“You can be a pawn, be someone’s reward, and spend the rest of your immortal life bowing and scraping and pretending you’re less than him, than Ianthe, than any of us. If you want to pick that road, then fine. A shame, but it’s your choice.” […] “Or you’ve got another choice. You can master whatever powers we gave to you, and make it count. You can play a role in this war.”
“And as for this one… She’s mine. And if any of you lay a hand on her, you lose that hand. And then you lose your head. And once Feyre is done killing you,” Rhys smirked, “then I’ll grind your bones to dust.”