Free A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas Page A

The next I figured out with a combination of my silent pronunciation and logic. “Look … ”
    “Good,” he murmured.
    “I didn’t ask for your approval.”
    Rhys chuckled.
    “Ab … Absolutely.” It took me longer than I wanted to admit to figure that out. The next word was even worse. “De … Del … ”
    I deigned to glance at him, brows raised.
    “Delicious,” he purred.
    My brows now knotted. I read the next two words, then whipped my face toward him. “ You look absolutely delicious today, Feyre ?! That’s what you wrote?”
    He leaned back in his seat. As our eyes met, sharp claws caressed my mind and his voice whispered inside my head: It’s true, isn’t it ?
    I jolted back, my chair groaning. “ Stop that !”
    But those claws now dug in—and my entire body, my heart, my lungs, my blood yielded to his grip, utterly at his command as he said, The fashion of the Night Court suits you .
    I couldn’t move in my seat, couldn’t even blink.
    This is what happens when you leave your mental shields down. Someone with my sort of powers could slip inside, see what they want, and take your mind for themselves. Or they could shatter it. I’m currently standing on the threshold of your mind … but if I were to go deeper, all it would take would be half a thought from me and who you are, your very self, would be wiped away.
    Distantly, sweat slid down my temple.
    You should be afraid. You should be afraid of this, and you should be thanking the gods-damned Cauldron that in the past three months, no one with my sorts of gifts has run into you. Now shove me out.
    I couldn’t. Those claws were everywhere—digging into every thought, every piece of self. He pushed a little harder.
    Shove. Me. Out .
    I didn’t know where to begin. I blindly pushed and slammed myself into him, into those claws that were everywhere, as if I were a top loosed in a circle of mirrors.
    His laughter, low and soft, filled my mind, my ears. That way, Feyre .
    In answer, a little open path gleamed inside my mind. The road out.
    It’d take me forever to unhook each claw and shove the mass of his presence out that narrow opening. If I could wash it away—
    A wave. A wave of self, of me , to sweep all of him out—
    I didn’t let him see the plan take form as I rallied myself into a cresting wave and struck.
    The claws loosened—reluctantly. As if letting me win this round. He merely said, “Good.”
    My bones, my breath and blood, they were mine again. I slumped in my seat.
    “Not yet,” he said. “Shield. Block me out so I can’t get back in.”
    I already wanted to go somewhere quiet and sleep for a while—
    Claws at that outer layer of my mind, stroking—
    I imagined a wall of adamant snapping down, black as night and a foot thick. The claws retracted a breath before the wall sliced them in two.
    Rhys was grinning. “Very nice. Blunt, but nice.”
    I couldn’t help myself. I grabbed the piece of paper and shredded it in two, then four. “You’re a pig.”
    “Oh, most definitely. But look at you—you read that whole sentence, kicked me out of your mind, and shielded. Excellent work.”
    “Don’t condescend to me.”
    “I’m not. You’re reading at a level far higher than I anticipated.”
    That burning returned to my cheeks. “But mostly illiterate.”
    “At this point, it’s about practice, spelling, and more practice. You could be reading novels by Nynsar. And if you keep adding to those shields, you might very well keep me out entirely by then, too.”
    Nynsar. It’d be the first Tamlin and his court would celebrate in nearly fifty years. Amarantha had banned it on a whim, along with a few other small, but beloved Fae holidays that she had deemed unnecessary . But Nynsar was months from now. “Is it even possible—to truly keep you out?”
    “Not likely, but who knows how deep that power goes? Keep practicing and we’ll see what happens.”
    “And will I still be bound by this bargain at Nynsar,