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First published January 1, 2022
"So," he said wearily, “here we are, with the fate of our immortal world in the hands of an illiterate human.”
I’d long since given up hope of them actually noticing whether I came back from the woods every evening. At least until they got hungry again.
"Lucien," my captor said quietly, the name echoing with a hint of a snarl. "Behave."
Lucien went rigid, but he hopped off the edge of the table and bowed deeply to me."My apologies, lady." Another joke at my expense. "I'm Lucien. Courtier and emissary." He gestured to me with a flourish. "Your eyes are like stars, and your hair is like burnished gold."
“I might die of surprise,” Lucien said behind me. “You made a joke, Feyre.”
I found him carefully studying me, his lips in a thin line. “Has anyone ever taken care of you?” he asked quietly.
“No.” I’d long since stopped feeling sorry for myself about it.
“Don't feel bad for one moment about doing what brings you joy.”
“Do you ever stop being so serious and dull?"
"Do you ever stop being such a prick?" I snapped back.
Dead—really, truly, I should have been dead for that.
But Lucien grinned at me. "Much better.”
It took me a long while to realize that Rhysand, whether he knew it or not, had effectively kept me from shattering completely.