A Court of Mist and Fury

Chapter 36

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I could feel them sleeping, pacing, running hands and claws over the other side of the walls.

They were ancient, and cruel in a way I had never known, not even with Amarantha. They were infinite, and patient, and had learned the language of darkness, of stone.

“How long,” I breathed. “How long was she in here?” I didn’t dare say her name.

“Azriel looked once. Into archives in our oldest temples and libraries. All he found was a vague mention that she went in before Prythian was split into the courts—and emerged once they had been established. Her imprisonment predates our written word. I don’t know how long she was in here—a few millennia seems like a fair guess.”

Horror roiled in my gut. “You never asked?”

“Why bother? She’ll tell me when it’s necessary.”

“Where did she come from?” The brooch he’d given her—such a small gift, for a monster who had once dwelled here.

“I don’t know. Though there are legends that claim when the world was born, there were … rips in the fabric of the realms. That in the chaos of Forming, creatures from other worlds could walk through one of those rips and enter another world. But the rips closed at will, and the creatures could become trapped, with no way home.”

It was more horrifying than I could fathom—both that monsters had walked between worlds, and the terror of being trapped in another realm. “You think she was one of them?”

“I think that she is the only one of her kind, and there is no record of others ever having existed. Even the Suriel have numbers, however small. But she—and some of those in the Prison … I think they came from somewhere else. And they have been looking for a way home for a long, long time.”

I was shivering beneath the fur-lined leather, my breath clouding in front of me.

Down and down we went, and time lost its grip. It could have been hours or days, and we paused only when my useless, wasted body demanded water. Even while I drank, he didn’t let go of my hand. As if the rock would swallow me up forever. I made sure those breaks were swift and rare.

And still we went onward, deeper. Only the lights and his hand kept me from feeling as if I were about to free-fall into darkness. For a heartbeat, the reek of my own dungeon cell cloyed in my nose, and the crunch of moldy hay tickled my cheek—

Rhys’s hand tightened on my own. “Just a bit farther.”

“We must be near the bottom by now.”

“Past it. The Bone Carver is caged beneath the roots of the mountain.”

he? What is he?” I’d only been briefed in what I was to say—nothing of what to expect. No doubt to keep me from panicking

knows. He’ll appear as he wants

“Shape-shifter?”

and no. He’ll appear to you as one thing, and I might be standing

to start bleating like

hall continued down—down into the ageless dark. The air here was tight, compact. Even my puffs of breath on the chill

to lay his once more on the bare stone. It rippled beneath

images:

away. The cell was pitch-black, hardly distinguishable

prisoner in this place,” said a small voice within,

said. He stepped inside, the light bobbing ahead to illuminate a dark-haired boy sitting against

He chucked an object toward the boy, who looked no more than eight. White gleamed as it clacked on the rough stone floor. Another

that made the final kill when Feyre slew the Middengard Wyrm,”

that I’d laid in my trap—I hadn’t noticed which

Bone Carver said, and there was no innocence, no kindness

one step in and

the boy said, gobbling down the sight of me, “since something new came into

“Hello,” I breathed.

smile was a mockery of

I said. Never lie—that had been

other side of the cell. “Feyre,” he murmured, cocking his head. The orb of faelight glazed the inky hair in silver. “Fay-ruh,” he said again, drawing out the syllables

question,” I replied, as I’d been

those eyes alighted on me. “Tell

subtle nod, but his eyes

to calm my breathing to think—to

Rhys was there, roaring in fury as I died, Tamlin begging for my life on

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