When I first found her on the clearance rack at Lowe’s, Feyre looked like she had just battled the Middengard wyrm. I didn’t have much hope for her, I was never good with prayer plants, but I loved her pot. Since then she has broken my prayer plant curse, learned to read and dumped her controlling asshole bf in favor of a dude who puts his hands in his pockets – like a lot (Seriously Rhys, find an alternative way to casually say “my lady has this”) (also I still love you) (but not more than Cassian).
He hem, anyway…like her Skyfall dress, the hanger was made just for her, she even has a little moon and star on one arm. If you’d like to bring Feyre and all her inherited (stolen?) gifts home, contact Rooted in Fiction. Local pick up only, no one puts Feyre in a box.
If you’d like to read my favorite Feyre, check out her snaring the suriel and generally kicking everyone’s ass in A Court of Mist and Fury.