A Court of Frost and Starlight (A Court of Thorns and Roses #3.1) by Sarah J. Maas

I truly knew what I wanted to wish for, as if it were a piece of Amren’s puzzle clicking into place, as if the threads of the weaver’s tapestry finally revealed the design they’d formed to make.

I didn’t tell him, though. Not as I gathered my breath and blew.



Cake before dinner was utterly acceptable on Solstice, Rhys informed me as we set aside our plates on whatever surface was nearest in the sitting room. Especially before presents.

“What presents?” I asked, surveying the room empty of them, save for Lucien’s two boxes.

The others grinned at me as Rhys snapped his fingers, and—

“Oh.”

Boxes and bags, all brightly wrapped and adorned, filled the bay windows.

Piles and mountains and towers of them. Mor let out a squeal of delight.

I twisted toward the foyer. I’d left mine in a broom closet on the third level—

No. There they were. Wrapped and by the back of the bay.

Rhys winked at me. “I took it upon myself to add your presents to the communal trove.”

I lifted my brows. “Everyone gave you their gifts?”

“He’s the only one who can be trusted not to snoop,” Mor explained.

I looked toward Azriel.

“Even him,” Amren said.

Azriel gave me a guilty cringe. “Spymaster, remember?”

“We started doing it two centuries ago,” Mor went on. “After Rhys caught Amren literally shaking a box to figure out what was inside.”

Amren clicked her tongue as I laughed. “What they didn’t see was Cassian down here ten minutes earlier, sniffing each box.”

Cassian threw her a lazy smile. “I wasn’t the one who got caught.”

I turned to Rhys. “And somehow you’re the most trustworthy one?”

Rhys looked outright offended. “I am a High Lord, Feyre darling. Unwavering honor is built into my bones.”

Mor and I snorted.

Amren strode for the nearest pile of presents. “I’ll go first.”

“Of course she will,” Varian muttered, earning a grin from me and Mor.

Amren smiled sweetly at him before bending to pick up a gift. Varian had the good sense to shudder only when she’d turned her back on him.

But she plucked up a pink-wrapped present, read the label, and ripped into it.

Everyone tried and failed to hide their wince.

I’d seen some animals tear into carcasses with less ferocity.

But she beamed as she turned to Azriel, a set of exquisite pearl-and-diamond earrings dangling from her small hands. “Thank you, Shadowsinger,” she said, inclining her head.

Azriel only inclined his head in return. “I’m glad they pass inspection.”

Cassian elbowed his way past Amren, earning a hiss of warning, and began chucking presents. Mor caught hers easily, shredding the paper with as much enthusiasm as Amren. She grinned at the general. “Thank you, darling.”

Cassian smirked. “I know what you like.”

Mor held up—

I choked. Azriel did, too, whirling on Cassian as he did.

Cassian only winked at him as the barely there red negligee swayed between Mor’s hands.

Before Azriel could undoubtedly ask what we were all thinking, Mor hummed to herself and said, “Don’t let him fool you: he couldn’t think of a damn thing to get me, so he gave up and asked me outright. I gave him precise orders. For once in his life, he obeyed them.”

“The perfect warrior, through and through,” Rhys drawled.

Cassian leaned back on the couch, stretching his long legs before him. “Don’t worry, Rhysie. I got one for you, too.”

“Shall I model it for you?”

I laughed, surprised to hear the sound echo across the room. From Elain.

Her present … I hurried to the pile of gifts before Cassian could lob one across the room again, hunting for the parcel I’d carefully wrapped yesterday. I just spied it behind a larger box when I heard it. The knock.

Just once. Quick and hard.

I knew. I knew, before Rhys even looked toward me, who was standing at that door.

Everyone did.

Silence fell, interrupted only by the crackling fire.

A beat, and then I was moving, dress swishing around me as I crossed into the foyer, heaved open the leaded glass door and the oak one beyond it, then braced myself against the onslaught of cold.

Against the onslaught of Nesta.





CHAPTER

20

Feyre

Snow clung to Nesta’s hair as we stared at each other across the threshold.

Pink tinged her cheeks from the frigid night, but her face remained solemn. Cold as the snow-dusted cobblestones.

I opened the door a bit wider. “We’re in the sitting room.”

“I saw.”

Conversation, tentative and halting, carried to the foyer. No doubt a noble attempt by everyone to give us some privacy and sense of normalcy.

When Nesta remained on the doorstep, I extended a hand toward her. “Here—I’ll take your coat.”

I tried not to hold my breath as she glanced past me, into the house. As if weighing whether to take that step over the threshold.

From the edge of my vision, purple and gold flashed—Elain. “You’ll fall ill if you just stand there in the cold,” she tutted to Nesta, smiling broadly. “Come sit with me by the fire.”