a court of wings and ruin audiobook - jennifer ikeda

"Princess of Carrion – Chapter One"

Two years before the construction of the wall that would one day divide realms and destinies, the war had already lost its rhythm. The beating war drums had faded, replaced by the incessant buzz of flies and the agonized screams of dying survivors. The battlefield—now a desolate killing field—was reduced to a chaotic sprawl of lifeless bodies, both human and fae. Once grassy plains had become a rotting graveyard, pierced by broken wings and the mangled corpses of warriors and horses alike.

In this grim opening scene, Feyre, the protagonist and narrator, moves through the aftermath with heavy limbs and wings that ache from exhaustion. The war is not just a memory—it’s a scent, a sound, a nightmare made flesh. The stench of death and smoke lingers in the air, and the gray sky above is as lifeless as the faces below. Weapons, bodies, and broken standards litter the mud-soaked ground, where honor has long been abandoned. The keep she fought to protect looms behind her, its strategic importance vital to the resistance’s survival.

As Feyre recounts the brutal three-day battle, she reflects on her own depleted powers. With her magic drained, she fought like the mortals beside her—fiercely, desperately, with nothing but sheer willpower. The Illyrian warriors who came to their aid on the third day turned the tide, yet the cost had been devastating. She searches among the fallen for her brothers, Cassian and Azriel, but finds only strangers and friends alike with familiar Illyrian wings now broken and still.

Despite the carnage, she finds no peace. Her search through the death-strewn battlefield is relentless, her grief sharpened by uncertainty. The emotional and physical toll is immense, and yet she presses on, unwilling to leave the bodies unclaimed, or weapons untouched. Every sword and shield could help turn the next battle, every fallen friend a reminder of what was at stake.

As the scene transitions from battlefield to a quiet, sunlit studio, the tone shifts but the internal turmoil remains. Feyre, now painted in a facade of healing, dabs color onto a canvas—a pretty lie of a rose garden filled with sunshine and spring. But beneath the strokes is rage, sorrow, and deception. Each brushstroke is calculated to convey a version of herself that is palatable to those watching her now. In reality, her heart is filled with vengeance, grief, and a growing fury that she must continue to suppress—for now.

The painting is her mask, and her studio, a prison wrapped in floral fragrance. Tamlin and Lucien, once trusted allies, are now uncomfortable reminders of everything she’s lost and endured. When Tamlin enters, smiling, asking her to prepare for a meeting, Feyre puts on a performance—rehearsed, perfectly practiced. She smiles, paints, and speaks like the girl she once was, not the weapon she has become.

Lucien, more perceptive, studies her painting as if searching for signs of the truth beneath her façade. His presence, though less imposing than Tamlin’s, carries its own weight—especially with his connection to Elain, Feyre’s sister. The betrayal of Ianthe, the High Priestess who had a hand in the suffering of Feyre’s sisters, casts a shadow over their interactions. Despite her calm exterior, Feyre is acutely aware of every word, every movement—an act of survival.

The contrast between the battlefield and the manor is striking, but it underscores a powerful theme: Feyre is still at war, just in a different setting. Her former bedroom, now overtaken by thorns and vines, stands as a haunting symbol of who she used to be and what she has endured. She now lives across from Lucien, always under observation, every movement scrutinized.

As Feyre prepares for the looming meeting, the fury within her simmers. She remembers the promises she made—to avenge, to protect, to destroy. She recalls the pain inflicted by Highburn, by Julian, by Ianthe, and how those betrayals left scars on more than just her skin. Her paintbrush snaps beneath her grasp, a small yet telling moment that reveals the storm brewing beneath her calm surface.

“Princess of Carrion – Chapter One” ends with Feyre cloaked in layers of deception and suppressed rage, trapped between the roles she must play and the vengeance she quietly plots. Her smile is a weapon. Her silence, a strategy. Though the battlefield lies behind her, the war is far from over. And when her mask finally falls, there may be no roses left to bloom—only ashes.

Chapter Two: Secrets, Lies, and Strategy

In Chapter Two of this captivating fantasy saga, tensions rise and long-buried secrets come to light as alliances are tested, enemies encroach, and trust becomes a fragile currency. This installment delivers a compelling mix of emotional depth, espionage, and suspense, driving the story forward with skillful character development and high-stakes drama.

The chapter opens with the protagonist grappling with conflicting emotions and a growing fury over the trauma inflicted upon her sisters and friends. Though enraged by Ianthe’s betrayal, she listens to Lucien’s warning: Ianthe has a story to spin. Still, the protagonist maintains her facade and remains careful not to reveal the full extent of what she knows—especially about how Rhys cast Ianthe out to protect his court. The truth would risk unraveling the delicate web of lies that has kept her allies safe.

Volaris, the city of peace and beauty, had been revealed to their enemies and subsequently targeted. The guilt over the attack, now public knowledge thanks to Rhys's disclosure to the human queens, continues to haunt him and the protagonist. As the story unfolds, the protagonist keeps her true loyalties hidden, maneuvering carefully through Tamlin’s court and using every interaction to gather intel for her real allies.

Lucien, increasingly suspicious and emotionally entangled due to his bond with Elain, confronts the protagonist about Ellen’s whereabouts. His desperation is met with deflection. She’s forced to lie, maintaining her cover and subtly manipulating his trust. Though he senses something is wrong, Lucien’s emotions cloud his judgment. Their conversation reveals the strain of the mating bond, its psychological impact, and how it’s being weaponized by both sides in this dangerous game.

The protagonist’s resolve hardens when she finally confronts Ianthe. With Lucien and Tamlin flanking her at the formal dining table, she fights to control her rage, suppressing her desire to destroy the High Priestess on the spot. Ianthe, still wearing her signature pale hood and silver circlet, offers a carefully crafted apology. She claims her betrayal was an effort to serve their allies and provide what she believed the protagonist secretly desired—eternal unity with her sisters, even through transformation.

Despite the polished facade, the protagonist knows better. She sees through Ianthe’s lies, recognizing the calculated deception beneath the flowery words and theatrical remorse. Lucien, too, expresses his disdain, making clear that forgiveness is not on the table. But Tamlin, ever blinded by loyalty or naivety, continues to defend Ianthe and her decisions, refusing to see the danger lurking behind her pious mask.

The tension escalates as the chapter shifts focus to the political threat of Hepburn. Tamlin confirms that the first delegation from the High Fae commander arrives the next day. The mention of Julian—formerly Dorian, resurrected through the Cauldron—sends a wave of dread through the protagonist. Once a feared human commander, Julian is now a grotesque version of his former self, brought back by the King of Hepburn to manipulate the human queens into submission.

As plans solidify, the protagonist realizes the terrifying truth: Hepburn possesses the Cauldron, an object capable of breaking the wall that protects the human realm from deadly Fae armies. Despite the enormity of this threat, neither Tamlin nor Lucien seems overly concerned. Instead, they prepare to welcome these dark forces into their home, betraying the very values they once claimed to uphold.

Tamlin attempts to reassure her, explaining that families are being relocated eastward to ensure their safety. It’s a small mercy—an acknowledgment that he understands the chaos Hepburn will bring. Yet this decision only further confirms to the protagonist that war is coming. The East is safe, which means the West will be the battleground. It's a vital piece of intelligence she carefully stores for her next report to Rhys and their inner circle.

As the night deepens, she sends a message down the mating bond, the only communication tool she dares use to contact Rhys. Though the connection is weaker than ever, she manages to transmit her safety and a promise to send more information. Rhys's reply is brief but powerful: “I love you. They are alive. They are healing.” With those few words, her resolve is renewed.

The chapter ends on a poignant note. Alone in her new chambers, she seals herself in with a barrier of air, muffling the sound and scent of her silent tears. The weight of espionage, of pretending to serve those she despises, and of suppressing her love for Rhys, threatens to crush her spirit. Still, she endures. With the Cauldron growing stronger and war on the horizon, she must remain sharp, determined, and above all—undetected.

Conclusion

Chapter Two masterfully blends political intrigue, emotional struggle, and rising tension. As enemies infiltrate the court and alliances shift, the protagonist walks a razor-thin line between deception and truth. With every interaction, she moves closer to her goal—protecting her real home, her sisters, and the love she left behind. Fans of high fantasy and court intrigue will find this chapter both riveting and heart-wrenching, setting the stage for an epic clash of powers.

Chapter Three – A Court of Thorns and Roses Series

In this intense and politically charged chapter from A Court of Thorns and Roses, Feyre finds herself deeply embedded in a perilous masquerade at the Spring Court. Haunted by the trauma of Cassian and Azriel’s near-fatal injuries, and the screams and blood she can’t unhear, Feyre walks a fine line between vengeance and strategic patience. Though desperate for updates on her sisters and the Illyrians, she dares not communicate through the mating bond with Rhysand, fearing that its use might betray her true loyalties. Everyone believes the bond between her and Rhys has been severed — a dangerous lie she must uphold. The scent of their connection lingers, however, making her subterfuge even more difficult.

The court continues to operate under the illusion that Rhysand forced the bond upon her. Feyre's role now is to act as though she is loyal to Tamlin, who had betrayed Prythian by aligning with Hybern in a misguided effort to bring her back. Feyre knows her window of opportunity is narrow and that at some point, when Rhys’s scent fails to fade, she will have to act — whether or not she has the information her court needs.

When Jurian, along with the cold and eerie High Fae twins, Prince Dagdan and Princess Brannagh of Hybern, arrive at the Spring Court estate, tension rises sharply. Feyre notes their inhuman blank expressions and cruel aura — both twins clearly possess powers linked not only to magic but also to invasive mental manipulation. Tamlin and Lucien greet them as allies, unaware of the deep threat they pose.

Feyre maintains her composed facade as the gracious lady of the manor, even though her thoughts constantly drift to Cassian’s shredded wings, Azriel’s condition, and the haunting question of whether they are strong enough to fight again. Every interaction is a calculated performance. She uses Tamlin’s lingering affection for her to strengthen his trust and shield her true intentions. Her ultimate goal: dismantle the alliance from within.

As the twins and Jurian begin probing the minds of those at the dinner table, Feyre uses her own immense mental powers to block their attacks and retaliate with chilling precision. Her shielding — a gift from Rhysand and the Night Court — is as black and solid as adamant, impenetrable and aggressive. She makes it clear to the twins that she is not to be trifled with, though she masks it under a guise of politeness. The subtle battle of mental powers becomes the silent war over the meal, a war that ends with a tense, unspoken truce.

Jurian, ever the provocateur, attempts to rattle her with crude references to Rhysand, Miriam, and Drakon — key figures in Prythian’s history and resistance. He implies betrayal and infidelity, hinting that Feyre has been “used” by the Illyrians. But Feyre, though disturbed, keeps her composure. Lucien’s fury barely stays in check, while Tamlin, increasingly conflicted, attempts to maintain order.

The true moment of victory for Feyre comes when she successfully manipulates Tamlin into allowing her to accompany the party to the wall — the magical barrier separating the human lands from the Fae territories. Dagdan and Brannagh request access to the wall’s vulnerabilities, planning to exploit them for Hybern’s dark purposes. Feyre, still pretending to be the loyal consort, offers to escort them alongside Lucien. Tamlin agrees, believing it a show of her commitment to him and to the Spring Court’s cause. In reality, it offers Feyre the opportunity to gather intelligence and possibly sabotage their plans.

As the chapter concludes, Feyre rides through the spring woods toward the wall with Tamlin’s blessing and a host of dangerous companions. Her internal monologue reveals the weight of her deception, the torment of living among enemies, and the meticulous care she must take to avoid detection. Feyre knows that one wrong move could doom her court and her loved ones — but she also knows that with careful planning, she can dismantle Hybern’s invasion from the inside.

This chapter is a masterclass in political subterfuge, internal conflict, and psychological warfare. Feyre is no longer the frightened girl once broken under the Mountain — she is a cunning, formidable spy, navigating the deadly waters of court intrigue with precision and strength. As she protects the secrets of the Night Court and fights to keep her sisters safe, her every move inches her closer to dismantling the enemy’s alliance — and turning Tamlin’s trust into his greatest weakness.

Chapter Four - The Cracks in the Wall – Secrets, Loyalties, and Lies

In this pivotal and tension-laced chapter of A Court of Thorns and Roses, the story unfolds with a blend of secrecy, deception, and emotional reckoning as Feyre navigates the fragile alliances around her. The scene opens with breakfast at the Spring Court, where Tamlin appears tense and withdrawn, merely claiming a headache when asked. Feyre, however, senses the undercurrents of unease. Lucien offers to accompany her, and they set out with the visiting royals—Brannagh, Dagdan, and Jurian—to investigate a hole in the magical wall dividing the human and fae realms.

The wall itself is a grotesque and unseen presence—neither visible nor tangible but palpable in its pulsing wrongness. Horses shy away from it, and even the royals seem unsettled by its aura. Lucien reveals that only a few holes exist in the wall, their origins unknown. One lies offshore and is deemed useless. Another is located further inland. Feyre notes that this very gap in the wall was where she crossed into Prythian for the first time. She positions herself strategically near Lucien, manipulating appearances to keep the royals guessing about her allegiance.

As the royals inspect the wall, Feyre and Lucien retreat into the background. Their conversation is emotionally charged—Lucien questions Feyre’s intentions, accusing her of manipulating events. She in turn tests his loyalties, asking whether he would have fought for humans in the war. Lucien affirms he would have, despite his father's stance. His deep sense of guilt over Feyre’s departure is evident. He confesses that he and Tamlin found only her melted ring upon her disappearance, reinforcing that her leaving wasn’t believed to be an abduction. Lucien even went to Heyburn with the enemy to rescue her, moved by guilt and possibly love.

Feyre, in a rare moment of vulnerability, thanks him for coming after her. But the tension only deepens when the topic turns to Hepburn’s motivations—Lucien believes hatred and arrogance drive him, not politics. Just as their moment of closeness becomes apparent, Julien appears, mocking Lucien and warning of the consequences of growing too close to Feyre, the High Lord’s “belonging.” Feyre and Lucien play their roles with precision, but their complex history continues to weigh heavily on their interactions.

Returning to the Spring Court, Ianthe awaits them—her entrance meticulously timed, dressed to appear divine in the golden sunbeams. Feyre reflects bitterly on Ianthe’s theatrics and the lack of reaction from the visiting royals, who clearly see through her hollow sanctity. Despite Ianthe’s attention-seeking, her presence is disregarded, and Feyre suspects that even Brannagh and Dagdan prefer each other’s company in strange, possibly twisted ways.

Ianthe uses the opportunity to announce a celebration in honor of the royals and the upcoming summer solstice. When she asks to speak to Feyre privately, Lucien’s tension becomes palpable. Feyre handles the situation diplomatically, promising to meet Ianthe after freshening up. Her growing assertiveness is apparent, and her strategic mind never rests as she prepares for the next performance in this dangerous court.

As Feyre and Lucien walk away, they share a private conversation. She confronts him about Ianthe and the Rite of Calanmai. Lucien admits, painfully, that he performed the Rite with Ianthe, not because he wanted to, but because Tamlin refused, and Lucien stepped in to preserve the Spring Court’s traditions. Feyre reassures him that she will not expose his actions unless he chooses to. Lucien’s shame is clear, but so is his gratitude for Feyre’s loyalty, noting that she has been a better friend than he ever was to her.

In the final segment, Alice, Feyre’s loyal servant, assists her in finding a dress for the solstice. The interaction takes an emotional turn as Alice reflects on Feyre’s transformation—no longer pale and broken, but strong and healthy, bearing the resilience forged from trauma. Alice hints at her knowledge of what truly happened when Feyre left, admitting she never believed Feyre was abducted. She recalls the day the Morrigan arrived and took Feyre away, describing Feyre’s clear choice and trust in Rhysand.

Feyre is stunned to learn that Alice never told Tamlin the truth and instead allowed him to believe Feyre was taken. Alice, in her straightforward wisdom, believes Feyre returned changed—but changed for the better. She even confesses that rumors from within the palace indicate not fear, but admiration for the Night Court’s handling of power. These revelations confirm that even among Spring Court loyalists, cracks in loyalty and perception are beginning to show.

As Feyre prepares for the upcoming celebration, her internal resolve strengthens. She continues her covert mission, manipulating information, forging alliances, and playing her part to perfection. But beneath the polished surface, old loyalties, painful regrets, and quiet truths threaten to shatter the delicate balance she’s trying to maintain. The wall between realms isn’t the only thing fractured—so are the hearts, alliances, and histories of those who live within them.