina Gilbert, Kathleen
Farrar, Nigel Newton, Rebecca McNally, Sonia Palmisano, Emma Hopkin, Ian Lamb,
Emma Bradshaw, Lizzy Mason, Courtney Griffin, Erica Barmash, Emily Ritter, Grace
Whooley, Eshani Agrawal, Emily Klopfer, Alice Grigg, Elise Burns, Jenny Collins, Beth
Eller, Kerry Johnson, Kelly de Groot, Ashley Poston, Lucy Mackay-Sim, Hali Baumstein,
Melissa Kavonic, Diane Aronson, Linda Minton, Christine Ma, Donna Mark, John
Candell, Nicholas Church, and the entire foreign rights team—thank you for the hard work
to make these books a reality and for being the best damn global publishing team ever. To
Jon Cassir and the team at CAA: thank you for championing me and my books.

To Cassie Homer, assistant extraordinaire: thank you for all of your help and for being
such a delight to work with!

To my parents: thank you for the fairy tales and folklore, for the adventures around the
world, and for the weekend mornings with bagels and lox from Murray’s. To Linda and
Dennis: you raised such a spectacular son, and I will be forever grateful for it. To my
family: I’m so lucky to have all of you in my life.

To Roshani Chokshi, Lynette Noni, and Jennifer Armentrout: thank you for being such
bright lights and wonderful friends—and for all your invaluable feedback with this book.
To Renée Ahdieh, Steph Brown, and Alice Fanchiang: I adore you.

A massive thank-you to Sasha Alsberg, Vilma Gonzalez, Alexa Santiago, Rachel
Domingo, Jessica Reigle, Kelly Grabowski, Jennifer Kelly, Laura Ashforth, and Diyana
Wan for being supremely awesome and lovely people. To the marvelous Caitie Flum:
thank you so much for taking the time to read this book and for providing such valuable
feedback. To Louisse Ang: thank you, thank you, thank you for all of your remarkable
kindness, infectious joy, and astounding generosity.

To Charlie Bowater, who is not only a brilliant artist, but also a magnificent human
being: thank you for the art that has moved and inspired me, and for all of your hard and
phenomenal work on the coloring book. It’s an honor to work with you.

And lastly, to you, dear reader: thank you from the bottom of my heart for coming with
me and Feyre on this journey. Your heartfelt letters and incredible art, your lovely music
and clever cosplays … all of it means more than I can possibly say. I’m truly blessed to
have you as readers, and can’t wait to share more of this world with you in the next book!

Be enchanted …

Bring Feyre, Rhys and other beloved characters to life in colour
as they fall in love, wage war and explore the haunting and

deadly world of the Fae in this must-have companion to the #1
New York Times bestselling series.

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Bloomsbury Publishing, London, Oxford, New York, New Delhi and Sydney
First published in Great Britain in May 2017 by
Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
50 Bedford Square, London WC1B 3DP
First published in the USA in May 2017 by
Bloomsbury Children’s Books
1385 Broadway, New York, New York 10018
www.sarahjmaas.com
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BLOOMSBURY is a registered trademark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Text copyright © Sarah J. Maas 2017
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