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rhysands-rightknee:

just this whole ass reddit post analyzing Eris Vanserra.

“Eris is a dreamer, but there are no stars in his world.”

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Fanart by mftfernandez on Instagram

Request: “(Y/N) is Rhys’ sister/Azriel’s mate and she barely survives the attack from Tamlin’s family and her wings have been taken from her and it’s just Azriel’s reaction to it and him helping her”

Tags:@milllionthingsihaventdone@akingdomofswordsandstories

Warnings: gore, death, reader getting her wings cut off and almost dying, swearing

Word Count: 3,000

A/N: Always a pleasure to write for Az. This one’s a bit darker, definitely labeled angst for a reason. Has a fluffy ending though! <3

It was the middle of the night when they attacked.

You and your mother had never been sound sleepers, and since it was just the two of you traveling on foot to meet your brother, you’d decided to continue walking into the night.

You reached the place you’d planned to meet at before him, but that wasn’t a surprise. Rhys was many things, but timely wasn’t typically one of them (unless your father was involved). So you’d set a fire and hunkered down to wait, knowing you could be there anywhere from half an hour to half a day.

You were humming softly, admiring the view of the river in the moonlight, the silvery mist rolling up onto the banks. It was beautiful, but almost ominous. 

You had heard a twig snap somewhere in the forest behind you. You should have been more alert.

It took them all of thirty seconds to have you beaten and tied up, backs pressed tightly against the bark of trees and rope pricking your skin. You weren’t weak, not by any means. Your father had insisted you had proper training, that you knew how to fight, but there were so many of them.

You recognized the High Lord of the Spring Court and his many sons. In fact, you knew them. You’d even found one or two of the younger fae attractive at different points of the last century, though all that was irrelevant now. The unsheathed weapons in their hands confirmed your deepest fears.

“Your son, he was supposed to be here?” the High Lord asked. Neither of you said anything. Your focus was entirely on the determined and almost amused looks on the faces of the Spring Court nobility, the sneer their father wore, and the slight shake of your mother’s hand holding yours.

“Will he be joining us soon?” he tried again. You shrugged, trying to seem less terrified than you were.

“He’s not a timely sort,” you said, as nonchalantly as possible. As if you weren’t bound to a tree in the middle of the woods. “It’s a possibility.”

The High Lord snickered. “That’s a real shame. We were hoping he’d be here to join in on the fun.”

“You’re sick,” your mother whispered, voice shaky. You gave your mother’s hand a squeeze.

“Where is Rhysand now?”

“Why would I tell you that?” she spat incredulously.

“Because,” he drawled, gazing lustfully at his knife, “perhaps I’ll spare your lives if you do.”

You gasped, your mother tensing up beside you.

“You know what will happen to you if you kill us,” she said menacingly. “What Rhys will do, what my mate will do.”

“Pity that I don’t care,” he grinned. You felt like you were going to throw up.

“Please,” you whispered, tears beginning to spill out of your eyes. “Please.”

You could’ve sworn you saw a look of pity flash over some of their faces, but the High Lord only laughed. “Seize them.”

What happened next was a blur - the ropes were slashed and you were grabbed by two of the sons, pulled away from each other to opposite ends of the grove. Forced to kneel and watch by the light of the fire as the High Lord carved your mother’s wings off her back, screaming and thrashing and pleading up until the moment he sliced her head off at the neck.

You watched her body loll over to the side, her head - still bearing the comforting look she’d tried to give you in her last moments - feet away on the ground, eyes dull, next to her wings. You collapsed against the son who’d been holding you back, fell to your knees on the ground defeated.

There was no use in fighting back, you realized, as the High Lord turned to face you. Your mother’s blood was painted over him. There was no way for you to escape.

Winnow.

Your eyes widened, your mother’s voice clear as day in your head.

Winnow away.

From your place on the ground you could see the High Lord’s boots coming closer. You began to panic - you’d never winnowed before. That was Rhys’s thing, and you’d never bothered the practice.

You felt a hand grab the back of your tunic and pull you up, dragging you across the clearing towards your mother’s decapitated corpse.

You felt your stomach churn as he threw you down in front of the same stump he’d just used as a chopping block. He placed his palm on your back and pushed you flush against it, easily overpowering you as you struggled against it.

“Please,” you gasped, begging him to stop, begging the Cauldron to give you the strength to winnow just this once. “Please, please.”

You squeezed your eyes shut furiously, picturing the camp down the river, the camp where Rhys probably was right now. And your father. And maybe Cassian and Azriel.

Your family. You just wanted to see your family.

And then there was pain. Searing pain, at that sensitive, delicate point where your wings sprouted from your back. You screamed. Your wings, the bastard was taking your wings.

A great weight fell off the side of you, and you tipped over, overwhelmed with the imbalance of just one wing and the feeling of blood spilling down your back. A second hand reached out to grab your shoulder and pull you back up. You gritted your teeth.

Winnow away, winnow away.

Pain again, and more screaming, and another great loss. You collapsed against the stump in front of you, and threw up. One of them laughed, but you were too light headed to tell which one of them it was.

They were talking. Your head spun, trying to make out what they were saying.

“Maybe we shouldn’t kill her.”

“We could ask for a ransom, she’s already too weak to try and escape.”

“She’s seen too much for that.”

Rhys, you thought. Rhys, my father, Cassian, Azriel. Azriel.

The picture of the camp in your mind was bright. Please, you begged wordlessly. Please, I need to go there.

And when the High Lord turned towards where you’d been to finish the job, you were gone.

— — —

When you woke up, it was morning. You could hear the birds before you even opened your eyes, recognized the soft songs they only sang before the rest of the world was awake.

The second thing you noticed was the dull throb of your back pressed completely against the mattress under you. No wings. Your stomach dropped.

Rhys and Azriel were sitting on crates next to your bed. Your eyes had been open for maybe five seconds before they were up, rushing to crouch next to you.

“(Y/n),” Rhys started, voice full of emotion. He grabbed your hand, and you could feel him shaking.

“Rhys,” you croaked, squeezing his hand. “I sound fucking awful.”

The two of them laughed, maybe the saddest laugh you’d ever heard, but a laugh nonetheless.

“Do…do you remember what happened?” Rhys asked, voice trailing off. You grimaced and nodded, the memories of your mother’s body and the High Lord’s sneer burning in your mind.

“I remember all of it.”

You watched Azriel’s face fall, watch the conflict in his eyes as he looked over you and finally rested his hand softly on top of your high, thumb rubbing small circles against the blanket. His shadows followed suit, twisting around your legs in slow patterns. You found it oddly soothing, watching them weave between each other like little wisps of smoke.

“Where’s dad?” you asked, drawing your attention from Az and his shadows to Rhys. It was then you noticed the bandage on his forehead, the bruises on his forearms. Rhys hung his head.

“After you winnowed here, and after we made sure you were going to live through the night, we went to find mom.” He let out a shaky breath, whole body tense as if reliving whatever hell he also experienced that night. You noticed Azriel grab his shoulder with his free hand, supporting your brother as he tried to calm down.

“And then we went to the Spring Court. Dad and I killed all of them, all of them except Tamlin.” He paused. “And then Tamlin killed dad.”

You let out a choked sob, looking up at the ceiling defeatedly. Azriel’s hand on your thigh stilled, and then gave you a soft squeeze.

“It was all Tamlin,” Rhys continued softly. “Tamlin told his dad where to find you. Tamlin killed mom, killed dad-”

“And he almost killed me,” you finished, blinking back tears. You pushed yourself up slowly, sitting on the bed while Rhysand and Azriel watched you carefully. You went to stretch, to stretch your wings, the first thing you always did when you got up out of bed, but they weren’t there. You let out a strangled sob, and Rhys and Az jumped up.

“(Y/n), what is it?” your brother asked, resting a hand on your lower back tentatively.

“Rhys,” you whispered, voice thick with emotion. “Rhys, he took my wings.”

And then you cried. Cried for your parents, for your wings. Rhys was sitting next to you in an instant, one hand still on your back and the other holding yours, whispering to you that it would all be okay. And Azriel was on your other side, cradling your shoulders in his hands as you hunched forward and sobbed until you couldn’t anymore. 

The sobs turned to muffled crying, to whimpers, to sniffles, and then you were resting your head against Azriel’s chest, breathing thickly, him and Rhys each holding one of your hands.

“We’re orphans now,” you said bluntly. “What the fuck.”

Rhys let out a singular dry laugh and shook his head.

“And you’re High Lord!” you continued, looking at him incredulously. “Terrible circumstances, but congrats. Hope you don’t fuck up too badly.”

“Thank you for that, really,” Rhys said sarcastically. You could feel Azriel laughing silently against you.

“What’s your first like, decree, going to be?” you asked curiously.

“I’ve already made it,” he replied. “Guess what it is.”
“Monetary reward for Tamlin’s dead body,” you said. Rhys shook his head.

“A ban on wing clipping,” he said softly. You gasped, tears pricking your eyes.

“Rhys-”

“Followed by a temporary ban on trading with the Spring Court.”

“Mom would’ve loved that,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. He gave you a tight-lipped grin and nodded.

“It’ll take a while to get all the different camps to accept it, and I’m sure it’ll never be stopped completely, but-”

“It’s a start,” you finished. “And a damn good start at that.”

“Thank you,” Rhys said, pushing himself off the bed quietly. Azriel helped you move so that you were sitting on the edge of the mattress, legs dangling off the side.

“How long will the trading ban last?” you inquired. Rhys shrugged.

“A while,” he said. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“At least ten years,” you said with a small grin. Azriel chuckled from behind you, the sound deep and warm. Rhys gave you an odd look.

“I was thinking more like a century or two, but yea, at least ten years,” he said. He looked at the entrance to the tent and back at you regretfully.
“I don’t want to leave, but I-”
“You have your fancy High Lord business now,” you said, waving a hand at him dismissively. “Go, be free.”

“I’m glad you’re alive,” he said quietly.

“Don’t make me get emotional,” you warned. He chuckled.

“I love you, (Y/n).”

“Love you, too,” you replied, giving him a small wave as he exited. You looked up at Az, his arm now wrapped delicately around your midsection to help support you. His other hand was resting lightly on your knee.

“Thank you, Az,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest.

“Of course.”

You relished in the soft rumble of his chest as he spoke, grinning as his shadows began to circle in front of you.

“Do you ever name them?” you asked softly.

“What?” he asked, looking down at you curiously. You gave him a sheepish smile.

“The shadows,” you clarified. He grinned, and your heart skipped a beat.

“No,” he said, “but I can tell them apart sometimes. It’s almost like they have their own personalities, if that makes sense.”

You nodded, shifting against him slightly and wincing. You felt him tense up.

“Are you alright?” he asked hesitantly, lifting his hand off your knee slowly as if to brace you, then dropping it again. “Is there anything I can do?”

You shrugged. “I guess I’m doing alright considering,” you said. “I mean, at least I’m not dead.”

Silence from Azriel. You sighed.

“Not that this situation is ideal, either,” you continued. Azriel’s grip on you tightened.

“I can’t imagine what you’re going through,” he said finally, his voice shaking slightly with an emotion you couldn’t identify. “I’ve tried, but I can’t.”

“Az-”

“It’s not fair.” His voice was a deadly whisper.

“It’ll be okay,” you said soothingly, reaching out for his hand and giving it a small squeeze. “I’ll be okay.”

Another pause. The two wounds in your back throbbed, the empty space hurting you more than any amount of pain.

“Azriel, it hurt so bad,” you whimpered, tears forming in your eyes as he wrapped an arm under your knees and lifted you into his lap.

He hugged you then, perhaps for the first time ever, and you buried your face into his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, cradling the back of your head with one hand and rubbing your back with the other. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“Oh Az,” you sniffled, “there was nothing you could’ve done. The only other person who knew we were there was Rhys, and I don’t blame him.”

“Still-”

“It’s not your fault,” you insisted softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. “But thank you.”
He nodded. “I’m still sorry it happened.” A whisper.

“It just-” you trailed off, trying to put into words what you were feeling. “It’s so weird, you know? My whole life I’ve had this weight on my back, that was just a part of me, and now it’s gone and I feel so light and empty at the same time.”

Azriel nodded, continuing to rub your back carefully, avoiding the bandages covering your cuts.

“They took a part of you,” he said finally, “but only one. And you, your kindness, the way you can light up any room you’re in, none of that came from your wings. You still have everything that makes you, you.”

You felt tears well up in your eyes and squeezed him a little tighter in your arms. “Az, thank you.

Azriel rested his head against the side of yours, pulled you into him just a little bit more.

There was something he still wanted to say, you could feel it in the air around you. You were just about to ask him what he was thinking when he began to speak.

“(Y/n),” he said, nerves seeping into his voice, “there’s something I need to tell you, about when you winnowed to camp and we found you.”

“We?” you asked, pulling back to look at him curiously. He nodded.

“Rhys and I,” he clarified. “He was just leaving to meet up with you and…and then you just appeared, in the distance, and dropped to the ground.” His nostrils flared and he glanced downwards. “You were unconscious by the time we got to you, but Rhys ran to get the healers and I carried you here, and…”

His voice trailed off, and he looked up at you hesitantly. You urged him to continue.

“And when they had you in that bed, I couldn’t leave.” His voice trembled as he spoke, and you grabbed his hands to give them a comforting squeeze. “You looked so small, and helpless, and they told me I could go and that they’d call me when they were done stitching you up, but I couldn’t bear the thought of you being alone.”

He bit his lip, as if debating whether or not to keep going.

“Azriel,” you said softly, still holding his hands. “Say it. Whatever it is.” He glanced up at you and nodded.

“Something clicked, when you were lying here and they told us you were going to live.”

Your breath hitched, realizing what he meant. Azriel breathed deeply, then looked you straight in the eyes.

“(Y/n), you’re my mate.”

And as you truly looked back into his eyes for the first time since waking up, you felt something snap into place within yourself. Your eyes widened, and suddenly all you could feel and think about was him.

Azriel,” you breathed, clutching his hands tighter. He perked up instantly, face hopeful as he reached up and cradled your face in his hands delicately.

“(Y/n)-”

“Holy fuck,” you breathed incredulously, giving him a small grin, “you’re my mate.”

“And…and you’re okay with that?” he asked cautiously, gaze boring into yours as you leaned closer to him.

“Yes,” you whispered, heart racing. “Yes.”

His lips were on yours in an instant, gently kissing you as he moved one hand to the back of your head, holding you gently as he trailed the other down your spine. You wrapped your arms around his back, ignoring the painful sting of your back that seemed absolutely unimportant compared to kissing Azriel, and pulled yourself closer to him.

He moaned softly as your fingertip brushed against his wing and your heart lurched, dizzy at the surge of feelings that washed over you.

You pulled back and laughed once, smiling as he tilted his head and gave you a lopsided grin.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, resting his forehead against yours gently.

“I’m just realizing I have no clue how to cook anything,” you giggled, shaking your head against his as he began to laugh with you.

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” he rasped, moving forward to capture your lips with his once again.

Can’t wait to dive into this beauty!!!!Find me also on: Instagram

Can’t wait to dive into this beauty!!!!

Find me also on: Instagram


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the archeron sisters

Nesta, Feyre and Elain

Characters by Sarah J. Maas

Check out more on my insta: @mohzaart

cozisaidso:

The Night Court is a hotbed of cronyism and definitely to its detriment. Cassian has been a “general” for hundreds of years and yet remains admittedly inept at political manoeuvring and socialising with anyone outside of his family; Azriel is repeatedly fed bad information and is so terrible at spying that he resorts to butchering people for information instead, and is extraordinarily racist against the Illyrians; Mor can’t interact with anyone from the Court of Nightmares without having PTSD flashbacks, and yet it’s seen as appropriate for keep sending her there as an ambassador; Feyre is 22, clueless of Prythian’s history, totally reliant on Rhys for biased information about their political neighbours, and after learning how to write 1 year ago I imagine her written communication is abysmal—I don’t even want to know how she manages anything related to maths—and yet “her word is law”; and Amren repeatedly displays a desire to blow up entire cities or engage in conquest and that’s just tolerated.

All of these lawmakers, these all-powerful members of his political Inner Circle, wrestle daily with unresolved trauma. Rhys does not have a single emotionally healthy person in charge. And when all of this untreated mental turmoil comes out as some atrocity or violation of the rights of others, it’s just ~shrugs~. Their own people, and in fact a lot of other people across Prythian, are accepted as collateral for their squabbles with other rulers, or as meaningless casualties of their temper tantrums. Because of the positions of power they hold, their trauma becomes everyone else’s problem, with 0 accountability—and boy do they make the most out of that. Unreal that they haven’t been invaded or overthrown at this point.

Rhys encourages the Velaris locals to ostracise the citizens of the Court of Nightmares—to refuse them goods and services, as a punishment because he dislikes their leader, as if this isn’t a powder keg of social unrest waiting to blow. He steals from and attacks their neighbours with his daemati powers, not to mention openly orchestrating a plot to destabilise a neighbour. He allows (his idea or no, it happened on his watch) low-income housing to be destroyed in Velaris just to make a point to his sister-in-law. He cooks up this image of himself as a villain for 500 years and then expects his contemporaries to just blithely believe him when he says “oh i’m a good guy actually”. He lies through his teeth about everything, even to his wife, and rather than make any attempt to bring Keir’s army onside, he instead actively makes personal enemies of the Court of Nightmares’ leaders and civilians. The law against wing-clipping in Illyria is not enforced (why was Emerie’s father not prosecuted? How can Rhys be powerless to stop the men clipping the women’s wings, yet maintain enough control over the Darkbringer army, even when the CoN locals actively hate him, to send them out to fight on his behalf? He is the most powerful High Lord in history, and yet the wing-clipping is completely beyond him?) and he hoards an obscene amount of wealth, far too much for it to be believable that he is not economically exploiting his people outside of Velaris. In order for one person to be that rich, other people have to be poor.

It’s kind of shocking that Velaris hasn’t yet been besieged. Although it’s explicitly stated that the Illyrians are disenfranchised enough to want to rebel—only they are terrorised out of doing so by threats from Cassian.

Rhys is an awful politician. Truly awful. Dire. 

The Valkyrie’s sleepover or my version of it

Instagram: @bec_speight.art

Re-reading ACOMAF I noticed this on page 392 Cassian is trying to compliment Feyre


I caught Cassian glancing at me for the third time in less than a minute and demanded, “What?”

His lips twitched at the corners. “You just look so…”

“Here we go,” Mor muttered.

“Offical,” Cassian said with an incredulous look in her direction. He waved a Siphon topped hand to me. “ Fancy.”

“Over 500 years old,” Mor said, shaking her head sadly, “a skilled warrior and general, famous throughout territories, and complementing ladies is still something he finds next to impossible. Remind me why we bring you on diplomatic meetings?”


I love this in regards to Nesta because she does not care for frivolous compliments. When Nesta meets Helion again in acosf and he calls her lovely she just stares at him. When she dances with Eris she is just amused by his interest in her. Also beyond her outfit and crown for the ball, Nesta is never described as wearing jewelry or ornate outfits. Nesta is devestatingly beautiful without trying and she doesn’t need anyone else telling her that.

So it doesn’t matter to her if Cassian isn’t good with words or compliments. Nesta herself doesn’t talk that much, often choosing to remain silent*. They both value actions more, and express their love long before they say it aloud.

*Nesta uses words strategically or as weapons to hurt, but never physically gets violent. Her love is the opposite. She doesn’t know how to express love and her feelings through words, so she does with her actions.

The reason I love Nessian is because they are a realistically messy couple. They are never portrayed as perfect or without faults like freysand is portrayed (which has issues that are ignored or glossed over). Nesta and Cassian are so alike, and their stubbornness and fire clash all the time. They hurt each other in the same ways and what I loved about ACOSF is they slowly realize it and try to change.

The last fight between them along the Sidra shows that, as Cassian uses a *very* poor choice of words and immediately regrets it and try’s to take it back. Nesta stops herself from saying things to hurt him like he hurt her by sending him away. Both made mistakes but acknowledged that. For me this shows potential of a healthy realationship.

My problems with freysand that they are portrayed as perfect when they are not. Despite SJM stressing that they are equals, Rhysand’s actions and attitude toward Feyre portray the opposite. Rhys continues to be hostile to Nesta even after Freye tells him to stop and is super critical of Nesta despite knowing how traumatized she is (he literally feels her trama during Nesta’s nightmare and is horrified by it, yet doesn’t change his attitude towards her). When Feyre does disagree with Rhys she quickly forgives him and they go have s*x. Finally, from Rhys’ point of view Freye never makes a mistake. I can not think of one time Rhys is critical of Feyre. I know it is a fantasy series but that is not a remotely realistic relationship. Nor is it healthy for one side to put the other on a pedestal while making all the decisions himself. 

I want more Nessian in future books and I want them to continue to be messy and fight. Not only because it leads to amazing s*xual tension, but because relationships take continued effort by both partners.

A piece of advice that has stayed with me is “Love is what you do when you are feeling unloving”. Even when Nessian fight, they want the best for the other.

“To the stars who listen, and the dreams that are answered.” You probably would’ve guessed, A

“To the stars who listen, and the dreams that are answered.”

You probably would’ve guessed, A Court of Mist and Fury is no doubt, my best book of 2016. It’s exceptionally mind-blowing. The world-building, character developments, twists and turns, banters, magic system. Everything was just fantastically crafted. Big thanks to queen Sarah J. Maas for creating such a masterpiece. The wait for A Court of Wings and Ruin is real. Are you ready?

What’s your top book of 2016? I’m not surprised if it’s ACOMAF too *smirks like Rhysand*


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“A queen, terrible and proud, beautiful as a winter sunrise.”

Nesta Archeron in a crown of silver flames like the queen that she is. That’s it. That’s the post.

A lil drawing of Nesta and Cassian napping on the couch. I also gave them matching hair buns. I need more soft Nessian moments!!

HEEEY i love Yrene so I wanted to do something really nice (at least for me).. well here’s Yrene Towers from Throne of Glass series by sjm

Am I the only one who stays up at night wondering how the bat boys sleep? Like, they have to be tummy sleepers, right? Unless they lay off the side of their beds so their wings can hang off. There’s no way it’s comfy to sleep on their backs with the bony wings. And wouldn’t Nesta accidentally pin Cassian’s wing to the bed every time she rolled over to snuggle?

And the armchairs. How does that work? Wouldn’t their wings get crumpled? Remember in ACOMAF when they’re all at the Archeron’s estate and Feyre notices that Cassian and Azriel have a hard time with the chairs and thinks about getting them stools?

Are their chairs backless? How is that comfy? How do they recline?

This keeps me up at night.

Been a bit busy recently, but this line art turned out pretty nice so I thought I’d share

*whispers* I still haven’t read #ACOFAS. I’ve been BUSY but I’m hoping to get to it soon! It’s just

*whispers* I still haven’t read #ACOFAS. I’ve been BUSY but I’m hoping to get to it soon! It’s just so pretty. The gorgeous necklace and candle were included in the ACOFAS box from @TheYAChronicles.
The May POWER OF WORDS box is now available and you can use the code CAA10 for a discount!
Nail polish is Starfall from @BottledBooks.
Day 7:
#Ampersand2018: Map
#IAmSweetMaasMay: Slow-burn romance
#FangirlingInMay: Map Monday
#BookishRainbow18: Purple
7 May 2018. .
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#acourtoffrostandstarlight #sarahjmaas #velaris #nightcourt #theyachronicles #acowar #acomaf #acotar #mapmonday #igreads #bookishfeatures #bookporn #aussiereaders #bookstagram #bookish #bookstagrammer


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Is it just me or is #ACOFAS the prettiest of all the #ACOTAR books so far? I have been SLAIN by this

Is it just me or is #ACOFAS the prettiest of all the #ACOTAR books so far? I have been SLAIN by this cover.
I’m going to be super busy over the next week but I’m really hoping to squeeze this tiny read into my schedule. I read a few cheeky pages while taking this photo and I’m already keen.
Day 1:
#Ampersand2018: Stars
#IAmSweetMaasMay, #MayInBooks18, #NovelBeanMay, #AllTheBooksMay, #BookReadHappyHour, #FangirlingInMay, #LILGettingToKnowYou, #RFABMay18: TBR
1 May 2018. .
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#openbook #shelfie #acomaf #acowar #acourtoffrostandstarlight #bloomsbury #aussiereaders #bookstagram #bookish #instaread #booknerdigans #tbr #anticipatedread #sarahjmaas


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A Court of Frost and Starlight | Sarah J. Maas | 3 stars

I would never give a book written by Sarah J. Maas anything less than three stars, because her books are always very well written. Having said that, do I think that A Court of Frost and Starlight adds to the overall story in a way that it bridges trilogy one (Feyre and Rhys) with trilogy two (Nesta)? Both yes and no.

I previously mentioned that I am usually apprehensive when encountering a…

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A Court of Wings and Ruin | Sarah J. Maas | 4 stars

A Court of Wings and Ruin | Sarah J. Maas | 4 stars
I can never decide which series of Sarah J. Maas I adore more – her Throne of Glassseries or this one. Whichever one I’m currently reading, I prefer, and that’s because they are both really strong on their own. The two stories never overlap, and I don’t think the two protagonists would be friends if they ever met. That is an amazing feat, to create two very different stories and still make both…

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