#like i said before the thought of Feyre suffering poverty for many years

[romanticatheartt]

What is Rhysand's kink I wonder...

Breeding kink. Next question🥰

Oh and Feyre only wearing the jewelries Rhys gave her. Like in acowar when he told her to only wear the crown (feysands discussed this a few days ago) and in acofas to only wear the diamond cuffs he gifted her for starfall. He loves it.

[vidalinav]

One of the main selling points for nessian was that cassian saw nesta so when sjm made him so obtuse to her suffering,really weakens his character imo.

Yeah... I mean. I think so too. Because there’s definitely a difference between ACOMAF/ACOWAR Cassian to ACOFAS/ACOSF Cassian. It’s very odd to me.

I know someone commented on one of my posts that they didn’t think Cassian lacks emotional intelligence like I claimed and I wrote a giant analysis so to speak, about emotional intelligence and Pre-ACOFAS Cassian and Post-ACOFAS Cassian, but I never posted it because at that point I was like ehh... wtf cares. I’ve ranted enough. It doesn’t matter in the slightest. It was way too long. 

But there was a time I remember before ACOFAS, where a lot of the fandom was like the IC treat Cassian like he’s dumb. Like he’s just the comedic relief, or he’s just the person who sleeps around, who would sleep with Feyre yadda yadda, who don’t really validate his own feelings either, because with Feyre he was this lovable person who was very charismatic and I dare say emotionally intelligent. But with the IC, he was set in a role. There was a good amount of dialogue in ACOMAF about how they perceived Cassian, and it could of been friends speaking to friends, but it definitely didn’t seem like it. 

But in ACOFAS and beyond, it really felt like the ignorance set in. Like he was made to be the dumb character. I don’t know if that was because conflict needed to be made, because the whole of the IC was  unempathetic and that was a theme. I don’t know what it was. But there are many instances that I feel ACOWAR Cassian wouldn’t have been like that. There are so many times where Nesta is so obviously hurting that I don’t see how you wouldn’t connect dots and then change your own behavior accordingly, if nothing but being more sympathetic or even pitying or considering that Nesta is a victim of circumstance. But the theme as I’ve said many times in nicer ways of ACOSF, was “we’re not going to change, you’re going to change.” 

Prime examples of Cassian’s lack of emotional intelligence was “Starving won’t bring your father back to life” HHAAHA I have to laugh, and then being given the evidence in three books that Nesta is a prideful, private person and then knowing she is suffering, knowing that she has suffered some sort of assault, which he himself has acknowledged and then bringing her to train in front of a bunch of men who are misogynistic and who’s own women won’t train either, and then being like WHY NESTA? WHY AREN’T YOU TRAINING? Why sit on that rock? and then not even asking her. LOL. Stupid. 

And then... the fire. He literally notes in his own POV at least twice that she stays away from it, or she asks to move away and he doesn’t connect that she has some problem with it... until she explicitly tells him. MmmK. 

And then with the marriage vs. mating bond, he notes that she is uncomfortable, he says “what spooked you?” or whatever so he knows that she’s obviously troubled in some way and she’s literally trying to tell him, and he’s like.... nah, I’m going to keep pushing and then he’s like “shackled.” Oy. 

And in ACOFAS, the whole scene with the present for solstice and her “bullshit behavior” when they literally didn’t talk to her the entire time. They didn’t even try, and he’s over here like “I hope you try next year” or whatever. HAHAH. Cue maniacal laughter. 

Like I understand you certainly wouldn’t know what goes on in Nesta’s head, but... is he that stupid to not connect dots from what he already knows? Especially from the male who visited the families of soldiers who died, who mourned them, who felt guilty, who understood Mor’s discomfort in the triangle to be the buffer, because he explicitly says that he played the buffer in ACOSF, so he was aware of the situation, who was actually a lot nicer and sweeter and patient with Feyre, offering in turn to train with him, because he understood the poverty, what she did, the killing of the fae, how that might have affected her, who literally kept going back to Nesta even after she was like get away from me in ACOWAR, because he understood that she had been violated, and no one else validated that except him. Where was the validation in this book? 

Where was that Cassian?

He was kind I admit after moments of stupidity in ACOSF, but that doesn’t make him emotionally intelligent. Caring is not the same thing as empathy. But yeah... I really don’t understand why that was his MO in ACOSF, obliviousness... I would have appreciated it more if it was Cassian showing explicitly that he cared about Nesta and understood her pain, even if he didn’t understand why she was pushing him away, if it was less of Amren telling him to keep reaching out his hand, and him just being like No I need to reach out my hand, because she’s been through a war and I have known war all of my life. I’ve been through that aftermath many times. I’ve seen what it does as any kind and charismatic general would. But unfortunately no critical thought went into this book and the Cassian in ACOWAR is no longer.

[rufousnmacska]

I have a lot of thoughts about A Court of Silver Flames, and since it helps me to write them out, I thought I’d share.

It’s behind a cut because SPOILERS and it’s long lol!

Nesta

I had expected we’d learn that Nesta had suffered some type of abuse or trauma as a child that Elain and Feyre were not aware of. I wasn’t expecting it to be so subtle, for lack of a better word. Abuse comes in a lot of forms, which I think SJM is good at showing. Emotionally manipulating your daughter for power, ignoring her in favor of your business and money … those may not be as visible as physical or verbal abuse, but they still cause damage.

I’m not sure how to convey it properly, but I thought it was important to show how the parts of her that were born from the abuse and trauma, while dark or not always healthy, were still useful. The wolf she became to survive her childhood helped her survive the cauldron. Not being able to “turn it off” is what hurt her. My favorite quote:

“So Nesta had become a wolf. Armed herself with invisible teeth and claws, and learned to strike faster, deeper, more lethally. Had relished it. But when the time came to put away the wolf, she’d found it had devoured her too.”

And as Amren said later “That’s the key isn’t it? To know the darkness will always remain, but how you choose to face it, handle it … that’s the important part. To not let it consume. To focus on the good, the things that fill you with wonder.”

I’ve seen a lot of fans upset that Nesta gave up her cauldron powers at the end to save Feyre and the baby. Although I’d initially hoped (post acofas) that her training would be more about her magic than physical training, I’m okay with how it worked out. She never wanted that power and she never liked having it. She stole it as revenge and she fought constantly to suppress it. Was she a badass when she wielded it? Absolutely! But ultimately, her giving it back was the final big step in her healing arc and acceptance of herself. (That doesn’t mean she’s “cured.” This will be an ongoing battle for her. I only mean this in terms of the story in this book.)

She chose to sacrifice it, unlike so many other times in her life when things were forced on her or happened to her. Unlike the future her mother had set out for her. Unlike when they were poor and her father did nothing to get them through. Unlike when she was thrown into the cauldron and then a war. Even unlike when she was forced to move into the House of the Wind, and her apartment – the one place she had chosen for herself no matter how run down it was – got demolished. I’m not going to go into the intervention too much. It was poorly done, but I doubt any of them had experience in doing one. A conversation acknowledging that might have been nice. And I’m not ignoring Feyre and Rhys’s hypocrisy of Nesta being confined to a place where she effectively had no way to leave on her own. The stairway at that point was not an option. But the bottom line is that Nesta needed help and was not in a position to willingly accept it or seek it out.

Regardless, she is still a lethal badass. She still has some of her powers, along with her fighting skills, which will only get better and better. So, the idea that she gave up what made her strong, or ended up as some meek housewife …  I don’t agree with that at all. She has the intelligence and potential to become a force in leading armies. Not to mention her skill as an emissary. (Which Cassian finally learned how to imitate lol!)

On a personal note, I’m intimately familiar with the depression and self-loathing Nesta experienced in this book. Although I don’t necessarily react to those feelings in the same ways or exhibit the same coping mechanisms (I tend to turn my anger inward rather than outward), I could still relate to her journey. Her stubbornness and feelings that she didn’t deserve love or anything good or kind were presented accurately in my opinion. Parts were hard for me to read because of that. But I loved that she was able to make her way through the pain and finally begin to accept and love herself. And I especially loved that she was helped not only by Cassian, but by her friendship with Emerie and Gwyn.

And the House! Holy shit. The magic houses in this world piss me off to no end because they are not real and I will forever need to clean my own place LOL! Her relationship with the house was beautiful and funny and I love that she Made it! She needed a friend, someone to understand her, not only what she wanted but what she needed, and boom! The House of the Wind came alive for her.

So, overall, I loved Nesta’s journey. I’m happy she ended in a place that brought her inner peace and the ability to better deal with her problems in the future.

 Nessian

I loved them before this book and I love them more after. The smut was a little shocking at first lol but I’ve read the Black Dagger Brotherhood books, which SJM loves, so really, it wasn’t that out there. I loved that Cassian showed that even with the mating bond, he could give Nesta space and freedom. In that respect, their relationship felt more mature to me than feysand. Their banter and the sexual tension was great! (The book is about a book.) They had some not great moments, as they have in past books. But those were realistic. People argue and say things they regret. But they also talk through it and apologize. This is a good time to point out – NOT ALL APOLOGIES INVOLVE EXPLICITLY SAYING I AM SORRY. There are other ways to show remorse and ask for forgiveness.

I don’t know if I had one favorite moment as there were quite a few. I think the most emotional for me was when they reached the lake. I know firsthand how difficult it is to speak aloud the things Nesta said. And I am also lucky to have people in my life who responded the way Cassian did – with love and support and kindness.

The nightmare scene, the prison scene, the dancing, the mating bond, Cassian turning the knife on himself … I loved them all!

The Valkyries

I fucking loved them! Gwyn and Emerie were absolute delights and I’m so glad Nesta made good friends of her own who she could be herself with. Their bonding over books, training, and their pasts was wonderful. Nesta urging them on and defending them from the Illyrians in the Blood Rite was a beautiful step in her healing. Before this book, I was hesitant about the foreshadowing that Nesta would take part in the Rite, fearing it would become some sort of white savior trope to help the female Illyrians. But I enjoyed the way it ended up happening. I know it seemed unrealistic for Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn to get that far against warriors who’d been training for years. But part of the point was the males were arrogant as fuck. They underestimated the trio, to their detriment. Nesta and her friends used cunning as much as strength and skill to get where they did.

And I loved the image of Emerie and Gwyn just sitting back, sipping tea and admiring the river after going through a week of pure hell and winning the Blood Rite.

I hope we get more of them all together in the next books.

ETA - I can’t believe I forgot! Gwyn writing their story because their stories deserve to be told 🥲💕

The sisters

Overall I liked how things turned out with them.

Elain is still a bit of a non-entity to me. I don’t feel like I really know anything about her. Which, to some extent, is the point I think. There will be a lot to reveal in her story and she has a shitload of healing to do. She may have the appearance of adjusting and fitting in, but I don’t buy it. Nesta telling Elain to fuck off was awesome and long overdue. But Elain was also right in pointing out how others treat her and the trauma she’s experienced. I think there is still more to be dealt with between these two in the next book.

Feyre and Nesta were the more interesting relationship to me. The eldest and the youngest tend to butt heads in my opinion (and personal experience). So I was glad they came to an understanding. And very glad that Feyre did not get angry with Nesta for telling her about the baby. Rhys deserved the wrath for that.

One thing I would have liked to see discussed was the role of their parents in their lives. Nesta holds a lot of guilt for how she reacted to their poverty and I think that is understandable. I think Elain does too. However, I do not think any of the sisters should harbor blame for what happened. Their father was responsible for them. Period. Even if he was physically unable to work or help around the house, he still could have been a father. Yes, Feyre stepped up and fed them. Nesta and Elain didn’t help. It was his role to make them. Not in an abusive way. But step up and tell Nesta and Elain to do something, whether it’s chop wood or gather food from the wild. I don’t know. In my opinion, it is wrong to place blame on young girls who had a parent that did nothing. His actions in acowar were noble, but they don’t erase his failures. That all of this was glossed over disappointed me. I think this was something Nesta needed to be told explicitly by both her sisters. She had things to apologize for and feel guilt for, but she was not the one who should have protected Feyre. All three of them should have been protected by their father.

 The Inner Circle

It’s kind of funny to me how blind they all are about each other. I don’t even know what else to say about their dysfunction.

Amren’s sudden desire for Rhys to become High King was weird, and though I should know better, I still really hope the series doesn’t end that way. The IC tends to have good intentions about things, but I don’t think they know how to handle a problem without some kind of force. And controlling all the other courts is not something that would happen easily, especially with perceived allies.

Amren and Mor thinking Nesta belonged or should be sent to the Court of Nightmares was a spectacularly shitty take. The lack of awareness and acknowledgement that Nesta was suffering from multiple traumas was just … unbelievable.

But considering how much this group does not see about each other, I guess it’s not a surprise. I don’t know how much is willful ignorance or just really, really poor people skills. I understand how this all makes for good angst and drama, I really do. But I’m just at the point where it’s grating. They need to sit the fuck down and talk to each other. It’s been five hundred years for fucks sake. 🤦🏻‍♀️😂

Rhys

Okay. I liked Rhys in acotar and acomaf. But the sparkly exterior wore off big time for me in acowar and acofas. I honestly could have done without him in this book. But I wasn’t foolish enough to expect him to not be in it. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that SJM has her favorites and Rhys is at the top of the list.

Having said that, he annoyed the shit out of me in this book. Someone really needs to explain to him that a choice between two awful things, one of which might be deadly, is not really a choice. I don’t have the energy for it, but better writers than me could write a thesis on the illusion of choice in these books. Which is, in my opinion, pretty clearly tied to the brand of feminism presented.

Not only is the choice given to Nesta at the beginning not a choice, Rhys doesn’t seem to consider Elain at all in his argument with Az. All other issues with that bonus chapter aside, he saw them. He saw the mutual attraction and consent. What happened to not forcing females to accept the mating bond? What happened to respecting her choice and autonomy? I considered the possibility that maybe since he knows Az, there’s a reason he thinks they wouldn’t work. But then, that pretty much flies out the window by him asking Az about Mor. Sure, Az is still hung up on Mor, but she is pretty fucking clear about her opinion.

The whole thing about not telling Feyre about the risky childbirth was awful. And not that I would expect it to happen, but not even mentioning abortion as an option was frustrating. That plot line was not good in any way. There were plenty of other things that could have gone wrong with the birth to push Nesta to act at the end. To be honest, the feysand dynamic is not great. While I appreciated her standing up to him about Nesta and other things, he very deliberately uses sex as a distraction to get out of arguments. Yet another way he never really seems to suffer consequences of bad behavior.  

I will say I was really glad he got the opportunity to experience the full trauma of what Nesta went through. And my petty ass loved him kneeling before her at the end!

Miscellaneous

Where was Illyria?? My one serious expectation for this book was that we’d learn more about Illyria and deal with the revolution that was hyped up in acofas. To be written off in one paragraph was disappointing. It makes me think that if we are to ever get more details about the Illyrians, it might be in Az’s story. It was mentioned a few times that he hates them (with good reason) and would wipe them off the map if it was up to him. So I’m guessing his arc will require him coming to terms with that.

Elriel-Elucien-Gwynriel

I’ve never been super invested in this story line but I admit I’ve leaned more towards Elriel in the past. Partly because I like some of the complementary symbolism associated with them, but mostly because I’d really like to see a story about rejection of the mating bond. Even with the extra chapters, I feel like we still don’t know much of anything about who Elain truly is. And the same can be said of Az. So, those chapters didn’t sway me that much. With the exception of Az interacting with Gwyn. I agree with a lot of others saying Az has a lot of work to do on himself before he can be with anyone. I think Elain and Gwyn also have a lot of healing to do. SJM can take this in so many directions that I just don’t know what to think.

I will say that originally I was expecting the next book to involve a love square of Elain, Az, Lucien, and Vassa, because I did see a connection between the last two. But now … Was Lucien annoyed by Jurian and Vassa because he’s jealous? Just annoyed? I don’t know. I still think Vassa will be in the next books if only because of Koschei. But I’m not so sure about her involvement with Lucien. I think we’ve got enough people in this love polygon lol! Jesus, what a mess. But maximum angst 😂

[kitashiwrites]

Wave Upon the Sand - A Tarquin Fic: Chapter 2

Series: A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas Characters: Tarquin, Cresseida, Varian, Feyre, Rhysand, Amren POV: Tarquin Rating: T Word Count: 3572 Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9818336

Chapter 1

Summary: Chapter 33 of ACOMAF from Tarquin’s POV.

Comments: Thank you to everyone who left me such nice comments & messages! I'm so glad that people liked this enough for me to continue it! I'm excited to keeping writing from Tarquin’s point of view, and stick around in the Summer Court a bit longer.

Without further ado, here is Chapter 2! :)

----

To my relief, the party aboard the barge started off pleasantly. I’d heard no more barely veiled threats between my sister and Rhysand before we parted to ready for the evening, and the peace seemed to be holding as we set sail and mingled with the other guests I had invited to join us—High Fae who traditionally garnered invitations by status, and the few I had been allowed to invite on merit. The sea was calm, only in part thanks to my power, and the party was in full swing even before we were fully in the bay. The food and drink were plentiful, and as I sat at the table beneath the tiled canopy watching my people converse on the deck below, I felt the closest to normal I’d been since returning home.

Adriata had always been one of my favorite spots to sail. As a prince, I had enjoyed sneaking out before the sun even began to think about rising, and watching the pinks, golds, and oranges that reflected in the turquoise sea. Though I still did it when I could manage—and had done it on the morning after we first returned—I knew after the admonishment I’d received from my siblings and older courtiers that it would not be a frequent luxury I would get to enjoy.

I felt someone’s eyes on me, and noticed out of the corner of my eye that Feyre stared at me, sitting in the seat to my right. Well, more specifically, stared at my crown. It was a beautiful piece, the sapphires set in the white gold a reflection of the fathomless sea surrounding us. Though I would readily have admitted that she wore the dusky pink dress, so much like the lavender she had worn earlier, and rose gold headband better—the very picture of a seaside sunrise.

“You’d think with our skilled jewelers, they could make a crown a bit more comfortable. This one digs in horribly,” I said conversationally. She had been so quiet since we had boarded the barge, and had surprisingly distanced herself from her companions and any of the guests, who eyed her with parts nervousness and awe—electing instead to observe Adriata, the water, and the mainland from the railing before taking her seat at the table. My sister had taken the seat next to Rhysand that I had originally intended for Varian so he could discuss military strategies. However, she seemed to be behaving herself, chatting amicably with the High Lord. My brother, however, was nowhere to be found, nor Rhysand's Second—they had vanished shortly after boarding. I prayed to the Mother that he hadn't confronted her over her earlier comments about Nostrus, rest his soul. There was something about that silver eyed woman that made a shiver run down my spine, and though I hated to admit it, there was no doubt in my mind that she would be the victor should it come to a fight between her and my brother.

“How did you keep it out of her hands?” Feyre asked suddenly. An odd question to ask about a piece of metal. It had no sentimental value, and during the occupation—

“We managed to smuggle out most of our treasure when the territory fell,” I answered, as I understood the meaning of her words—more than just the gleaming symbol of my throne on my brow, but a question about Adriata itself, from before. “Nostrus—my predecessor—was my cousin. I served as prince of another city. So I got the order to hide the trove in the dead of night, as fast as we could.” That night was one I wouldn't forget any time soon. It was not long after that Nostrus had fallen, that anyone else raised with the potential to rule had been slaughtered for nothing more than spite… and the power had passed to me, leaving me with a territory collapsing around me and a band of rebels the only people besides my siblings that I could trust.

“I didn't know the Summer Court valued treasure so much,” she said.

I huffed a laugh. When put that way, we did sound a bit like treasure hoarding drakes. “The earliest High Lords did. We do now out of tradition, mostly.”

“So is it gold or jewels you value, then?” Her voice was casual, almost too much. She had an ulterior motive, that much was clear, but I couldn't figure out what it was. Or, for that matter, if it was hers or Rhysand's.

“Among other things,” I said equally as careful. She sipped her wine, thoughtful. “Are outsiders allowed to see the collection?” She asked with the same refreshing directness that she had in the dining room. “My father was a merchant—I spent most of my childhood in his office, helping him with his goods. It would be interesting to compare mortal riches to those made by Fae hands.”

I cocked my head, not exactly sure what she could gain from seeing our treasure rooms; the Night Court had just as much treasure and pretty baubles, I was sure. Though a prideful part of me wanted to show off. “Of course,” I found myself saying. “Tomorrow—after lunch, perhaps?” This woman was certainly confusing, but at the same time, the idea of spending time with her without Rhysand hovering and listening to every word was… appealing. She smiled, nodding, and looked again at the crowd milling about on the deck below.

“What was it like?” I asked curiously, changing the subject. “The mortal world?”

She picked at the strawberry salad on her plate. “I only saw a very small slice of it. My father was called the Prince of Merchants—but I was too young to be taken on his voyages to other parts of the mortal world. When I was eleven, he lost our fortune on a shipment to Bharat. We spent the next eight years in poverty, in a backwater village near the wall. So I can't speak for the entirety of the mortal world when I say that what I saw there was… hard. Brutal. Here, class lines are far more blurred, it seems. There, it's defined by money. Either you have it and you don't share it, or you are left to starve and fight for your survival. My father… he regained his wealth once I went to Prythian.” She looked pained at the thought. “And the very people who had been content to let us starve were once again our friends. I would rather face every creature in Prythian than the monsters on the other side of the wall. Without magic, without power, money has become the only thing that matters.”

I pursed my lips. I didn't know where this Bharat was, but knowing the fickle nature of the sea, her favor was as quick to change as tides during a storm. It didn't surprise me that it could turn a fortune just as fast. And the mortal realm didn't sound much different than Fae society in some ways, from the way she described these people. “Would you spare them if war came?” As Rhysand’s ambassador to the mortal realms, there was a high chance that if war came, she would have to make that choice.

She hesitated, almost torn. But then she answered, “My sisters dwell with my father on his estate. For them, I would fight. But for those sycophants and peacocks… I would not mind to see their order disrupted.” A honest answer, and a fair one, especially for one who had not only seen, but lived, both sides of the coin.

“There are some who think the same of the courts,” I said quietly, almost to myself, but the almost imperceptible widening of her eyes told me that she had heard me.

“What—get rid of the High Lords?” She seemed surprised by the idea, but she kept her voice just as low.

“Perhaps. But mostly eliminate the inherent privileges of High Fae over the lesser faeries. Even the terms imply a level of unfairness. Maybe it is more like the human realm than you realize, not as blurred as it might seem. In some courts, the lowest of the High Fae servants has more rights than the wealthiest of lesser faeries.”

“Do you agree with them? That it should change?” she asked. Feyre's expression seemed interested, not judgemental, as I had expected—as I had seen from others I had mentioned this to.

“I am a young High Lord,” I said. “Barely eighty years old.” And fifty of those years had been spent under the clawed hand of a tyrannical false queen. “Perhaps others might call me inexperienced or foolish, but I have seen those cruelties firsthand, and known many good lesser faeries who suffered from merely being born on the wrong side of power.” I’d fought beside many of them over the last half century. “Even within my own residences, the confines of tradition pressure me to enforce the rules of my predecessors: the lesser faeries are neither to be seen nor heard as they work. I would like to one day see a Prythian in which they have a voice, both in my home and the world beyond it.”

Feyre looked at me appraisingly, weighing my words, and… something else.

“Tell me what that look means,” I asked, bracing my arms on the gold tablecloth.

With the same boldness, the same honesty, that she had earlier, she replied, “I’m thinking it would be very easy to love you. And even easier to call you my friend.”

My heart skipped a beat at her words, despite my logic screaming better judgement at me—reminding me whose court she was currently representing, and the one she had been a part of not even that long ago. Reminding me whom she had loved—possibly still did—and to what lengths she had gone to save him. But in that moment… I smiled broadly at her, without any restraint. “I would not object to either.” And I meant it.

Her gaze shifted next to me, and I followed it. To my utter surprise, my sister was practically in Rhysand's lap, biting her lip and beaming with happiness—a complete reversal of her earlier actions and threats. Rhysand, to his credit, was being a gentleman as far as I could see. His grin was almost feline, tracing circles on the back of Cresseida’s hand with one finger, but other than that, my sister was not doing a very good job of hiding her intentions… unless that was her intention. I turned back to Feyre, who now looked at me with her eyebrows high in a silent question. I made a face and shook my head. I had absolutely no words for how to explain what my sister was doing.

But the look on her face…

“It has been many years since I saw her look like that,” I mused aloud. Indeed, she hadn't smiled like that even when I returned to the palace after leaving Under the Mountain, opting for tears and relieved sobbing instead. I noticed Feyre's cheeks darkened scarlet. She looked torn, jealous, and… sad. Especially sad. She stood up from the table suddenly. Rhysand, whose gaze had briefly shifted to Feyre, didn't even flinch before chuckling at whatever my sister had said to him and returning his full attention to her, my sister's fingers entwining with his. I rose from the table as well and looked between Feyre and my fellow High Lord.

“I need some fresh air,” Feyre said, even though we were on the open deck.

“Would you like me to join you?” I asked. No matter what she was to the man next to me, or even the one across my southern border, she needed someone, even just to listen. She looked at me for a moment, as if studying me, trying to find words that she didn't have.

“I'm fine, thank you,” she refused politely, and without another word, headed for the sweeping staircase that led to the stern of the ship. I watched her walk away, and noticed that Rhysand didn't spare her another glance.

The final hour of the party went by without an incident, even as my sister practically dragged Rhysand out of his chair, giggling as he winnowed them away in a cloak of black shadow. I stared at the space they had vanished from, for how long I didn't know. But the expression Feyre had on her face as she had looked at my sister and Rhysand wouldn't leave my mind. Her stories of her life in the human world showed a woman who had overcome much adversity. What she’d endured at Amarantha's command, what she'd done to save Tamlin and by extension all of us… she had been through more than many Fae would see in their lives. I couldn't even begin to imagine what she had been through, not really. She had shown time and time again that she needed no one to save her. And yet that brokenness in her eyes...

It would be very easy to love her as well, I decided. Already she felt trustworthy, and a friend. Almost too easy, judging from the two High Lords that she had already gained the interest of. But Rhysand's cold indifference towards her, after that predatory display in defense of her earlier, was beyond strange. Whatever had happened in the hours between their arrival and boarding the barge had clearly hurt one or both of them deeply. I wondered what had happened between her and Tamlin to cause her to swear fealty to another High Lord—to his most hated enemy, no less—and become trusted enough to be let into his Inner Circle, to attend court visits with him. I couldn't decide if this was a calculated choice on her part to hurt Tamlin, or something else entirely.

“We approach the mainland, Lord Tarquin.” I barely managed to keep from flinching as a voice cut through my musings, and looked to our skipper, who had somehow walked up to me without notice. I gave him a nod of thanks and rose from my seat as the boat docked in the port, the captain announcing our return to the shore.

I led the crowd off of the barge and stood on the docks, thanking those who spoke to me for attending, and waiting for my guests—for Feyre, if I was honest. After a group of drunken men stumbled off the boat singing bawdy sea shanties, I finally spotted my brother, who appeared from somewhere on the outskirts of the docks. Amren trailed only him slightly, but her silver eyes were clearly taking in everything. “And where were you exactly?” I asked.

“Drinking.” He didn't look the least bit drunk thankfully, scanning the area as he took a place next to me, watching the guests disembark. “Where is Cresseida?” he murmured to me. I shrugged my shoulders.

“She left with Rhysand before we docked,” I said evasively. His posture stiffened and he raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

I watched Feyre descend the gangplank with the remaining guests, and felt my heart break at the look in her eyes when she realized that Rhysand nor Cresseida were anywhere to be found. But she didn't ask—it was as though she didn't want to let her mind go there, and I couldn't blame her. I offered my arm to her, which she took gently and allowed me to escort her back to her rooms. We walked in amicable silence, and though I had so many things I wanted to ask her, I knew now was not the time.

We came to a stop outside of her rooms, the ones connected to Rhysand's. No sounds echoed through the halls as she opened the door. “Shall we meet in the main hall after lunch?” I asked. She nodded.

“Yes,” she answered quietly, as though she were afraid of waking someone, or possibly two. Trying to distract her, I bowed to her, respectfully. “Good night, Lady Feyre.” Though the smile she gave me did not reach her eyes, she echoed a good night, and closed the door behind her.

After a moment of staring at her closed door, I walked purposefully through the halls to my sister's rooms in the eastern wing. To my great relief, I didn't hear any sounds at her door either as I approached. At least Rhysand appeared to have gone back to his own rooms or they were both sleeping. I had no desire to find or hear him in my sister's bed. I knocked loudly. No one answered. I knocked once more. There was always the possibility that she had gone to his rooms instead and I just hadn't heard them, which I didn't like much more, if only for Feyre's sake. Just as I was about to walk away, the door opened. My sister stood in the doorway with a flirtatious look on her face, her makeup and hair clearly refreshed since coming back to her rooms for the evening. Her smile quickly vanished when she saw me.

“What brings you here, brother?” she said by way of greeting, holding open the door so I could come inside.

“I take it I wasn't the one you were expecting?” I said lightly, trying to conceal my relief that she had answered alone. I knew very well from the nightgown she tried to hastily hide by tying her robe that I was not the High Lord she had hoped would be at the door when she opened it.

“You could say that,” she said, her annoyance clear.

“And what was that exactly, Cresseida?” I asked. There was no point in mincing words. “You clearly had something in mind when you took Varian’s seat at the table this evening.”

“He wasn't going to use it anyway. I am merely playing the political game that you refuse to,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

I raised an eyebrow. “Flirting with Rhysand is playing the political game?” A knock rang through the room. Not waiting for an answer, the door opened behind us a moment later, and Varian slipped in quietly. I made a mental note to keep my voice down. The last thing I needed was to draw any of our guests’ attention, especially at this hour.

“That is none if your business,” she answered haughtily.

I crossed my arms. “When it involves matters that could affect potential alliances and relations with other courts, it becomes my business.” I was pushing and I knew it, but it was better to take care of this now, before it got out of hand.

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to enjoy myself? Does this rule also apply to yourself, brother? Could you have been ogling the Cursebreaker anymore openly?” she countered hotly, ignoring my question and trying to change the subject. “I imagine the gossip mongers in the streets will soon be taking bets on how long before the Cursebreaker charms a third High Lord into her bed.”

It was Varian who saved me from answering. “Sister, that was uncalled for, especially considering your own flirting with a High Lord was very public and heavy handed.” So he had seen it too, from wherever he had been.

“You have no room to judge,” she interrupted. “Especially after spending the evening with that silver eyed abomination.” Varian let out a sigh of irritation, but didn't answer. I glared at her.

“Cresseida, I don't know what you hoped to accomplish with this display, but—”

“I already told you,” she snapped. “I’m doing my job.” I crossed my arms, my irritation growing.

“Are you? First, you antagonize them in the dining room to the point that Rhysand is openly threatening us if you go to Tamlin. Then mere hours later, you are crawling in his lap and acting like a lovestruck girl!” I threw my hands in the air. “I told you before they arrived not to embarrass us in front of our guests, and the first thing you do is exactly that!”

She raised an eyebrow. “How am I embarrassing us?”

“By throwing yourself at the High Lord of the Night Court in front of all our guests and courtiers. The look on Feyre's face when she saw that—”

“Feyre, hmm?” she interrupted, smirking. “You're on a first name basis with the Cursebreaker now? Maybe I should throw my own coins into the betting pool. I could stand to make a lot of money I’m sure.”

“Cresseida.” I was fast losing my temper, and judging from her widened eyes, my tone must have hinted at it too.

“Tarquin, maybe we should discuss this in the morning,” Varian suggested. “We’re all tired from the day, and nothing is going to change at this hour anyway.” I slowly nodded in agreement, not taking my eyes off of my sister.

“We haven't finished this discussion,” I told her pointedly, and she nodded in understanding, the embarrassment and anger coloring her face and overpowering the makeup on her cheekbones. “You both will meet with me before breakfast in my quarters, before Varian and I meet with Rhysand and Amren for negotiations.”

“Why not after our meeting?” Varian asked curiously.

Even though I tried to remain serious, I couldn't stop a small smile from forming, that feeling from before spreading warmly through my chest. “I have somewhere to be.”