Court of Frost and Starlight Read Online

  To the readers who look up at the stars and wish

BOOKS BY SARAH J. MAAS

The Throne of Glass series

The Assassin's Bract

Throne of Drinking glass

Crown of Midnight

Heir of Burn down

Queen of Shadows

Empire of Storms

Tower of Dawn

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The Throne of Glass Coloring Volume

A Courtroom of Thorns and Roses series

A Court of Thorns and Roses

A Courtroom of Mist and Fury

A Court of Wings and Ruin

A Court of Frost and Starlight

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A Courtroom of Thorns and Roses Coloring Volume

CONTENTS

Chapter 1: Feyre

Chapter two: Rhysand

Chapter 3: Cassian

Chapter four: Feyre

Chapter five: Feyre

Chapter half-dozen: Morrigan

Chapter 7: Rhysand

Chapter eight: Cassian

Chapter 9: Feyre

Affiliate 10: Feyre

Chapter 11: Rhysand

Chapter 12: Feyre

Affiliate 13: Feyre

Affiliate 14: Rhysand

Chapter fifteen: Feyre

Affiliate 16: Rhysand

Chapter 17: Feyre

Chapter 18: Feyre

Chapter 19: Feyre

Chapter 20: Feyre

Chapter 21: Cassian

Affiliate 22: Feyre

Chapter 23: Rhysand

Chapter 24: Morrigan

Chapter 25: Feyre

Chapter 26: Rhysand

Chapter 27: Feyre

Chapter 28: Feyre

Teaser

Acknowledgments

Chapter

one

Feyre

The first snowfall of winter had begun whipping through Velaris an hr earlier.

The ground had finally frozen solid last week, and by the fourth dimension I'd finished devouring my breakfast of toast and bacon, washed downward with a heady cup of tea, the pale cobblestones were dusted with fine, white powder.

I had no idea where Rhys was. He hadn't been in bed when I'd awoken, the mattress on his side already common cold. Nothing unusual, as nosotros were both busy to the point of exhaustion these days.

Seated at the long cherrywood dining table at the town business firm, I frowned at the whirling snow beyond the leaded drinking glass windows.

In one case, I had dreaded that first snow, had lived in terror of long, vicious winters.

Just it had been a long, brutal winter that had brought me so deep into the wood that twenty-four hours most two years agone. A long, cruel winter that had made me drastic enough to impale a wolf, that had eventually led me here—to this life, this … happiness.

The snow fell, thick clumps plopping onto the dried grass of the tiny front lawn, crusting the spikes and arches of the decorative fence across it.

Deep inside me, rising with every swirling flake, a sparkling, well-baked power stirred. I was High Lady of the Night Court, aye, but besides one blessed with the gifts of all the courts. It seemed Winter now wanted to play.

Finally awake enough to be coherent, I lowered the shield of blackness adamant guarding my mind and bandage a thought down the soul-bridge between me and Rhys. Where'd yous wing off to and then early on?

My question faded into black. A certain sign that Rhys was nowhere most Velaris. Probable non even within the borders of the Night Court. Also non unusual—he'd been visiting our war allies these months to solidify our relationships, build trade, and keep tabs on their post-wall intentions. When my own work allowed information technology, I often joined him.

I scooped up my plate, draining my tea to the dregs, and padded toward the kitchen. Playing with ice and snowfall could wait.

Nuala was already preparing for lunch at the worktable, no sign of her twin, Cerridwen, only I waved her off equally she made to accept my dishes. "I can wash them," I said by style of greeting.

Up to the elbows in making some sort of meat pie, the half-wraith gave me a grateful smile and let me do it. A female of few words, though neither twin could be considered shy. Certainly not when they worked—spied—for both Rhys and Azriel.

"It's still snowing," I observed rather pointlessly, peering out the kitchen window at the garden beyond as I rinsed off the plate, fork, and cup. Elain had already readied the garden for wintertime, veiling the more frail bushes and beds with burlap. "I wonder if it'll let up at all."

Nuala laid the ornate lattice chaff atop the pie and began pinching the edges together, her shadowy fingers making quick, deft piece of work of it. "It'll be nice to have a white Solstice," she said, voice lilting and nonetheless hushful. Full of whispers and shadows. "Some years, it can be fairly mild."

Right. The Winter Solstice. In a calendar week. I was nevertheless new plenty to existence High Lady that I had no thought what my formal role was to exist. If we'd have a High Priestess do some odious ceremony, as Ianthe had done the twelvemonth before—

A year. Gods, most a year since Rhys had called in his bargain, desperate to get me away from the poison of the Spring Courtroom, to save me from my despair. Had he been only a infinitesimal afterwards, the Female parent knew what would take happened. Where I'd now exist.

Snow swirled and eddied in the garden, catching in the dark-brown fibers of the burlap covering the shrubs.

My mate—who had worked so difficult and then selflessly, all without promise that I would ever be with him.

Nosotros had both fought for that love, bled for information technology. Rhys had died for it.

I all the same saw that moment, in my sleeping and waking dreams. How his face up had looked, how his chest had not risen, how the bond betwixt united states had shredded into ribbons. I notwithstanding felt it, that hollowness in my chest where the bond had been, where he had been. Even now, with that bond again flowing between us like a river of star-flecked night, the echo of its vanishing lingered. Drew me from slumber; drew me from a conversation, a painting, a meal.

Rhys knew exactly why there were nights when I would cling tighter to him, why in that location were moments in the bright, clear sunshine that I would grip his hand. He knew, considering I knew why his optics sometimes turned distant, why he occasionally but blinked at all of united states of america as if not quite believing it and rubbed his chest as if to ease an ache.

Working had helped. Both of us. Keeping busy, keeping focused—I sometimes dreaded the tranquillity, idle days when all those thoughts snared me at last. When there was nothing but me and my mind, and that memory of Rhys lying expressionless on the rocky footing, the King of Hybern snapping my father's neck, all those Illyrians blasted out of the heaven and falling to earth as ashes.

Perhaps ane solar day, even the piece of work wouldn't be a barricade to go along the memories out.

Mercifully, enough of work remained for the foreseeable futurity. Rebuilding Velaris afterward the attacks from Hybern being only ane of many monumental tasks. For other tasks required doing too—both in Velaris and beyond it: in the Illyrian Mountains, in the Hewn City, in the vastness of the entire Night Court. And and so there were the other courts of Prythian. And the new, emerging earth beyond.

Merely for now: Solstice. The longest night of the twelvemonth. I turned from the window to Nuala, who was notwithstanding fussing over the edges of her pie. "It'south a special holiday here also, right?" I asked casually. "Not just in Winter and Day." And Leap.

"Oh, aye," Nuala said, stooping over the worktable to examine her pie. Skilled spy—trained by Azriel himself—and chief cook. "We love it dearly. It'due south intimate, warm, lovely. Presents and music and food, sometimes feasting under the starlight …" The opposite of the enormous, wild, days-long party I'd been subjected to final year. But—presents.

I had to buy presents for all of them. Not had to, but wanted to.

Because all my friends, now my family, had fought and

bled and nearly died as well.

I shut out the image that tore through my mind: Nesta, leaning over a wounded Cassian, the two of them prepared to die together against the Male monarch of Hybern. My male parent's corpse behind them.

I rolled my cervix. We could apply something to celebrate. It had become and then rare for all of us to be gathered for more than an hour or 2.

Nuala went on, "Information technology's a time of residuum, too. And a fourth dimension to reflect on the darkness—how it lets the light smoothen."

"Is there a ceremony?"

The half-wraith shrugged. "Yep, but none of us become. It's more than for those who wish to honor the light'south rebirth, usually by spending the entire nighttime sitting in absolute darkness." A ghost of a smirk. "It'southward not quite such a novelty for my sis and me. Or for the High Lord."

I tried not to look too relieved that I wouldn't be dragged to a temple for hours every bit I nodded.

Setting my clean dishes to dry on the trivial wooden rack beside the sink, I wished Nuala luck on lunch, and headed upstairs to wearing apparel. Cerridwen had already laid out clothes, but there was notwithstanding no sign of Nuala's twin as I donned the heavy charcoal sweater, the tight blackness leggings, and fleece-lined boots before loosely braiding back my hair.

A twelvemonth agone, I'd been stuffed into fine gowns and jewels, made to parade in front of a preening court who'd gawked at me similar a prized convenance mare.

Here … I smiled at the silver-and-sapphire band on my left hand. The ring I'd won for myself from the Weaver in the Wood.

My grinning faded a bit.

I could run across her, too. See Stryga continuing earlier the King of Hybern, covered in the blood of her casualty, equally he took her caput in his hands and snapped her neck. And so threw her to his beasts.

I clenched my fingers into a fist, breathing in through my olfactory organ, out through my mouth, until the lightness in my limbs faded, until the walls of the room stopped pressing on me.

Until I could survey the blend of personal objects in Rhys'southward room—our room. It was by no means a small bedroom, but it had lately started to feel … tight. The rosewood desk against one wall was covered in papers and books from both of our own dealings; my jewelry and clothes at present had to be divided between here and my old bedroom. And then there were the weapons.

Daggers and blades, quivers and bows. I scratched my head at the heavy, wicked-looking mace that Rhys had somehow dumped abreast the desk without my noticing.

I didn't fifty-fifty want to know. Though I had no dubiousness Cassian was somehow behind it.

We could, of course, store everything in the pocket between realms, but … I frowned at my own set of Illyrian blades, leaning against the towering armoire.

If we got snowed in, peradventure I'd use the day to organize things. Observe room for everything. Especially that mace.

Information technology would exist a challenge, since Elain still occupied a bedroom downwardly the hall. Nesta had chosen her own home beyond the city, 1 that I opted to non think nearly for as well long. Lucien, at least, had taken up residence in an elegant apartment down past the river the day afterward he'd returned from the battlefields. And the Spring Court.

I hadn't asked Lucien whatsoever questions about that visit—to Tamlin.

Lucien hadn't explained the black eye and cut lip, either. He'd merely asked Rhys and me if we knew of a place to stay in Velaris, since he did not wish to inconvenience united states farther past staying at the boondocks house, and did not wish to be isolated at the House of Wind.

He hadn't mentioned Elain, or his proximity to her. Elain had not asked him to stay, or to get. And whether she cared about the bruises on his confront, she certainly hadn't let on.

But Lucien had remained, and institute ways to keep busy, often gone for days or weeks at a time.

Yet even with Lucien and Nesta staying in their own apartments, the town firm was a flake minor these days. Even more and then if Mor, Cassian, and Azriel stayed over. And the House of Wind was too big, too formal, also far from the city proper. Squeamish for a nighttime or ii, but … I loved this firm.

It was my home. The outset I'd actually had in the means that counted.

And it'd be nice to gloat the Solstice here. With all of them, crowded as it might be.

I scowled at the pile of papers I had to sort through: letters from other courts, priestesses fishing for positions, and kingdoms both human and faerie. I'd put them off for weeks now, and had finally set aside this forenoon to wade through them.

Loftier Lady of the Night Court, Defender of the Rainbow and the … Desk.

I snorted, flicking my braid over a shoulder. Perhaps my Solstice gift to myself would be to rent a personal secretary. Someone to read and answer those things, to sort out what was vital and what could exist put aside. Because a petty extra time to myself, for Rhys …

I'd look through the court upkeep that Rhys never really cared to follow and see what could be moved around for the possibility of such a thing. For him and for me.

I knew our coffers ran deep, knew we could easily beget information technology and non make then much as a dent in our fortune, merely I didn't mind the work. I loved the work, actually. This territory, its people—they were as much my heart as my mate. Until yesterday, nearly every waking 60 minutes had been packed with helping them. Until I'd been politely, graciously, told to go dwelling house and enjoy the holiday.

In the wake of the war, the people of Velaris had risen to the challenge of rebuilding and helping their ain. Before I'd fifty-fifty come up upwardly with an idea of how to help them, multiple societies had been created to assist the city. So I'd volunteered with a handful of them for tasks ranging from finding homes for those displaced by the destruction to visiting families affected during the war to helping those without shelter or holding set up for winter with new coats and supplies.

All of it was vital; all of it was good, satisfying work. And withal … at that place was more. There was more that I could practise to assist. Personally. I just hadn't figured it out yet.

It seemed I wasn't the just one eager to assistance those who'd lost then much. With the holiday, a surge of fresh volunteers had arrived, cramming the public hall near the Palace of Thread and Jewels, where and then many of the societies were headquartered. Your assist has been crucial, Lady, i charity matron had said to me yesterday. Yous have been hither nearly every day—yous accept worked yourself to the os. Have the week off. Yous've earned it. Gloat with your mate.

I'd tried to object, insisting that at that place were still more coats to hand out, more than firewood to be distributed, but the faerie had merely motioned to the crowded public hall around the states, filled to the brim with volunteers. Nosotros take more help than we know what to practise with.

When I'd tried objecting over again, she'd shooed me out the front door. And shut it behind me.

Point taken. The story had been the same at every other organization I'd stopped by yesterday afternoon. Go abode and enjoy the vacation.

So I had. At least, the first office. The enjoying bit, withal …

Rhys's reply to my before enquiry about his whereabouts finally flickered down the bond, carried on a rumble of nighttime, glittering power. I'grand at Devlon's army camp.

It took you this long to reply? It was a long altitude to the Illyrian Mountains, aye, but it shouldn't have taken minutes to hear back.

A sensual huff of laughter. Cassian was ranting. He didn't take a jiff.

My poor Illyrian baby. We certainly practise torment you, don't we?

Rhys's entertainment rippled toward me, caressing my innermost self with night-veiled hands. But information technology halted, vanishing equally rapidly equally it had come. Cassian's getting into it with Devlon. I'll check in afterward. With a loving brush against my senses, he was gone.

I'd go a full report well-nigh it soon, but for at present …

I smiled at the snow waltzing outside the windows.

Chapter

2

Rhysand

It was barely nine in the morning time, and Cassian was already pissed.

The watery winter sun tried and failed to bleed through the clouds looming over the Illyrian Mountains, the wind a boom beyond the gray peaks. Snow alrea

dy lay inches deep over the humming camp, a vision of what would shortly befall Velaris.

Information technology had been snowing when I departed at dawn—perhaps in that location would be a expert coating already on the ground by the time I returned. I hadn't had a run a risk to ask Feyre about it during our brief conversation down the bond minutes agone, but perhaps she would become for a walk with me through it. Let me show her how the City of Starlight glistened under fresh snow.

Indeed, my mate and city seemed a earth away from the hive of activity in the Windhaven army camp, nestled in a wide, high mountain pass. Fifty-fifty the bracing current of air that swept betwixt the peaks, belying the camp's very proper noun past whipping up dervishes of snow, didn't deter the Illyrians from going nigh their daily chores.

For the warriors: training in the various rings that opened onto a sheer drib to the small valley floor beneath, those not present out on patrol. For the males who hadn't made the cut: disposed to various trades, whether merchants or blacksmiths or cobblers. And for the females: drudgery.

They didn't see information technology as such. None of them did. Only their required tasks, whether onetime or immature, remained the same: cooking, cleaning, child-rearing, clothes-making, laundry … There was honor in such tasks—pride and expert work to be establish in them. But not when every single 1 of the females here was expected to do it. And if they shirked those duties, either i of the one-half-dozen camp-mothers or whatever males controlled their lives would punish them.

So information technology had been, as long as I'd known this place, for my female parent'southward people. The earth had been reborn during the war months before, the wall blasted to nothingness, and notwithstanding some things did not alter. Peculiarly here, where alter was slower than the melting glaciers scattered among these mountains. Traditions going back thousands of years, left mostly unchallenged.

Until us. Until now.

Drawing my attention away from the humming military camp beyond the edge of the chalk-lined training rings where we stood, I schooled my face up into neutrality as Cassian squared off against Devlon.

"The girls are busy with preparations for the Solstice," the army camp-lord was saying, his artillery crossed over his barrel chest. "The wives need all the assist they can get, if all'southward to be set in time. They tin do next week."

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