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

“Bold statement from a human on Calanmai,” said the one holding my left arm. The fires didn’t reflect in his eyes. It was as if they gobbled up the light. I thought of the naga, whose horrible exteriors matched their rotten hearts. Somehow, these beautiful, ethereal faeries were far worse. “Once the Rite’s performed, we’ll have some fun, won’t we? A treat—such a treat—to find a human woman here.”

I bared my teeth at him. “Get your hands off me,” I said, loud enough for anyone to hear.

One of them ran a hand down my side, its bony fingers digging into my ribs, my hips. I jerked back, only to slam into the third one, who wove his long fingers through my hair and pressed close. No one looked; no one noticed.

“Stop it,” I said, but the words came out in a strangled gasp as they began herding me toward the line of trees, toward the darkness. I pushed and thrashed against them; they only hissed. One of them shoved me and I staggered, falling out of their grasp. The ground welled up beneath me, and I reached for my knives, but sturdy hands grasped me under the shoulders before I could draw them or hit the grass.

They were strong hands—warm and broad. Not at all like the prodding, bony fingers of the three faeries who went utterly still as whoever caught me gently set me upright.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” said a deep, sensual male voice I’d never heard. But I kept my eyes on the three faeries, bracing myself for flight as the male behind me stepped to my side and slipped a casual arm around my shoulders.

The three lesser faeries paled, their dark eyes wide.

“Thank you for finding her for me,” my savior said to them, smooth and polished. “Enjoy the Rite.” There was enough of a bite beneath his last words that the faeries stiffened. Without further comment, they scuttled back to the bonfires.

I stepped out of the shelter of my savior’s arm and turned to thank him.

Standing before me was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.





Chapter 21


Everything about the stranger radiated sensual grace and ease. High Fae, no doubt. His short black hair gleamed like a raven’s feathers, offsetting his pale skin and blue eyes so deep they were violet, even in the firelight. They twinkled with amusement as he beheld me.

For a moment, we said nothing. Thank you didn’t seem to cover what he’d done for me, but something about the way he stood with absolute stillness, the night seeming to press in closer around him, made me hesitate to speak—made me want to run in the other direction.

He, too, wasn’t wearing a mask. From another court, then.

A half smile played on his lips. “What’s a mortal woman doing here on Fire Night?” His voice was a lover’s purr that sent shivers through me, caressing every muscle and bone and nerve.

I took a step back. “My friends brought me.”

The drumming was increasing in tempo, building to a climax I didn’t understand. It had been so long since I’d seen a bare face that looked even vaguely human. His clothes—all black, all finely made—were cut close enough to his body that I could see how magnificent he was. As if he’d been molded from the night itself.

“And who are your friends?” He was still smiling at me—a predator sizing up prey.

“Two ladies,” I lied again.

“Their names?” He prowled closer, slipping his hands into his pockets. I retreated a little more and kept my mouth shut. Had I just traded three monsters for something far worse?

When it became apparent I wouldn’t answer, he chuckled. “You’re welcome,” he said. “For saving you.”

I bristled at his arrogance but retreated another step. I was close enough to the bonfire, to that little hollow where the faeries were all gathered, that I could make it if I sprinted. Maybe someone would take pity on me—maybe Lucien or Alis were there.

“Strange for a mortal to be friends with two faeries,” he mused, and began circling me. I could have sworn tendrils of star-kissed night trailed in his wake. “Aren’t humans usually terrified of us? And aren’t you, for that matter, supposed to keep to your side of the wall?”

I was terrified of him, but I wasn’t about to let him know. “I’ve known them my whole life. I’ve never had anything to fear from them.”

He paused his circling. He now stood between me and the bonfire—and my escape route. “And yet they brought you to the Great Rite and abandoned you.”

“They went to get refreshments,” I said, and his smile grew. Whatever I’d just said had given me away. I’d spotted the servants hauling off the food, but—maybe it wasn’t here.

He smiled for a heartbeat longer. I had never seen anyone so handsome—and never had so many warning bells pealed in my head because of it.

“I’m afraid the refreshments are a long way off,” he said, coming closer now. “It might be a while before they return. May I escort you somewhere in the meantime?” He removed a hand from his pocket to offer his arm.

He’d been able to scare off those faeries without lifting a finger. “No,” I said, my tongue thick and heavy.

He waved his hand toward the hollow—toward the drums. “Enjoy the Rite, then. Try to stay out of trouble.” His eyes gleamed in a way that suggested staying out of trouble meant staying far, far away from him.