A Court of Thorns and Roses

by Sarah J. Maas

  “Like the Attor,” I said, horror and dread twisting in my gut, and Alis nodded. “In the human territory,” I said, “rumor claims more and more faeries have been sneaking over the wall to attack humans. And if no faeries can cross the wall without her permission, then that has to mean she’s been sanctioning those attacks.”

  And if I was right about what had happened to Clare Beddor and her family, then Amarantha had given the order for that, too.

  Alis swiped some dirt I couldn’t see from the table we leaned against. “I would not be surprised if she has sent her minions into the human realm to investigate your strengths and weaknesses in anticipation of the destruction she one day hopes to cause.”

  This was worse—so much worse than I had thought when I warned Nesta and my family to stay on alert and leave at the slightest sign of trouble. I felt sick to think of what kind of company Tamlin was keeping—sick at the thought of him being so desperate, so stricken by guilt and grief over having to sacrifice his sentries and never being able to tell me … And he’d let me go. Let all their sacrifices, let Andras’s sacrifice, be in vain.

  He’d known that if I remained, I would be at risk of Amarantha’s wrath, even if I freed him.

  “I can’t even protect myself against them, against what’s happening in Prythian … Even if we stood against the blight, they would hunt you down—she would find a way to kill you.”

  I remembered that pathetic effort to flatter me upon my arrival—and then he’d given up on it, on any attempt to win me when I’d seemed so desperate to get away, to never talk to him. But he’d fallen in love with me despite all that—known I’d loved him, and let me go with days to spare. He had put me before his entire court, before all of Prythian.

  “If Tamlin were freed—if he had his full powers,” I said, staring at a blackened bit of wall, “would he be able to destroy Amarantha?”

  “I don’t know. She tricked the High Lords through cunning, not force. Magic’s a specific kind of thing—it likes rules, and she manipulated them too well. She keeps their powers locked up inside herself, as if she can’t use them, or can access very little of them, at least. She has her own deadly powers, yes, so if it came down to a fight—”

  “But is he stronger?” I started wringing my hands.

  “He’s a High Lord,” Alis replied, as if that were answer enough. “But none of that matters now. He’s to be her slave, and we’re all to wear these masks until he agrees to become her lover—even then, he’ll never regain his full powers. And she’ll never let those Under the Mountain go.”

  I pushed off the table and squared my shoulders. “How do I get Under the Mountain?”

  She clicked her tongue. “You can’t go Under the Mountain. No human who goes in ever comes out.”

  I squeezed my fists so hard that my nails bit into my flesh. “How. Do. I. Get. There.”

  “It’s suicide—she’ll kill you, even if you get close enough to see her.”

  Amarantha had tricked him—she had hurt him so badly. Hurt them all so badly.

  “You’re a human,” Alis went on, standing as well. “Your flesh is paper-thin.”

  Amarantha must also have taken Lucien—she had carved out Lucien’s eye and scarred him like that. Did his mother grieve for him?

  “You were too blind to see Tamlin’s curse,” Alis continued. “How do you expect to face Amarantha? You’ll make things worse.”

  Amarantha had taken everything I wanted, everything I finally dared desire. “Show me the way,” I said, my voice trembling, but not with tears.

  “No.” Alis slung her satchel over a shoulder. “Go home. I’ll take you as far as the wall. There’s naught to be done now. Tamlin will remain her slave forever, and Prythian will stay under her rule. That’s what Fate dealt, that was what the Eddies of the Cauldron decided.”

  “I don’t believe in Fate. Nor do I believe in some ridiculous Cauldron.”

  She shook her head again, her wild brown hair like glistening mud in the dim light.

  “Take me to her,” I insisted.

  If Amarantha ripped out my throat, at least I would die doing something for him—at least I would die trying to fix the destruction I hadn’t prevented, trying to save the people I’d doomed. At least Tamlin would know it was for him, and that I loved him.

  Alis studied me for a moment before her eyes softened. “As you wish.”

  Chapter 33

  I might have been going to my death, but I wouldn’t arrive unarmed.

  I tightened the strap of the quiver across my chest and then grazed my fingers over the arrow feathers peeking over my shoulder. Of course, there were no ash arrows. But I would make do with what I’d found scattered throughout the manor. I could have taken more, but weapons would only weigh me down, and I didn’t know how to use most of them anyway. So I wore a full quiver, two daggers at my waist, and a bow slung over a shoulder. Better than nothing, even if I was up against faeries who’d been born knowing how to kill.

  Alis led me through the silent woods and foothills, pausing every so often to listen, to alter our course. I didn’t want to know what she heard or smelled out there, not when such stillness blanketed the lands. Stay with the High Lord, the Suriel had said. Stay with him, fall in love with him, and all would be righted. If I had stayed, if I had admitted what I’d felt … None of this would have happened.

  The world steadily filled with night, and my legs ached from the steep slopes of the hills, but Alis pressed on—never once looking back to see that I followed.

  I was beginning to wonder whether I should have brought more than a day’s worth of food when she stopped in the hollow between two hills. The air was cold—far colder than the air at the top of the hill, and I shivered as my eyes fell upon a slender cave mouth. There was no way this was the entrance—not when that mural had painted Under the Mountain to be in the center of Prythian. It was weeks of travel away.

  “All dark and miserable roads lead Under the Mountain,” Alis said so quietly that her voice was nothing more than the rustling of leaves. She pointed to the cave. “It’s an ancient shortcut—once considered sacred, but no more.”

  This was the cave Lucien had ordered the Attor not to use that day. I tried to master my trembling. I loved Tamlin, and I would go to the ends of the earth to make it right, to save him, but if Amarantha was worse than the Attor … if the Attor wasn’t the wickedest of her cronies … if even Tamlin had been scared of her …

  “I reckon you’re regretting your hotheadedness right now.”

  I straightened. “I will free him.”

  “You’ll be lucky if she gives you a clean death. You’ll be lucky if you even get brought before her.” I must have turned pale, because she pursed her lips and patted me on the shoulder. “A few rules to remember, girl,” she said, and we both stared at the cave mouth. The darkness reeked from its maw to poison the fresh night air. “Don’t drink the wine—it’s not like what we had at the Solstice, and will do more harm than good. Don’t make deals with anyone unless your life depends on it—and even then, consider whether it’s worth it. And most of all: don’t trust a soul in there—not even your Tamlin. Your senses are your greatest enemies; they will be waiting to betray you.”

  I fought the urge to touch one of my daggers and nodded my thanks instead.

  “Do you have a plan?”

  “No,” I admitted.

  “Don’t expect that steel to do you any good,” she said with a glance at my weapons.

  “I don’t.” I faced her, biting the inside of my lip.

  “There was one part of the curse. One part we can’t tell you. Even now, my bones are crying out just for mentioning it. One part you have to figure out … on your own, one part she … she …” She swallowed loudly. “That she still doesn’t want you to know, if I can’t say it,” she gasped out. “But keep—keep your ears open, girl. Listen to what you hear.”

  I touched her arm. “I will. Thank you for bringing me.” For wasting pre
cious hours, when that satchel of supplies—for herself, for her boys—said enough about where she was going.

  “It’s a rare day indeed when someone thanks you for bringing them to their death.” If I thought about the danger too long, I might lose my nerve, Tamlin or no. She wasn’t helping. “I’ll wish you luck nonetheless,” Alis added.

  “Once you retrieve them, if you and your nephews need somewhere to flee,” I said, “cross the wall. Go to my family’s house.” I told her the location. “Ask for Nesta—my eldest sister. She knows who you are, knows everything. She will shelter you in any way she can.”

  Nesta would do it, too, I knew now, even if Alis and her boys terrified her. She would keep them safe. Alis patted my hand. “Stay alive,” she said.

  I looked at her one last time, then at the night sky that was unfurling above us, and at the deep green of the hills. The color of Tamlin’s eyes.

  I walked into the cave.

  The only sounds were my shallow breathing and the crunch of my boots on stone. Stumbling through the frigid dark, I inched onward. I kept close to the wall, and my hand soon turned numb as the cold, wet stone bit into my skin. I took small steps, fearful of some invisible pit that might send me tumbling to my doom.

  After what felt like an eternity, a crack of orange light cleaved through the dark. And then came the voices.

  Hissing and braying, eloquent and guttural—a cacophony bursting the silence like a firecracker. I pressed myself against the cave wall, but the sounds passed and faded.

  I crept toward the light, blinking back my blindness when I found the source: a slight fissure in the rock. It opened onto a crudely carved, fire-lit subterranean passageway. I lingered in the shadows, my heart wild in my chest. The crack in the cave wall was large enough for one person to squeeze through—so jagged and rough that it was obviously not often used. A glance at the dirt revealed no tracks, no sign of anyone else using this entrance. The hallway beyond was clear, but it veered off, obscuring my view.

  The passage was deathly quiet, but I remembered Alis’s warning and didn’t trust my ears, not when faeries could be silent as cats.

  Still, I had to leave this cave. Tamlin had been here for weeks already. I had to find where Amarantha kept him. And hopefully not run into anyone in the process. Killing animals and the naga had been one thing, but killing any others …

  I took several deep breaths, bracing myself. It was the same as hunting. Only this time the animals were faeries. Faeries who could torture me endlessly—torture me until I begged for death. Torture me the way they tormented that Summer Court faerie whose wings had been ripped off.

  I didn’t let myself think about those bleeding stumps as I eased toward the tiny opening, sucking in my stomach to squeeze through. My weapons scraped against the stone, and I winced at the hiss of falling pebbles. Keep moving, keep moving. Hurrying across the open hallway, I pressed into an alcove in the opposite wall. It didn’t provide much cover.

  I slunk along the wall, pausing at the bend in the hall. This was a mistake—only an idiot would come here. I could be anywhere in Amarantha’s court. Alis should have given me more information. I should have been smart enough to ask. Or smart enough to think of another way—any way but this.

  I risked a glance around the corner and almost sobbed in frustration. Another hallway carved out of the mountain’s pale stone, lined on either side by torches. No shadowy spots for concealment, and at its other end, my view was yet again obscured by a sharp turn. It was wide open. I was as good as a starving doe, ripping bark off a tree in a clearing.

  But the halls were silent—the voices I’d heard earlier were gone. And if I heard anyone, I could sprint back to that cave mouth. I could do reconnaissance for a time, gather information, find out where Tamlin was—

  No. A second opportunity might not arise for a while. I had to act now. If I stopped for too long, I’d never work up the nerve again. I made to slip around the corner.

  Long, bony fingers wrapped around my arm, and I went rigid.

  A pointed, leathery gray face came into view, and its silver fangs glistened as it smiled at me. “Hello,” it hissed. “What’s something like you doing here?”

  I knew that voice. It still haunted my nightmares.

  So it was all I could do to keep from screaming as its bat-like ears cocked, and I realized that I stood before the Attor.

  Chapter 34

  The Attor kept its icy grip on my upper arm as it half dragged me to the throne room. It didn’t bother to strip me of my weapons. We both knew they were of little use.

  Tamlin. Alis and her boys. My sisters. Lucien. I silently chanted their names again and again as the Attor loomed above me, a demon of malice. Its leathery wings rustled occasionally—and had I been able to speak without screaming, I might have asked why it hadn’t killed me outright. The Attor just tugged me onward with that slithering gait, its clawed feet making leisurely scratches on the cave floor. It looked unnervingly identical to how I had painted it.

  Leering faces—cruel and harsh—watched me go by, none of them looking remotely concerned or disturbed that I was in the claws of the Attor. Faeries—lots of them—but few High Fae to be seen.

  We strode through two ancient, enormous stone doors—taller than Tamlin’s manor—and into a vast chamber carved from pale rock, upheld by countless carved pillars. That small part of me that had again become trivial and useless noted that the carvings weren’t just ornate designs, but actually depicted faeries and High Fae and animals in various environments and states of movement. Countless stories of Prythian were etched on them. Chandeliers of jewels hung between the pillars, staining the red marble floor with color. Here—here were the High Fae.

  An assembled crowd took up most of the space, some of them dancing to strange, off-kilter music, some milling about chatting—a party of sorts. I thought I spied some glittering masks among the attendees, but everything was a blur of sharp teeth and fine clothing. The Attor hurled me forward, and the world spun.

  The cold marble floor was unyielding as I slammed into it, my bones groaning and barking. I pushed myself up, sparks dancing in my eyes, but stayed on the ground, kept low, as I beheld the dais before me. A few steps led onto the platform. I lifted my head higher.

  There, lounging on a black throne, was Amarantha.

  Though lovely, she wasn’t as devastatingly beautiful as I had imagined, wasn’t some goddess of darkness and spite. It made her all the more petrifying. Her red-gold hair was neatly braided and woven through her golden crown, the deep color enriching her snow-white skin, which, in turn, set off her ruby lips. But while her ebony eyes shone, there was … something that sucked at her beauty, some kind of permanent sneer to her features that made her allure seem contrived and cold. To paint her would have driven me to madness.

  The highest commander of the King of Hybern. She’d slaughtered human armies centuries ago, had murdered her slaves rather than free them. And she’d captured all of Prythian in a matter of days.

  Then I looked to the black rock throne beside her, and my arms buckled beneath me.

  He was still wearing that golden mask, still wearing his warrior’s clothes, that baldric—even though there were no knives sheathed along it, not a single weapon anywhere on him. His eyes didn’t widen; his mouth didn’t tighten. No claws, no fangs. He just stared at me, unfeeling—unmoved. Unimpressed.

  “What’s this?” Amarantha said, her voice lilting despite the adder’s smile she gave me. From her slender, creamy neck hung a long, thin chain—and from it dangled a single, age-worn bone the size of a finger. I didn’t want to consider whom it might have belonged to as I remained on the floor. If I shifted my arm, I could draw my dagger—

  “Just a human thing I found downstairs,” the Attor hissed, and a forked tongue darted out between its razor-sharp teeth. It flapped its wings once, blasting foul-smelling air at me, and then neatly tucked them behind its skeletal body.

  “Obviously,” Amarantha p
urred. I avoided meeting her eyes, focusing on Tamlin’s brown boots. He was ten feet from me—ten feet, and not saying a word, not even looking horrified or angry. “But why should I bother with her?”

  The Attor chuckled, the sound like sizzling water on a griddle, and a taloned foot jabbed my side. “Tell Her Majesty why you were sneaking around the catacombs—why you came out of the old cave that leads to the Spring Court.”

  Would it be better to kill the Attor, or to try to make it to Amarantha? The Attor kicked me again, and I winced as its claws bit into my ribs. “Tell Her Majesty, you human filth.”

  I needed time—I needed to figure out my surroundings. If Tamlin was under some kind of spell, then I would have to worry about grabbing him. I eased to my feet, keeping my hands within casual reach of my daggers. I stared at Amarantha’s glittering golden gown rather than meet her eyes.

  “I came to claim the one I love,” I said quietly. Perhaps the curse could still be broken. Again I looked at him, and the sight of those emerald eyes was a balm.

  “Oh?” Amarantha said, leaning forward.

  “I’ve come to claim Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court.”

  A gasp rippled through the assembled court. But Amarantha tipped back her head and laughed—a raven’s caw.

  The High Queen turned to Tamlin, and her lips pulled back in a wicked smile. “You certainly were busy all those years. Developed a taste for human beasts, did you?”

  He said nothing, his face impassive. What had she done? He didn’t move—her curse had worked, then. I was too late. I’d failed him, damned him.

  “But,” Amarantha said slowly. I could sense the Attor and the entire court looming behind me. “It makes me wonder—if only one human girl could be taken once she killed your sentinel …” Her eyes sparked. “Oh, you are delicious. You let me torture that innocent girl to keep this one safe? You lovely thing! You actually made a human worm love you. Marvelous.” She clapped her hands, and Tamlin merely looked away from her, the only reaction I’d seen from him.