And I wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt, what he’d done for me. For what I felt for him.

—Por los que miran las estrellas y piensan «ojalá…, ojalá», Rhys —dije.”“Él hizo sonar su vaso contra el mío.—Por las estrellas que escuchan… y los sueños que se hacen realidad.

They’ll be at it for a while,” Mor said, leaning against the threshold of the house. She held open the door. “Welcome to the family, Feyre.”And I thought those might have been the most beautiful words I’d ever heard.

A queen—a queen who bowed to no one, a queen who had faced them all down and triumphed. A queen who owned her body, her life, her destiny, and never apologized for it.

I want them to hear your story. And know that there is a special strength..." As I spoke I realized I needed to hear it, know it, too. "A special strength in enduring such dark trials and hardships... And still remaining warm, and kind. Still willing to trust—and reach out.

Rhys looked up, his face gleaming with tears. He went still as I leaned in, kissing away one tear. Then the other. As he had once kissed away mine.When my lips were wet and salty with them, I pulled back far enough to see his eyes. “You’re mine,” I breathed.

And he will never know what it is to look up at the night sky and wish.

There are different kinds of darkness,” Rhys said. I kept my eyes shut. “There is the darkness that frightens, the darkness that soothes, the darkness that is restful.” I pictured each. “There is the darkness of lovers, and the darkness of assassins. It becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good.

When you spend so long trapped in darkness, you find that the darkness begins to stare back.