I’m shamelessly plugging my new Fantasy Romance serial in the intro to an unrelated post. Join the new Patreon tier or my Ream page , or read it on Kindle Vella.
As promised, I’m importing the A Court of Thorns and Roses recaps here from Patreon. These were originally written beginning in August of 2020, so there will be references to upcoming or seasonal events that won’t fit with our current timeline. I am not a time traveler and you’ll never be able to prove that I am. I will also include editors notes like this every now and then as we go, mostly to amuse myself but to give re-read value to those who’ve already been on this awful, awful journey with me.
I missed last week’s post! It was just a weird week. I won’t get into it all. Just a busy week on top of disabled stuff and a release day, perfect storm of bad stress/good stress and I dropped so many balls.
Previously on ACOTAR, Feyre got her arm fucked up because her plan sucked. Now, she’s in a dungeon with a compound fracture.
No one, not even Lucien, came to fix my arm in the days following my victory.
Man, poor Lucien. Doesn’t count as someone.
I wish you could see the tears of laughter I’m wiping away as I write this because every time I see it, it gets funnier.
But yeah, Feyre is laying there with a broken bone jutting out of her arm.
But worse than that was the growing panic—panic that the wound hadn’t stopped bleeding. I knew what it meant when the blood continued to flow.
Blood has been “flowing” from her arm for days? And she’s still alive? Dang, she has to be the most everything. The most intelligent. The most resourceful. The most full of blood.
She’s afraid of getting an infection, and the food they’re serving her is rotten and she can’t keep it down.
Okay, let’s do a check-in here. Feyre has been in the dungeons for, eh, we don’t know how long but definitely more than couple days. No food, idk if they’re giving her potable water, she’s already been beaten nearly to death once before, and now she has a compound fracture that’s been bleeding for days and which is smeared in worm shit.
I’d awoken from a fitful sleep and found myself burning hot.
Look, be glad you woke at all, okay. ed.—Although I am not.
A kind of fire that made everything a bit muddled. My injured arm dangled at my side as I gazed dully at the cell door. It seemed to sway, its lines rippling.
Uh-oh, is it the door or is it someone phasing into the cell?
The heat in my face was some kind of small cold—not a fever from infection. I put a hand on my chest, and dried mud crumbled into my lap. Each of my breaths was like swallowing broken glass. Not a fever. Not a fever. Not a fever.
I feel like we need a little more in that passage to tell us that this is Feyre in denial, not Feyre relaying the narrative. Even putting those “Not a fever”s in italics might have made that clearer.
The door actually did move then—no, not the door, but rather the darkness around it, which seemed to ripple. Real fear coiled in my stomach as a male figure formed out of that darkness, as if he’d slipped in from the cracks between the door and the wall, hardly more than a shadow.
Whoooo is it? Is it someone, or is it just Lucien?
Rhysand was fully corporeal now, and his violet eyes glowed in the dim light. He slowly smiled from where he stood by the door. “What a sorry state for Tamlin’s champion.”
Oh weird it’s Rhysand what an unexpected turn I’m shocked.
“Go to Hell,” I snapped, but the words were little more than a wheeze.
There’s that pesky mention of Hell again. I almost expected Rhysand to break the fourth wall and mention it, because up until this point he’s really struck me as one of those characters who is fully aware that he’s in a story.
His pale skin seemed to radiate alabaster light.
In every scene up until this one, he has radiated darkness. Now, he radiates a light so white, it’s comparable to a stone whose name has become synonymous with the color white. ed.—Remember, though, Rhysand is BIPOC and these books are super diverse. He just stayed under the mountain so long that he looked this way in this book. That’s how melanin works. You just don’t go in the sun for a few days and you turn caucasian. The fans will tell you so. They won’t have an answer when you bring up his presence at the Spring Court several times, indicating that he was not always kept away from the sunlight that makes their preposterous vanishing melanin theory possible. Don’t worry, I’ve been assured by a furious SJM fan that I’m racist for even questioning this.
Why not.
Even though Feyre is nearly dead, she’s still sassy to Rhysand throughout the entire exchange, which I get because he’s a walking pastiche of every elegant bad boy type from every 00’s supernatural drama.
“What would Tamlin say,” he murmured, “if he knew his beloved was rotting away down here, burning up with fever? Not that he can even come here, not when his every move is watched.”
I wonder if Rhysand is saying this to purposely inform Feyre of why Tamlin isn’t coming to see her.
There’s more about Feyre being too weak but also very sassy, and Rhysand tells her that he’s there to help her.
“You made me a lot of money, you know. I figured I would repay the favor.”
What did I say? He was the one who bet on her to win. So, even Tamlin and Lucien, they didn’t bet on her surviving? I would be so pissed if I were Feyre.
Rhysand asks to see Feyre’s arm, and when she doesn’t comply he just grabs it.
I bit my lip to keep from crying out—bit it hard enough to draw blood as rivers of fire exploded inside me, as my head swam, and all mys senses narrowed down to the piece of bone sticking through my arm. They couldn’t know—couldn’t know how bad it was, because then they would use it against me.
I’m not buying it—not buying that a person with a compound fracture wouldn’t involuntarily scream or make some sort of sound when the limb was suddenly and roughly grabbed. And the idea that the fairies will somehow not realize how bad it is for a human to have a bone on the outside of their body that’s usually on the inside of their body is absurd. It sounds like Under the Mountain is vivisection central. These fairies know exactly how a human body works because they’ve taken apart so many.
Rhysand examined the wound, a smile appearing on his sensuous lips.
When you are dying from a raging infection, the last thing you’re worrying about is sensuality. As someone who has nearly died from a raging infection, I feel I can speak quite strongly on this.
“Oh, that’s wonderfully gruesome.” I swore at him, and he chuckled. “Such words from a lady.”
We have to be sure that we get some Not Like Other Girls™ in here somewhere, huh? Swearing and being admonished by the hot guy for not being ladylike is required in terrible books.
Feyre tells Rhysand to get out, and he’s like okay, but don’t you want to like… not die from your fucked up arm?
“At what cost?” I shot back, but kept my head against the stone, needing its damp strength.
That is a hell of a word choice.
Meanwhile, look for my super explicit sea creature monster erotica, His Damp Strength, coming out never.
“Ah, that. Living among faeries has taught you some of our ways.”
Don’t worry, she literally hasn’t learned anything from that teaching. For example, she was warned not to make any deals, but she made a deal, and now because she made that deal she’s gonna have to make another deal at a time when she has zero leverage and no brain power.
IDK if you’ve seen Our Flag Means Death on HBOMax, but there’s a scene where a pirate who’s betrayed another pirate dismisses the idea of friends because “we’re all just in various stages of fucking each other over.” That’s kind of how I imagine the world of Prythian. Just constant curses and deals and nobody ever being trustworthy.
Which I assume will lead to Feyre fucking every single male fairy who shows up in this book series before they’re revealed to be the real villains and the non-villains originally perceived to be villains turn out to be fuckable. ed.—I don’t think I had even read spoilers for this series at this point.
“I’ll make a trade with you,” he said casually, and gently set my arm down. As it met with the floor, I had to close my eyes to brace against the flow of that poisoned lightning. “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.”
Okay, so that’s more fairy tale stuff (also, very Hades/Persephone). Various fairy tales have the heroine spending nights, weeks, years, etc. with someone who usually looks like a bear or something, and then more trickery happens like someone is drugged or someone else is tricked into stealing the bear’s skin or something.
Feyre has clearly read those stories because she turns down Rhysand’s offer immediately.
“You must be holding out for one of your friends—for Lucien, correct? After all, he healed you before, didn’t he? Oh, don’t look so innocent. The Attor and his cronies broke your nose. So unless you have some kind of magic you’re not telling us about, I don’t think human bones heal that quickly.” His eyes sparkled, and he stood, pacing a bit. “The way I see things, Feyre, you have two options. The first, and the smartest, would be to accept my offer.”
Interesting. The fairies do know that humans can’t heal quickly, but Feyre is still lying there injured. Which means that yeah, no, Amarantha is fine with Feyre dying in the dungeon. After all, she never said she’d keep Feyre healthy while this was going on.
Which is why Feyre shouldn’t be making deals.
“The second option—and the one only a fool would take—would be for you to refuse my offer and place your life, and thus Tamlin’s, in the hands of chance.
I mean, and the lives of everybody else in the Spring Court. She’s fighting for them, too.
“Let’s say I walk out of here. Perhaps Lucien will come to your aid within five minutes of my leaving. Perhaps he’ll come in five days. Perhaps he won’t come at all. Between you and me, he’s been keeping a low profile after his rather embarrassing outburst at your trial. […]
(This would be a really effective spot to point out that Lucien didn’t bet she’d survive the worm maze. And that Tamlin didn’t, either.)
“[…]Tamlin even broke his delightful brooding to beg for him to be spared—such a noble warrior, your High Lord. She listened, of course—but only after she made Tamlin bestow Lucien’s punishment. Twenty lashes.”
Rhysand is always involved in the gayest shit, I swear. He made Tamlin and Lucien get on the ground and kiss his boots; now he’s like, let me tell you about your boyfriend whipping his bro. I don’t think Under the Mountain is a royal court at all. I think it’s a fairy kink club.
I started shaking, sick all over again to think about what it had to have been like for my High Lord to be the one to punish his friend.
If it helps, Feyre, I’m imagining that scene where James Bond is tied naked to the chair and Mads Mikkelsen is hitting him in the balls with a knotted rope.
But in fairness, I often imagine that scene.
I’m not sure, though, that it would be such a big deal for Tamlin to hit Lucien, considering Tamlin sent hundreds of his own people into the mortal world specifically to be slaughtered. Doesn’t seem like he’s above causing injury and death if it suits him.
Rhysand is like, you know, you’re right, you might not have a gruesome infection. That fever could be totally unconnected. Oh, and the worm could have had very good toilet hygiene, and obviously, Amarantha could always send someone to heal you. And then he’s like, yeah, you know what’s gonna happen if I leave here.
I stared at him, sending as much hate as I could into my gaze. He’d been the one who’d caused all this. He’d told Amarantha about Clare; he’d made Tamlin beg.
And Lucien, too. But in Feyre’s own words, “No one, not even Lucien […]”. Still, it’s not Rhysand’s fault that Clare was killed. It was your fault, Feyre. If you hadn’t blurted out Clare’s name, Rhysand would have never known she existed at all.
We’re not going to let Feyre pass the buck on this one. She was fine with Clare getting killed instead of her, or she wouldn’t have given Rhysand Clare’s name.
I bared my teeth. “Go. To. Hell.”
Stop. Using. Hell. As. A. “Tough”. Or. “Sassy”. Response. If. You. Don’t. Have. A. Concept. Of. Hell. In. Your. Book.
Swift as lightning, he lashed out, grabbing the shard of bone in my arm and twisting. A scream shattered out of me, ravaging my aching throat. The world flashed black and white and red. I thrashed and writhed, but he kept his grip, twisting the bone a final time before releasing my arm.
HOW ON EARTH DOES SHE MAINTAIN CONSCIOUSNESS. HOW IS SHE NOT GOING INTO SHOCK?
I’m sorry, but this whole thing with her arm is UNBELIEVABLE. That she is still alive after days and days of non-stop blood flow, that she’s got this raging infection and delirium that conveniently disappears when she needs to talk tough to the “bady guy” she’s definitely going to end up with, that someone is grabbing and twisting exposed bone from a compound fracture and she’s able to bounce back a moment later to spit in his face… none of this is believable. In a story about fairies and monsters, THIS is the thing that I cannot believe.
“This is the last time I’ll extend my assistance,” he said, pausing by the cell door. “Once I leave this cell, my offer is dead.” I spat again, and he shook his head. “I bet you’ll be spitting on Death’s face when she comes to claim you, too.”
Oooh, Death is a woman. Girl power.
Rhysand starts to fade away and Feyre has some second thoughts:
He could be bluffing, trying to trick me into accepting his offer. Or he might be right—I might be dying.
No, you’re actually dying. You might have to begrudgingly concede that someone else in this book is right about something. I know that will hard for you, but I’m 100% sure you’ll find a way to explain how you actually knew that before Rhysand pointed it out to you because YOU CAN NEVER BE WRONG OR DO ANYTHING WRONG BECAUSE YOU ARE ONE OF THE MOST INFURIATING MARY SUES IN THE HISTORY OF FANTASY.
INCLUDING BATMAN.
I was dying. I’d known it for some time now.
Good ole’ reliable Feyre.
And Lucien had underestimated my abilities in the past—had never quite grasped my limitations as a human. He’d sent me to hunt the Suriel with a few knives and a bow.
Hey, remember how I got ALL CAPS about how Feyre can never do anything wrong or foolish and if she does, it’s always explained away as being someone else’s fault in hindsight but AKSHULLY she was right and good and perfect all along?
LUCIEN DIDN’T “SEND” YOU AFTER THE SURIEL. YOU CHOSE TO GO AFTER THE SURIEL DESPITE BEING TOLD NOT TO.
But of course, it’s all his fault that she almost died because he underestimated her abilities, and now, gosh dang it, he just doesn’t understand that she’s got this infection.
It couldn’t possibly be that he’s decided not to put himself into even more danger to help her out of a situation that she has caused and which has already created a ton of problems for him. That couldn’t possibly be the reason. That would be a consequence of her actions, and those are unacceptable.
Feyre tells Rhysand to wait.
For Tamlin … for Tamlin, I would sell my soul; I would give up everything I had for him to be free.
There’s another one of those pesky allusions to something that doesn’t exist in this world. The concept of selling one’s soul is very much rooted in Christianity, which again does not exist in this particular fictional world.
She double-checks Rhysand that it’s just two weeks, and he’s like, yeah, just two weeks a month, that’s all.
“Why? And what are to … to be the terms?” I said, fighting past dizziness.
“Ah,” he said, adjusting the lapel of his obsidian tunic. “If I told you those things, there’d be no fun in it, would there?”
With everything Feyre already knows, she’s obviously not going to just go, yeah, fine, sounds good.
Right?
Let’s see what happens.
Nesta would have done the same for me, for Elain.
This would be a nice sentiment if I didn’t think it would later be used to justify why it’s really Nesta’s fault that Feyre ends up fucking Rhysand.
And Tamlin had done so much for me, for my family; even if he had lied about the Treaty, about sparing me from its terms, he’d still saved my life that day against the naga, and saved it again by sending me away from the manor.
Yeah, he kidnapped me and that was wrong, but he at least saved my life when I was attacked by monsters at the second location. Plus, he eventually let me go after my life was endangered again.
Rather than asking things like, you know, what are you going to do to me during those two weeks, Feyre barters the time down to a week, which Rhysand accepts. He heals her, which knocks her unconscious, and when she wakes up there’s something new that’s wrong with her arm.
Rhysand stood, running a hand through his short, dark hair. “It’s custom in my court for bargains to be permanently marked upon flesh.”
I rubbed my left forearm and hand, the entirety of which was now covered in swirls and whorls of black ink. Even my fingers weren’t spared, and a large eye was tattooed in the center of my palm. It was feline, and its slitted pupil stared right back at me.
Now she’s got a rad tattoo.
From a distance, the tattoo looked like an elbow-length lace glove, but when I held it close to my face, I could detect the intricate depictions of flowers and curves that flowed throughout to make up a larger pattern.
Lace is never like that. Hardly any flowers or curves in larger patterns when you’re talking about FUCKING LACE.
Plus, “from a distance?” It’s your fucking arm. How far away could you possibly get from it to see how it looks from afar?
God damnit I hate this book.
Feyre is pissed, she’s like, you didn’t tell me this was part of it and Rhysand is like, well, guess you should have asked. And I’m like, this is exactly why you needed to not be making deals with fairies because you don’t know enough.
Rhysand is like, you’re only upset about it because of how Tamlin will react.
Tamlin. I could already see his face going pale, his lips becoming thin as the claws came out. I could almost hear the growl he’d emit when he asked me what I had been thinking.
Ma’am. So far, he hasn’t had any reaction at all to you about anything. You’ve perceived like micro-expressions that you’re sure you’ve seen, and that’s it.
“I think I’ll wait to tell him until the moment’s right, though,” Rhysand said. The gleam in his eyes told me enough. Rhysand hadn’t done any of this to save me, but rather to hurt Tamlin.
NO SHIT?!
After that, Rhysand tells Feyre to “rest up” and vanishes, leaving me with my utter despair at knowing we’re going to have to read a second bland as unsalted oatmeal sex scene in this book that is scorchingly erotic and dripping “spice” from every page.
“And Lucien had underestimated my abilities in the past—had never quite grasped my limitations as a human. He’d sent me to hunt the Suriel with a few knives and a bow.”
Wouldn’t this be overestimating her abilities? Am I reading this wrong?
Yeah, I would consider that an overestimation of her abilities. But I’m no author.
Conveniently, neither is Sarah J Maas.
I read that like five times trying to see if I’d forgotten what words meant. Glad to know I’m not the only one who thought it didn’t make sense.
I feel like grasping her limitations (not a euphemism lol, or is it) then he’s underestimating her abilities.
It should probably be more “And Lucien had underestimated my abilities in the past – he thought being human meant my abilities were limited and sent me to hunt the Suriel with a few knives and a bow thinking I would fail, but I proved him wrong.”
Can someone with actual skill PLEASE write the underground fairy kink club story.
So glad you asked :smirk:
Jenny’s apparently going to be writing faerie porn at some point, jsyk. It’ll be on a serial app.
Also one of the Patreon comments mentioned an incredibly kinky scene in a Merthur fic where Merlin has to whip Arthur, and… yeah, there’s so much potential here. Like I know Maas is just shockingly hetero, buuuut…
The backstory is that Rhys trained Tamlin and Lucien in how to fight, they battled together, and there was some Spartan stuff around younger fighters sucking dick in exchange for lessons. They want to become a throuple, but both younger Fae get shamed for their families who are alarmingly hetero, and Tamlin’s is so awful they provoke Rhys into killing them (spoiler alert). Tamlin doesn’t forgive Rhysand for this, but does become High Lord and lets Lucien stay at the Spring Court after his family kicks him out of Autumn (the whole thing about ‘falling for a lesser female’ was a cover-up). But he also doesn’t do much to change attitudes among the members of his court, because he’s passive and conflict-avoidant and still struggling with a lot of his own internalized homophobia. So he doesn’t bang Lucien either, and there’s a lot of UST for years. Until Rhysand scores a REALLY hot dominatrix from Hybern.
She starts the Under the Mountain club, and eventually everyone starts showing up, *except* the Spring Court; they’re the last holdouts. So she sends Tamlin’s ex-dom (who’s really a switch) to go sell him a membership. There’s a very teasing hawt scene that leaves everyone wanting and unsatisfied, and then a couple days later a bunch of leatherclad individuals show up at Tamlin’s manor, and he and Lucien go with them without resistance to check out the club.
There, they make a bargain — if they can live there 24/7 without nutting for forty-nine hours, then nobody from the kink club will ever bother them again. But if they *do* come, then they must stay and serve the dominant members of the club, for the rest of eternity…
Wow well damn, thank you for that! Talk about a teaser…
This sounds like something I would read.
HELL YEAH! lol I love that she’s just trying to sell them a membership at first lol.
Everyone is a million times more believable, interesting, and hawt.
I’m excited for Jenny’s stuff too! 😀
That is like a thousand times better than the story we are getting. I’d honestly read the hell out of a book about Tamlin and Lucien longing and aching to be together but fearing the wrath of their families and society and so they don’t dare do anything about it, but there are moments, small, tantalizing moments, the brush of a hand, a glance, a million little shared moments only they are aware of. Something Rhys sees, and possibly holds against them. Rhys from a more inclusive group, maybe he abandoned his family and his kingdom for the pleasures of Under the Mountain, and isn’t afraid what people think, so he taunts T&L by making overtly gay comments or making them do homoerotic things like kissing his boots or lashing one another in punishment.
There is just so much good stuff to mine from what Maas wrote without meaning to (I assume. Since this seems so far to be a VERY hetro romance I don’t think she meant all the non-hetro vibes her characters are sending out.
I second this.
Some might think writing a secondary-world fantasy would be the perfect opportunity to establish an alternate profanity set relevant to the fictional culture, but those people are fools who are just jelly they can’t pull off the brilliant simplicity of putting forth the absolute least amount of creativity and watching the money and praise pour in.
The claim this is a bone from the tiger pit doesn’t hold up. This badass wouldn’t have left it stuck in her arm for days without pulling it out and thinking at length about how impossible it would be to use it as a weapon or a lockpick or the subject of a painting, and Mr. Alabaster Darkasnight twists the bone repeatedly with no mention of extraction. Granted, Sarah is not friends with the concept of “words mean things,” but the words provided mean “compound fracture.”
I appreciate the attempt, but, no. In the book, there are explicit indications that it’s a shard from the bone pit. Feyre mentions trying to pull it out a couple of times and feeling too much pain whenever she touches it. (Also twisting an external shard in a wound makes significantly more sense, even Maas-sense, than twisting a fractured bone.) In the next chapter, it’s implied that when Rhysand heals the wound, he removes the protruding bone shard. I get that making fun of this is great and all, but you don’t have to make things up to justify an interpretation; there are enough wrong elements in the text itself already.
Ok, I had never even heard of this book until this blog, and I never plan on reading it, but how in the hell is it considered “spicy” when it looks like there has been a whole of ONE sex scene in 37 chapters? Didn’t Jenny say this book has 46 chapters total? So one sex scene by chapter 37 of 46….hmm spicy. NOT!
I read a novel once that it’s about 40 some chapters and the characters didn’t have sex until around chapter 35 or something, but there were a lot of intimate scenes between them throughout the story, so it was hot.
Not like this one.
I firmly believe Maas and her publishers paid for a lot of PR, people took the money, and then no one wanted to admit they were a shill.
I’m guessing like with 50 Shades a lot of people pointed out the stupid shit but for some people this was the best they could find with regards to hot faerie fiction because faeries tend to be overlooked and no one likes being mocked for a guilty pleasure so on the internet a ton of people would double-down if anyone got too critical. Also, it’s possible some of Maas’ fans are low libido, and/or sex neutral/adverse and/or asexual and/or some other flavor of LGBTQA+++ from a homophobic home life, so they just kinda took it for granted it was spicy and probably didn’t care if it wasn’t?
But I’m sure for the sincerely repressed and just otherwise sincerely ignorant, the things that should’ve been presented as consensual kink were also spicy instead of creepy. This is all just my guess though.
I‘ve read sex ed books with more spice LOL Hot faeries are not that hard to find (I‘m not looking for them and still get them in my Also Boughts on my e-reader). In my head, the only plausible explanation is that Jenny glossed over the fact Feyre and the guys had chili for dinner every night.
lol okay fair I haven’t bothered looking. I also haven’t done any research so I dunno if the current market is because her books took off. Also, the sex ed books will even explain stuff like consent and boundaries.
Hey, not cool. No need to throw Ace people under the bus like that. Lots of people have bad taste in books and repeat hype wihtout thinking. No armchair label required.
Sorry, I was conjecturing because I’m a flavor of Ace? IDK man I was just thinking maybe if they’re younger adults (since this is YA) and following the hype then they believe it? I feel like also some peeps who identify may also get off on adjacent stuff that isn’t strictly sexy so more feeding on the vibes. But that could be anyone, I’ll admit.
I could be extremely wrong. I think I wrote this in a hurry too which never works out well for me.
I think part of it is that a number of mainstream readers aren’t familiar with fanfiction and erotica and therefore don’t know where to find good taboo content. Spoilers — later on there’s more that gets added to the dubcon/noncon/consent issues theme. I think a lot of people in the target age range for these books are into the idea of dark fantasy characters who are supernatural and hot and have sexually charged scenes with consent issues, but maybe haven’t had enough experience with that content yet to know where to find it, and maybe didn’t even realize they were looking for it until stumbling across this book.
Yes! I think you’re absolutely correct. That’s kinda what I was driving at before I fucked up and went off road apparently lol.
absolutely. I know that that’s why I originally was on board for a book like this: fae and humans and spicy sex scenes. But this falls so far short of what it could be.
And even now I’m not exactly sure where to find a *good* book with a similar type of deal but without the horribleness, if you know what I mean.
(I’d love any and all recommendations, I have been feeling reading in the last year or so and want to keep it going.)
I ready Kathryne Kennedy’s Elven Lords series about twelve years ago. I don’t remember enough of it to really recommend it, but it might be a place to start! Also really enjoyed There Arose Such a Clatter by CM Nascosta, but that’s a collection of Krampus stories so it is a bit of a different vibe.
As I’m not that into fae I have no recommendations but the spicier stuff is often grouped in with monster romances/erotica (rather than paranormal romances) so you might want to look into this if you haven’t already. Let us know what you find 😉
Ooh appreciate all these recs! I’ll have to check them out
‘his lips becoming thin as the claws came out’
Does he actually have claws sticking out of his lips, or is this just example 105873 of bad writing?
>Feyre is pissed, she’s like, you didn’t tell me this was part of it and Rhysand is like, well, guess you should have asked.
Ok but like, she DID ask??? She did ask about the terms of deal, which is where ‘magical tattoo that marks the deal’ would go I would assume(unless im misunderstanding), and he straight up said ‘not telling’. So like, ????
she asked about the terms of her stay for 2 weeks, or what she’d be doing for those 2 weeks per month. Not about whether there’d be other consequences or how the agreement would be enforced. And she keeps asking stupid questions that reiterate things others have said; this was an odd time to choose to stop!
> Swift as lightning, he lashed out, grabbing the shard of bone in my arm and twisting. A scream shattered out of me, ravaging my aching throat.
Ah, what romance, what an endgame ship. /s