Ianthe Quotes

“Lucien had been prepared to take me against my will.
Fae males were territorial, dominant, arrogant—but the ones in the Spring Court … something had festered in their training. Because I knew—deep in my bones—that Cassian might push and test my limits, but the moment I said no, he’d back off. And I knew that if … that if I had been wasting away and Rhys had done nothing to stop it, Cassian or Azriel would have pulled me out. They would have taken me somewhere—wherever I needed to be—and dealt with Rhys later.
But Rhys … Rhys would never have not seen what was happening to me; would never have been so misguided and arrogant and self-absorbed. He’d known what Ianthe was from the moment he met her. And he’d understood what it was like to be a prisoner, and helpless, and to struggle—every day—with the horrors of both.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“Well, I tried, and therefore no one should criticize me.”
― Tamsyn Muir, Harrow the Ninth

“I let a little bit of the wolf show.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“You really are exotic, for boys in my country, they do not have such pectorals. I like yours.”
― Steven L. Sheppard, The Untold Story Of Iphis And Ianthe

“We are old, and cunning, and enjoy using words like blades and claws. Every word from your mouth, every turn of phrase, will be judged- and possibly used against you.' As if to soften the warning, she added. 'Be on your guard, Lady.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“I sometimes debated asking her to pray for me as well.

To pray that I'd one day learn to love the dresses, and the parties, and my role as a blushing, pretty bride.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“Feyre,' he said against my lips, my name like a prayer more devout than any Ianthe had offered up to the Cauldron on that dark Solstice morning.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“Ianthe bowed her head again. 'I will endeavour to be worthy of my friends.'

Lucien seemed to be trying very, very hard not to roll his eyes.

But Tamlin said, 'We'll all try.'

That was his new favourite word: try.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Our dispersing party watched as he braced my waist in his broad hands and easily hefted me off the horse, none more closely than Ianthe.

I only patted Lucien on the shoulder in thanks. Ever the courtier, he bowed back.

It was hard, sometimes, to remember to hate him. To remember the game I was already playing.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“His body was taut, near-trembling.

'What happened between you?' I hissed when we were lost among the hedges and gravel paths of the garden.

'It's not worth repeating.'

'When I- was taken,' I ventured, almost stumbling on the word, almost saying left, 'Did she and Tamlin...'

I was not faking the twisting low in my gut.

'No,' he said hoarsely. 'No. When Calanmai came along, he refused. He flat-out refused to participate. I replaced him in the Rite, but...'
...
But Lucien... 'You took Ianthe into that cave on Calanmai?'

He wouldn't meet my gaze. 'She insisted. Tamlin was... Things were bad, Feyre. I went in his stead, and I did my duty to the court. I went of my own free will. And we completed the Rite.'

No wonder she'd backed off him. She'd gotten what she wanted.

'Please don't tell Elain,' he said. 'When we- when we find her again,' he amended.

He might have completed the Great Rite with Ianthe of his own free will, but he certainly hadn't enjoyed it. Some line had been blurred- badly.

And my heart shifted a bit in my chest as I said to him with no guile whatsoever, 'I won't tell anyone unless you say so.' The weight of the jewelled knife and belt seemed to grow. 'I wish I had been there to stop it. I should have been there to stop it.' I meant every word.

Lucien squeezed our linked arms as we rounded a hedge, the house rising up before us. 'You are a better friend to me, Feyre,' he said quietly, 'than I ever was to you.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“I turned to Lucien, my light radiating so brightly that it bounced off his metal eye. A friend beseeching another for help. I reached a hand toward him.

Beyond us, I could feel Ianthe scrambling to regain control, to find some way to spin it.

Perhaps Lucien could, too. For he took my hand, and then knelt upon one knee in the grass, pressing my fingers to his brow.

Like stalks of wheat in a wind, the others fell to their knees as well.

For in all of her preening ceremonies and rituals, never had Ianthe revealed any sign of power or blessing. But Feyre Cursebreaker, who had let Prythian from tyranny and darkness...

Blessed. Holy. Undimming before evil.

I let my glow spread, until it, too, rippled from Lucien's bowed form.

A knight before his queen.

When I looked to Ianthe and smiled again, I let a little bit of the wolf show.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“I heard Lucien first.

'Back off.'

A low female laugh.

Everything in me went still and cold at that sound. I'd heard it once before- in Rhysand's memory.

Keep going. They were distracted, horrible as it was.

Keep going, keep going, keep going.

'I thought you'd seek me out after the Rite,' Ianthe purred. They couldn't be more than thirty feet through the trees. Far enough away not to hear my presence, if I was quiet enough.

'I was obligated to perform the Rite,' Lucien snapped. 'That night wasn't the product of desire, believe me.'

'We had fun, you and I.'

'I'm a mated male now.'

Every second was the ringing of my death knell. I'd primed everything to fall; I'd long since stopped feeling any guilt or doubt about my plan. Not with Alis now safely away.

And yet- and yet-

'You don't act that way with Feyre.' A silk-wrapped threat.

'You're mistaken.'

'Am I?' Twigs and leaves crunched, as if she was circling him. 'You put your hands all over her.'

I had done my job too well, provoked her jealousy too much with every instance I'd found ways to get Lucien to touch me in her presence, in Tamlin's presence.

'Do not touch me,' he growled.

And then I was moving.

I masked the sound of my footfalls, silent as a panther as I stalked to the little clearing where they stood.

Where Lucien stood, back against a tree- twin bands of blue stone shackled around his wrists.

I'd seen them before. On Rhys, to immobilise his power. Stone hewn from Hybern's rotted land, capable of nullifying magic. And in this case... holding Lucien against that tree as Ianthe surveyed him like a snake before a meal.

She slid a hand over the broad panes of his chest, his stomach.

And Lucien's eyes shot to me as I stepped between the trees, fear and humiliation reddening his golden skin.

'That's enough,' I said.

Ianthe whipped her head to me. Her smile was innocent, simpering. But I saw her note the pack, Tamlin's bandolier. Dismiss them. 'We were in the middle of a game. Weren't we, Lucien?'

He didn't answer.

And the sight of those shackles on him, however she'd trapped him, the sight of her hand still on his stomach-

'We'll return to the camp when we're done,' she said, turning to him again. Her hand slid lower, not for his own pleasure, but simply to throw it in my face that she could-”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“Take your hands off him.'

She did.

'Unshackle him.'

Lucien's skin drained of colour as Ianthe obeyed me, her face queerly vacant, pliant. The blue stone shackles thumped to the mossy ground.

Lucien's shirt was askew, the top button on his pants already undone.

The roaring that filled my mind was so loud I could barely hear myself as I said, 'Pick up that rock.'

Lucien remained pressed against that tree. And he watched in silence as Ianthe stopped to pick up a grey, rough rock about the size of an apple.

'Put your right hand on that boulder.'

She obeyed, though a tremor went down her spine.

Her mind thrashed and struggled against me, like a fish snared on a line. I dug my mental talons in deeper, and some inner voice of hers began screaming.

'Smash your hand with the rock as hard as you can until I tell you to stop.'

The hand she'd put on him, on so many others.

Ianthe brought the stone up. The first impact was a muffled, wet thud.

The second was an actual crack.

The third drew blood.

Her arm rose and fell, her body shuddering with the agony.

And I said to her very clearly, 'You will never touch another person against their will. You will never convince yourself that they truly want your advances; that they're playing games. You will never know another's touch unless they initiate, unless it's desired by both sides.'

Thwack; crack; thud.

'You will not remember what happened here. You will tell the others that you fell.'

Her ring finger had shifted in the wrong direction.

'You are allowed to see a healer to set the bones. But not to erase the scarring. And every time you look at that hand, you are going to remember that touching people against their will has consequences, and if you do it again, everything you are will cease to exist. You will live with that terror every day, and never know where it originates. Only the fear of something chasing you, hunting you, waiting for you the instant you let your guard down.'

Silent tears of pain flowed down her face.

'You can stop now.'

The bloodied rock tumbled onto the grass. Her hand was little more than cracked bones wrapped in shredded skin.

'Kneel here until someone finds you.'

Ianthe fell to her knees, her ruined hand leaking blood onto her pale robes.

'I debated slitting your throat this morning,' I told her. 'I debated it all last night while you slept beside me. I've debated it every single day since I learned you sold out my sisters to Hybern.' I smiled a bit. 'But I think this is a better punishment. And I hope you live a long, long life, Ianthe, and never know a moment's peace.'

I stared down at her for a moment longer, tying off the tapestry of words and commands I'd woven into her mind, and turned to Lucien. He'd fixed his pants, his shirt.

His wide eyes slid from her to me, then to the bloodied stone.

'The word you're looking for, Lucien,' crooned a deceptively light female voice, 'is daemati.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“You tell them I killed them. In self-defence. After they hurt me so badly while you and Tamlin did nothing. Even when they torture you for the truth, you say that I fled after I killed them- to save this court from their horrors.'

Blank, vacant eyes were my only answer.

'Feyre.'

Lucien's voice was a hoarse rasp.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin

“The Weaver's dress rustled as she crept closer in the gloom. 'Who did you bring, little wolf? What did you bring to me?'

Ianthe and her two guards stepped over the threshold. Then another step. Past the open door. They didn't see me in the shadows behind it.

'Dinner,' I said to the Weaver, whirling around the door- to its outside face. And let go of the handle.

Just as the door slammed shut hard enough to rattle the cottage, I saw the ball of faelight that Ianthe lifted to illuminate the room.

Saw the horrible face of the Weaver, that mouth of stumped teeth opening wide with delight and unholy hunger. A death-god of old- starved for life. With a beautiful priestess before her.

I was already hurtling for the trees when the guards and Ianthe began screaming.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin