1. "“Dangerous words, Rhysand,” Amren warned, strutting through the door, nearly swallowed up by the enormous white fur coat she wore. Only her chin-length dark hair and solid silver eyes were visible above the collar. She looked— “You look like an angry snowball,” Cassian said. I clamped my lips together to keep the laugh in. Laughing at Amren wasn’t a wise move. Even now, with her powers mostly gone and permanently in a High Fae body. The angry snowball narrowed her eyes at him."
2. "“Don’t answer that,” Rhys said smoothly, pointing to Amren with his fork. Amren hissed at him, her dark hair swaying like a curtain of liquid night, “Do you know what an inconvenience it is to need to find a place to relieve myself everywhere I go?” A fizzing noise came from Cassian’s side of the table, but I clamped my lips together. Mor gripped my knee beneath the table, her body shaking with the effort of keeping her laugh reined in. Rhys drawled to Amren, “Shall we start building public toilets for you throughout Velaris, Amren?” “I mean it, Rhysand,” Amren snapped. I didn’t dare meet Mor’s stare. Or Cassian’s. One look and I’d completely dissolve. Amren waved a hand down at herself. “I should have selected a male form. At least you can whip it out and go wherever you like without having to worry about spilling on—” Cassian lost it. Then Mor. Then me. And even Az, chuckling faintly. “You really don’t know how to pee?” Mor roared. “After all this time?” Amren seethed. “I’ve seen animals—” “Tell me you know how a toilet works,” Cassian burst out, slapping a broad hand on the table. “Tell me you know that much.” I clapped a hand over my mouth, as if it would push the laugh back in. Across the table, Rhys’s eyes were brighter than stars, his mouth a quivering line as he tried and failed to remain serious. “I know how to sit on a toilet,” Amren growled."
3. "“They’re having a snowball fight.” Another nod. “Three Illyrian warriors,” I said. “The greatest Illyrian warriors. Are having a snowball fight.” Mor’s eyes practically glowed with wicked delight. “Since they were children.” “They’re over five hundred years old.” “Do you want me to tell you the running tally of victories?” I gaped at her. Then at the field beyond. At the snowballs that were indeed flying with brutal, swift precision as dark heads popped over the walls they’d built. “No magic,” Mor recited, “no wings, no breaks.” “They’ve been out here since noon.” It was nearly three. My teeth began chattering. “I’ve always stayed in to drink,” Mor supplied, as if that were an answer. “How do they even decide who wins?” “Whoever doesn’t get frostbite?” I gaped at her again over my clacking teeth. “This is ridiculous.” “There’s more alcohol in the cabin.” Indeed, none of the males seemed to even notice us. Not as Azriel popped up, launched two snowballs sky-high, and vanished behind his wall of snow again. A moment later, Rhys’s vicious curse barked toward us. “Asshole.” Laughter laced every syllable. Mor looped her arm through mine again. “I don’t think your mate is going to be the victor this year, my friend.” I leaned into her warmth, and we waded through the shin-high snow toward the cabin, the chimney already puffing against the clear blue sky. Illyrian babies indeed."
4. "Rhys winked at me. “I took it upon myself to add your presents to the communal trove.” I lifted my brows. “Everyone gave you their gifts?” “He’s the only one who can be trusted not to snoop,” Mor explained. I looked toward Azriel. “Even him,” Amren said. Azriel gave me a guilty cringe. “Spymaster, remember?” “We started doing it two centuries ago,” Mor went on. “After Rhys caught Amren literally shaking a box to figure out what was inside.” Amren clicked her tongue as I laughed. “What they didn’t see was Cassian down here ten minutes earlier, sniffing each box.” Cassian threw her a lazy smile. “I wasn’t the one who got caught.” I turned to Rhys. “And somehow you’re the most trustworthy one?” Rhys looked outright offended. “I am a High Lord, Feyre darling. Unwavering honor is built into my bones.” Mor and I snorted. Amren strode for the nearest pile of presents. “I’ll go first.” “Of course she will,” Varian muttered, earning a grin from me and Mor."