A Court of Thorns and Roses (A Court of Thorns and Roses #1) by Sarah J. Maas

“They’re setting up bonfires—for Calanmai. It’s in two days.”

“For what?”

“Fire Night?”

I shook my head. “We don’t celebrate holidays in the human realm. Not after you—your people left. In some places, it’s forbidden. We don’t even remember the names of your gods. What does Cala—Fire Night celebrate?”

He rubbed his neck. “It’s just a spring ceremony. We light bonfires, and … the magic that we create helps regenerate the land for the year ahead.”

“How do you create the magic?”

“There’s a ritual. But it’s … very faerie.” He clenched his jaw and continued walking, away from the unlit fires. “You might see more faeries around than usual—faeries from this court, and from other territories, who are free to wander across the borders that night.”

“I thought the blight had scared many of them away.”

“It has—but there will be a number of them. Just … stay away from them all. You’ll be safe in the house, but if you run into one before we light the fires at sundown in two days, ignore them.”

“And I’m not invited to your ceremony?”

“No. You’re not.” He clenched and loosened his fingers, again and again, as if trying to keep the claws contained.

Though I tried to ignore it, my chest caved a bit.

We walked back in the sort of tense silence we hadn’t endured in weeks.

Tamlin went rigid the moment we entered the gardens. Not from me or our awkward conversation—it was quiet with that horrible stillness that usually meant one of the nastier faeries was around. Tamlin bared his teeth in a low snarl. “Stay hidden, and no matter what you overhear, don’t come out.”

Then he was gone.

Alone, I looked to either side of the gravel path, like some gawking idiot. If there was indeed something here, I’d be caught in the open. Perhaps it was shameful not to go to his aid, but—he was a High Lord. I would just get in the way.

I had just ducked behind a hedge when I heard Tamlin and Lucien approaching. I silently swore and froze. Maybe I could sneak across the fields to the stables. If there was something amiss, the stables not only had shelter but also a horse for me to flee on. I was about to make for the high grasses mere steps beyond the edge of the gardens when Tamlin’s snarl rippled through the air on the other side of the hedge.

I turned—just enough to spy them through the dense leaves. Stay hidden, he’d said. If I moved now, I would surely be noticed.

“I know what day it is,” Tamlin said—but not to Lucien. Rather, the two of them faced … nothing. Someone who wasn’t there. Someone invisible. I would have thought they were playing a prank on me had I not heard a low, disembodied voice reply.

“Your continued behavior is garnering a lot of interest at court,” the voice said, deep and sibilant. I shivered, despite the warmth of the day. “She has begun wondering—wondering why you haven’t given up yet. And why four naga wound up dead not too long ago.”

“Tamlin’s not like the other fools,” Lucien snapped, his shoulders pushed back to raise himself to his full height, more warrior-like than I’d yet seen him. No wonder he had all those weapons in his room. “If she expected bowed heads, then she’s more of an idiot than I thought.”

The voice hissed, and my blood went cold at the noise. “Speak you so ill of she who holds your fate in her hands? With one word, she could destroy this pathetic estate. She wasn’t pleased when she heard of you dispatching your warriors.” The voice now seemed turned toward Tamlin. “But, as nothing has come of it, she has chosen to ignore it.”

There was a deep-throated growl from the High Lord, but his words were calm as he said, “Tell her I’m getting sick of cleaning up the trash she dumps on my borders.”

The voice chuckled, the sound like sand shifting. “She sets them loose as gifts—and reminders of what will happen if she catches you trying to break the terms of—”

“He’s not,” Lucien snarled. “Now, get out. We have enough of your ilk swarming on the borders—we don’t need you defiling our home, too. For that matter, stay the hell out of the cave. It’s not some common road for filth like you to travel through as they please.”

Tamlin loosed a growl of agreement.

The invisible thing laughed again, such a horrible, vicious sound. “Though you have a heart of stone, Tamlin,” it said, and Tamlin went rigid, “you certainly keep a host of fear inside it.” The voice sank into a croon. “Don’t worry, High Lord.” It spat the title like a joke. “All will be right as rain soon enough.”

“Burn in Hell,” Lucien replied for Tamlin, and the thing laughed again before a flap of leathery wings boomed, a foul wind bit my face, and everything went silent.

They breathed deeply after another moment. I closed my eyes, needing a steadying breath as well, but massive hands clamped onto my shoulders, and I yelped.

“It’s gone,” Tamlin said, releasing me. It was all I could do not to sag against the hedges.

“What did you hear?” Lucien demanded, coming around the corner and crossing his arms. I shifted my gaze to Tamlin’s face, but found it to be so white with anger—anger at that thing—that I had to look again at Lucien.