Sarah J. Maas

a promise was law; a promise was currency; a promise was your bond

“Love won’t feed a hungry belly,”

Rhysand knew exactly how I looked—he’d recognized me that day at the manor.

shattering the silence like a shooting star

“I’ll heal your arm in exchange for you. For two weeks every month, two weeks of my choosing, you’ll live with me at the Night Court. Starting after this messy three-trials business.”

Because,” he went on, his eyes locked with mine, “I didn’t want you to fight alone. Or die alone.”

Pity those who don’t feel anything at all

Because I’d pick you.”
And then she kissed him.

“Why should I be scared of an oversized bat who likes to throw temper tantrums?”

Rhys pinched my behind, and I clamped down on my lip to keep from yelping.