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“I want to take the road that no one dares travel, and I want to travel it with you two. No matter what may befall us. Not as Illyrians, not for their titles but as something new . To prove to them, to everyone, that something new and different might triumph over their rules and restrictions.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“You two came looking for me.'

'Of course we did,' Emerie said, interlacing her hand with Gwyn's, then Nesta's, and squeezing tightly. 'It's what sisters do.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Her friends had made it... but she did not want to die.

She wanted to live, and live well, and live happily.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Gwyn threw her arms around Nesta. 'I heard you might need us.' Nesta was so stunned to see the priestess that she returned the hug.

Mor, a step behind, gave her a concerned nod, and then winnowed away.

Emerie was the one to say to Gwyn, 'I can't believe you left the library.'

Gwyn stroked Nesta's head. 'Some things are more important than fear.' She cleared her throat. 'But please don't remind me too much. I'm so nervous I really might vomit.'

Even Nesta smiled at that.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“I refuse to leave you here.'

Emerie's pained face told Nesta enough: she understood. Saw the logic.

Nesta said to Gwyn. 'It is the only way.'

Gwyn screamed. 'IT IS NOT THE ONLY WAY!' And then she was sobbing. 'I will not abandon you to them. They will kill you.'

'You need to go,' Nesta said, even as her hands began shaking. 'Now.'

'No,' Gwyn wept. 'No, I won't. I'll face it with you.'

Something deep in Nesta's chest cracked. Cracked open completely, and what lay within bloomed, full and bright and pure.

She wrapped her arms around Gwyn. Let her friend sob into her chest. 'I'll face it with you,' Gwyn whispered, over and over again. 'Promise me we'll face it together.'

Nesta couldn't stop her tears. The chill wind froze them on her cheeks. 'I promise,' she breathed, stroking Gwyn's matted hair. 'I promise.'

Gwyn sobbed, and Nesta let herself sob with her, squeezing her tightly. Letting her stroking hand come to rest on Gwyn's neck.

A pinch in the right spot, exactly on the pressure point Cassina had shown her, and it was done.

Gwyn went down. Unconscious.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Do it for the miniature pegasus,' Emerie said. Cassian had no idea what it meant, but Gwyn's lips twitched upward.

Nesta laughed.

The sound might as well have been a lightning strike to his head for how much it rocked him, that laugh. Free and light and so unlike anything he'd ever heard from her that even Azriel blinked. A true laugh. 'The miniature pegasus,' Nesta said, 'was an illusion. And is now back in his make-believe meadow.'

'He loved Gwyn most,' Emerie teased. 'Despite your efforts to woo him.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Sadistic monsters,' Gwyn hissed as the three friends limped toward the water station, defeat heavy on their shoulders.

'We try again tomorrow,' Emerie swore, sporting a black eye thanks tot the swinging log that had knocked her on her ass before Nesta could grab her. 'We keep trying until we wipe that smug look off their stupid perfect faces.

Indeed, Azriel and Cassian had just leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and smiled at them the entire time.

Gwyn threw Azriel a withering stare as she strode past him. 'See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger,' she tossed over a shoulder.

Az stared after her, brows high with amusement. When he turned back, Nesta grinned. 'You have no idea what you just started,' she said. Az angled his head, hazel eyes narrowing as Gwyn reached the archway.

'Remember how Gwyn was with the ribbon?' Nesta winked and clapped the shadowsinger on the shoulder. 'You're the new ribbon, Az.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Gwyn whispered, 'I am the rock against which the surf crashes,' Nesta straightened at the words, as if they were a prayer and a summons. Gwyn lifted the blade. 'Nothing can break me.'

Cassian's throat tightened, and even from across the ring, he could see Nesta's eyes gleaming with pride and pain.

Emerie said, 'Nothing can break us.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Hello, Gwyn,' he said warmly. 'Good to see you again.'

Gwyn blushed, shaking herself out of her stupor and bowed low. 'My lord.'

Nesta rolled her eyes, and found Rhys watching her. That casual smile sharpened as he met her stare. 'Nesta.'

'Rhysand.'

The other two women were glancing between them, the bouncing of their stares almost comical. Cassian just strode to Nesta's side and slung an arm around her shoulders before drawling to Rhys, 'These ladies are going to hand your ass to you in combat soon enough.'

Nesta made to step out from under the heavy, sweaty weight of his arm, but Cassian clamped a too-friendly hand on her shoulder, his grin unfaltering. Rhys's gaze slid between them, little warmth to be found in his eyes. But plenty of wariness.

Little princeling didn't like her with his friend.

Nesta leaned into Cassian. Not much, but enough for a trained warrior like Rhysand to note.

A dark, silken hand brushed inside her mind. A request.

She debated ignoring it, but found herself opening a small door through the steel, spiked barrier she kept around herself day and night. The door was essentially a peephole, and she allowed what she supposed was the equivalent of her mental face to peer through it to the dark, sparkling plane beyond. What?

You are to treat Gwyn with kindness and respect.

The thing that stood beyond the fortress of her mind was a creature of claws, scales and teeth. It was veiled from sight beneath writhing shadows and the occasional passing star glinting in the darkness, but every now and then, a glimpse of a wing or talon shone.

Mind your own business. Nesta slammed the small viewing hole shut.

She blinked, slowly registering Emerie asking Cassian about tomorrow morning's lesson, and what she'd miss today by leaving an hour early.

Rhysand's eyes glimmered.

Cassian's arm remained around Nesta, and his thumb moved over her shoulder in an idle, reassuring caress. Whether he knew of or sensed her silent conversation with his High Lord, he didn't let on.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Let me make a wish for all of us,' she explained, gathering the three charms. A small gift- for the friends who had become like sisters.

A chosen family. Like the one Feyre had found for herself.

Nesta squeezed the charms in her palm, closing her eyes, and said: 'I wish for us to have the courage to go out into the world when we are ready, but to always be able to find our way back to each other. No matter what.'

Gwyn and Emerie cheered at that. And when Nesta opened her eyes, palm unfurling, she could have sworn the coins glowed faintly.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“What did you see?'

'Why?' Nesta asked. 'Do you see things in that darkness?' Her voice was thin.

'No, but some of the others do. They say the dark has trailed them. Right to their doors.' Gwyn shivered.

'I saw darkness,' Nesta managed to say. Her heart would not calm. 'Pure darkness.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“I like her,' Nesta admitted.

Cassian blinked. 'I don't think I've ever heard you say that about anyone.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Tell yourself, I am the rock against which the surf crashes. Your thoughts are the surf. Let them crash over you.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“If you were to name a sword, what would you call it?'

Gwyn answered, thought she hadn't been asked, 'Silver Majesty.'

Emerie snorted, 'Really?'

Gwyn demanded, 'What would you call it?'

Emerie considered. 'Foe Slayer, or something. Something intimidating.'

'That's no better!'

Nesta's mouth tugged upward at their teasing. Gwyn looked to her, teal eyes bright. 'Which one is worse: Foe Slayer or Silver Majesty?'

'Silver Majesty,' Nesta said, and Emerie crowed with triumph. Gwyn waved a hand, booing.

'What would you call it?' Cassian asked Nesta again.

'Why do you want to know?'

'Humour me.'

She lifted a brow. But then said with all sincerity. 'Killer.'

His brows flattened.

Nesta shrugged. 'I don't know. Is it necessary to name a sword?'

'Just tell me: If you had to name a sword, what would you call it?'

'Are you getting her one as a Winter Solstice present?' Emerie asked.

'No.'

Nesta hid her smile. She loved this- when the three of them ganged up on him, like lionesses around a very muscled, very attractive carcass.

'Then why keep asking?' Gwyn said.

Cassian scowled, 'Curiosity.'

But his jaw tightened. It wasn't that. There was something else. Why would he want her to name a sword?”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Please tell me all the chocolate is for us.'

The House had stocked the table between the armchairs with piles of chocolate truffles and confections and bars of it. Along with cookies and small finger cakes. And a platter of cheeses and fruit. And carafes of water and various juices.

Gwyn surveyed the table. 'Did you go to all this trouble?'

'Oh, no,' Emerie said, eyes glowing. 'Nesta's been holding out on us.'

Nesta scoffed, but Emerie said, 'The House will get you anything you want. Just say it aloud.' At Gwyn's raised brows, Emerie said, 'I'd like a slice of pistachio cake, please.'

A plateful of one appeared before her. As well as a bowl of whipped cream topped with raspberries.

Gwyn blinked. 'You live in a magic house.'

'It likes to read,' Nesta admitted, patting a stack of the romances. 'We've bonded over that.'

Gwyn whispered to the room, 'What's your favourite book?'

One thumped on the table beside Emerie's cake, and Gwyn squawked in surprise. But then rubbed her hands together. 'Oh, this is delightful.'

'That smile means trouble,' Emerie said.

Gwyn's grin just widened.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“I sometimes wonder if I shall ever have the courage to go out there again. I fear every day that I won't.'

Nesta's smile slid away. She considered her words before she said, 'I feel the same.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Gwyn asked Az, her teal eyes bright, 'What do we get if we finish the course?'

Az's shadows danced around him. 'Since there's no chance in hell any of you will finish the course, we didn't bother to get a prize.'

Boos sounded. Gwyn lifted her chin in challenge. 'We look forward to proving you wrong.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Your story is worth telling.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“I did. She's a piece of work.'

Some might say the same of you.

Nesta crossed her arms. 'Some might.'

She'd have bet that Clotho was smiling beneath her hood, but the priestess wrote, Gwyneth, like you, has her own history of bravery and survival. I would ask that you give her the benefit of the doubt.

Acid that felt an awful lot like regret burned in Nesta's veins.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Finding objects to help our court protect the world is rather exciting. About as exciting as I'm willing to get these days, but it shall be an adventure.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Do you like to read?'

Emerie's mouth curled upward. 'I live alone, up in the mountains. I have nothing to do with my spare time except work in my garden and read whatever books I order through the mail service. And in the winter, I don't even have the distraction of my gardening. So, yes, I like to read. I cannot survive without reading.'

Nesta grunted her agreement.

'What manner of books?' Gwyn asked.

'Romantics,' Emerie said, adjusting her own hair, the thick black braid full of reds and browns in the sunlight. Nesta started. Emerie's eyes lit. 'You too? Which ones?'

Nesta rattled off her top five, and Emerie grinned, so broadly it was like seeing another person. 'Have you read Sellyn Drake's novels?'

Nesta shook her head. Emerie gasped, so dramatically that Cassian muttered something about sparing him from smut-obsessed females before heading further into the ring. 'You must read her books. You must. I'll bring the first one tomorrow. You'll stay up all night reading it, I swear.'

'Smut?' Gwyn asked, catching Cassian's muttered words. There was enough hesitation in her voice to make Nesta draw up straight.

Nesta glanced at Emerie, realising the female didn't know about Gwyn- her history, or why the priestesses lived in the library. But Emerie asked. 'What do you read?'

'Adventure, sometimes mysteries. But mostly I read whatever Merrill, the priestess I work with, has written that day. Not as exciting as romance, not by a long shot.

Emerie said casually. 'I can bring one of Drake's brooks for you, too- one of her milder ones. An introduction to the wonders of romance.' Emerie winked at Nesta.

Nesta waited for Gwyn to refuse, but the priestess smiled. 'I'd like that.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“What did you dream about?'

Nesta's body locked up, but she launched back into motion, refusing to let the memories master her. 'I dreamed of the Cauldron. What it did to me.'

Gwyn said, playing with her hair, 'I dream of my past, too.'

But Gwyn's admission, Nesta's own, didn't weigh them down. Nesta's head had cleared slightly. And somehow, she found she could push herself harder.

Perhaps in voicing those truths, they'd given them wings. And sent them soaring into the open sky above.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“When you hammered those blades, you imbued them- the two swords and the dagger- with your power. The Cauldron's power. They're now magic blades. And I'm not talking nice, pretty magic. I'm talking big, ancient magic that hasn't been seen in a long, long time. There are no magic weapons left. None. They were either lost or destroyed or dumped in the sea. But you just Made three of them. You created a new Dread Trove. You could create even more objects, if you wished.'

Her brows rose higher with each absurd word. 'I Made three magic weapons?'

'We don't know yet what manner of magic you have, but yes.'

She angled her head. Emerie and Gwyn halted their chatting at the water station, as if they could see or sense the shift in her. And it wasn't the fact that she'd Made these weapons that hit like a blow.

'Who is "we"?'

'What?'

'You said " We don't know what manner of magic they have." Who is "we"?'

'Rhys and Feyre and the others.'

'And how long have all of you known about this?'

He winced as he realised his error. 'I... Nesta...'

'How long?' Her voice became sharp as glass. The priestesses were watching, and she didn't care.

He did, apparently. 'This isn't the place to talk about it.'

'You're the one trying to coax a name out of me in the middle of training!' She gestured to the ring.

Her blood pounded in her ears, and Cassian's face grew pained. 'This isn't coming out the way it should. We argued about whether to tell you, but we took a vote and it went in your favour. Because we trust you. I just... hadn't gotten a chance to bring it up yet.'

'There was a possibility you wouldn't even tell me? You all sat around and judged me, and then you voted?' Something deep in her chest cracked to know that every horrible thing about her had been analyzed.

'It... Fuck.' Cassian reached for her, but she stepped back. Everyone was staring now. 'Nesta, this isn't...'

'Who. Voted. Against me.'

'Rhys and Amren.'

'It landed like a physical blow. Rhys came as no surprise. But Amren, who had always understood her more than the others; Amren who'd been unafraid of her; Amren with whom she'd quarrelled so badly... Some small part of her had hoped Amren wouldn't hate her forever.

Her head went quiet. Her body went quiet.

Cassian's eyes widened. 'Nesta-'

'I'm fine,' she said coldly. 'I don't care.'

She let him see her fortify those steel walls within her mind. Used every bit of Mind-Stilling she'd practiced with Gwyn to become calm, focused, steady. Breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth.

She made a show of rolling her shoulders, of approaching Emerie and Gwyn, whose faces bunched with concern in a way Nesta knew she didn't deserve, in a way that she knew would only day vanish, when they, too, realised what a wretch she was. When Amren told them what a pathetic waste of life she was, or they heard it from someone else, and they ceased being her friends. She wouldn't if they'd even say it to her face, or if they'd just disappear.

'Nesta,' Cassian said again. But she left the ring without looking back at him.

Emerie was on her heels instantly, trailing her down the stairs. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing,' Nesta said, her own voice foreign to her ears. 'Court business.'

'Are you all right?' Gwyn asked, a step behind Emerie.

No. She couldn't stop the roaring in her head, the cracking in her chest. 'Yes,' she lied, and didn't look back as she hit the landing and vanished down the hall.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“After the war, I was in a bad place. I still am, I suppose, but for more than a year after the war...' She couldn't look Gwyn in the eye. 'I did a lot of things I regret. Hurt people I regret harming. And I hurt myself. I drank day and night and I...' She didn't want to say the word to Gwyn- fucked- so she said, 'I took strangers to my bed. To punish myself, to drown myself.' She shrugged a shoulder. 'It's a long story, and not one worth telling, but through it all, I picked taverns and pleasure halls to frequent because of the music. I've always loved music.' She braced herself for the damning judgement. But only sorrow filled Gwyn's face.

'You've probably guessed that my residency in the House, my training, my work in the library is my sister's attempt to help me.' Her sister whom she had still not apologised to, whom she still didn't have the courage to face. 'And I... I think I might be glad Feyre did this for me. The drinking, the males- I don't miss any of it. But the music... that I miss.' Nesta waved a hand, as if she could banish the vulnerability she'd offered up. But she went on, 'And since I'm not particularly welcome in the city, I was hoping you meant it when you said I could come to one of your services. Just so I can hear some music again.'

Gwyn's eyes shone, like the sunlight on a warm sea. Nesta's heart thundered, waiting for her reply. But Gwyn said, 'Your story is worth telling, you know.'

Nesta began to object, but Gwyn insisted, 'It is. But yes- if you want music, then come to the services. We will be glad to have you. I will be glad to have you.'

Until Gwyn learned how horrible she'd been.

'No,' Gwyn said, apparently reading the thought on her face. She grabbed Nesta's hand. 'You... I understand.' Nesta heard Gwyn's own heart begin thundering. 'I understand,' Gwyn repeated, 'what it is to... fail the people who mean the most. To live in fear of people finding out. I dread you and Emerie learning my history. I know that once you do, you'll never look at me the same again.' Gwyn squeezed Nesta's hand.

Her story would come later. Nesta let her see it in her face, that when Gwyn was ready, nothing she could reveal would make her walk away.

'Come to the service this evening,' Gwyn said. 'Listen to the music.' She squeezed her hand again. 'You'll always be welcome to join me, Nesta.'

Nesta hadn't realised how badly she'd needed to hear it. She squeezed Gwyn's hand back.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Gwyn did find them, the priestess panting and flushed as she handed out two rectangular parcels, each roughly the size of a large, thin book. 'One for each of you.'

Nesta opened the brown paper and beheld a stack of pages filled with writing. At the top of the first page, it merely said, Chapter Twenty-One. She read the first few lines beneath it, then nearly dropped the pages. 'This- this is about us.'

Gwyn beamed. 'I convinced Merrill to add us into the penultimate chapter. She even let me write it- with her own annotations, of course. But it's about the rebirth of the Valkyries. About what we're doing.'

Nesta had no words. Emerie's hands were once more shaking as she leafed through the pages. 'You had this much to say about us?' Emerie said, choking on a laugh.

Gwyn rubbed her hands together. 'With more to come.'

Nesta read a line at random on the fifth page. Whether the sun beat hot on their brows or freezing rain turned their bones to ice, Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyneth arrived at practice each morning, ready to...

The back of her throat ached; her eyes stung. 'We're in a book.'

Gwyn's fingers slid into hers, squeezing tight. Nesta looked up to find her holding Emerie's free hand as well. Gwyn smiled again, her eyes bright. 'Our stories are worth telling.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“A mug of hot chocolate appeared beside her, along with a handful of shortbread. Nesta chuckled. 'Thank you.'

She sipped from her drink, nearly sighing at the richness of the cocoa. 'I'd like to try a fire,' she said quietly. 'A small one.'

Instantly, the House had a tiny blaze going in the fireplace. A log popped, and Nesta straightened, stomach twisting.

It was a fire. Not her father's neck.
...
Another log cracked and Nesta flinched. But she remained sitting there. Staring at that carved rose.

Would she live the rest of her life like Emerie, always glancing over a shoulder for the shadow of the past to haunt her? Did she appear as Emerie had this afternoon, terrified and pained?

She owed herself more than that. Emerie, too, deserved more. A chance to live a life without fear and dread.

So Nesta could try. Right now. She'd face this fire.

Another log cracked. Nesta ground her teeth. Breathe. Inhale for six, hold, exhale for six.

She did just that.

This is a fire. It reminds you of your father, of something horrible happening, but this is not him, and while you are feeling uncomfortable, you can get through it.

Nesta focused on her breathing. Made herself unclench each of her too-tight muscles, starting with her face and working all the way down to her toes.

All while she told herself over and over, This is a fire. It makes you uncomfortable. This is why you react as you do. You can breathe through this. Work through this.

Her body didn't loosen, but she was able to sit there. Endure the fire until it dimmed to embers, and then went out entirely.

She didn't know why she found herself on the verge of tears as the cinders smouldered. Didn't know why the rush of pride that filled her chest made her want to laugh and whoop and dance around the room. She hadn't done anything more than sit by a fire, but... she had sat. Stayed.

She had not failed. She had faced it and survived.

She might not have saved the world or led armies, but she had made this small, initial step.

Nesta wiped at her eyes...”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Two hours later, Nesta found herself fully clothed in a bathtub in the middle of the private library, the entire thing filled with bubbles. No water, just bubbles. In matching tubs on either side of her, Emerie and Gwyn were giggling. 'This is ridiculous,' Nesta said, even as her mouth curved upward.

Each one of their requests had gotten more and more absurd, and Nesta might have felt like they were exploiting the House had it not been so... exuberant in answering their commands. Adding creative flourishes.

Like the fact that each bubble held a tiny bird fluttering about inside.

Silent fireworks still exploded in the far corner of the room, and a miniature pegasus- Nesta's request, made only when her friends goaded her into submitting one- fed on a small patch of grass by the shelf, content to ignore them. A cake taller than Cassian stood in the centre of the room, lit with a thousand candles. Six frogs danced circles around a red-and-white-spotted toadstool, the waltzes provided by Nesta's Symphonia.

Emerie wore a diamond crown and six strings of pearls. Gwyn sported a broad-brimmed hat fit for any fine lady, perched at a rakish angle on her head. A lace parasol leaned against her other shoulder, and she twirled it idly as she surveyed the windows...”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Sadistic monsters,' Gwyn hissed as the three friends limped toward the water station, defeat heavy on their shoulders.

'We try again tomorrow,' Emerie swore, sporting a black eye thanks to the swinging log that had knocked her on her ass before Nesta could grab her. 'We keep trying until we wipe that smug look off their stupid perfect faces.

Indeed, Azriel and Cassian had just leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and smiled at them the entire time.

Gwyn threw Azriel a withering stare as she strode past him. 'See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger,' she tossed over a shoulder.

Az stared after her, brows high with amusement. When he turned back, Nesta grinned. 'You have no idea what you just started,' she said. Az angled his head, hazel eyes narrowing as Gwyn reached the archway.

'Remember how Gwyn was with the ribbon?' Nesta winked and clapped the shadowsinger on the shoulder. 'You're the new ribbon, Az.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“Cassian told me only twelve have made it this far,' Nesta murmured to her friends. 'We've already earned the title of Oristian just by being here.'

Emerie stirred. 'We could stay up here today, wait it out overnight, and be done at dawn. To hell with any titles.' It was the wise thing to do. The safe thing to do.

'That path,' Nesta said, pointing to a small one along Ramiel's base, 'could also take us down south. No one would go that way, because it takes you away from the mountain.'

'So we'd come all this way and just hide?' Gwyn said, voice hoarse.

'You're hurt,' Nesta countered. 'And that is a mountain in front of us.'

'So rather than try and fail,' Gwyn demanded, 'you would take the safe road?'

'We would live,' Emerie said carefully. 'I'd love nothing more than to wipe the smirks off the lips of the males in my village, but not at this cost. Not if it costs us you, Gwyn. We need you to live.'

Gwyn studied Ramiel's craggy, unforgiving slope. Not much snow graced its sides. Like the wind had whipped it all away. Or the storms had avoided its peak entirely. 'Is it living, though? To take the safe road?'

'You're the one who's been in a library for two years,' Emerie said.

Gwyn didn't flinch. 'I have. And I am tired of it.' She surveyed the blood-soaked leather along her thigh. 'I don't want to take the safe road.' She pointed to the mountain, to the slender path upward. 'I want to take that road.' Her voice thickened. 'I want to take the road that no one dares travel, and I want to travel it with you two. No matter what may befall us. Not as Illyrians, not for their titles, but as something new. To prove to them, to everyone, that something new and different might triumph over their rules and restrictions.'

A cold wind blew off Ramiel's sides.
Whispering, murmuring.

'They call this climb the Breaking for a reason,' Emerie countered gravely.

Nesta added, 'We haven't eaten in days. We're down to the last of our water. To climb that mountain-'

'I have been broken once before,' Gwyn said, her voice clear. 'I survived it. And I will not be broken again- not even by this mountain.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames

“I refuse to leave you here.'

Emerie's pained face told Nesta enough: she understood. Saw the logic.

Nesta said to Gwyn. 'It is the only way.'

Gwyn screamed. 'IT IS NOT THE ONLY WAY!' And then she was sobbing. 'I will not abandon you to them. They will kill you.'

'You need to go,' Nesta said, even as her hands began shaking. 'Now.'

'No,' Gwyn wept. 'No, I won't. I'll face it with you.'

Something deep in Nesta's chest cracked. Cracked open completely, and what lay within bloomed, full and bright and pure.

She wrapped her arms around Gwyn. Let her friend sob into her chest. 'I'll face it with you,' Gwyn whispered, over and over again. 'Promise me we'll face it together.'

Nesta couldn't stop her tears. The chill wind froze them on her cheeks. 'I promise,' she breathed, stroking Gwyn's matted hair. 'I promise.'

Gwyn sobbed, and Nesta let herself sob with her, squeezing her tightly. Letting her stroking hand come to rest on Gwyn's neck.

A pinch in the right spot, exactly on the pressure point Cassian had shown her, and it was done.

Gwyn went down. Unconscious.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A ​Court of Silver Flames