Mist And Fury Quotes

To the people who look at the stars and wish, Rhys." Rhys clinked his glass against mine. “To the stars who listen— and the dreams that are answered.

To the stars who listen—and the dreams that are answered.

He thinks he'll be remembered as the villain in the story. But I forgot to tell him that the villain is usually the person who locks up the maiden and throws away the key. He was the one who let me out.

There are good days and hard days for me—even now. Don’t let the hard days win.

When you spend so long trapped in darkness, Lucien, you find that the darkness begins to stare back.

I was not a pet, not a doll, not an animal. I was a survivor, and I was strong. I would not be weak, or helpless again I would not, could not be broken. Tamed.

I am broken and healing, but every piece of my heart belong to you.

My mate. Death incarnate. Night triumphant.

If you were going to die, I was going to die with you. I couldn’t stop thinking it over and over as you screamed, as I tried to kill her: you were my mate, my mate, my mate.

I fell in love with you, smartass, because you were one of us—because you weren’t afraid of me, and you decided to end your spectacular victory by throwing that piece of bone at Amarantha like a javelin. I felt Cassian’s spirit beside me in that moment, and could have sworn I heard him say, ‘If you don’t marry her, you stupid prick, I will.

No one was my master— but I might be master of everything, if I wished. If I dared.

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.

And I wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt, what he’d done for me. For what I felt for him.

And so Tamlin unwittingly led the High Lady of the Night Court into the heart of his territory.

Hello, Feyre darling,” he purred.

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.

And I realized—I realized how badly I'd been treated before, if my standards had become so low. If the freedom I'd been granted felt like a privilege and not an inherent right.

There are different kinds of darkness,” Rhys said. I kept my eyes shut. “There is the darkness that frightens, the darkness that soothes, the darkness that is restful.” I pictured each. “There is the darkness of lovers, and the darkness of assassins. It becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good.

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.

But then she snapped your neck.” Tears rolled down his face. “And I felt you die,” he whispered. Tears were sliding down my own cheeks.

When you spend so long trapped in darkness, you find that the darkness begins to stare back.

I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and middle and end. We were a song that had been sung from the very first ember of light in the world.

You are my salvation, Feyre.

Many atrocities, have been done in the name of the greater good.

So I’m your huntress and thief?” His hands slid down to cup the backs of my knees as he said with a roguish grin, “You are my salvation, Feyre.

She is my mate. And my spy,' I said too quietly. 'And she is the High Lady of the Night Court.' 'What?' Mor whsipered. I caressed a mental finger down that bond now hidden deep, deep within us, and said, 'If they had removed her other glove, they would have seen a second tatoo on her right arm. The twin to the other. Inked last night, when we crept out, found a priestess, and I swore her in as my High Lady.' (...) 'Not consort, not wife. Feyre is High Lady of the Night Court.' My equal in every way; she would wear my crown, sit on a throne beside mine. Never sidelined, never designated to breeding and parties and child rearing. My queen.

The Court of Dreams. The people who knew that there was a price, and one worth paying, for that dream. 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.

Did you enjoy the sight of me kneeling before you?

I was not prey any longer, I decided as I eased up to that door. And I was not a mouse. I was a wolf.

Truth is deadly. Truth is freedom. Truth can break and mend and bind.

She's mine. And if any of you lay a hand on her, you lose that hand. And then lose your head. And once Feyre is done killing you, then I'll grind your bones to dust.

Come on, Feyre. We don’t bite. Unless you ask us to.

I heard every word between you. I knew you could take care of yourself, and yet … ” He went back to his pie, swallowing a bite before continuing. “And yet I found myself deciding that if you took his hand, I would find a way to live with it. It would be your choice.” I sipped from my wine. “And if he had grabbed me?” There was nothing but uncompromising will in his eyes. “Then I would have torn apart the world to get you back.

Say it,” I gritted out. “The High Lord of the Night Court is your mate.

I’m thinking,” he said, following the flick of my tongue over my bottom lip, “that I look at you and feel like I’m dying. Like I can’t breathe. I’m thinking that I want you so badly I can’t concentrate half the time I’m around you, and this room is too small for me to properly bed you. Especially with the wings.

The quickest way to a man's heart is through the fourth and fifth ribs.

I sipped from my wine. "And if he had grabbed me?" There was nothing but uncompromising will in his eyes. "Then I would have torn apart the world to get you back.

Don’t you—you don’t want your own space?” “No,” he said baldly. “Unless you do. I need you protecting me from our enemies with your water-wolves.

Life is better when you’re around. And look at how lovely your handwriting is.

That I will bow before no one and nothing but my crown.

He locked you up because he knew—the bastard knew what a treasure you are. That you are worth more than land or gold or jewels. He knew, and wanted to keep you all to himself.” The words hit me, even as they soothed some jagged piece in my soul. “He did—does love me, Rhysand.” “The issue isn’t whether he loved you, it’s how much. Too much. Love can be a poison.” And then he was gone.

The issue isn't whether he loved you, it's how much. Too much. Love can be poison

But I couldn’t … I couldn’t stop being around you, and loving you, and wanting you. I still can’t stay away.

There are good days and bad days for me - even now. Don't let the hard days win.

You might be my mate, he said, but you remain your own person. You decide your fate - your choices. Not me. You chose yesterday. You choose every day. Forever.

Males are horrible creatures, aren’t they?

I want you to know … ” His lips trembled, and I brushed away the tear that escaped down his cheek. “I want you to know,” I whispered, “that I am broken and healing, but every piece of my heart belongs to you. And I am honored—honored to be your mate.

When Rhys came back, after Amarantha, he was a ghost. He pretended he wasn't, but he was. You made him come alive again.

I painted stars and the moon and clouds and just endless, dark sky.” I finished the sixth, and was well on my way sawing through the seventh before I said, “I never knew why. I rarely went outside at night—usually, I was so tired from hunting that I just wanted to sleep. But I wonder … ” I pulled out the seventh and final arrow. “I wonder if some part of me knew what was waiting for me. That I would never be a gentle grower of things, or someone who burned like fire—but that I would be quiet and enduring and as faceted as the night. 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. I wonder if, even in my despair and hopelessness, I was never truly alone. I wonder if I was looking for this place—looking for you all.

I`m thinking that I was a lonely, hopeless person, and I might have fallen in love with the first thing that showed me a hint of kindness and safety

I was a dreamer born into the Court of Nightmares," Mor said. "So I got out.

It had filled my time - given me quiet, steadfast company with those characters, who did not exist and never would, but somehow made me feel less ... alone.

But I’ll always make time for you.

But I forgot to tell him,” I said quietly, opening the door, “that the villain is usually the person who locks up the maiden and throws away the key.” “Oh?” I shrugged. “He was the one who let me out.”.

If you don’t marry her, you stupid prick, I will.

You Illyrian males are insufferable. Rhys had just said, Good thing we make up for it with impressive wingspans.

I heard you begging someone, anyone, to rescue you, to get you out. I heard you say no.

I will kill anyone who harms you,” Rhys snarled. “I will kill them, and take a damn long time doing it.” He panted. “Go ahead. Hate me—despise me for it.

Rhysand merely raised a brow. “I already have everything I want.

When you lick me,” he said roughly, “I want to be alone—far away from everyone. Because when you lick me, Feyre,” he said, pressing nipping kisses to my jaw, my neck, “I’m going to let myself roar loud enough to bring down a mountain.

He tugged on the hood, and I savored the shadows and menace and wings. Death on swift wings. That's what I'd call the painting. He said softly, "I love it when you look at me like that." The purr in his voice heated my blood. "Like what?" "Like my power isn't something to run from. Like you see me.

A snap of Rhys’s fingers, and my nightclothes—and some flimsy underthings—appeared on the bed. “I couldn’t decide which scrap of lace I wanted you to wear, so I brought you a few to choose from.” “Pig,” I barked

Maybe I'd always been broken and dark inside.

I’m thinking it would be very easy to love you. And easier to call you my friend.

Where are we going?" Rhy's smile widened into a grin. "To Velaris—the City of Starlight.

I turned. “I was asking about Jurian, the king, the queens, and the Cauldron, but I’m glad to know I have so many options where our relationship stands. And that you’ll do whatever I want. I must have you wrapped completely around my finger.” His eyes danced with feline amusement. “Cruel, beautiful thing.

I believe you. And I believe in peace. I believe in a better world.

Azriel would likely love Mor until he was a whisper of darkness between the stars.

Not consort, not wife. Feyre is High Lady of the Night Court. My equal in every way; she would wear my crown, sit on a throne beside mine. Never sidelined, never designated to breeding and parties and child rearing. My queen.

I was never afraid of the consequences of being with you. Even if every assassin in the world hunts us … It’s worth it. You are worth it.

Love—love was a balm as much as it was a poison.

His words were a lethal caress as he said, “Did you enjoy the sight of me kneeling before you?

I did not mind stepping out of the shadows, did not mind even being in the shadows to begin with, so long as he was with m

He had stayed. And fought for me. Week after week, he’d fought for me, even when I had no reaction , even when I had barely been able to speak or bring myself to care if I lived or died or ate or starved. I couldn’t leave him to his own dark thoughts, his own guilt. He’d shouldered them alone long enough.

I whirled, and through the night drifting away like smoke on a wind, I found Rhysand straightening the lapels of his black jacket. “Hello, Feyre darling,” he purred.

A queen who owned her body, her life, her destiny, and never apologized for it.

Was I interrupting? I thought it was over." Rhys gave me a smile dripping with venom. He knew-through that bond, through whatever magic was between us, he'd known I was about to say no. "At least Feyre seemed to think so.

The voice was at once the night and the dawn and the stars and the earth, and every inch of my body calmed at the primal dominance in it.

I hope they all burn in hell.

I frowned at the eye in my palm. "What, literally shout at the tattoo?" "You could try rubbing it on certain body areas and I might come faster.

But I find myself unable to resist the temptation. The same way you can’t resist watching me whenever we’re out. So territorial.

Put a shirt on while you’re at it,” I quipped. A feline smile. “Does it make you uncomfortable?” “I’m surprised there aren’t more mirrors in this house, since you seem to love looking at yourself so much.” Azriel launched into a coughing fit. Cassian just turned away, a hand clamped over his mouth. Rhys’s lips twitched. “There’s the Feyre I adore.” I

Rhys flipped back the lid. A note lay atop the golden metal of the book. I read your letter. About the woman you love. I believe you. And I believe in peace. I believe in a better world. If anyone asks, you stole this during the meeting. Do not trust the others. The sixth queen was not ill.

I once lived in a place where the opinion of others mattered. It suffocated me, nearly broke me. So you’ll understand me, Feyre, when I say that I know what you feel, and I know what they tried to do to you, and that with enough courage, you can say to hell with a reputation. You do what you love, what you need

She didn’t know what to do with it, that rage. It still burned and hunted her, still made her want to rip and roar and rend the world into pieces. She felt it all—too keenly, too sharply. Hated and cared and loved and dreaded, more than other people, she sometimes thought.

I waited for the fear to hit; waited for my body to shriek to find a way to get out of this dinner, but ... nothing. Maybe it'd be a mercy to be ended— A broad hand gripped my face—gently enough not to hurt, but hard enough to make me look at him. "Don't you ever think that," Rhysand hissed, his eyes livid. "Not for one damned moment.

Lucien had been prepared to take me against my will. Fae males were territorial, dominant, arrogant—but the ones in the Spring Court … something had festered in their training. Because I knew—deep in my bones—that Cassian might push and test my limits, but the moment I said no, he’d back off. And I knew that if … that if I had been wasting away and Rhys had done nothing to stop it, Cassian or Azriel would have pulled me out. They would have taken me somewhere—wherever I needed to be—and dealt with Rhys later. But Rhys … Rhys would never have not seen what was happening to me; would never have been so misguided and arrogant and self-absorbed. He’d known what Ianthe was from the moment he met her. And he’d understood what it was like to be a prisoner, and helpless, and to struggle—every day—with the horrors of both.

So I said, "He is lucky to have all of you." "No," she said softly—more gently than I'd ever heard. "We are lucky to have him, Feyre." I turned from the door. "I have known many High Lord," Amren continued, studying her paper. "Cruel ones, cunning ones, weak ones, powerful ones. But never one that dreamed. Not as he does." "Dreams of what?" I breathed. "Of peace. Of freedom. Of a world united, a world thriving, Of something better—for all of us.

I had done everything – everything for that love. I had ripped myself to shreds, I had killed innocents and debased myself, and he had sat beside Amarantha on that throne. And he couldn’t do anything, hadn’t risked it – hadn’t risked being caught until there was only one night left, and all he’d wanted to do wasn’t free me, but fuck me. And when Amarantha had broken me, when she had snapped my bones and made my blood boil in its veins, he’d just knelt and begged her. He hadn’t tried to kill her, hadn’t crawled for me. Yes, he’d fought for me – but I’d fought harder for him.

Why does anything cling to something? Maybe they love wherever they’re going so much that it’s worth it. Maybe they’ll keep coming back, until there’s only one star left. Maybe that one star will make the trip forever, out of the hope that someday—if it keeps coming back often enough—another star will find it again

You think I don't know how stories get written- how this story will be written?" Rhys put his hands on his chest, his face more open, more anguished than I'd seen it. "I am the dark lord, who stole away the bride of spring. I am a demon, and a nightmare, and I will meet a bad end. He is the golden prince- the hero who will get to keep you as his reward for not dying of stupidity and arrogance.

I wonder if some part of me knew what was waiting for me. That I would never be a gentle grower of things, or someone who burned like fire - but that I would be quiet and enduring and as faceted as the night. That I would have beauty, for those who knew where to look, and if people didn't bother to look, but only to fear it... Then I didn't particularly care for them, anyway. I wonder if, even in my despair and hopelessness, I was never truly alone. I wonder if I was looking for this place - looking for you all.

Rhys gave no warning as he gripped my arm, snarling softly, and tore off my glove. His touch was like a brand, and I flinched, yielding a step, but he held firm until he'd gotten both gloves off. " I heard you begging someone, anyone, to rescue you, to get you out. I heard you say no." "I didn't say anything." He turned my bare hand over, his hold tightening as he examined the eye he'd tattooed. He tapped the pupil. Once. Twice. " I heard it loud and clear.

... so I leaned down and put my mouth on him. He jerked at the contact with a barked, “Shit,” and I laughed around him, even as I took him deeper into my mouth. His hands were now fisted in the sheets, white-knuckled as I slid my tongue over him, grazing slightly with my teeth. His groan was fire to my blood.

One second, he was in my mouth, my tongue flicking over the broad head of him; the next, his hands were on my waist and I flipped onto my front. He nudged my legs apart with his knees, spreading me as he gripped my hips, tugging them up, up before he sheathed himself deep in me with a single stroke. I moaned into the pillow at every glorious inch of him, rising onto my forearms as my fingers grappled into the sheets.

Rhys shuddered, and I watched his cock twitch. “Play later,” he ground out. Indeed. His mouth found mine, the kiss open and deep, a clash of tongues and teeth. He lay me down on the pillows, and I locked my legs around his back, careful of the wings. Though I stopped caring as he nudged at my entrance. And paused. “Play later,” I snarled into his mouth. Rhys laughed and slid in. And in. And in.

You can be a pawn, be someone’s reward, and spend the rest of your immortal life bowing and scraping and pretending you’re less than him, than Ianthe, than any of us. If you want to pick that road, then fine. A shame, but it’s your choice.” The shadow of wings rippled again. “But I know you—more than you realize, I think—and I don’t believe for one damn minute that you’re remotely fine with being a pretty trophy for someone who sat on his ass for nearly fifty years, then sat on his ass while you were shredded apart—” “Stop it—” “Or,” he plowed ahead, “you’ve got another choice. You can master whatever powers we gave to you, and make it count. You can play a role in this war. Because war is coming one way or another, and do not try to delude yourself that any of the Fae will give a shit about your family across the wall when our whole territory is likely to become a charnel house.” I stared

Aware of every breath, every movement, I sat in his lap. His hands gently braced my hips as I studied his face. “And now I want you to know, Rhysand, that I love you. I want you to know … ” His lips trembled, and I brushed away the tear that escaped down his cheek. “I want you to know,” I whispered, “that I am broken and healing, but every piece of my heart belongs to you. And I am honored—honored to be your mate.” His arms wrapped around me and he pressed his forehead to my shoulder, his body shaking. I stroked a hand through his silken hair. “I love you,” I said again. I hadn’t dared say the words in my head. “And I’d endure every second of it over again so I could find you. And if war comes, we’ll face it. Together. I won’t let them take me from you. And I won’t let them take you from me, either.” Rhys looked up, his face gleaming with tears. He went still as I leaned in, kissing away one tear. Then the other. As he had once kissed away mine. When my lips were wet and salty with them, I pulled back far enough to see his eyes. “You’re mine,” I breathed.

I moaned then, tilting my head back to give him better access. His hands clamped on my waist, then moved—one going to cup my rear, the other sliding between us. This—this moment, when it was him and me and nothing between our bodies … His tongue scraped the roof of my mouth as he dragged a finger down the center of me, and I gasped, my back arching. “Feyre,” he said against my lips, my name like a prayer more devout than any Ianthe had offered up to the Cauldron on that dark solstice morning. His tongue swept my mouth again, in time to the finger that he slipped inside of me. My hips undulated, demanding more, craving the fullness of him, and his growl reverberated in my chest as he added another finger. I moved on him. Lightning lashed through my veins, and my focus narrowed to his fingers, his mouth, his body on mine. His palm pushed against the bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs, and I groaned his name as I shattered

A song of despair The memory of you emerges from the night around me. The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea. Deserted like the dwarves at dawn. It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one! Cold flower heads are raining over my heart. Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked. In you the wars and the flights accumulated. From you the wings of the song birds rose. You swallowed everything, like distance. Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank! It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss. The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse. Pilot's dread, fury of blind driver, turbulent drunkenness of love, in you everything sank! In the childhood of mist my soul, winged and wounded. Lost discoverer, in you everything sank! You girdled sorrow, you clung to desire, sadness stunned you, in you everything sank! I made the wall of shadow draw back, beyond desire and act, I walked on. Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost, I summon you in the moist hour, I raise my song to you. Like a jar you housed infinite tenderness. and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar. There was the black solitude of the islands, and there, woman of love, your arms took me in. There was thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit. There were grief and ruins, and you were the miracle. Ah woman, I do not know how you could contain me in the earth of your soul, in the cross of your arms! How terrible and brief my desire was to you! How difficult and drunken, how tensed and avid. Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs, still the fruited boughs burn, pecked at by birds. Oh the bitten mouth, oh the kissed limbs, oh the hungering teeth, oh the entwined bodies. Oh the mad coupling of hope and force in which we merged and despaired. And the tenderness, light as water and as flour. And the word scarcely begun on the lips. This was my destiny and in it was my voyage of my longing, and in it my longing fell, in you everything sank! Oh pit of debris, everything fell into you, what sorrow did you not express, in what sorrow are you not drowned! From billow to billow you still called and sang. Standing like a sailor in the prow of a vessel. You still flowered in songs, you still brike the currents. Oh pit of debris, open and bitter well. Pale blind diver, luckless slinger, lost discoverer, in you everything sank! It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hour which the night fastens to all the timetables. The rustling belt of the sea girdles the shore. Cold stars heave up, black birds migrate. Deserted like the wharves at dawn. Only tremulous shadow twists in my hands. Oh farther than everything. Oh farther than everything. It is the hour of departure. Oh abandoned one!