Previously, Hybern made his first move in the war by attacking the capital city of the Summer Court, but even the Night Court showing up with surprise aid to ultimately push out the army (and/or the King of Hybern just getting bored and saying “I’m a magic hologram, bye!” before retreating, because military strategy, I guess) doesn’t lessen High Lord Tarqin’s hatred for Feyre and Rhysand for manipulating him and stealing his half of the Book of Breathings. As a result, Feyre and Rhysand decide that now they’ll stop pretending to be assholes to everyone else, because that’s totally how other people thinking you’re an asshole works.
A Court of Wings and Ruin: Chapter 40
Since Feyre can’t claim ownership of the Ouroboros mirror without looking into it (which has been rumored to drive everyone mad), Feyre returns to the old prison to confront the Bone Carver and demand he choose an object other than the Ouroboros for his deal to aid them in the war. Astoundingly, somehow this doesn’t sway him. Can you imagine Feyre and Rhysand’s “cool” and “confident” behavior, but in the real world? Imagine Feyre walking into an Apple store, learning that the new iPhone costs a thousand dollars, and angrily demanding a different price or else.
“Find another object that you desire.”
The Carver’s violet eyes flared. “Why does the High Lord linger in the hall?”
“He has little interest in seeing you.”
Partially true. Rhys had wondered if the blow to his pride would work in our favor.
Rhysand hanging outside the Apple store, very casually very interested in something on his phone, Feyre going “oh, you don’t want my husband to come in here. He does not want to have to come in here,” and the Apple store employee just thinking, “yep, I bet.”
“I could offer you so many other things.” My voice turned low, honeyed. […]
“What about your firstborn?” A secret smile as he gestured with that small boy’s hand to himself.
Rhys’s attention slid to me, surprise—surprise and something deeper, more tender—flickering on his face. Not just any boy, then.
Rhysand spends most of the rest of the chapter making casual references to having kids one day, apparently prompted by the Bone Carver haunting Feyre by taking the appearance of her future child, which I guess makes their future child canon, which I guess is at least incredibly on brand for Rhysand as a grown-up high school goth.
After their meeting with the Bone Carver doesn’t prove fruitful, they go home, so hungry they head straight into the kitchen (because “neither of us felt like waiting for food to be prepared”, which I guess is how the rules of magic work in this particular chapter), where they’re surprised to walk in on Elain and the two housekeepers Nuala and Cerridwen covered in flour, who explain Elain wanted to bake bread. I guess this is comic relief? I feel like I’ve seen the quirky girl who talks in riddles and secretly has psychic powers surprises you with childish activities trope on two or three Joss Whedon shows, so it’s whatever.
I leaned forward, resting my brow against [Rhysand]. “She still has a long way to go.”
“We all do.”
Yeah, I kinda feel like your sister-in-law’s PTSD is different, but go ahead and tell your wife that, dude.
A Court of Wings and Ruin: Chapter 41
Update on the big High Lord meeting that’s totally seriously really gonna happen like super soon: it’s totally seriously really gonna happen like super soon! You’re all very interested in this drama, right? It’s the only thing happening in this book that’s not actually happened yet.
- They all* agreed on the earlier meeting date, but not on a neutral venue
- Because they used to use Under the Mountain as their neutral venue but then the first book in this series happened, so no one wants to go there anymore
- But then they agreed on the Dawn Court, which we’ve never been to, and is run by a High Lord we’ve never met, so there’s a whole bunch of pointless paragraphs in this book about why this is supposed to make a lot of sense actually
- *Except Tamlin, who apparently is now the only person who hasn’t responded about the meeting, so you know that motherfucker is gonna make a dramatic entrance and we’re gonna have to act all surprised and like it’s not totally awkward that Feyre’s ex is here. Tamlin, you guys. That messy bitch loves drama.
Meanwhile, in other ACOWAR subplots on the back-burner, Amren announces that Nesta is making progress! Sort of.
A few more days, Amren declared when Nesta at last went upstairs, complaining of a headache. A few more days, and my sister, through whatever mysterious power, might be able to do something.
Wow. Something might happen but it’s not clear how, and it’s not going to happen yet. Good update. If that isn’t this whole book in a nutshell, I don’t know what is.
[Amren] bid us good night—to go read until her eyes were bleeding, she claimed.
Considering how awful the Book was, I wasn’t entirely sure if she was joking.
If that isn’t this whole book in a nutshell, I don’t know what is.
And with that, it’s time for what we’ve been waiting for for most of the book… the fashion show before the meeting with all the High Lords.
Rhys in his preferred black jacket and pants, Azriel and Cassian in their Illyrian armor, all seven Siphons polished and gleaming. Mor had forgone her usual red gown for one of midnight blue. […] We had taken my gown from Starfall and refashioned it
If Rhysand was Night Triumphant, I was the star that only glowed thanks to his darkness, the light only visible because of him.
My Kindle helpfully told me that 1618 people highlighted this sentence where Feyre basically says she’s nothing without her man. People. We can achieve more than this as a society.
“You just look so…” […] “Official,” Cassian said with an incredulous look in her direction. He waved a Siphon-topped hand to me. “Fancy.”
“Over five hundred years old,” Mor said, shaking her head sadly, “a skilled warrior and general, famous throughout territories, and complimenting ladies is still something he finds next to impossible. Remind me why we bring you on diplomatic meetings?”
…is that an important skill to have at a diplomatic meeting?
There’s a whole flashback where Feyre talks about how weird it is picking out a crown and how she now apparently owns a whole crown collection through her marriage to Rhysand. I know what you’re thinking. “I don’t care. Unless, somehow, Rhysand makes a joke about genitals during this scene.” WELL GUESS WHAT?
Ten thousand years’ worth of treasure. […]
“The family jewels,” Rhys said with a devious grin.
Much less important than Rhysand’s balls joke, Nesta casually shows up dressed to the nines and tells everyone she’s going to the meeting after all.
“But what about Nesta and whichever dude she’s flirting with?” asked no one:
for her to be dressed like that …
She strode down the stairs, and when the others were silent, I realized …
I tried not to look too obvious as I glanced at Cassian.
They had not seen each other since Adriata.
But the warrior only gave her a cursory once-over and turned toward Azriel to say something.
THE ROMANTIC TENSION IS EATING ME AWAY FROM THE INSIDE OUT.
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