Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I hadn’t seen light in days. It was dark down here, and the damp cold felt like it had seeped deeply into my bones. The shivering was endless. Down in that darkness, my thoughts had matched the absence of light. If I went insane, did any of it even matter, to begin with? Would it all have been for nothing?

I’d come here to save him and instead had damned myself. He sat somewhere above me on a throne stationed beside hers. He’d likely been well-fed and clothed and had probably even warmed her bed by now. Perhaps it made me pathetic to even care. After all, he’d allowed her to lock me down here. He hadn’t come looking for me.

The first night I’d tried to convince myself that he couldn’t, that he was trapped himself. That hope was short-lived. When she’d paraded me around like a pet, I’d seen him for the first time in days. He was clothed in elegant fabrics, deep green velvet wrapping around his chiseled form in a way that made him look like a King. His wrists weren’t chafed from cuffs like mine. He didn’t limp from their unforgiving handling. His face was not purple with bruises. He looked… well, he looked pampered.

It fueled me with a rage deeper than anything I’d ever felt. I knew I was only human, and he was a High Lord of Prythian, with extravagant fae abilities to accompany. Those days in his mansion he’d made me feel special, like for the first time in my life, someone actually saw me or heard me when I spoke.

I’d come here to save him only to find he hadn’t needed saving. She pawed at him like a coveted prize. Just as she did with the other one, the one with raven’s black hair. His violet eyes had pierced through mine the moment I had entered the room. It was like he saw right through me. The haughty and arrogant curve of his smile had made my stomach clench. He’d watched her sentence me to imprisonment with little more than tawdry amusement.

So here I was. Alone and freezing in the darkness, body aching from the injuries and the cold. The concrete floor sapped any bodily heat I managed to muster up. At this rate, I wouldn’t live very long. Perhaps their fae bodies were so different than mine that they’d assumed I could function for much longer without food or water, or perhaps they truly had left me down here to die. I would gladly haunt the shit out of Tamlin. He didn’t deserve my devotion or my affection. He’d made me weak, torn down my defenses only to shoot me through the chest the moment I’d lowered my guard.

Amarantha was the Queen of this place, her fiery red hair and pale skin like a bloodstain against a lifeless body. She had a wicked, painted red smile and long tipped and sharp black nails, which she tapped along the arm of her elaborate throne as she weighted my life in her hands and found it lacking.

A low creak startled me back to life, my breath hitching in my throat as my body stiffened in preparation. I hadn’t seen another human since Amarantha had banished me to her dungeons. I’d come to save Tamlin from what I had envisioned was his enemy, but now appears quite differently.

Heavy and slow footfall trailed closer and closer, the clacking of their shoes echoing off the stone walls. A scent of light citrus coupled with a deeper musk filled my nose as I squinted into the darkness, terrified of what I might find lurking there. I knew I was being watched. Fae senses allowed them to see in darkness that appeared impenetrable for the human eye. But I could feel his gaze on me, like hot liquid pouring across my frozen skin.

His voice emerged from the darkness like black silk.

“There you are,” he purred. “I’ve been looking for you.”

My eyes widened as I desperately searched the darkness for his face but found nothing. The darkness seemed much deeper and heavier now. His scent was overwhelming. He took up so much space in the room without even being seen. His presence demanded attention.

“Me?” I said, my voice barely more audible than a croaking frog. The word burned as it came from my throat and for the millionth time, I attempted to force myself to produce enough saliva to quench the desert of my esophagus, but for the millionth time, I could not.

“Rare is the human willing to sacrifice herself for one of our kind,” he mused. “Consider me curious to know what must have caused such devotion from such a terrified little human.” Honestly, I wasn’t even sure I knew for myself what the answer to his question would be.

“It was a mistake,” I said, coughing immediately from the tickle it created in my throat. I would kill for any ounce of water to be spared. I’m not even sure I’m above attempting to lick the damp stone walls in a pathetic effort to ease my discomfort.

“Oh?” He asked, voice lilted with amusement. “Trouble in paradise?” I could hear the snarky smirk in his voice. He sounded oh so pleased with himself. It takes a real man to taunt someone starving to death for the hell of it.

“What do you want?” I spit out, hugging my knees to my chest as the unforgiving hardness of the concrete made my ass sore and my legs go mildly numb.

“What are you offering?” His voice was deep and smooth. It sounded like a voice used only in the bedroom, but that seemed to be how he always talked. Like he was attempting to seduce and lure you in like a gender-reversed siren.

“Go fuck yourself,” I growled at him as angrily as I could with my voice constantly cracking. I’m sure it didn’t sound the slightest bit intimidating, especially to someone so conditioned to violence. I’d assumed by now that this was the dark-haired man who’d eyed me from Amarantha’s side. She kept him on a leash like her own personal pet.

“Without you? Now, where’s the fun in that?” He joked, but I did not laugh.

“Leave me alone,” I snarled.

“Before I give you the water and food I brought for you?” He asked with mock offense. I fell silent immediately, the idea of sustenance too tempting to argue over. He chuckled at my lack of response. Before I could shield my eyes, a small orb of glimmering light appeared in the darkness, much closer than I’d anticipated he was. The light twinkled like starlight, the illumination revealing his hand hovering underneath the orb like he’d conjured it to fit in his palm.

He leaned forward slightly, and I saw his face then. I sucked in a breath as he held my eyes in his violet ones. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. I hated him for it. I wanted to claw at his eyes and rip out his heart and show him just how much pain I was in, so I didn’t have to suffer down here alone.

I gasped when I saw the tray lined with food placed at my feet, a large glass of water to accompany. I grabbed the glass with both hands, rushing to pour it down my throat. It felt like liquid ecstasy as it soothed the sting of dehydration. Sitting the cup back down, I used the fork to dig into the heaps of warm, steaming food that piled atop my tray. The first bite was orgasmic, and the second one was even better.

“Such a feral little thing,” he grinned, flashing his brilliant white and perfect rows of teeth, his canine just slightly longer than the rest, but not enough to be fangs. Just enough to make it clear that this creature I was faced with is and always would be a predator. And he’d just set his sights on me to claim me as prey.

When I continued to eat and not acknowledge him, I could feel his leering eyes taking inventory of me. I wondered what I must look like. I knew I probably did look just as he’d said- feral. My hair was in knots and my skin was dirty and coated with dried sweat and tears. There was crusted blood on my feet and knees from being shoved down harshly by Amarantha’s guards as she made me bow before her, nose touching the concrete before she was satisfied.

“Your lover hasn’t been to see you, has he?” The dark-haired man mocked. The sting burned anew in my chest as I tried to muster up the courage to defend him or curse his name, whichever tumbled past my lips first. I felt both in equal measures.

“He can’t,” I said between shoveled mouthfuls of food.

“Can’t he?” The man asked, raising a brow. I stiffened. I’d known Tamlin hadn’t been cuffed or imprisoned, but having it confirmed was even more painful. I didn’t need him picking at my scabs. I could make them bleed well enough on my own.

“Why do you care?” I chastised. He grinned, flashing those sharper teeth that glinted against the reflection of the starlight. He looked like he was cloaked in and born from the night. His clothes were all black, as was his hair. His skin was pale but had obviously once held much more color. My brow furrowed as I tried to reason out why.

“I don’t,” he chuckled. “Perhaps I only wanted a little entertainment. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a fiery little thing like you. Maybe I want a new plaything.” That violent, serpent like rage coiled in my stomach at his words, poised to strike the moment it saw an opening.

“Look elsewhere,” I complained.

“No,” he laughed.

“I’m sure you can find someone much more suited to your needs and desires than someone locked in a cell underground. Or maybe that’s what you get off on? Degrading and belittling someone who’s already broken?” How dare he insinuate I was buyable? I was no one’s property and no one’s plaything.

“I love a good challenge,” he shrugged. “I’ll have you eating out of the palm of my hand before you know it.” I was going to kill him. I was going to reach my hands through the bars of this damn cage and squeeze his neck until his face turned purple from oxygen deprivation. I don’t, though, because the sick bastard would probably enjoy that.

He loosed a dark laugh as though he’d heard my joke. Fucking creep. Fucking oddly really hot creep. I decided to chalk up his attractiveness to my own delirium. Who the hell is to say I wasn’t even hallucinating him right now?

“You’ll get nothing from me,” I grumbled, finishing my last bite of food and barely resisting the urge to lick my plate clean in front of him. I upturned the glass, draining the last few drops of water. Once I sat the cup back down, the plate and cup disappeared into thin air. My eyes widened as I looked back up to him.

“Not yet,” he smirked, standing up and allowing the starlight to also vanish from existence, plunging us both back into that looming, borderline sentient darkness. I saw bright flashes behind my eyelids when I blinked as my eyes tried to readjust to the lack of light. “Sleep well, Feyre,” the man cooed, his footsteps receding. I didn’t want to think about how he came to know my name.

Chapter Text

The next night I was extracted from my cell by obnoxiously two muscular fae who wore matching scowls. Their hands were so large that they enveloped my upper arms like cuffs as they drug me along, not bothering to slow down when I tripped over my own feet. I stumbled down the concrete hallways, desperately attempting to gain any traction under my feet, but they were so much taller than me and yanking me at such an unrelenting pace that it was nearly impossible.

My knees cracked in a way that nearly made me vomit as they suddenly pushed through a door frame and dropped me. A metal bucket slammed to the ground beside me, nearly squashing my toes. I bit back a growl, scrambling to put distance between me and the two henchmen. They looked at me like I was a pest they were forced to dispose of.

“Clean the lentils from the fireplace. If she finds a single one left, she’s resolved to cut off a finger for each one she finds in the ashes,” the bald one snarled, his pinkish flesh marred with scars. They slammed the door shut behind them, clicking a lock into place immediately. I looked around, desperate to find anything to protect myself. There was a large bed pressed into the corner, black sheets perfectly pressed and topped with an equally dark blanket. The walls were dark stone and barren. The room was cold like it had been at least a few hours since the fireplace had radiated any warmth.

Apparently, now I was a maid and not even one with a useful job. Why the hells were there even lentils in the fireplace? Whoever lived in this room lacked any form of sentimentality. Apart from the bare necessities, there was nothing. Deciding I’d like to keep my fingers, I begrudgingly grabbed the bucket and carried it to the empty hearth. Sure enough, hundreds of lentils lurked there among the ash.

Grumbling a few expletives under my breath, I set to work, pinching the tiny morsels and listening to them clink at the bottom of the bucket where I deposited them. Despite Amarantha's intentions of using this as a punishment, it gave me something to do. I had begun to anticipate I’d go mad down in that murky dungeon from lack of stimulation. It’d been days since the dark-haired fae Amarantha romanced had been down to my cell and had given me food.

Even at the thought of food, my stomach rumbled with hunger. I despised the parts of me that debated eating a few of the ash-covered lentils from the floor, just to ease the ache. Hunger was a rabid and vicious thing. It felt like it was bound to consume you from the inside like a festering disease if ignored. In my case, I had no choice.

I had cleared most of the tiny beans from the easily accessible portion of the fireplace and rose onto my knees to lean into the hearth to begin to extract the ones near the back. A desperate part of me looked up, hoping to find a skylight of sorts I could shimmy up and escape, but I knew better before I even tried. There was some kind of magic filter at the top, capturing the smoke and removing it from the small room and assisting with keeping up the oxygen count. Fucking fae had everything figured out, didn’t they? Smug bastards.

“Do I want to know why you’re rummaging through my fireplace?” The words startled me so badly that I jerked back, head smacking harshly into the unforgiving stone, sending a sharp stab of pain into my head. I closed my eyes, breathing through the momentarily blinding pain. I crawled back out, ash coating my forearms and likely my face, too.

At the door was the same dark-haired male, smirking like a cat. Of fucking course, the room she’d sent me to clean would have been her mate’s. They’d get a good laugh at me later, wouldn’t they?

“Gods forbid a girl have a hobby,” I snarked, using the back of my hand to wipe the beads of sweat from my forehead. He snorted, the sound odd coming from him. I narrowed my eyes as I took in his appearance. Half of his shirt was untucked, a few more than an average amount of buttons undone. His hair was mussed like someone had been running their hands through it. But he looked like he’d been through hell. Something in his eyes was far away, and the smirk on his lips looked like a mask.

“Apologies,” he said with a dark chuckle. “By all means, continue. I have no qualms about watching you bent over like that.” My lip curled into a snarl, fingers itching to claw at his eyes. Whatever had happened to him to create that look in his eyes, I was glad for it. He was just another person keeping me prisoner here, and the last thing he would get from me was compassion. It took a monster to thrive in a place like this.

“I have to get all the lentils from your fireplace or lose my fingers,” I grumbled, turning my body so that my ass faced away from him as I began to work some more, plucking and blowing away the ash so that I could see better.

He prowled over to his bed, sitting on the end before lounging back onto his elbows, a wicked look in his violet eyes. I tried to ignore him as much as possible, which was infuriatingly impossible. He was beautiful and he knew it. His heavy leer on me made my hands shake as I worked, self-conscious of the way I placed my body and the way I must look like a half-wild beast.

“Lovely,” he mused. “Only one question. Why are there lentils in my fireplace?” He cocked his head to the side with a sly grin as he watched me. My stomach heated at the intensity of that stare.

“Ask your little girlfriend,” I snarled, roughly dragging the bucket closer to me and cringing at the way it scraped against the stone floor. I couldn’t believe that this was my life now.

“Are you… jealous?” He purred, amusement twinkling in his eyes as he looked at my scowl. He would take it that way, wouldn’t he? Self-righteous prick.

“Not hardly,” I scoffed. “I like my partners a bit less… used.” His grin widened, holding his hand to his chest in mock offense.

“Quite assumptive of you, Feyre darling,” he laughed, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Are you trying to tell me you didn’t just come from serving your pretty little Queen?” He narrowed his eyes, and they crinkled at the corners as he smirked. He just looked so damn smug and proud of himself. I thought briefly about chucking the bucket at his head.

“Again,” he said. “You sound quite jealous.”

“Fuck off,” I sighed, pointing my focus back to the fireplace, to which there were… what? There were no more lentils left in the ash. There had been at least another hundred or so when I had last looked. I brushed my hands through the ash, searching, but not a single one remained. I glared back at him and he grinned and wiggled his fingers at me, indicating he’d cleaned them out in one second using his magic. Just another way to show his superiority.

“I figure your time could be more usefully spent getting some food in your stomach,” he said, jerking his chin toward the small table in the corner. On top of it sat a steaming plate of vegetables and meat. Saliva poured into my mouth at the smell, and I briefly pondered whether I was really above begging. “It’s yours.”

I whipped my head back to him skeptically. He’d completed my task and offered me food for a second time. What was his game here? I tried to think about it logically, to decipher what his motive could possibly be, but the thought of food completely overpowered any sense I might have made of it.

I was in no position to refuse, and he knew it. I sat in the chair, immediately gripping the fork in my fist, enraged that it was plastic and not metal. I shoveled the food into my mouth with a moan. It was exquisite. I was eating so quickly that I was choking down a breath between each bite. Chewing, I lifted my head to see that he was still watching me, one eyebrow lifted. Asshole.

I swallowed a hearty bite, wiping my mouth on the back of my hand, trying not to think about how animalistic I probably seemed. Growing up in the forest, learning to hunt and skin animals made me far from squeamish. Couldn’t really be afraid of germs when starvation was the alternative.

“What do you want?” I spit out, my back suddenly aching from the time spent stooped down rummaging through ashes. He had to have some ulterior motive here. No man who looks like him would be concerned with whether or not the human in the dungeon had eaten dinner or might lose a couple of fingers over a silly task assigned by his lover. No, it would make sense for him to be cheering her on, finding new ways to torture me.

“A shower would be nice,” he sighed, looking up at the ceiling. He only had a few candles in his room and despite me lighting them all, it was still rather dim in here. The orange shadows flickered with the draft of the flames, highlighting his stern features.

“What game are you playing?” I barked at him, tired of feeling like the butt of every joke. I’d been degraded and humiliated and starved and imprisoned. What could he possibly want with me, if not to make it worse?

“There is no game,” he said, still looking up at the ceiling. A grin crept onto his face as he lazily turned his head to look at me with that heated stare again. I pressed my thighs together, clearing my throat as he looked me over. “Unless you had one in mind?”

“I-”

He stood up quickly, banishing the empty plate from in front of me and yanking me up by my arm mere seconds before Amarantha’s henchmen burst through the door of his bedroom. He snarled at me as he shoved my body toward the burly men behind me, making me stumble, wide-eyed.

“She completed her task. Tell Amarantha I don’t like surprises and better not find another filthy human in my room. Take her back to her cell.” The guards grunted an affirmation, and I stumbled over my own feet, watching as he turned his back to me and didn’t meet my eyes again.

Once I was back in my cell, the tears that had eluded me for the past few days were released like a dam behind my eyes. My shoulders shook as I wrapped my arms around my bent legs, hoping that if I closed my eyes tight enough, it all would be just a dream. I would wake up warm and in my bed, belly full of whatever I’d hunted the day before. But I knew it wasn’t true, and never would be again. So, I wept.

Chapter Text

The shadows of two young girls appeared a few days later, both in matching flowing white dresses completed with a gold collar and gold cuffs, the sleeves themselves having a slit that allowed the fabric to accentuate their beautiful deep skin tone, fabric billowing underneath their arms as they worked.

At first, I was afraid. They looked like they were submerged in a dark fog, concealing most of their features from my view. But once they’d spoken, I felt the safest I had in weeks. They informed me that I would be attending a ball tonight and needed to be prepared to be presented. I had no doubts that this was nearly certain to be a bad thing. She’d kept me locked away long enough by now that I knew she’d never let me go. Not willingly. Unfortunately, I was also in no position to make a ploy for escape. So, for now, I was trapped with the two shadow women attempting to once again make me look human.

I obliged, allowing the girls to do their jobs and wash my body, scrubbing my skin with cloths until it was angry and red, but finally removing the thick layer of filth I’d acquired in the darkness alone. They clipped and polished my nails, scrubbed and fashioned my hair into a braided crown atop my head, and lacquered my lips. They blushed my cheeks and lengthened m eyelashes, and all together made me unrecognizable to myself.

Once I was clean, they fitted a thin gauzy fabric over my body that hid next to nothing underneath. I could see my nipples through the borderline sheer white fabric, and two slits ran up the sides, stopping just above my hip bones on either side, barely concealing the rest of my body from public view.

“How lovely are you?” A deep voice purred. I gasped, spinning to find Rhysand lingering by the door to the room Nuala and Cerridwen had taken me for preparation. He looked devastating in an all-black suit, sleekly and sharply pressed. Those intense violet eyes shimmered with something that could have resembled possessiveness if I hadn’t known better.

“Is this because of you?” I snarled.

“Figured you’d appreciate the chance for a bath,” Rhysand shrugged, and my anger bubbled in my chest. He’d barely clothed me and likely now wanted me to service him as he does for his darling Queen. The Queen who had teenage bodies strung along the walls, rotting.

“I am barely fucking clothed,” I spit out in a snarl.

“Mmm,” he mused. “That you are.”

“Find me clothes,” I demanded. He was delusional if he thought I was going to tramp about essentially naked with him in front of Tamlin. It was likely a humiliation tactic, to parade me about as though I were a prize to be bought and sold. Or even kept as an amusing pet for Amarantha’s whore. It was dehumanizing.

“I have,” he smiled. “You’re wearing them.”

“I’m going to kill you,” I spit out, gritting my teeth in frustration. I hated the way he looked at me, eyes leering and seductive. I could feel his gaze like a caress against my skin and I hated the way it made a shiver trickle down my spine. I convinced myself the goosebumps strewn about my skin were from the cold air and lack of clothing, not from his proximity.

“Mm, feisty this evening, are we, Feyre darling?” He said with a cat-like smirk, dragging the tips of his fingers lightly down my entirely exposed arm. “Good. I’ve been waiting for a chance to play with you.”

I growled, stomping my foot down as hard as I could on top of his, but Rhysand didn’t even flinch. Which only made me angrier and him all the more amused. I felt an anger bubbling inside of me that had no escape. It threatened to burn me alive if I didn’t find a way to expel it from my body.

“I’m not your toy,” I said as menacingly as I could, narrowing my eyes at him.

“No?” He asked, distracted as he twirled a loosened strand of hair around his fingers, skillfully clipping it back and replacing it in one of the golden clip adornments the shadows had woven into my hair.

“I hate you,” I scowled.

He gave me a slow smile, eyes finally returning to mine. “Good,” he said, straightening his own ensemble and picking off a few stray pieces of lint that had attached to his black jacket. He straightened and fiddled with his cuffs for a moment before turning to me.

“Shall we?” He asked in a low purr, offering me his arm. I scoffed, ramming my elbow into the side of his ribcage and stomping off ahead of him and down the hallway. It seemed like a good move until I realized I had no idea where I was going. I was too stubborn and prideful to turn and let him know that, so I just kept walking forward and hoped I’d stumble upon whatever nightmare was planned for the night.

Our footsteps echoed off of the barren stone walls. It was deep and damp in the caves we trudged through. The only fire, much like every other room in this endlessly suffocating purgatory, was the flickering sconces along the walls. The fire should have served to warm the air, and yet I could feel the walls stealing the heat from my skin like a leech. The cold made my nipples pebble harder against the thin fabric, and my cheeks heated at the thought of how visible they were.

“You’re to remain at my side the entire evening, Feyre. I want to be very clear about that,” Rhysand said, voice more serious than I think I’d heard it yet. I spun on my heel, eyes narrowed, and tongue poised to strike when he continued. “As loathe as you are to admit it, I am not the most evil creature in these walls. If you remain with me, no one will dare touch you. If you stray from my side, I’d rather not think about how badly that could end.”

“What? Because you’re just so scary?” I laughed a humorless laugh. Rhysand really thought highly of himself, didn’t he? Arrogant bastard.

“Yes,” Rhysand said simply, raising one eyebrow. I rolled my eyes, turning to walk forward and ignore him behind me. He likely just wanted to place some moronic claim on me as his pretty little pet who he could dress up and show like a trophy.

The hallway veered left and opened to a large-mouthed entrance to a Great Hall that registered with a sickening familiarity. This was Amarantha’s throne room. My footsteps stumbled and before I could even reach out to grab the wall and steady myself, Rhysand was right back at my side, looping his arm through mine and allowing me to use his body for support. He must have noticed the dizziness affecting my vision as we crossed the threshold.

I couldn’t even concern myself with the way it would look for me to enter latched onto Rhysand, because as soon as my eyes found Tamlin’s from across the room, nausea roiled so low in my stomach that I was afraid I might really vomit right here in front of everyone. His fingers were laced through Amarantha’s where they perched on matching thrones atop the platform at the center of the room.

My vision blurred slightly as I struggled to pull enough air into my lungs, gripping my fingers harshly into Rhysand’s arm, attempting to use him as an anchor to reality. Had Tamlin truly thrown me away with such ease? He’d replaced me rather quickly with the evil Queen killing his Court and keeping his magic hostage. Surely, he was acting? He must have some plan to take her down, to get us both out of here. My heart ached with the refusal to think otherwise or to allow my mind to drift to that dark place mentally.

Rhysand looked down at me with a raised brow, something like concern flickering across his handsome features for a mere moment before it disappeared back into his usual cruel indifference. It was likely I’d even imagined its existence, yearning to have anyone to talk to and confide in. Rhysand would not be that person. I wouldn’t allow him to be. He pulled me to an ornate tufted seat directly in Tamlin and Amarantha’s eye line. He sat down, gesturing for me to sit on his lap, his legs spread wide to accommodate me.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes, and sat down on the floor in front of him, knees tucked underneath me. He grinned like mad, like having me in this position was much better than anything he could have imagined. It was humiliating, but I was not going to perch on the prick’s lap like a plaything. Not that being sat at his feet like a pet was much improvement.

Rhysand gestured to one of the servants behind him, murmuring something I couldn’t hear and the servant nodded before scurrying away quickly, returning moments later with two chalices made of gold and gemstones. Once the servant had gone, Rhysand looked down at me, holding out a chalice for me to take.

“I’m not drinking that,” I shake my head.

“Yes, you are,” he retorted.

“You’ll likely poison me,” I huffed, still not taking the cup he had extended toward me.

“Ah, yes, my favorite move,” Rhysand rolled his eyes. “Dress you up just to publicly poison you when I could have a number of times by now. Drink.” Scowling, I took the cup from his hands and sniffed the contents. It was aromatic and delightful, smelling of freshly squeezed fruits and something I couldn’t quite place. To be honest, it smelled delicious. Continuing to scowl so as not to give him satisfaction, I tentatively took a sip.

The liquid heated as it traveled down my throat and into my stomach. The feeling was warm and delightful. I took another deep sip, closing my eyes to relish the way it made my senses come alive. What was this stuff? Why had I never had it before? Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Rhysand watching me with a strange look in his eyes, a meshing of both concern and amusement. Fuck him, it tasted good. So, I turned up the bottom of the cup, and drained every last drop, sitting the cup down beside me and wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

“How do you feel, Feyre darling?” Rhysand asked, eyes twinkling and alight. I grinned at him. He was so pretty. It was quite unfair to have to look at him and not fixate on how enamoring he was. Someone so terrible should never be permitted to look so enticing. It was like a beautifully laid trap.

I hiccupped.

“Good,” I smiled.

“Hmm,” he said, looking down at me. His fingers traced circles and intricate patterns on my upper arm as he leaned forward and closer to me. His touch made my stomach heat and my skin flush. “Would you like more?”

I nodded eagerly, lifting my cup up to him. One corner of his mouth twisted upwards in a sinister smirk, allowing the servants to refill my glass. I looked around the room as I waited. Fae of all kinds worried about, chatting and gossiping but carrying a stiffness to them that I didn’t quite understand. I gasped as I heard a dark-haired fae woman begin to saw at her violin, playing notes that struck deep in my chest. The melody felt hypnotizing like it was pulling at me, begging my body to move to its beat.

“Feyre,” Rhysand called from behind me, and with hesitance, I tore my eyes away from the performer and back onto him. His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he handed me a now full glass of the ambrosial drink. My stomach flipped and my lips parted as I watched his tongue move, mesmerized by him. His violet eyes explored my body, and suddenly, all I wanted in the world was for him to keep looking at me like that.

“What is this?” I asked, sipping again from the chalice. It felt so good on the way down. Why had I been so upset about coming here with him? My body felt electric. My head felt dizzy in the most wonderful way, and I swayed where I sat on my heels with my legs tucked under me.

“Faerie wine,” Rhysand smiled. “Do you like it?” He watched my reaction closely, monitoring me for signs of anything to tell him how I was feeling. I nodded happily; my eyes glazed with this euphoric rush in my body. He was so attentive. And so beautiful. Gods, why was he so beautiful?

“Thank you, Feyre darling,” he chuckled, and I furrowed my brows momentarily, but my brain couldn’t keep up with my body and I let it go, not wanting to exert the effort required to figure out what he’d meant to be thanking me for.

The violinist began a new piece, this one impossibly more enthralling than the last. My head snapped around to watch her as she seduced the crowd with her lullaby. Her music was thrumming in my veins, itching to escape. I felt it pounding through my heart and deep in the numbness of my teeth.

“Dance for me, Feyre,” Rhys asked, his own eyes glazed and happy. I bit my bottom lip and placed my hands on his knees to slowly rise to my feet. Once I stood fully, I swayed slightly, my feet momentarily stumbling, but I turned it into something intentional as I swayed my arms out and above my head.

Rhysand drunkenly watched the way my body moved under the gauze he’d called clothing. His eyes snagged in certain places longer than others. He looked at me like he needed me, like he was dying for me. I wasn’t sure why I said it, but in the moment, I supposed I’d meant it.

“You can touch me,” I sighed, running my hands down my own body and feeling the way my fingers felt like static against my skin. Rhysand searched my eyes for a moment before his hands found my hips.

The moment he touched me felt like I was floating. His skin against mine was undeniably intoxicating. I picked up my cup, drinking deeply from it again as I kept my eyes on his. When I saw his grin, I became bolder and drained it entirely, tossing it somewhere behind me and paying no mind to where it clattered to. Rhysand grinned wider.

“You’re exquisite,” he murmured, using his grip on my hips to pull me closer to him, moving me to stand between his widened legs. Being so close to him felt like being set on fire. My skin was buzzing with his nearness. He was all I could smell; all I could see.

Rhysand hooked one hand behind my right knee, lifting and pulling it so my knee was positioned on the side of his thigh. Anticipating his wishes, I used his shoulders for balance as I climbed into his lap. Looking down at him, something damning struck heavy in my heart.

“Wait,” I said, pushing him back and away from me. He stopped touching me, waiting to see what I was going to say. “I-I shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t what, Feyre?” He asked, dragging his hand through his mussed black hair. It looked so soft and shiny. I had the sudden urge to have it be my hands buried in his hair. He’d been asking me something. Focus, Feyre.

“Tamlin,” I choked out. All amusement dropped from Rhysand’s face instantaneously. It made my heart sink to see. His eyes registered more emotion than they usually did, and it took him a few moments to replace his mask of indifference.

“Think he’s concerned with you?” Rhysand asked, jerking his chin and telling me to look back over my shoulder. I chewed my lip, looking back to where I’d last seen Tamlin. He was still on his throne, Amarantha poised on the arm of his throne. Tamlin’s arm held her waist and behind his golden mask, his eyes were crinkled with amusement as he watched a group of fae dancing to the music of the violin.

My stomach sank even deeper, and I felt like I might be sick for a moment. My brain couldn’t understand it all, but I knew it was a betrayal. I stared until Rhysand’s hands caressed the sides of my face, turning my head to face him again.

“Isn’t she your-” I began, but Rhysand cut me off, running his thumb along my bottom lip slowly.

“Nothing,” Rhysand whispered. “She’s my nothing. Not when you’re in my lap like this.” A thrill shot up my spine at his words. My body was screaming for my mind to let go, to let myself enjoy this slender moment of reprieve from all I’d endured.

“Why me?” I asked.

“Fun,” he shrugged. “You interest me.”

I wondered what he meant. I interested him? Was that a good or a bad thing? Perhaps it was both. Maybe I was wrong to invite the attentions of such a dangerous fae. Growing up, I’d heard tales of fae who ate humans, devoured them like candy, and picked their bones clean. Would Rhysand eat me once I bored him?

“Get out of your head,” Rhysand commanded, handing me another glass of faerie wine. “Focus on how it feels.” I nodded, taking a drink and feeling the warmth begin to recalibrate my senses, reattaching to the mystical beat thrumming and echoing from the stones.

I tossed my head back, holding Rhysand’s broad shoulders as I took the music into my body and allowed it to move me however it pleased. Rhysand’s hands began to wander my body, and I’d never felt something so erotic in my entire life. His touch was addicting. I wanted him touching me, watching me, and praising me.

“I feel alive,” I whispered, and Rhysand chuckled, one of his hands knitting into my hair at the back of my scalp and pulling me down closer to him. He pressed his lips to my neck, and I couldn’t stop the sighed relief that escaped my lips. He growled against my skin, nipping me with his teeth and sucking at my skin.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured against the skin of my neck, barely loud enough for me to hear. “My pretty little pet.”

I hated the way those words ignited something desperate and needy in me. My hands raked through his hair, my nails scratching his scalp as I held his mouth to my neck, nearly begging him to never stop.

“Rhysand,” I panted. He pulled back to look up into my eyes, his own cheeks red and flushed, and his eyes hooded with lust.

“Rhys,” he whispered. “Call me Rhys, Feyre.” I nodded; my eyes still almost closed as I swayed my body from where I stood on my knees over him. He kissed across my chest, narrowly avoiding my peaked nipples, pressed against the fabric of my dress.

I reached for my cup with clumsy hands, taking a deep swig until I was halfway through my third glass. I tried to maneuver to place it back on the table but ended up spilling it a little, splashes of red on the skin of Rhysand’s chest where his shirt was unbuttoned lower than I was used to. I gasped, hand slapping over my mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I said, blushing.

“Are you?” He smirked. I nodded, biting down on my bottom lip, unsure if he was going to lash out at me or not. I should have been more careful. My hands and movements didn’t seem to be lining up properly.

“I am,” I said.

“Then clean it up,” he purred, eyes raking down my body. I moved to climb off of him to find a cloth or something to help him clean off his skin, but he caught me behind my knees, not allowing me to leave his lap. My brows furrowed. He ran his hand along my bottom lip, pulling it down so that my mouth opened. “With your tongue, Feyre.”

My stomach was twisting, and my body heated, feeling myself slicken slightly between my legs, an instant reminder of how naked I was. Gods, I hoped he couldn’t smell just what he was doing to my body.

Keeping eye contact with him, I leaned down and ran my tongue along his skin, tasting him mixed with the droplets of faerie wine. He smelled delectable and I wanted my tongue to explore every inch of his body. I didn’t even care who was watching.

He sucked in a breath as he watched me lick his chest, lips parted, and eyes darkened. His hand was still fisted in the back of my hair, and I felt his grip tighten. I straightened and he seemed at a loss for what to say.

“Rhysand, dear,” rang a high, clear voice from across the room. Amarantha looked at where I was spread across Rhys’ lap, narrowing her eyes at me with a disgusted curl of her lip. “Please come here.”

Rhysand swore under his breath, gripping my hips and helping me to stand. He helped me to straighten my dress, looking oddly stressed. “Stay here. Do not fucking move. I’ll be back.” He said, crossing the room in quick strides.

“Most powerful High Lord looks like Amarantha’s bitch dog of a whore now,” a group of burly fae men chuckled from a few feet away from where I stood. One of them whistled and pretended to call a pet over, and they all broke out into laughter, faerie wine splashing around in their cups. My gut churned.

She watched Rhys ascend the few stairs up to Amarantha. She gripped the back of his head, pulling him into a fierce kiss, keeping her eyes focused on me. Possession. That’s what this was. She just wanted to remind me that not only was Tamlin hers, but so was Rhys. I gritted my teeth as she pawed at him relentlessly.

Once she’d had her fill, she whispered something in his ear, to which he nodded curtly and walked briskly towards the door, flashing a single worried look back to me before disappearing. The faerie wine had lost its luster, and now, I was just afraid.

“Rhysand clearly doesn’t mind sharing and my what a pretty little thing he left here all alone,” one of the fae beside me said, voice deep and sensual as he looked me from top to bottom, licking his lips. Nausea sucker punched me in the stomach. Where was Rhys?

“Human, too,” another jested.

“Fragile,” the first one agreed. “Easy to break. You know how I love tears.”

Panic registered in my body and before I could stop myself, I glanced toward the platform to ensure Amarantha was distracted and quickly bolted out the same door Rhysand had slipped through. My breathing was rushed and uneven. This hallway was much dimmer and narrower than the one I’d walked through on the way to Amarantha’s party.

My panicked breath and the pounding of blood in my ears were the only sounds. There was no sign of Rhysand or where he’d gone off to. I attempted to calm myself but had no luck. If I was caught back here alone, there was nothing anyone could do to stop what might happen to me. Not that there would be anyone to step in for me, anyway.

A sharp, guttural scream stopped me in my tracks. Gargling and spitting. My brows knit together as I walked as quietly as I could to the room up ahead and to the left, where the door so happened to be cracked. I peeked around the corner, and my eyes blew wide.

Rhysand had another fae male on his knees, knife poised at his throat, the fae beside him already dead, the pool of blood creeping wider with every second that passed. The walls and floors were all stained with dark substances I nauseatingly could identify as old blood. This was a torture chamber of some sorts. Amarantha had sent Rhys here in the middle of a party?

Rhys ruthlessly carved his knife across the fae’s throat, a visceral screen of blood spraying from the wound. I gasped, hand clapping over my mouth, and before the man could even finish choking on his own blood, Rhysand had dropped him onto his face and was in my face, blocking the view of inside the room. He looked positively furious.

His face and clothes were drenched in blood and his eyes were nearly black. He looked like he’d gone mad. Fear registered in my chest, and I quickly realized I’d been a fool to think Rhysand any more trustworthy than the fae back in the Great Hall. He’d used me as a prop to anger his lover and had left me without a second thought.

Rhys’ hand wrapped harshly around my upper arm as he dragged me down the hall and into a room with sprawling elegant decor. The sheets were red silk, and the fixtures were polished gold. I didn’t even have to ask to know this was Amarantha’s bedroom. Why had he brought me here?

“Ow, you’re hurting me,” I complained, yanking my arm from his grip. Shockingly, he actually let go, but he didn’t seem even the slightest bit guilty or repentant for it. His jaw muscles flickered with fury.

“You should not be here,” he growled.

“You left me!” I shouted and he smashed his hand against my mouth, turning his head as though he were listening to see if someone was coming or had heard them. His hand pressed against my mouth so hard that my teeth cut into the skin of my lips.

“I told you not to fucking move. This is not a joke, Feyre. When I tell you to do something, you fucking listen.” His eyes were so panicked and his voice so stern that I swallowed and nodded, and he sighed, letting go of my mouth. “I had already sent Nuala and Cerridwen to come retrieve you and return you to your cell. You should never have followed me. You will never set foot in this wing again, do you understand?”

“Yes,” I croaked, voice barely audible. Something caught Rhysand’s attention from the hallway, and he swore, shoving me into a closet at the side of the room.

“Don’t make a fucking sound,” Rhysand growled, pulling the door shut. There were slats in the door that allowed me to see through and into the room without being seen myself. My heart hammered in my chest, nearly knocking the breath from my lungs. I held my breath as I heard the door to the bedroom creak open.

“Rhysand, my love, you know how delectable I find you when you’re covered in blood like this. My vicious killer,” Amarantha purred, gripping Rhysand’s face roughly in her pale hand, red claws touching his cheek. Rhys reacted to her touch, the response of a dedicated lover.

“I do as you command,” he responded. She hummed a pleased sound.

“I know you do, my dear,” she cooed. “Such a good boy for me.” I nearly gagged but remained quiet and watched their interaction from the closet. Rhysand gave her a sadistic grin, showing her just how proud of himself he was. Amarantha saw a streak of blood dripping down Rhys’ cheek and used the flat of her tongue to lick it from his skin.

“You certainly had your fun with the feral little human, didn’t you?” She said, annoyance evident in her voice. Rhysand scoffed, sitting on her bed and pulling her to stand between his legs, much like he’d done to me earlier. It was a kick in the gut.

“Had to get your attention somehow,” he said, eyes looking up at her in adoration. “What with you being so attentive to that great beast.” I assumed he was referencing Tamlin as a great beast. So that had been his motive. I’d know there had to be one apart from the lie he’d told me. I had been bait in their little sex game.

“You seemed to be having fun,” Amarantha said, voice haughty and eyebrow arched in challenge. Rhysand slowly pushed the straps of her gown down her arms, watching her body as it was slowly revealed to him. I had half a mind to just not even watch, but some sick fascination refused to let me.

“You cannot honestly believe I’d entertain a mousy human when I could have you?” Rhysand scoffed, allowing Amarantha’s gown to fall to her feet, baring her unclothed breasts and panties to the cold air of the room. Rhys pressed a trail of kisses to her lower abdomen.

“I knew you’d come to your senses eventually, dove,” Amarantha praised, caressing the side of Rhys’s face with her hand. “I plan to have you all night. I need to remind you who you are and who you belong to.” I could have sworn for a moment the muscles in Rhysand’s back stiffened, but he recovered quickly.

“Run us a bath,” Rhysand purred. “You smell like him and if I’m going to fuck you all night long, that won’t do. Once you’re settled in the tub and relaxed, I shall join you and you can help wash the blood from my hair before I have you in every way you want me.” I stiffened, seeing the opportunity to escape. Amarantha basically purred. She dragged her hands down Rhysand’s chest slowly, kissing him once more before gliding her way into the bathroom, and shutting the door behind her. A few minutes later, Feyre heard the water begin to run and felt like she could breathe again.

I gasped when Rhysand yanked the closet door open, grabbing my arm again in just as intense of a fury. His fingers would likely leave bruises on my arm. His nostrils were flared as he breathed, lip curled in disgust. His eyes, though, his eyes were sad. It was confusing.

He dragged me over to the door to the bedroom, shoving me out into the hallway so roughly that I crashed to my knees, the impact making my teeth clink together, smashing my tongue. I felt the coppery taste of blood flood my mouth as I noticed Rhysand speaking to Nuala and Cerridwen, the latter of who was staring at me with concern.

“Take the human back to her cell,” Rhysand spit out angrily. “She has no more use to me.” Then closed the door in the shadow women’s face. They both looked dumbfounded like this was the last thing they’d anticipated being summoned for. They helped me up and wrapped their arms through mine for support.

Their shadows helped to conceal me from the crowd as we briskly left Amarantha’s wing and descended back to the dungeons, it growing colder and damper with every step they took forward. They opened my cell, allowing me to step back in and closing it. One whispered to the other and they looked at each other like they had a grave decision to make, then finally one nodded and left, leaving the other standing alone.

A few minutes later the other twin returned, a stack of fresh clothes in her hands. She passed them through the bars gingerly and disappeared before I could thank them. I had a strong feeling they’d just broken several rules to give the clothes to me, and as thus had risked their lives. I decided then that I would find a way to repay them one day for their mercy and kindness.

The clothes were too large, but I was in no place to complain. The black long-sleeved shirt hung loosely, and I had to fold down the band of the gray sweatpants several times to get them to stay up when I stood. They smelled oddly familiar. I tugged on the thick wool socks, thanking all the gods I hadn’t had to spend the night in the cold naked.

My head pounded from the worn-off faerie wine, so I closed my eyes and laid down, praying that it would all somehow go away, or maybe that I would.

Chapter Text

“Feyre!”

The voice hissed into the darkness. I stilled, not moving or making a sound. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see a large figure hunched down in front of my cell. My eyes narrowed, but I couldn’t make out anything more than their silhouette.

“Feyre, it’s me,” they whispered. It took a few blinks more for the voice to register in my head as Tamlin’s. I scrambled across the cell, hands latching onto the bars, my chest feeling ready to break open when I smelled his scent.

See? Rhysand had been wrong. He was trying. He’d come for me. He’d been biding his time much like I thought he had. I’d known he wouldn’t abandon me so easily. He loved me. He would save us all, I knew it. Relief flooded my body, and I sank down onto my haunches and wept as I felt his broad and calloused hands wrap around mine, sharing some of their warmth.

“You came,” I whimpered.

“Of course, I came,” Tamlin whispered back. “Amarantha has me on a tight leash. It won’t be long before she notices I’m gone even now.” I knew I had been right. Rhysand was Amarantha’s sidekick, just torturing me in his own ways to see how much fun I’d provide. The bastard had a new thing coming if he thought he would fool me again.

“I love you,” I cried, my tears cold as they streaked my cheeks. I felt like all I’d done lately was cry. I cried for all I’d lost and all I’d had stolen. The tears seemed to pour from a never-ending well inside my body.

“I love you,” he said curtly. I blinked. “You need to listen to me. You have to stay away from Rhysand. Don’t let them use you as a pawn in their games, playing jealousy tug of war with you. Rhysand is sick. He killed my mother and father and left me weeping in their blood on the floor of our home. These are things I always meant to tell you but could never find the words or the time. But you must hear me now. He is evil.”

Cold fear seeped into my bones, registering what I’d done. I’d danced on top of him, nearly kissed him or worse, all while Tamlin had been watching. Guilt was a lead anchor in my stomach, and I didn’t know if I could find the strength to get back up again. How had I been so wrong, so confused?

“Oh, Tamlin, I’m so sorry,” I said, my voice cracking. He had to know, had to understand. I’d never meant to hurt him. I was disgusted with myself. I’d been so easily tricked.

“Feyre, stay away from him,” Tamlin repeated. “I have to go, but I had to tell you that. I’ll find a way to get us out. You just have to trust me.” I bit my lip nodding. Tamlin looked at me for a moment longer, a hand reaching through the bars to caress my cheek before he was gone.

I sat there, alone in my hurt and confusion. It made no sense. If Rhysand only wanted to hurt me, why had he fed and clothed me? Why had he ensured my chores were done properly and allowed me the only reprieve from my cell that I’d found yet?

—--------------------------------

It must have been hours later when a lantern entered the dungeons, its light such a stark contrast to the consuming darkness that it made my eyes sting. I blinked, barely able to open them properly as the shadow twins appeared outside my cell.

“No,” I growled. They looked at one another, confused as to why my demeanor toward them had suddenly changed. “I will not go wherever it is he wants me.”

“Miss-” Cerridwen tried, but I snarled at her.

“No.”

“But the High Lord-”

“Tell the High Lord he can go fuck himself,” I scoffed. The arrogant bastard could be his own damn date to whatever bullshit party Amarantha had dreamed up this time.

“I’m not sure we-”

“What part of no are you not understanding? Tell the sick bastard I refuse to play his games. He can choke and die for all I care.” The two girls winced like I’d spit in their faces. With one more long look at each other, they retreated back to where they’d come from, leaving me once again alone in my darkness.

—--------------------------------------------------

My back was pressed against the wall when I felt the air around me shift. I knew it was Rhysand before he even emerged, his little ball of starlight illuminating the space around us. He looked to be in good spirits, his usual arrogant smirk plastered on his face.

“Choking is a terrible way to die, Feyre. What a ferocious wish,” He purred, squatting down to my level, only the metal bars separating us. The only thing keeping me from trying to claw his eyes out with my bare hands. “And for your information, I do fuck myself. Quite regularly, in fact.”

I gagged dramatically, rolling my eyes. He grinned. He slid a small tray through the bars, sitting it on the floor. The plate held fruit and bread. Like I'd trust anything he gave me ever again after what he'd done with the faerie wine.

“Do you think about what I fuck often? Or is this a new fixation of yours?” He said, voice coy. I hated that he was attractive. It made me want to punch him in the face. “Because if you’re curious, all you have to do is ask.” My skin prickled.

“You are the last thing in Prythian I’d ever fuck,” I spit out.

“Oh, yes, I think you made that obvious when you were moaning my name in front of the entire court,” he gave a dark chuckle. I gritted my teeth to keep from trying to strangle him through the bars.

“You drugged me,” I snarled. He lifted one shoulder in a shrug, pushing out his bottom lip slightly as if to say that it didn’t really matter.

“You seemed to quite like it if I remember correctly,” he said, raising an accusatory brow.

“Yeah, drugs make you feel good,” I scoffed. “That’s like the entire point of drugs.”

“Wine,” he corrected. “I remember you begging for more.”

“I did not beg,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Mmm, it was a pretty sound,” he mused. “Oh, Rhysand! More wine! Ugh, you’re just so handsome.” He said, lifting his voice a few octaves and closing his eyes as he moaned the words. Looking at me with a wolfish grin once he’d finished.

“I must’ve forgotten when you got whistled for like a dog,” I chided. His eyes were piercing, even in the darkness.

“You are jealous, aren’t you?” He said with amusement like he hadn’t fully believed it before when he’d said it. “You needn’t worry, Feyre darling. I’m very good at sharing.” I glared at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of bantering with me, getting a rise out of me.

I leaned back against the wall, refusing to look at him anymore. Maybe he’d get the hint and just leave. Take the bruise to his ego and run back to his pretty little Queen. Gods, I need to get a grip. I sounded jealous even in my own head. Which I’m not. I’d rather be mauled by a dog than ever be touched by him again.

Rhys laughed under his breath, shaking his head.

“A dog,” he said, barely loud enough to be heard. I whipped my head towards him, my eyes wide, but he was already walking away, his back turned to me. Had I lost my mind? I knew I hadn’t said the words out loud. Yet somehow, he’d heard them. Could he read minds?

I shook the ridiculous notion away and filed it under thoughts that might actually classify me as clinically insane. Right next to the feeling I got in my stomach every time I saw him. Gods.

Chapter Text

A day later I was dragged from my cell by the same burly guards who’d sent me to Rhysand’s room last time. I secretly prayed they took me anywhere but there. I hurled insults at both guards, hoping to rile them up to get any kind of response, to maybe trigger them into just letting me die.

They ignored my desperate attempts, gripping my arms with bruising force and relentlessly dragging me forward. I felt like a fabric doll being tossed and pulled about. It didn't matter how much I fought. I would always be overpowered here. Perhaps there was no escape. Maybe this was all I was meant for. It was pathetic, really.

I’d become hollow from my time in the dungeons. I’d lost all sense of time or self. The light now made my eyes ache, piercing shots of pain drilling into my skull in response. My stomach cramped from the hunger, and my skin had a thick layer of sweat and grime. My hair was a knotted mess, and I’d contemplated trying to find a way to cut it off a time or two.

So, when they slammed me to my knees in front of Amarantha, I couldn’t bring myself to do much fighting. I knelt there, staring at her with a blank expression, not having the energy or will to conjure emotions. Amarantha’s cruel smile was painted in her usual red. She rested her face against her hand as though she were bored. Tamlin sat on the matching black stone throne next to her, quite intentionally looking anywhere but at me.

“You look terrible,” Amarantha laughed at me, the sound echoing off the red marble floor I knelt on. “Not that you were particularly anything to look at before, but this…” Cruelty sparkled in her black eyes, latched onto me like soul-sucking pits. Her gaze made my skin crawl like thousands of worms trapped under my skin.

I said nothing, just staring back at her as if she hadn’t spoken. I wouldn’t give her the reactions she so clearly wanted from me. She was bored, and antagonizing people she viewed as below her was her favorite hobby, I'd learned. It seemed I was finally her next target.

Rhysand emerged from Amarantha’s wing of the underground stone palace; hair wet as though he’d just showered. His steps faltered when he saw me knelt before the dais, but quickly recovered, flashing his Queen a brilliant smile and leaning to kiss her cheek. Amarantha didn’t break eye contact with me as he kissed her face. Like she wanted to see how it would make me react. But I simply didn’t.

“Rhysand, darling, you have impeccable timing,” she cooed. “I was just in need of services only you can provide.” Rhysand slowly smirked.

“Have I not just provided enough? You’re in need of me again already?” He purred to her. Gross. Literally gross. I didn’t even give him a second glance. I decided I didn’t care what he did anymore.

“Clever boy,” Amarantha chuckled. “Our feral little human here has been rotting away in her cell for weeks. I thought about what I should do to her from the moment my sweet Attor brought her to me.” I fought the chill that spilled down my spine like ice water at the mention of the bat-like demon Amarantha kept like a pet.

“I’m assuming you’ve decided?” Rhysand raised a brow. Tamlin gripped the arm of his throne the slightest bit tighter, his knuckles whitening under the pressure. It was the only indication he gave that he was even conscious.

“My opinion of humans is no secret. Finnicky, disloyal things they are. However, this one Tamlin here seems to have formed an attachment to,” Amarantha sighed, looking to where Tamlin had loosened his grip, entirely unreactive to her attentions. His long blonde hair and golden mask hid most of his face from her. She reached out her long, pale fingers and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, tracing the shape of it as she went. “I’m quite selfish, and it has always puzzled me how he’s resisted my attentions. Though I believe we’ve finally come to see eye-to-eye.”

“Is that so?” Rhysand chuckled, the stiffness in his shoulder giving away his emotions.

“Tamlin has told me she means nothing to him,” Amarantha replied. “I intend to test his loyalty to me. You know how I love my games.” Tamlin remained unphased, unmoving, and uncaring. It felt like a kick in the gut.

“A love we share,” Rhysand hummed.

“But since she means nothing to him, it won’t bother him in the least when I choose to reward my most trusted with a little plaything of his own,” Amarantha’s smile was sadistic as she continued, “Will it, Tamlin?” Her words finally broke him from his spell when he turned to look at her with a sly smirk.

“Do whatever you want with her,” Tamlin said, shrugging one shoulder.

Amarantha giggled, her face alight with amusement. She was eating this up, loving humiliating someone she projected to be her enemy by claiming ownership over men like toys. She’d built her entire empire on it. Her dogs were just as loyal as ever, and now Tamlin had joined their ranks.

Why had he even bothered to come to my cell? Cared to warn me against Rhysand? He must have known this was Amarantha’s plan. He didn’t seem shocked by it in the slightest. He’d called Rhysand evil and then sold my life to him without a second thought.

“You heard him, darling,” Amarantha declared. “Do what you like with her. Bleed her, break her, bruise her, fuck her. Better yet, make her fall in love with you. Show me just how fickle humans really are. Just remember who you answer to.” Amarantha was giddy with her plan and game of emotional torture.

“As you wish,” Rhysand bowed his head slightly. “She’ll be nothing but an obedient pet once I’ve had my fun.” His violet eyes flicked up to mine, and my stomach sank at the bottomless darkness in them. He had played his hand exactly how he’d wanted to. I had taken the bait and now had to suffer the consequences.

“You are my sharpest weapon, my dear,” Amarantha gave him a closed-mouth smile, her blood-red lips a blade’s swipe across her pale face. “She is yours.”

My heart sank. Tamlin hadn’t argued. Hadn’t even looked like he’d wanted to.

"I'd like you to use your gift, Rhysand. I'd like for you to invade her fragile mind and discover for yourself if she really feels as she says she does for him," Amarantha urged. "If you happen to shatter a few bits of her on the way in or out, I have no concerns."

Rhysand grinned, looking at me for a long moment before I felt it. It felt like sharpened talons clawing at my mind. He wasn't the least bit gentle. He smashed his way inside my mind, stirring my thoughts and memories about like he was sorting through garbage. He landed on a memory of Tamlin and his interest piqued.

It was the night we'd first made love. Of course, that would be his pick. His focus was primarily on my reactions to Tamlin's movements. He was particularly interested in the sounds I made. Without much further watching, he skipped to another memory. This one was the night we'd swum in the starlight pool in the Spring Court. He listened to our respective professions of love. He noted the way my body felt as I spoke the words, the way my heartbeat harshly in my chest, as if trying to determine its intentions.

Growing bored, he yanked back from my mind, feeling like he'd ripped out a serrated blade he'd plunged in through my temples. I collapsed, cradling my head in my hands as I heaved, trying to catch my breath and find some way to dull the pain. I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing deeply through my mouth and pressing my forehead against the cold of the marble floor.

"It appears she honestly cares for him," Rhysand said offhandedly.

"Lovely," Amarantha purred. "All the more pain and fun to be had once she realizes a High Lord could never love something as loathsome as she." Amarantha's long black nails trailed up Tamlin's arm.

If I'd thought myself hollow before, I was nonexistent now. I wished she'd just kill me and be finished with it. I hated the feeling of doom impending in my stomach, twisting like a sickness. It was slowly eating me alive, the not knowing.

"I'm finished with this," Amarantha said with a wave of her hand, not removing her eyes from Tamlin. "Get rid of her."

“Girls,” Rhys yelled impatiently, an angry tinge in his voice. Nuala and Cerridwen appeared at his side within seconds, both of their shadowed faces terrified. They seemed quite caught off guard. “Bathe the human. She’s not to enter my room until you’ve removed all of her filth. Do what you can to make her more… appealing.” I wanted to kill him. I wanted to carve his heart from his chest and stomp it.

Amarantha laughed loudly, beaming at Rhysand, who still looked disgusted, eyes still locked on my body and the harsh angle of my bones. I’d been starved for so long now that I probably looked frail and gaunt.

I savored the small reprieve of the shadow twins’ company. They were gentle with their cleaning, like always. It was motherly tending like they’d been taught to take extra care of me, but that clearly wasn’t the case. I was surprised he hadn’t just left me in the cell, determined to use me only as a prop when necessary. In between shags with his violent Queen, that is.

The twins waxed my skin and plucked my eyebrows, scrubbed my skin and washed my hair. It was likely hours before they deposited me back into Rhysand’s room. Much like before, his room looked like no one truly lived there. No personal memorabilia or signs of life were found in the cold room.

I sat in the corner of the room, my back to the walls so I wouldn’t be caught off guard. I stared at the floor for long minutes that turned into hours. He didn’t come back. The thought crossed my mind a few times to try the knob and see if it was locked, but I was too afraid of what might lurk beyond that I remained caged. Better the monster I know than the one I don’t.

I sat in the corner for hours before my head tipped back and I lost myself to sleep. No matter how long I slept, or how many times I woke expecting to find him there, he never came. It seemed Rhysand really didn’t use his own room.

Chapter Text

“There is another event tonight that the High Lord has required your attendance for,” Nuala said as she peeked her head into Rhysand’s room the next morning. I stayed immobilized and crouched in the corner I’d slept in, looking at her with all the anger I could muster in my eyes. I knew it wasn’t the shadow twins’ fault, nor was it fair to punish them for doing their job, but I was so tired of being treated like property.

“Could he not ask me that himself?” I scoffed. Nuala and Cerridwen came inside, shutting the door behind them and watching each other wearily for a few moments as if they were communicating through their eyes before Cerridwen turned back to me to answer.

“The High Lord is occupied,” Cerridwen said, clearing her throat awkwardly. “He has sent us in his place. The High Lord says you are more comfortable with us.” Nuala nodded along, as if she wanted to provide her sister with all the support she could, even in the smallest of ways.

“Like he cares about my comfort,” I rolled my eyes.

“We do, miss,” Nuala said softly. “We know you didn’t ask to be here or for any of this to happen to you, but for whatever reprieve we may be able to give you, we want to.” They looked at me with surging emotions in their dark eyes. They seemed like very sweet people, and my heart desperately wanted to trust them, but I just couldn’t let myself.

“You can call me Feyre,” I said, sniffing and standing up from my corner. They nodded, moving to the bathing chamber of Rhysand’s room, beginning to run me a bath. They helped me undress, and I stepped into the warm water. They’d formed somewhat of a routine with me. Surely Rhysand had not required them to massage my scalp as they washed my hair or to take all the extra care of small details that they did. I supposed in some ways it was sweet.

Once I was bathed, the girls’ demeanor shifted. They seemed uncomfortable, like they were about to have to tell me something they really hadn’t wanted to. When I saw the familiar fabric of the gauze-like dress, my stomach sank. This time it was in a blush pink color, low hanging golden chains adorning the slits on the sides. When they pulled the fabric onto me, the cold of the metal rested against my hips. I was no more covered than I had been before, but at least the color was slightly darker this time.

It wasn’t until Cerridwen pulled out another item that my heart sank fully, finally understanding their hesitance. In her hands was a black collar, draped in the same golden chains ornamentally, with a longer, thicker gold chain for someone to use on me like I was a dog. That someone being Rhysand. She gave me an apologetic look, coming to me and fastening it around my neck. Luckily, I had plenty of room to breathe, but that made it no less dehumanizing. Tears welled in my eyes, and I fought them back, determined that I would not cry anymore.

Rhys didn’t come to the room to escort me as he’d done before, but instead allowed the shadow twins to guide me down the hallways and into the Great Hall. The red marble floor made my gut churn, and hearing Amarantha’s laugh was an amplifier of that anxiety. Nuala was careful to hold the chain in such a way that made it clear that she had no intentions of leading me around like a pet.

Rhysand was in the chair he’d been in last time, his eyes darkened and expression stern. Shadowed smoke lingered at his feet as he pressed two fingers against his temple to support his head using his elbow on the chair arm. His legs were spread wide in dominance and his eyes flickered around the room with blatant intolerance. He was in a foul mood. Lovely.

He gave me no acknowledgement and once Nuala passed him the chain to my collar, he jerked it roughly, sending me toppling back so that I was sat in his lap. I gasped, watching the way Nuala winced at the High Lord’s aggression. His hand wound around my body to press into my stomach scooting me backwards until my back was flush against his chest. My breath hitched and I pressed my hands against my lap to avoid him seeing the way my hands were shaking.

After a few minutes, he still hadn’t spoken, and I grew more impatient and anxious. I resituated myself in his lap, swallowing and trying to think of anything else than where I was and what I was being forced to do.

“Sit still,” he growled, still not looking at me. He was focused on Amarantha where she sat next to Tamlin on the dais. My face grew hot, and anger reared like a bull in my chest. Why wasn’t he with her if that was what he so clearly wanted? Why even allow me to be a distraction? Clearly, he’d lost whatever small bit of interest he’d had in me.

“Why am I here?” I whined, trying to stay still in his lap. The urge to slide down to the floor was nearly overwhelming. I didn’t want to be here. I was highly uncomfortable and felt empty.

“Because I said so,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“But why?” I squeaked. “Why are you not with her if that’s where you’d rather be?” I thought it was a fair question, but it only served to anger him even more.

“Because I’m stuck with you,” he snarked, lip curling in disgust. He seemed so distracted, though. The poison seemed to roll off his tongue in an almost knee-jerk reaction. Was I that horrible?

“You didn’t have to bring me,” I argued. “That was your choice.”

Rhysand scoffed a breathy laugh.

“Choice,” he repeated, mulling the word over.

“Are you not her most trusted? She said that, didn’t she?” I asked, brows furrowed.

“You know nothing,” he snarled, hand leaving my stomach to grip the arm of the chair with white knuckles, like he was barely holding himself back from exploding.

“Then tell me,” I shrugged.

“Why the hell would I tell you anything?” He grimaced. “You’re a means to an end. Another human she’ll hang on her wall like garland. I have no use for you.” He was incredibly on edge, the fury in his chest tangible. It felt like it was seeping from his skin, pouring all over me.

“Then why bring me?” I sighed, exasperated with his constant mood swings.

“So you could see this,” he said, nodding his chin toward the platform where Amarantha perched on her throne. She called attention to herself, and an immediate hush fell over the room. She looked around the room, making slow eye contact with every person in the room. She was terrifying. Something about her seemed so unreasonably unhinged and unpredictable, which was the worst kind of enemy.

“Do I not provide for you?” She began, voice like cold death. Her black eyes were like voids on her face in contrast to her pale skin. Her fiery red hair poured down her shoulders like fresh blood. She tapped her black claw-tipped fingernails against her obsidian throne. “Do I not ensure your safety, provided that you remain loyal? Have I given you reason to believe me weak?”

She raised her eyebrows, expectant of an answer, and the crowd answered in unison, “No, my Queen.”

“Hmm,” she said, lifting her glass of deep red wine to her lips and sipping slowly before placing it back on the small table that sat between where she and Tamlin were sat. “Then why is it that I have heard of mumblings, sly gossips even, of traitors among my Court?” My eyes widened and body stiffened as I realized where this was headed.

Everyone was silent, anxiously waiting to hear her next words.

“Vincent and Elias of the Night Court,” Amarantha announced loudly. “Come before your Queen.” A few members of the crowd gasped slightly, and I fought the urge to look over my shoulder to catch Rhysand’s reaction. The two men slowly walked forward, and the rest of the Court made a large gaping space around them, wanting to be as far away from whatever was to occur as possible. These were members of Rhysand’s Court. Would he care?

“My Queen,” Elias said, voice cracking slightly. “How may I be of service to you?”

“It has been reported to me that the two of you have been working to build a resistance against my reign. There have been rumors that you had planned to call on the High Lords to assist you in ending me- freeing yourself from my reach. Is this true?” Amarantha asked, one eyebrow arched in demand.

“N-No, my Queen, we- we would never betray you,” Vincent pleaded. “You must know. We have made no moves against you.” I felt Rhysand stiffen behind me, and for a very small moment, I felt bad for him. But my guilt was gone as quickly as it’d come. This was the Queen he so faithfully served, both in Court and in bed.

“Yes, yes, my Queen. It is as Vincent has told it. We are humble servants to you.” Elias nodded wildly, a panicked look in his eyes. He looked like a mouse caught in a glue trap. He knew his pleading was useless, but he still ached to try in his bones, desperate to save himself from the punishment Amarantha would inflict.

“So, my informant is a liar?” Amarantha challenged.

“My Queen, perhaps they misunderstood or misheard. We would never seek to cause you harm,” Elias reassured, his panic festering like a disease. “Please, my Queen. My children, they watch now.” He gestured to a wife holding her five-year-old son to her chest as he quietly sobbed. Amarantha rolled her eyes.

“Such dramatics,” she griped.

“My Queen, please, hear me,” Vincent said softly, like he’d already known his fate from the moment his name had been called. Amarantha took another sip of her wine like this was all entirely beneath her.

“Attor!” Amarantha shouted, a look of bubbling adoration filling her face as the monstrous creature crept in from a door behind her throne. The winged bat-like creature bared its impressive fangs, hissing as it prowled closer to Vincent and Elias. The two were stiff, unmoving. I wanted to scream at them to run, to hide, to fight.

It hit my chest like a ton of bricks when I understood. Amarantha had taken away their ability to move with her magic. She had them frozen in place, watching the fear register in their eyes as her beast circled them.

Everyone gasped when the Attor lunged forward unexpectedly, teeth closing around Elias’ neck, his entire head fitting in the Attor’s gargantuan mouth. Blood poured down his shoulders as the Attor bit down with a sickening, gargled crunch. I gasped, turning my head to bury it in Rhysand’s chest, but his hand gently guided my face until I looked back to the horror and gore. He leaned forward, speaking lowly into my ear.

“Don’t let her see you look away. Show her no signs of weakness. If you do, she’ll view you as a target. You have to look. You have to watch it all,” he said, his voice much softer than I’d expected it to be. I nodded slightly, watching as the Attor swung its’ head wildly, jaggedly separating Elias’ head from his body. With a snarl it tossed the severed head at the feet of his wife. She covered her son's eyes, weeping silently as she looked at her husband’s head rolling across the floor.

The Attor released its claws from his body, allowing it to crumple into an unnaturally angled pile of limbs. It licked its lips, zeroing in on Vincent next. His fear was palpable, as I’m sure mine also was. Rhysand’s hand returned to my stomach, rubbing soothing circles against my abdomen like he was trying to comfort me. I could barely breathe. Panic was a tsunami in my chest.

“Never give her the satisfaction of seeing you cry,” Rhysand said into my ear, his other hand landing on my thigh and massaging my skin, holding me as close to his body as physically possible. I didn’t have the mental capacity to fight his touch. Especially not when the Attor lunged again.

Its fangs sunk into the meatiest section of Vincent’s thigh, and he extinguished a blood-curdling scream, the sound echoing from every surface. The Attor used its powerful jaws to swing Vincent’s body side to side as he wailed, crunching on bone and flesh until his leg separated from his body, blood spraying in violent streams across the red marble. My stomach heaved and I felt like I was going to be sick. Rhysand comforted me in any way he knew how without making it obvious he was doing so. Which made no sense. Wasn’t he supposed to be all over me, using me as his little plaything? Why would he concern himself with whether or not I was comfortable? Why would he care if Amarantha targeted me if he wanted to be rid of me?

Vincent rolled to his side, desperately begging for his life as the Attor ripped his flesh from his leg, chomping and swallowing it. Amarantha giggled from her throne, everyone else in the room fighting to choke back the bile rising in their throats as Vincent was forced to watch himself being slowly eaten alive.

“It’ll be over soon,” Rhysand assured, his hands still making soothing motions on my skin. I nodded mindlessly, watching as the Attor used its snout to roll Vincent onto his back. It placed its massive foot in the center of Vincent’s chest, slowly applying as much pressure as it could, hearing each and every one of his ribs crack and listening to the sound of him choking to death on his own blood. With one final push, Vincent went silent and still. No one moved. The Attor began eating both men, making quite the show of shredding their bodies apart. I was quite sure the noises would haunt me for the rest of my life.

“Let this be a message to any of you who’d been wondering if you should rebel against me. My sweet Attor remains quite hungry,” Amarantha smiled, like she was just crowned. Her smile was celebratory, bright. It made the sickness in my gut worsen.

“Oh my god,” I breathed out, the sound barely audible. My entire body was shaking, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the carnage on the floor of the Great Hall. Elias’ wife knelt in front of his head, silent tears coating her cheeks. Amarantha cast her a warning glance that had her clambering back to her feet with her child in her arms, taking him back to their room as he screamed for his father.

“Traitors will be treated as such. Removed, destroyed, and forgotten. They shall not be mourned. Nor shall they be remembered. Anyone who speaks a traitor’s name or story will be recognized as a sympathizer and fed to my Attor all the same. I’ve grown bored. Return to your quarters.” Amarantha spoke with a voice that sent chills down my spine.

Rhysand gripped my hips and forced me to stand, holding me up when my knees buckled at first. He held the chain to my collar, tugging me along after him. I had to sidestep a puddle of Vincent’s blood as we trekked back down the hallway and into Rhysand’s room. I fought back a gag. Once back in his quarters, Rhysand unclipped my collar wordlessly, and spun on his heel, leaving and closing the door behind him before I could speak.

I sat there for a long moment, horrified to be alone. I never thought I'd crave Rhysand's company, but I hadn't wanted him to leave me alone after what I had just watched. Had it even upset him at all? If it didn't, he'd said nothing.

Why had he wanted me to see that? His actions and moods were all so confusing and conflicting. He continually protected me from Amarantha while also sleeping next to her nightly and using every opportunity presented to degrade and belittle me. I forced my mind elsewhere, not having the energy to contemplate his motives. My body ached from the tense squeeze of my muscles, but I couldn't relax.

I dug in his drawers, finding something comfortable to sleep in and crawled into his bed. If he wouldn’t use his bed, I would. Trying to flex and release every muscle in my body one by one, I hummed to myself in a poor attempt of distraction. Once I'd finally calmed my heartrate, I stared blankly at the wall, hearing the Night Court men’s screams even long after I’d fallen asleep.

Chapter Text

A few nights later, I awoke to a loud crash in the darkness of Rhys’ room. I froze, focusing on the darkness to try and see what lurked there. My eyes weren’t adjusted to the dark, so I couldn’t see much. No one would dare enter Rhysand’s room, would they? Hadn’t he said he was scary enough to keep them away?

“Shit,” they whispered into the darkness. Stumbling and the clinking of glass against the table. Furrowing my brows, I reached across the nightstand to find the bundle of matches, striking one and lighting the candle at my bedside.

The flickering orange glow of the flame revealed a haggard Rhysand, sitting at the small table in his room. He had a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hands, and his demeanor almost immediately alerted me to the fact that he’d likely drank it all alone. The circles under his eyes were darker than I remembered them being. From the moment I first saw him there in the darkness, I knew something was wrong. His energy felt… wrong.

Rhys tipped up the bottle, the liquor sloshing as he chugged a few more swallows before heavily sitting it back on the table. He stared down at the floor, not even acknowledging that I was there, curled up in his bed in his clothes. He slumped lower in his chair, resting his elbow on the table, apparently not willing to be rid of the whiskey bottle just yet. His large hand covered the label.

“Rhys?” I said softly. The silence between us felt like it stretched for miles. I never knew how to talk to him. Approaching him always brought anxiety because I never knew which side of him I was going to get. Would he be flirty with an undertone of care? Or would it be a moment he chose to kick me in the stomach while I was down, emotionally?

“Not in the mood, Feyre,” he sulked, taking another swig of whiskey and purposefully looking anywhere but at me. I searched his face and body for any sign or clue of what was going on with him. I hated that my natural instinct was to care. I shouldn’t have. Not at all.

His hair was messy like someone had been raking their hands through it over and over again. His black button-down was undone nearly to his navel, revealing the swirling black ink painted onto his skin. My breath caught as I studied them. The markings were very intentional, but I had no clue what they meant. To be honest, he looked like hell. The usually polished arrogance was nowhere to be seen tonight.

“What happen-”

“Do you understand what ‘not in the mood’ means?” He snarled, finally meeting my eyes. His were filled with a blazing fury that masqueraded the deep sadness behind them. “It means I don’t want to fucking talk to you.”

I watched him for a few moments, as he pouted and drank himself half to death. What could possibly have put him in a mood like this? And why had he come back to his bedroom he never used to mope?

“Your girlfriend occupied fucking Tamlin and kicked you out?” I grinned, trying to come at him the way I normally did- with insulting banter and taunts. “I hope you haven’t come here assuming I’ll let you into my bed instead.” His eyes darkened in a way that told me I should not have said that.

“You think you’re funny, sweetheart?” He mocked me, drinking more whiskey. Gods only knew how drunk he was. I probably shouldn’t be antagonizing him like this, but I almost can’t help myself. “Do I need to put another fucking collar around that pretty little neck to show you just how little you mean?” I despised the part of my brain that sent a shiver down my spine at his threats.

“Someone’s grumpy,” I jested. “What? One night not sticking your cock in something made you realize just how awful you really are?” He gripped the bottle so tightly in his fist that I was incredibly surprised it didn’t shatter in his palm, the jagged edges of glass breaking his skin.

“Feyre,” he warned. “I suggest you shut up now.” His tone was very serious. He was not joking back with me. He was genuinely threatening me. Maybe I’d provoke him enough and he’d kill me. Or better yet, shatter the bottle and get as close to me as I could get him before I jammed the jagged makeshift blade into his neck, severing his jugular.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I hissed into the darkness, becoming bored with his idle threats and constant mood swings.

“You are my fucking problem,” he said through gritted teeth like he was narrowly avoiding lunging over the table and strangling me with his bare hands. “I just want to drink myself into an early grave in peace, if you don’t mind.”

“Ooh, angsty,” I taunted. I had no clue what had possessed me tonight, but it was likely to get me killed. But I had to admit, I was having fun. He was so easily riled right now, versus normal when any insult I hurled his way deflected off his perfectly crafted armor.

He turned the bottle up again, not once breaking his enraged eye contact with me while he pulled and pulled from the amber liquid. He would have had alcohol poisoning by now if he were human. I wasn’t sure how human alcohol affected the fae body, but he couldn’t be in a good position right now.

“Fucking go back to sleep,” he grumbled. It seemed he didn’t even have the energy to hurl his angry insults with as much malice as he’d like. I hated him. I felt it burning in my chest as all the ways I could kill him flitted about my mind. After a few moments, they were quite creative.

“No,” I said sweetly, playing his death over and over in my mind. I could-

“You’re not burning me to death in my own damn fireplace, Archeron,” he muttered, running a hand through his own hair, tugging at the roots. I blushed. After a moment, my eyes narrowed at him, sitting up fully now and draping my legs off the side of the bed.

“How do you know my last name?” I asked him, and he flicked me a sidelong gaze before rolling his eyes, scoffing with a shake of his head as he drank even more of the amber liquid. He didn’t even seem drunk. Well, apart from the stumbling in here when he’d clearly intended to not wake me so he could drink in the darkness in peace.

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you?” He complained. I grinned, kicking my feet back and forth as they swung off the bed.

“Nope,” I shrugged.

He grumbled under his breath, and I caught a few swear words wrapped around my name. He thought he was scary. He was actually quite pathetic right now.

“Oh, am I?” he snarked, chuckling humorlessly under his breath. “I suppose you’re likely right for once.” I gritted my teeth, my smile dropping entirely. How was he reading every thought I had?

“You’re basically screaming them at me,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes harshly.

“Get out of my head,” I snarled.

“Believe me, I wish I could,” he griped. His finger toyed with the corner of the whiskey bottle’s label, likely trying to ignore the urge to rip it off. He was so enigmatic.

“Are you going to at least share, since you’re making me endure your pouting episode?” I said, jerking my chin toward the whiskey bottle. I’d never drank whiskey in my life. I wasn’t sure what made me ask him.

He flicked up an eyebrow, his face momentarily looking open like I’d shocked him. He looked at the bottle in his hand and then back up to me warily. I said, raising both brows at him expectantly. After a few moments of pause, he stood, walking over to me, handing the bottle down to me. There was a slight sway in his balance, but he never acknowledged it.

He sat down on the bed next to me, laying back with his legs still dangling off and looking up at the ceiling. Grateful to not have him looking at me, I took a curious sniff of the liquor and immediately regretted that decision when my body fully rejected it. I was sure I hid it from him well, so I tipped the bottle and took a deep pull from it my hand flying to cover my mouth as I forced the vile liquid down my throat, eyes stinging from the burn in my throat and nose. I started coughing, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes. I had to stand and walk it off, and Rhysand started positively cackling.

I had to admit, it was nice to see him lighten up a bit, even just for a moment. I smiled at him from where I stood in the center of the room, and surprisingly, he smiled back. Feeling brave, I tipped it up again, this time going down much smoother now that I knew what to expect. I squeezed my eyes shut and forced myself to take several big pulls, swallowing hard and gagging slightly once my mouth was empty. Rhysand looked at me in shock, and I had officially won my bravado back.

I coughed, wiping my mouth and handing the bottle back to him, laying back the same way he was next to him. I felt the delicious warmth settle in my stomach and closed my eyes, humming at the way it already made my body buzz.

“You’re not going to accuse me of drugging you this time, are you?” He scoffed, his good nature already faded back into his dark hole of emotion. I thought it over carefully before I answered.

“No,” I said quietly, still staring up at the ceiling. I let the silence linger for a few moments before I spoke again. “You didn’t have to force me into your lap, though.” I didn’t say it with as much conviction as I’d wanted to.

“Forced?” He chuckled. “I’d say you went rather willingly, all things considered.” He turned his head to the side to look at me, and I mirrored him, biting back a gasp at how close our faces were to each other. He was wearing his emotions so plainly, for a drunken moment forgetting his mask of indifference. It made him look younger. Kinder.

“I did not want you to touch me,” I say, looking into his violet eyes, knowing as well as he did how much of a lie it was. His mouth quirked up on one side into a sly smirk.

“Didn’t Tamlin ever tell you fae can smell arousal?” He purred. I smacked a hand across his chest, which made him giggle a little. A noise that never would have come out of him sober.

“I was not… aroused,” I hissed, crossing my arms and looking back up to the ceiling. He shifted onto his side, propping his head up on his elbow as he looked at me. His eyes caressed down the length of my body slowly, then back up to my eyes. Like he’d been taking inventory.

“No?” He murmured. His hand reached out slowly like he was giving me ample time to stop him and let the tips of his fingers trace along the sliver of skin that was revealed between where his sweatpants sat low on my hips from being so big, and where the shirt had ridden up when I laid back. My breath caught, a fire entirely apart from the whiskey swirling in my stomach. I looked at him, but he was watching his fingers on my skin. On the third pass, a few fingers even slipped beneath the hem of my shirt- well, his shirt. He still hadn’t commented on that. “And now?”

Time stopped and all sense of the English language left me in an instant. I stared at him; lips parted. His eyes were still on my skin for a few moments before tearing them away like it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“What?” I said, trying to hide how much he was getting to me.

“You heard me, Feyre darling,” he said with a slow, seductive smile. His fingers continued their path on my skin as he kept his eyes on mine, and I felt like I was going to melt right into the mattress. “Are you aroused now?” My cheeks were on fire.

I studied his face, waiting for the trick, waiting for him to start laughing at me or mocking me, but his violet eyes were hooded with something like lust. My heart was hammering in my chest, and I was hyper-aware of every single nerve ending in my body.

“And if I was?” I asked, swallowing roughly, and his grin widened when he noticed. He knew what he was doing to me. He knew exactly what he was doing.

His hands moved farther up my shirt, nearing dangerous territory. I wasn’t wearing anything under this shirt. I hated that I most certainly did not want to stop him. Not even a little bit.

“Are you asking me what I’d do to you?” He purred, his fingers tracing the underside of my breast, and I knew he could feel how hard my heart was beating in my chest in anticipation of his touch. It took me a moment to remember he was expecting an answer.

“I-... I guess I am,” I said breathlessly as his fingers continued to explore higher and higher. He looked drunk on something a lot stronger than whiskey. Perhaps that had something to do with my willingness to let him touch me.

“Depends how good you’ve been,” he mused, a finger so gently tracing around my nipple, occasionally rolling it under his finger. Lightning bolts of pleasure fired straight between my legs at his touch and my lips parted as I gasped, squirming slightly.

“How good I’ve been?” I asked, trying to distract myself from how soft his lips looked, and doing a terrible job of it. He definitely had noticed. He hummed as he continued playing with my nipple, very aware of the effect it was having on me, but talking like he had no clue.

“Mm,” he hummed. “Have you been a good girl for me, Feyre?” He looked deep into my eyes, his face slowly moving closer to mine as we continued to talk. His hand moved to toy with my other nipple, and I had to bite my lip to keep myself from moaning. Once I released my lip from my teeth, he leaned forward, tracing it with his tongue, and a deep moan spilled out of me so easily I hadn’t even thought to stop it. He groaned at the sound, pressing his lips slowly to mine. And gods damn me, they were just as soft as they looked. This was bad. This was so, so bad. “I asked you a question,” he whispered against my lips. I shivered.

“Do you want me to be?” I asked, and the corner of his mouth turned up again.

“No, I don’t think so,” he murmured. “I think right now, I want you to be very, very bad, Feyre.” Goosebumps raced across my skin as he pressed his tongue into my mouth, moving with a sensual slowness that made my core ache in response, much too aware of the absence of him between my legs.

“Gods,” I panted into his mouth as his fingers began to skate back down my torso.

“They can’t help you now,” he purred, licking the roof of my mouth and making me shiver. He was much too skilled. I was going to die right here, right now.

That’s when reality came crashing back down on me like a million bricks. I pulled away from him with haste, my back pressed against his headboard and my arms wrapped around my legs protectively. He was frozen, looking at me like he didn’t understand, like he hadn’t expected me to do that.

“I told you that you weren’t coming in here just to crawl into my bed because you can’t be in hers,” I said, those annoying fucking tears welling in my eyes. I watched the hurt register in his face turn to anger and then back to cruel indifference. All sense of openness and vulnerability he had was gone. He scoffed angrily, sitting back up and staring at the floor in disbelief, shaking his head twice before standing up.

“Right,” he said, his voice closed off and cold.

“I won’t be your sex toy like you are for her,” I said, angrily wiping away my tears. He didn’t deserve them. Every muscle in his body stiffened at my words. He looked over his shoulder at me, and I couldn’t place the emotion I saw until it punched me in the gut. Betrayal. He was looking at me like I was exactly who he’d feared I was. I expected him to leave, but he spun to face me, anger written in every line of his body.

“You’d have to be at least a little bit fucking interesting for that,” he said with a cruel laugh, looking me up and down, his lip curled in disgust. The way he’d looked at me minutes ago was gone. I’d likely never see it again from his demeanor.

“I hate you,” I said, sobbing as quietly as I could.

“The feeling is quite mutual, sweetheart,” he spits out. He laughed humorlessly like he couldn’t believe he’d just let what happened occur. “Just another warm body in a bed to fuck, right, Feyre? I’m glad you at least know your place.” He said it more like he was throwing it in my face than like he meant it.

“Fuck you,” I whimpered.

“Me? Why would you wanna fuck someone who’s so… what was it you called me before? Used?” He was so hurt and so angry and it didn’t make sense. Why had pointing out that he fucked the Queen such a sensitive topic for him? He nearly always lashed out when she mentioned it. Maybe he just didn’t like being made fun of, couldn’t take criticism but could sure dish it out.

“Get out!” I yelled. “Why are you still here?!?!”

“Why am I in my room? You’re in my fucking bed, in my fucking clothes, and somehow, I’m out of line?” He took another swig of the whiskey, nearly draining it. “You know, there’s a cold cell and awaiting starvation just a few hallways down if you’d rather be there, princess.”

Guilt flared in my chest. I shouldn’t feel guilty. He was my captor. My owner now, according to his Queen. He continually fucked with me, pushed my boundaries, and paraded me like an object. I should not feel guilty for hurting his feelings.

Realizing I wasn’t going to answer, he finished off the bottle, throwing it into the fireplace and watching it shatter into the ash. He didn’t even look at me again before leaving, slamming the door behind him. I’d really gotten under his skin tonight. Maybe it was because he was already in a bad mood before he’d come here.

I growled in frustration, yanking the blankets up to my chin, blowing the candle out, and going the fuck back to bed.

Chapter Text

Hands snatched the clothes around my body, pawing and tugging at my limbs. I woke up from a dead sleep in a full panic, gasping for air and eyes wild as I tried to understand what was happening to me. My hands were pressed behind my back, sitting them at an angle that would break my arm if I struggled too hard. My hands were bound together with a coarse rope. A blindfold was slipped over my eyes. One hand yanked my hair hard enough to nearly tear it all out while another forcibly gripped me under my armpits, lifting me into the air simultaneously with the hands seizing my ankles.

I thrashed and kicked, desperately trying to break free, but their grips were much too strong. I gulped down air, turning my head sporadically as I tried to understand where I was being taken. The air seemed colder down this hallway, wetter. It smelled thick and humid, like water, mildew, and limestone. It took me a second before I fully registered the sound.

Rushing water. I hadn’t even known there was a water source down this deep. Or that there even could be. There was so much of this Court of underground tunnels I knew nothing about, and that put me at a nearly unconquerable disadvantage. She had the element of surprise on her side every time, and oh how she loved to watch me struggle.

Instead of sitting me down, the hands just dropped me entirely. The water was a roar in my ears now. I was dangerously close to it. Every now and then I felt small droplets of water touch my skin. I got up to my knees and the blindfold was yanked off of my eyes, unknotting my hands from my back as well. I immediately felt dizzy.

Below me on both sides was a raging river of dark water. It came from and disappeared through lower cave tunnels. I was on a stone bridge, with nothing on either side of me except a freefall into death by drowning. Once I was inevitably yanked under the rocks, there would be no saving me, and no air. The stone bridge was only a foot wide. Just enough for me to kneel on and no more. The bridge extended 50 feet in front of me, and each inch was covered in jagged glass, the tiny, shattered shards sticking up from the ground like a premeditated death trap.

Time stood still when my eyes finally caught what awaited at the other side of the bridge. Tamlin was strapped to a chair, ropes around his chest and legs, and tape over his mouth. Amarantha lurked behind him, pacing as she surveyed me, a wicked smile carved into her porcelain cheeks. My heartbeat stuttered in my chest.

“Nice of you to make it,” Amarantha cooed condescendingly. “And just in time for all the fun!” She was theatrical tonight, it seemed. I wondered where Rhysand had staggered off to. I couldn’t have been asleep more than an hour. He was not with his Queen. So, where had he gone when he stormed off?

Tamlin sat as still as a corpse in his chair. Its legs were bolted into the ground, making it untippable. Why was he being tied up like a hostage? Was he not one of them now?

“What is this?” I cried in horror, fighting the urge to look down at what might await me if I lost my balance. The current was much too strong. I’d never make it back up. I’d give myself no more than seconds before I was trapped in the water beneath the rock on the other side, choking and inhaling water into my lungs. Who even knew how deep it was? The water was dense. You could see nothing below the crashing rush of the waves sliding back between the beds of rock.

“A game!” She shouted with glee, clapping her hands together. “You know how I love my games.” She walked over to stand behind Tamlin, resting a hand on either of his shoulders as she watched me panic. “The game is simple, Feyre. All you have to do is decide whether or not it’s worth it to you to cross this bridge to Tamlin.”

Amarantha cranked a handle in the stone and my breath whooshed from my lungs as a giant blade swung down from the ceiling, slicing the air to one side and consequently slashing back to the other. The blade was shaped like a hammer and was freshly sharpened and polished. She’d been excited about this plan of torture she'd concocted. Like had the weapon installed just for this purpose. With every swing, the blade dropped a bit lower. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

“Tamlin!” I shouted, attempting to urge him into action. Couldn’t he break free of the ropes? I’d seen examples of his strength many times before. These ropes should have been child’s play for him, and yet he didn’t move. Why the hell was he not moving?

“Oh!” Amarantha cheered, laughing an obnoxiously loud laugh. “I forgot to tell you. I’ve taken away his motor functioning.” My eyes blew wide as I looked at him again, his features undetailed from this distance, but I could still see the fear in his eyes. This wasn’t a game. This was the difference between life and death.

“Why would you kill him?” I said, trying to reason with her, my bare feet at the edge of where the broken glass began. “Don’t you want him all to yourself?” She chuckled, walking to Tamlin and brushing a stray hair behind his ear as she spoke to me.

“I do,” she admitted. “But with you in the picture, he’s not very cooperative. But I can’t just kill you, that won’t do. So now, I’ll have double the fun watching the two of you desperately scramble to save one another. Either you’ll fail and I’ll be a play toy short, or I get to watch you drag yourself over broken glass for someone who’d never do the same. Either way I win, and with quite the entertainment. I was growing quite bored.”

“You won’t kill him,” I shook my head, trying to convince myself as much as her.

“No?” She grinned. “I suppose you’ll just have to watch and find out, won’t you dear?” Amarantha turned and walked to a chair several feet back from Tamlin and to the side, giving herself the perfect view of my torture. The heavy blade swung lower, now only two feet above his head. His hair jostled with the wind the pendulum swing created in its swoop.

I looked at Amarantha and she grinned. My heart sank into my stomach. Terror overtook me as I looked at the vicious angles of the glass bits, all poking upwards like she’d staged them that way. Another swoop of the blade had my stomach in knots as I looked down at the black water. If I wanted Tamlin alive, I had no choice. I’d have to cross and untie his bindings, yanking him away from Amarantha’s relentless blade.

Deciding I had no choice, I gritted my teeth, searching for the place with the least glass that I could put my foot on. I hissed as I felt the first one sink into the ball of my foot. On the next step, I cried out. By the fourth and fifth, I was wondering why I had even bothered. This piercing, overwhelming pain, and I’d likely still not get there in time to save him.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I maneuvered, trying to keep my balance and cut my feet as little as possible while also trying to quicken my pace. My stomach roiled as I took another step, trying to make each gait as long as possible to experience as little pain as I could. Which right now was aching and debilitating. I wasn’t made to accept this much pain. My body didn’t know what to do with itself.

Another low swipe of the blade, now only a foot above Tamlin’s head, sent a breeze, nearly knocking me off kilter. When I accidentally stepped on a shard too steep, it impaled the bottom of my foot, right in the arch. I shouted in pain, wobbling on my feet and nearly tipping off into the black water. Sobbing, I overcorrected and ended up slamming my palms and knee down onto the glass shards. I was dry heaving, unable to breathe, and feeling hopeless.

I wasn’t even sure why I did it, but my brain screeched out internally, reaching for Rhysand. He nearly always lingered in my mind, and I prayed to all the gods that he was now. He likely wouldn’t even help me or show up, but I held on to the hope like a life raft. I stood back up, repeating Rhysand’s name over and over in my head, begging for him to hear me somehow.

“Time’s nearly up, Feyre,” Amarantha taunted. I was a little over halfway across. I stood, wincing at the glass re-entering my feet with the added pressure of my body weight. I bared my teeth as hard as I could, my jaw shaking. I focused on the pain there, needed it to distract me from the agony radiating through my feet. I forced one foot in front of the other, determined to make it to the other side. Three steps left. With a shout that likely resembled a battle cry, I hurled my body as far as I could, landing on barren stone. Relief washed over me like salve to a burn, but I didn’t get to enjoy it long.

I was back up on my feet, yanking a huge glass piece from the ground, limping over to Tamlin as fast as I could. I flinched as the pendulum blade cut through the air with malice, nearly skinning the top of my head. I cut the ropes, no longer even concerned with the way the glass shredded my palms and as I watched the blade headed back straight towards me, I tackled Tamlin out of the chair and onto the ground, mere seconds before he’d have been dead, skull parted and crushed down the middle.

Amarantha was cackling. The sound was heinous, a horrible noise that grated my ears. She clapped, heading toward the lever that would stop her torturous blade from coming back down. While her back was turned, my nostrils flared, a blazing fury tearing through my chest as I gripped the glass, blood trickling to the floor to mix with the bloody footprints I’d been tracking. She was distracted, beginning to speak.

I raised the glass high in the air, rearing back my hand and poised to strike. I was going to gut the bitch and laugh as she had watching me suffer, while I watched her insides spill out of her. I began my attack, but before I could make contact. My wrist was snatched from the air, and wrenched behind my back at such an awful angle that I nearly went to my knees as I whimpered. The glass dropped from my hand and a polished black shoe scraped it back across the stone and sent it hurling into the murky black depths below.

I growled, trying to twist out of their hold, but failing miserably. Tamlin still lay immobilized just behind me. Amarantha turned back to me, assessing my captor and then me in turn, a slight curl forming in her upper lip before she could mask it. I strained my neck to see a recently showered Rhysand standing behind me. He held my hand in an angry iron grip, but his face revealed nothing but boredom and a hint of irritation at being woken up.

“Darling,” Amarantha purred, and I might have imagined the momentary almost nonexistent way Rhys winced. “Nice of you to join us.” She looked at me as she reached forward, gripping Rhys’s jaw in her hand, nails slightly piercing his skin as she pulled his face down to hers, kissing him passionately, but her eyes were open and on me. She was warning me. While I may be his property, he was still hers. A nauseous roil in my stomach made me look away.

“I woke and thought this one had escaped,” he mocked with a nasty, haughty tone. “Went out looking for her and stumbled upon you here. I’m assuming you’re done playing? I’d like to get at least an hour of sleep tonight.” I opened my mouth to let him know that he wouldn’t be so tired if he hadn’t drowned himself in a whiskey bottle, but before I could so much as utter a syllable, he twisted my arm harder. I gritted my teeth, hissing as I sucked in air between them, my entire body a container for pain.

“I suppose,” she snarked. “It’s a rare day a human’s bravery impresses me. I’ll let her live another night and decide what to do with her come sunrise.” Amarantha said with a dismissive wave of her hand, walking over to fully unbind Tamlin and return life to his body. We didn’t stay to watch because Rhysand marched me down the hallway with brutish speed and force. We twisted down more unmarked hallways I’d never seen. This place was like a maze, and I suppose that made me the rat. If only I had a button to reward me with treats. Instead, I had a burly, sullen fae yanking me about.

Rhys opened the door to his bedroom, slinging me forward and releasing my arm, but that by no means meant he intended to let me go. He closed the door and then walked toward me so filled with blind fury that he looked like a charging bull. And I was wearing red. I accidentally backed myself into a corner, letting him tower over and intimidate me by consequence.

“Are you fucking daft?” He spit down at me. “Have you fallen and hit your fucking head?” He was yelling. I had yet to hear him yell. But he was yelling at me now.

“Rhys-”

“Because there must be a logical explanation for why you made such idiotic choices,” he snarled. “I tell you and show you how lethal Amarantha is hoping it would somehow sink in for you, and you go and challenge her? For what? For him? For the male who’s sat upon a throne and dined like a king watching every form of torture imaginable, all while he knew you rotted and starved in a cell. That’s who you were willing to lose your life for?” His chest was rising and falling rapidly, and he was so close that on his inhales, it nearly touched my own chest.

“I couldn’t watch him die,” I croaked, tears welling again as the pain in my body registered all at once, I mindlessly went to wipe my tears, but whined as I realized how bloody my hands were and how much I’d just smeared across my cheeks. I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t strong enough for this. I’d once believed myself a hunter, but now while being hunted, I realize I knew nothing. Amarantha was the greatest predator I’d ever seen. She induced so much fear and chaos into her subjects that they would never dare cross her. She played her sick games, and no one stopped her because no one could.

“He would not extend you the same kindness,” Rhys sighed. “Don’t you get that? Don’t you see it? What you did tonight was utterly idiotic. You’re a fool if you think she genuinely would have killed him. She just wanted to see how far you’d go to save him, even after everything.” My shoulders shook with sobs as I looked up at him. Couldn’t he see this is not what I needed right now? Could I not be scolded once I wasn’t drenched in my own blood? “She wanted to test you for weaknesses, and you handed them to her on a silver platter.”

“I think you hurt my shoulder,” I whimpered, and he sighed, running a hand down his face roughly. He leaned forward, hands on the wall behind me, one on each side of my head.

“Just what did you think you were going to do with a piece of fucking glass, little lion? Applaud the bravery, but if I couldn’t do it, what makes you think you could?” His pupils flared like he’d just registered what he’d said, allowing it to tumble past his lips in the heat of the moment and not being able to be taken back. He’d tried to kill her?

“What do you me-”

He scooped me up in his arms, carrying me to the bathroom. He sat me on the counter, grumbling angrily under his breath about me. He glared at me with leveled seriousness.

“Do not fucking move,” he commanded. I nodded. It wasn’t like I was going to get up and walk out of here given the shape of my feet. Rhys disappeared and I heard the door to his bedroom open and close quietly.

Was he right? Was I a fool for brutalizing myself if it meant Tamlin was okay? It certainly made me pathetic, that much was sure. He’d so clearly moved past me, but my mind always snagged on the night he’d visited me in the dungeons. The only other visitors I’d gotten down there were Rhys, Nuala, and Cerridwen, and neither of them ever came empty-handed. They’d always brought clothes, food, and water. Tamlin brought nothing and made me swear to not trust the man who did. I was nowhere near trusting Rhysand, but was it fair to go by Tamlin’s word?

My mind flicked to the moment I’d seen him slitting a man’s throat in an empty room, the rest of his victims crumpled on the floor already. And to the way he kissed Amarantha, knowing she had rotting bodies strung up like decor in her Great Hall. He kissed the woman who’d had me crawling over glass in the first place. He slept in her bed.

But he’d also kept me from starving or dehydrating countless times. He’d gotten me out of my cell and given me a safe and clean place to sleep. He’d stopped me from being a moron and trying to take on Amarantha all by myself. He regularly found excuses to let me bathe, even when I was still kept in the cell. It was impossible to ignore either side of him. It just made my head hurt.

The bedroom door opened and shut again, and Rhysand re-entered a few moments later, his plain white tee shirt hugging his body in a way that was quite distracting. He sat down a bowl of clear liquid, a packet of gauze, a few clean cloths, and something blue and shimmery in a small bottle. My eyes flicked up to search his face, but he wouldn’t look at me.

He knelt on one knee in front of where I sat up on the counter, pulling one of my feet into his lap. He looked at the damage, flinching as he noted just how deep some of the gashes went. He picked up a cloth and dipped it in the clear liquid, looking back up at me.

“This is going to hurt,” he warned. “Squeeze my shoulder as hard as you need to.” I bit my lip, closing my eyes and bracing myself for the pain. He rubbed the cloth down the soles of my feet, and I whimpered, biting my fist in my mouth. Rhysand stopped, taking the hand still limp in my lap, and placed it on his shoulder, giving me a warning look.

He returned to his work on my foot, cleaning them delicately. He seemed like he’d had quite a bit of practice in cleaning and bandaging wounds. I wondered who he’d needed to patch up so much before. I knew nothing about him.

“So, what’s the deal with you and the Queen of blood and torture?” I scoffed. He froze momentarily, then immediately continued his work and still refused to look at me. Knowing he wouldn’t answer me, I continued musing aloud to myself. “You tend to her needs and remain loyally by her side, and yet you help me. It makes no sense. Why do you give a shit what happens to me?” His eyes flicked up to meet mine but immediately decided against it.

“Can’t you learn to leave well enough alone?” He murmured, reaching for the gauze. He began skillfully wrapping it around my feet, keeping the wound sites safe and clean from infection.

“I don’t understand why it upsets you so much. The two of you are quite public about your affection for one another,” I shrugged. Why flaunt a relationship you didn’t want anyone talking about? It was nonsensical.

“We’re not going to talk about her,” he gruffed, beginning to clean the other foot. I yelped and reflexively pulled back, but he gave no reaction, just softly pulled it back within his reach.

“Why not?” I pestered him. I knew there was something he wasn’t telling me, something I wasn’t understanding. So many pieces of the puzzle hadn’t come in the box, leaving vacant holes in my understanding of the entire scene.

“We’re not fucking friends, Feyre,” he criticized. “Just because I bandage your foot because I don’t want you bleeding on my floors does not mean we mean anything to each other. I don’t want to talk to you about her. Leave it be.” He was tense. I’d felt the tightening of his muscles in his shoulders as the conversation progressed.

“Why do you care if she kills me? It seems to be something you’re quite concerned about,” I questioned. Nothing made sense. He was so hot and cold.

“I see enough death already,” he said under his breath. He got to the particularly deep cut in the arch of my foot, and I dug my nails into his shoulder, whimpering and whining as he cleaned it thoroughly.

“Why me, though?” I said, exasperated with his evasiveness.

“Does there need to be a reason?”

“With you, yes!” I yelled. He scoffed, shaking his head. He wrapped the second foot in gauze, falling into a rhythm. Then he set to work on my knee. He’d nearly finished cleaning it when I opened my mouth again. “Why did you essentially tell me you’ve tried to kill her?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he retorted.

“Then tell me!”

“Ask again and you can bandage your own damn wounds,” he snapped. I was silenced immediately. I hadn’t understood that it was that serious. I’d thought with a little probing he’d confess his dirty secrets about his love affair. That was not what happened. He was even more closed off now, yet another wall built between us that I had no idea how to break. Why did I even want to break it?

He wrapped my knee with haste, trying to be rid of me as soon as he could. Guilt kicked me in the stomach, and I realized what a brat I’d been. Not that he deserved my kindness, but he certainly didn’t deserve to be treated as though he were Amarantha himself. He was cruel when he needed to be, sure. But the same emotional vacancy wasn’t in him. He cared too much whether he’d admit it or not.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured. He gestured for me to hold out a hand and I let him disinfect my palms. “I hadn’t realized how serious you were. We just always joke with each other and-”

“I know, Feyre,” he said quietly. “It’s okay. I’m a big boy. Other hand, please,” he instructed once he’d finished wrapping the first one. He repeated his motions on the last gashed part of my body. "I'll do what I can to keep her occupied and her attentions focused elsewhere and if we're lucky, she'll forget her declaration to decide your fate at sunrise." He was incredibly somber.

“Thank you for stopping me from making a big mistake,” I mumbled. He nodded in acceptance, still not looking at me. Why the hell would he not look at me?

“Drink this,” he instructed, handing me the small bottle of shimmery blue liquid. “It’ll help with the pain and help you get some sleep. Before you even ask, I didn’t fucking poison it. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to end this hellscape of a day.” I drank it all, handing the bottle back to him and gently getting off the counter. I winced as I limped over to the bed, freezing.

“You can have the bed if you want,” I offered.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he rolled his eyes.

“Where will you sleep?”

“In the bed next to you, as long as you can keep your hands to yourself,” he jested, but it came out a little harsher than a joke should. Feeling more than a little bit defeated, I crawled into the bed, pressing myself as close to the wall and far away from where he’d be as I could manage. I felt him climb in behind me and blow out the candle, leaving us in darkness. It was barely minutes until the sleep aid kicked in and I slept.

Chapter Text

Rhys was gone when I awoke, but then again, I hadn’t expected him to be there anyway. The night before came tumbling back down on me at full weight, threatening to crush me underneath the burden of it all. My entire body ached, the pain from the cuts on my palms, knees, and feet a deep, burrowed throbbing. Hissing at the sting, I sat up in Rhysand’s bed, taking note of the fact that he’d already cleaned up all of my spilled blood and mess. The thought flashed across my mind, making me wonder if he’d ever even slept at all.

I wanted to know how he’d known where to find me. I was hesitant to believe he’d truly gone looking for me so conveniently. Particularly after the way he’d assured me he could not care any less about what happened to me. Had my mental begging for him somehow gotten through? Was he able to hear me from that distance? How far away from him could his awareness stretch, and how loud did I have to be for him to hear? I wondered if it had made him angry to have me calling out to him for help.

Nuala and Cerridwen came a few hours later to unwrap, disinfect, and recover the wounds on my body. It seemed Amarantha had once again called her Court to gather. I supposed she truly had nothing better to do with all of us trapped below ground at her mercy. This time, the girls brought me a tee shirt and a pair of athletic spandex pants that nearly made me fall to the ground in thanks, because they actually fit my body. The girls rubbed a salve across my cuts, double-wrapped them, and helped me ease my feet into a pair of tennis shoes. I cried out when I finally stood, placing weight on the mutilated parts of my feet.

The girls helped me down the hall as I limped, but once we came into view, I shook their grips from my arms and forced myself to walk normally despite the pain. Rhys had told me to never let Amarantha see my weakness, and I didn’t plan to show it to her now. I manually created a mask on my features, keeping myself from wincing with each step. I managed to look bored with a flat affect.

I leaned against the back wall, allowing myself to relieve some of the weight from my feet and also allowing me to see everything without having to worry about watching my back. I scanned the crowd for Rhysand but couldn’t see him anywhere. Tamlin caught my eye, though. His expression was unreadable from this distance, his golden mask glinting in the light of Amarantha’s flamed sconces.

The energy of this gathering immediately differed from ones before. It was incredibly tense. No one moved about, mingling and chatting. Instead, everyone stood still as stone, eyes far away as they watched Amarantha tap her nails on her throne and arch a brow as the last few members scampered in, trying their best to not grab her attention. She looked livid. Her dark magic was roiling off of her in thick, humid waves. It made the air feel hard to pull into my lungs, like her enchantment had wanted to remind us she could steal that breath if it so chose.

“I had thought my earlier demonstration effective enough to ward off further efforts of betrayal, but it seems that I was wrong,” Amarantha began, addressing the silent room. “More among you have thought themselves quite brave, in fact. Last night, my guards caught a group attempting escape near a point they’d scouted and thought weak. Including one member of my council. I wish to show you how expendable every one of you are to me. No matter how safe you believe yourself to be, you are entirely replaceable.”

My heart was jackhammering in my chest. Where was Rhys? I was careful not to move my head as my eyes searched the crowd again. I looked for a mess of raven hair, and found a few, but none of them were the High Lord. Who of her council had been trying to escape? He’d alluded to attempting to kill Amarantha once. Was he of the ones seeking escape? Surely, he wouldn’t be so foolish?

“Therefore, I will ensure my point comes across clearly when you all join me for my evening festivities,” Amarantha smiled with a clap of her pale hands. “However, before we all depart, I wanted to complete this ritual right here, for all of you to plainly see.” With a quirk of two fingers, Rhysand emerged from Amarantha’s wing, a man at his side. The man was bound and gagged, the only slack being that between the cuffs on his feet that allowed him to shuffle forward slowly. My gut churned at the sight.

Rhys shoved the man to his knees before Amarantha’s knees. Amarantha stood and held out her palm. Tamlin placed a silver dagger in her grip. With a reptilian smile, Amarantha gripped the hilt and harshly sliced it across her palm, the wound opening and spilling a crimson that perfectly matched her lips. She didn’t even flinch.

Rhysand held the man’s shoulders in place as Amarantha approached him. The man whimpered and twitched in his binds, tears leaking down his cheeks and wetting the rope forced into his mouth and tied at the back of his neck like a horse’s bit. Had Rhys tied him up like this?

With no warning, Amarantha plunged her talon sharp nails into the man’s chest. A sickening, squelching crack filled the Great Hall as she pushed harder, her entire fist entering his chest cavity as he screamed. With a small hum, she rotated her hand and ripped his heart from his body, holding the still beating organ in her palms. She walked to the center of the room, placing the contracting heart on the stone floor before standing. Rhys released the man's body and he crumpled to the ground awkwardly.

Amarantha began to circle the fae's heart where it lay on the ground, squeezing her hand as she walked so that a steady flow of blood dripped from her hand. She murmured in an old fae language under her breath, circling over and over as she created a ring of blood around the heart that had since stilled. One more circle and then she stopped, a wicked smirk curling from her lips.

“Not that you’d particularly had a chance before, but I have now ensured your undying loyalty to me. Sealed it here in my own blood, for all of you to view. Using my own personal magic signature and blood, I have forged a ward around my Court, creating an impenetrable barrier. You may never leave. You are welcome to try, although you should be warned that your blood will begin to boil within your veins the moment you cross the barrier, stopping your heart entirely in mere seconds.” She said reapproaching her throne to ascend the stairs, towering over her constituents once more. “What’s more, I am the only one who will ever be able to undo this curse I’ve placed on each of you. If I die, you’ll still be trapped here forever, left to starve and waste away for the next few hundreds of years. As you can imagine, it is no longer in your best interest that anything happens to me.”

No one moved a muscle, said a word. We all stared in horror at Amarantha’s art project, registering the new blow she’d just dealt us. There would be no escaping here. Not ever. Not unless Amarantha chose to undo her curse, which she would never do.

Before we could even let it sink in what she’d just done with her entire Court serving as witnesses, her guards moved forward, shoving at the crowd and herding them like cattle down the hall and into an even larger room. At its center was a great pit, carved into the mud and bedrock of the cave system.

A fence surrounded the lip of the pit, keeping all else safely on the other side. I peered over the edge, hands gripping the metal of the fence. Inside, five men sat on their haunches in the dirt, heads rotating wildly as they tried to understand what nightmare they’d been forced into. Apart from the men, the pit was full of various bones and maze-like fixtures. It looked like some kind of play pen for an unfathomably large creature.

Amarantha climbed the few steps up to her platform that overlooked the pit. She bowed courteously, gesturing that she was ready to begin her festivities. A deep, metallic cranking noise rattled the ground for a moment. The chains that bound the men’s ankles together began to lift from the ground, stopping once the chain was pulled taut. My brows furrowed as I watched. Another of Amarantha’s guards entered the pit, holding a torch in his hands.

Walking to each of the men, he stabbed them wherever his knife could find purchase. For one man, it was his abdomen. For another, the side of his neck. For the third, his femoral artery. The fourth and fifth were stabbed in their lower belly, the knife dragging upwards between their ribs. Not deep enough to kill them, just enough to hurt them and cause intense blood flow. Once the guard departed through the door, the cranking noise began again. My stomach churned as I watched the horrors before me unfold.

The chains didn’t stop this time. They lifted until the men’s feet were airborne, and continued until their entire bodies were removed from the ground. They dangled by their feet, the blood trickling down their faces and into their eyes as they twitched like bait on a hook. The ground rumbled again, and the large gate began to lift, showing the deep darkness in the tunnel beyond. A growl echoed down the tunnel, making all of the men freeze where they dangled, eyes wide with realization. They were bait.

Moments later, a monstrous wyrm slithered around the corner and exited the tunnel, barreling into the pit, where several conveniently placed snacks dangled about, still squirming and fresh. And Amarantha had ensured they were easy to find. Their blood spilled onto the ground like a beacon, the smell beckoning the wyrm to see what had caused such a sensation. It opened its gaping maw, exposing row upon row of razor-like teeth. I felt sick.

My jaw dropped as I watched the creature leap, twisting its body midair and snatching one of the men from where he hung. He disappeared as though he’d never even been there. The wyrm had devoured him whole. A nauseating chomping of flesh and bones sounded as the wyrm neared its next target. Apparently just as theatrical as its keeper, the wyrm circled below the second man, making him watch as the beast opened its throat, slowly lifting to capture him in the depths of its jaw.

"This," Amarantha laughed, "is what happens to those who betray me."

I turned my head, gagging as my stomach lurched. I took a few steps back, crashing to my knees and leaning over my hands as my stomach clenched over and over, desperate to empty out contents that weren’t there. Stomach bile singed my throat, the acid being the only excretion as I spit it onto the dust. Another vile sound of a body collapsing in on itself and another murmur of horror from the crowd. The wyrm purred, shaking the ground beneath me.

Cool hands gathered my hair from my neck, and I whirled before I could even think about it, coming face to face with Rhys. He looked like he was about to be sick himself. As though he hadn’t helped her orchestrate the entire evening. My stomach squeezed again, and I coughed, eyes blurring with tears as my stomach fought my body like it’d been poisoned.

“Shh, it’s okay, Feyre,” Rhys murmured. I flung my elbow toward his face, but he dodged the blow gracefully, still keeping my hair twisted around his hand as I begged my body to stop gagging. “You’ll feel better soon.”

Using both hands, I shoved against his chest, catching him off guard and landing him on his ass in the dust. Somewhere deep inside I got off on knowing his perfectly pristine clothes were now smudged with dirt. His lips parted as he watched me, like I was a feral animal he wasn’t sure how to approach.

“Do not put your hands on me, you sick bastard,” I growled under my breath, tears leaking down my cheeks and my eyes stinging from the emotions surging behind them. “Don’t look at me like you feel bad when all of this is your fucking fault. I might have come here because of Tamlin, but everything that has happened to me since has been your fault. All of this is your fault. You have this whole I’m-a-secret-good-guy bit you keep trying to sell me, and I’m not buying it again. You help her torture everyone like this and then fuck her to sleep. I’m not sleeping beside you again. Take me back to my fucking cell or leave me the hell alone.”

He stared at me blankly, still sat where I’d shoved him down. His mouth kept opening and closing like he was trying to find a way to explain, something to say to me to make me understand, but I’d had enough.

Growling in exasperation, I stood and stormed off down some random hallway, not even sure where I’d end up, but knowing it’d be better than having him stare at me like I was the monster. Who cared if Amarantha sent the Attor after me? At this point, I’d damn near welcome it.

Chapter Text

Somehow, I ended up once again being face-to-face with the roaring black water that seemed to drive endlessly underneath Amarantha’s court. Huffing, I sat down close enough to see, but not close enough to make me afraid of falling in, crossing my legs under me. It’d been so long since I’d felt okay. None of this was okay.

I buried my head in my hands and took several deep breaths, willing a calm into my nerves. I listened to the rush of the water, smelled the wet rock, and paid attention to everything except myself. I dropped my palms from my face to feel the hardness of the ground beneath me. I counted my breaths as I did, connecting each new number with a new thing I’d picked up with my senses. Elain always called it grounding. She said that we are never as in tune with the Earth as we need to be.

Oh, Elain. How I missed my sisters. I knew Nesta would care for her, and had never doubted her ability to do so. My sister was fierce in a way I’d always envied. She had a strength and stubbornness hefty enough to lift this burden. If it were Nesta in my place, she likely would have already killed Amarantha, just out of pure spite. But Elain had always been sheltered from the harshness of life by the two of us. We’d shouldered her weight to salvage what little innocence there was among the three of us.

I closed my eyes with a hum, picturing them in my mind. Elain was likely tending to her garden, hands cut up and sliced by the thorns. She refused to wear gloves. When she connected to nature, she wanted to truly connect. Nesta was likely sat on the porch, watching her closely, but giving her space. She likely had her nose buried in some book she’d scavenged. It filled a small crack in my chest, picturing them happy and healthy.

“What are you doing?” A booming voice said behind me and my heart leapt into my throat. I gasped, spinning to see who had come up behind me while I’d been so immersed in my daydreaming. What I saw was the last thing I’d expected.

Tamlin stood before me, green eyes vibrant through the gold of his mask. He was clothed in his usual green velvet, bits of his chiseled chest showing underneath the fabric. I jumped up and threw my arms around him, sighing into his chest as tears once again fell. It seemed like all I knew how to do anymore was cry. I inhaled the familiarity of his scent, and nearly went to my knees over it. He’d come. He’d finally come.

But he was stiff underneath my touch. Unfamiliar, even. Something about him felt… off. Different. He didn’t evoke the same warmth from me he used to. No, my chest was dormant and cold. Cobwebs had formed around my heart and extinguished my feelings for him, snuffing them out like a single flame.

“What are you doing, Feyre?” He said again, stepping back from me. I sniffed, brushing my hair back and out of my eyes as I studied him. He looked the same. Smelled the same, too. What was so different?

“I just needed space to think,” I huffed, gesturing to the water behind me.

“You shouldn’t be out here all alone,” he reprimanded, and it stoked the flame of anger I hadn’t even realized I’d still been carrying around.

“And just who exactly am I supposed to have with me?” I scoffed, throwing my hands up in exasperation. “I am alone, Tamlin. You discarded me like I meant nothing.”

“You don’t understand,” he growled lowly, under his breath.

“What do I not understand?” I shouted, my voice breaking slightly.

“Amarantha, she-”

“Gods, I am so sick of hearing that bitch’s name,” I laughed humorlessly. “What, you love her now?” Tamlin stiffened like he’d been struck.

“No,” he shook his head. “I love you, Feyre.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it,” I said, turning to look back at the water. I chewed my lip. His hand wrapped around my upper arm, dragging and spinning me simultaneously. He pulled my chest against his, wrapping his arms around me like shields. He bent down, pressing his mouth to mine with crushing force. I gasped against his mouth, taking a few moments before I melted, kissing him back.

Our lips moved in time, saying all the things neither of us knew how to. This was always how we’d worked out our problems. Just being near him always made it better. His hands moved up my body to grip the sides of my face as he kissed me, licking along my bottom lip so my opened my mouth for his tongue. Feeling wanted and loved, even just for a moment, lifted the shackles and anchor tied to my soul. For just one moment, I felt okay. But it was only a moment.

“You know, I always knew you were stupid, but I didn’t realize just how stupid you were,” said a dark voice. I gasped, jumping apart from Tamlin as my eyes landed on Rhysand, shadows billowing around his body in a way they only did when he was barely keeping himself from exploding. But he wasn’t looking at me. His eyes were set right on Tamlin’s as they narrowed.

“You better watch-” Tamlin began to snarl, but Rhysand laughed, and the sound died in his throat. I watched Tamlin from the corner of my eye. He was fisting and stretching his hands like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. There was a tenseness in his shoulders I’d never seen before.

“No, you better watch yourself, you great brute,” Rhys chuckled as he prowled closer. Tamlin mindlessly backed up a step. My lips parted as I watched the exchange, noting both of their body language.

“You don’t understand,” Tamlin said, voice much quieter now. Was he… Gods, was Tamlin afraid of him? I had never seen him so stiff and so wary.

“Amarantha would be none too pleased to know that all of your doting and apologizing and ensuring the human meant nothing was all lies. Of course, I knew all along. You never have understood loyalty, have you, Tam?” There was a twinge to Rhysand’s voice that let me know he was also talking about personal grievances. Hadn’t Tamlin told me Rhys had killed his family? How would that make Tamlin unloyal? What promises had he been making to Amarantha?

“We were just speaking,” Tamlin tried to explain.

“Do you think I'm an idiot?” Rhys accused.

“She cannot know I saw her,” Tamlin said, swallowing hard. “Promise me you won’t tell her.” Rhys laughed again, features screwed up in disbelief at what he was hearing. He was thoroughly enjoying Tamlin’s discomfort.

“Now why the hell would I do that? To protect you? You know me better than that,” Rhys purred. “Or had you forgotten how you betrayed me?” Tamlin took another step back.

“This has nothing to do with our past,” Tamlin tried to reason.

“Oh, I think it has everything to do with our past,” Rhys corrected. I stood still, watching the two of them and praying they didn’t turn their attentions on me. Rhysand’s eyes flicked over me for the briefest second as though he were checking to make sure I hadn’t run off somewhere, before his focus was wholly back on Tamlin.

“If you’re going to summon her, just do it,” Tamlin growled. His claws sprung out and tucked back in like he was fighting against his urges to slash Rhysand’s throat out.

“And miss watching you squirm?” Rhys said, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “I’m having quite a bit of fun watching the hamster wheels inside your head try and conjure how to get out of this with your head still on your shoulders.” My mouth dried at the threat. It was true. Amarantha would kill Tamlin the minute she knew he was betraying her. She wouldn’t hesitate or stop to hear his side. No, she would just watch his head topple to the floor.

Tamlin was still, grasping at straws trying to think of something to say, but finding nothing. I bit my lip, looking back and forth between the two. Two different men who had lied to me. Two men that had hurt me. But also two men who’d saved me. I stepped between them, my arm landing on Rhysand’s upper arm. He jumped like I’d burned him, but didn’t pull away. He looked down at me.

His chest was moving at a untamed rate I’d never seen from him. His eyes were wide and he looked… well, this time it was he who looked afraid. He swallowed as he waited for me to speak.

“Rhys,” I murmured. “Please. Just let him go.”

Rhys stared at me for a few moments, searching my eyes for something I couldn’t quite decipher before he looked back up to Tamlin. His posture shifted to be less predatory as he regarded his opposite.

“Get the fuck out of here,” Rhys snapped. “Run back to Amarantha and show her what a good boy you plan to be.” My breath left me as relief surged through my body. Tamlin began to walk away and Rhysand spun, going after him. I gripped onto his forearm, trying to keep him from attacking Tamlin when he grabbed a fistfull of his shirt, pulling their faces close together. I still held Rhys’ wrist, his arm wrenched behind him awkwardly. But he made absolutely no effort to escape my grip.

“If you touch her again, I’ll gut you myself. Are we clear?” Rhys growled, low and demanding. My stomach flipped at the sound. Why hadn’t I released his wrist?

“Yes,” Tamlin whispered. Rhys shoved him away, causing him to stumble, and turned all of his attention on me. Tamlin turned like he wanted to watch what was about to happen but thought better of it, disappearing around the corner.

“Are you alright?” Rhys asked me, eyes scanning me like he was checking for injuries.

“Did you really have to do that?” I sighed, dropping his wrist and moving back to my spot by the water. I sat down again, folding my legs and staring into the abyss.

“Do what?” Rhys asked quietly, coming to sit by me. I didn’t look at him. I didn’t have the energy to. Whatever lightness I’d found minutes ago was crushed under an even heavier boot.

“She wouldn’t have found us,” I shrugged. “You didn’t have to get jealous and angry.”

Rhys scoffed.

“You think I was jealous?” He said, as though the notion were ridiculous. I looked at him, catching his violet eyes with mine and paused for a moment. I watched as the emotions in his eyes turned from anger to guilt to something that mimicked curiosity. I turned back to the water.

“Were you?” I asked him.

He didn’t speak for a moment.

“I was angry,” he said, evading the question entirely.

“Why?”

“Because in the few moments with you he was able to steal, he hadn’t asked you if you were okay. He didn’t try to help you or offer you food or comfort you. He chose to make a move on you and likely would have tried to fuck you right here in the dirt,” he snarled, shaking his head.

“And you’re so much better?” I chuckled, and he stiffened, the energy between us immediately going cold and empty.

“I’ve never claimed to be good,” he said simply, staring out into the water himself. I wanted to crack open his head and peer inside. I wanted to unspool his brains and listen to each of his thoughts as they roamed his head. He was so hot and cold. He was impossible to read, and even harder to trust.

“Why did you not call Amarantha? Why not do yourself a favor and be rid of us both?” I questioned him, monitoring his reaction closely.

“Maybe I like having a secret I can keep from her,” he said solemnly. I mulled his words over in my head. I suppose with someone like Amarantha, privacy wasn’t really an option. I could understand feeling suffocated by her all-knowing nature.

“Why do you care what happens to me?” I asked, chewing my lip.

“Maybe I’m lonely,” he admitted, picking up a rock and throwing it into the water, watching the way it instantaneously disappeared.

“Is the Queen not enough company for you?” I asked, but this time kept all judgement out of my voice. I didn’t want a repeat of our last conversation about her, but I did want answers.

“She’s more a puppet master to me than a companion,” he confessed, not meeting my eyes. He found another rock, turning it over in his fingers before throwing it in, too. So Amarantha controlled him? I guess I suspected as much. Still, I’d thought he had much more choice in his own actions.

“Nuala and Cerridwen?”

He shook his head.

“I have to keep everyone at arms length. Proximity to me is proximity to Amarantha. The girls have always been trusted friends to me, but if Amarantha knew of that, her jealousy would rage to no end. I couldn’t live with myself if she hurt them,” he said, staring down at his polished shoes, now coated with a light layer of dust. He didn’t seem to mind, though. Not in the way I expected him to.

“Why does that not extend to me?” I ponder. “You make quite a show of having me dance for you and sit in your lap. Does that not make her jealous?”

“You’re human,” he explained. “She doesn’t really see you as competition. Plus, in her eyes, you were her gift to me. She assumed it would make me more grateful and loyal.” I felt sick to my stomach as pieces of the puzzle slowly began to click together.

“So why do you stay with her?”

“I don’t want to talk about her anymore,” he said, closing himself off and building his walls back up. I wanted to send a wrecking ball crashing into them so he couldn’t rebuild, but I let him have his privacy. Something I now understood was sacred to him, for lack of receiving it anywhere else. I estimated that was why his room was so bare. There’s no privacy to invade if nothing ever had meaning to you. She couldn’t take away something he didn’t have.

“Why are you telling me all this?”

He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head.

“As pathetic as it sounds, you’re the closest thing to a friend that I have, Feyre,” he said. His voice was gentle and soft. When he looked at me again, his violet eyes had softened and warmed. He almost looked welcoming.

“That is pathetic,” I chastised playfully, giving him a grin and bumping my shoulder against his, making him laugh in return.

“C’mon,” Rhys said, standing and brushing the dirt off of himself, turning to offer me his hand. “Let’s go change your bandages and get some sleep. Gods only know what horrors she’ll dream up tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

I sat with my back against the headboard, watching her fragile chest rise and fall with each pass of breath she drew and exhaled. She slept with her mouth slightly open, the lightest snore I'd ever heard breaking the silence. The corner of my mouth quirked up slightly as I watched her. When she sleeps, she looks so peaceful that it nearly brings me relief just to watch. I’m sure she’d hate that I watched her sleep, but most nights my mind was too loud to sleep. So, she’d become my little pocket of light. A single beam cast into a bottomless pit of emptiness.

Amarantha had summoned me to her bedchamber tonight, but I allowed myself to steal this one quiet moment, staring down at Feyre as she rested. It’d become hard to find things to get me through my days. A man has hope, but only for so long. 50 years to break me, to shatter me irreparably.

Sometimes, when I watch Feyre’s eyes as she looks at me, I wonder if she’s right. I wonder if there’s any goodness left in me at all. Once you pretend to be someone else for so long, at what point does that just become all you are? Sometimes she looks at me like she sees right through me, and it crafts a pit of ache in my stomach.

Showing her this violence, making her party to my sins. At what point is that just who I am now? Who I’ve morphed into to survive? I think that before she came Under the Mountain, I’d become numb to it all. But now, it’s as though I’m watching it all over again through brand new eyes. Every day I watch more of her hope and confidence die. It’s like watching a flower wilt and wanting to give it water and space to grow but knowing there’s no such thing anymore.

My mother would be quite ashamed to see the man I’d turned into. I’d lost my fight and gone complacent. I committed atrocities daily and damned myself to whatever hell awaited me on the other side of death. She’d cry and mourn all her son could have been had he not been me. Cass and Azriel, she would be proud of at least.

The moment the ache registered in my chest, I forced it away as I always do when my fears dig into my chest with their unforgiving talons. I didn’t allow myself to think of home. There was no home, not for me. Not anymore. I had to lock them away, convincing myself they didn’t exist to keep myself from tumbling into a pit of grief I’m not sure I’d ever be able to crawl out of.

Feyre stirred slightly in her sleep and my eyes snapped back to her, shoulders tensing. I looked her over, making sure everything was okay. I rebandaged all of her cuts before she'd gone to bed, but part of me was still on edge. I’d wanted to drag myself over a glass shard parapet in her place when I saw how Amarantha had mutilated her. All for that gargantuan beast who’d dragged her into this nightmare to begin with. She didn’t belong here. She held an innocence and sense of life that had long since been broken in the rest of us. She'd barely even lived. He brought her here and abandoned her. He watched her cry and bleed, begging and calling out for him, and still slept at night. Anger welled in my chest, a constantly bubbling fountain of rage building slowly and nearly overflowing these days.

She whined in her sleep, her legs jerking and body curling protectively in on itself. I watched, a line forming between my eyebrows as I warred with myself over whether I should wake her. She grimaced in her sleep, flinching away from something that wasn’t there. My heart squeezed in my chest.

“You can’t,” she whispered. “No, please. Please! No, no, no-” She started shouting, thrashing under the blankets. My heart raced, and my breathing turned shallow. My hands found her shoulders, trying not to think about how small and delicate they felt in my hands.

“Feyre,” I said gently, trying to drag her away from whatever was haunting her.

“Don’t hurt him! Please, I’m begging you. Please don’t hurt him,” she sobbed in her sleep. She was so deep in her own head that she wasn’t waking up. The sleep potion probably wasn’t helping with that. Fuck- why hadn’t I anticipated that this might happen?

She clawed at her skin like she wanted to escape it. If she moved too much, she would reopen her wounds and have to start the healing process all over again. Her legs kicked like she was fighting an imaginary adversary.

She turned onto her back, and I moved to staddle her thighs with my legs, holding her wrists as gently as I could to keep her from scratching and hitting herself or me. She looked dreadfully mournful. My chest cracked as I watched her mind war with whatever fear she was seeing.

“Feyre,” I said again, jostling her slightly. “Feyre darling, wake up. You’re okay.” She grumbled something I couldn’t make out and whimpered. Tears slipped from the corners of her closed eyes and lead a salty path down and into her ears.

Slowly, she blinked, and her bottomless blue eyes cracked open. Then immediately blew wider than I had ever seen anyone’s eyes go. Her pupils dilated as she stared at me. She huffed in breaths, pulling her wrists from my grip and using them to pound her fists against my chest.

“Get off me! Get off, get off, get off-” She shouted, and my heart dropped. I quickly moved off and away from her, and she started wracking with sobs, her body convulsing and cries ragged and desperate.

She pulled her knees up to her chest, crossing her arms atop them and burying her face in her body. She cried and cried and cried. I watched helplessly, all my words stuck in my throat and refusing to come out. She had to know I hadn’t meant to make her feel I’d overpowered her and hadn't meant to make her panic that I was going to hurt her. I’d just wanted to keep her from hurting herself.

“Feyre, what’s wrong? Talk to me,” I said, hating the way my voice slightly broke. She looked up at me, eyes bloodshot and… angry. Really fucking angry. She scowled at me, her upper lip curling. The way she leveled me with her eyes made a chill run up my spine, fear registering in me in a way it hadn’t in a while.

“Feyr-” I tried again but she growled.

“I was being tortured while I had to watch Tamlin die,” she said, and my blood went cold. I hated the sound of his name in her mouth. I hated the idea that her greatest fear was losing him. A rabid jealously thrummed underneath my skin.

“Amarantha isn’t here,” I said softly, holding up my hands in surrender. “No one is going to hurt you. You’re safe here. Do you need water?” I was anxious, and I knew she knew. She still looked at me with that look that told me she wouldn’t think twice about burning me alive.

“It wasn’t Amarantha,” she snarled. I looked up at her warily, and she didn’t back down a single bit. If anything, she found a way to funnel more hatred into her soft, feminine features. To be honest, she looked scary as hell.

“Okay,” I said slowly. “Tell me what happened then.” She laughed humorlessly, roughly wiping her tears away with her hands.

“Just go away,” she huffed, pulling the blanket up to her shoulders and turning to face the wall. My mouth open and closed and opened again as I tried to find the right words. This was a misunderstanding, but I needed her to know she was safe with me. That I would never hurt her or take anything from her that she didn’t offer me herself.

“Feyre, I only meant to keep you from hurting yourself. You were scratching your face,” I tried to explain, but the words came out choked. I stared at her back turned to me for longer than I should’ve.

“It was you,” she sniffled, still turned away from me.

“What was me?” I asked softly.

“Torturing me,” she whispered, like she almost couldn’t bear to say it any louder. “You were torturing me, and you killed Tamlin.”

She’d have been kinder to have kicked me in the stomach. My brain heard the words in slow motion, making sure every single one hit me just as hard as the one before. She was afraid of me. I’d told her so many things that could land my head on a spike, yet she despised me. She was disgusted by me.

“Feyre,” I began, but I had nothing to say to make things better.

“I’ve watched you kill so many people and hurt so many more. I know you have given me things and helped me stay alive, but I don’t trust you. I don’t think I can. There’s a darkness in you that leaks out onto everyone and everything you touch, like ink dropping on fabric and spiderwebbing its permanent damage into everything around it,” she spoke to the wall, and it all came flooding back over me- every horrible and unforgivable thing I’d done to save my family. It hadn’t mattered how good my initial intentions were. This was who I had become. Someone untrustworthy and someone who made women cower and cry out in fear of how I’d hurt them.

So, I knew the only way to limit my damage was to exist in her world as little as possible. I couldn’t hurt her if I wasn’t around her. I couldn’t scare her if she never saw me. My small happiness's weren’t worth her ruination. Nothing was worth anything.

So, I turned it off.

I turned it all off, for good.

Whatever was good left in me, I drenched it in gasoline and threw in the torch.

“You think I care if you fucking trust me?” I scoffed, my face smoothed with cool indifference and pity. She looked back over her shoulder like she was confused. “Surely you haven’t convinced yourself that you or your feelings matter to me. You’re a way to pass the time, Feyre. A small hobby at best. Have all the nightmares you can imagine about me. Honestly, have more. I’ll keep it in mind to give you some new material to work with. Things had been getting a little boring between us, hadn’t they?”

Betrayal registered on her sweet features, the kind that could only be sad. This betrayal couldn’t even strike up anger for her. It just hurt. I didn’t feel the remorse in my gut, refused to. Looking down at her with a lazy smirk as I walked to the door, placing my hand on the knob.

“You know, Feyre, I knew you were weak, but I hadn’t pegged you for being gullible,” I laughed sarcastically. “I warned you from the beginning not to trust me.” She stared at me as I twisted the knob and left, banging the door shut behind me. I ran my hand roughly through my hair, going to where I knew I had to.

“Fuck,” I cursed under my breath, dragging a hand down my face. I used my magic to corral all of my emotions, sealing them in a metal casing like a cage. My emotions would only get more people killed. So, I chose to feel nothing. There was nothing really left to feel, anyways, apart from regret.

I narrowed my eyes, squinting at the man walking in front of me, his back turned to me. I walked slowly as I watched him. He raked a hand through his shoulder length chesnut hair, twisting it and tying it up with a leather strap, his burly back muscles tugging at the fabric of his shirt. My gut twisted and I started to feel lightheaded.

I stumbled slightly, causing the man to turn around. And what I saw was all wrong. He was all wrong. A remnant from several lives ago. I apologized, hoping he’d just think I was drunk. It wouldn’t have been unusual for me, especially not at this hour, to have been wandering these halls way too much of a bottle in.

I turned and headed down the hallway that always made my skin crawl, like bugs digging under my skin and making their homes there. My gut felt like someone was twisting a knife in it. I stopped in front of the door I was certain I’d see in my dreams for the rest of my life, raising my fist and knocking.

Seconds later, the door opened to show a starkly naked Amarantha only draped in a red sheer robe that hung open at the front. She flashed me a devilish smile and I felt empty on the inside. She grabbed me by the front of my shirt, tugging me inside and locking the door behind me.

“Finally,” she purred into my ear, tugging my earlobe between her teeth. “You’ve barely tended to me all week. I hope you plan to make it up to me tonight. Hope you don’t mind that I got started without you.”

Chapter Text

Disappointment swelled in my chest when Nuala and Cerridwen arrived at the bedroom door, a skimpy dress and matching collar in hand. Immediately, I knew Rhys had summoned me for one of Amarantha’s events again, and after the way things had ended between us last night, I was not at all excited to see him.

In my nightmare, I’d watched as Rhys peeled Tamlin’s skin from his body, listening to me scream and beg for him to stop. Once he’d finished with Tamlin, he started in on me. He wore that familiar haughtiness, laughing at my pain as he carved into my skin with a serrated blade. I’d woken up in a fit of screams to find him sat over me, his body much bigger than mine and hands gripping and holding down my wrists. A panic stronger than anything I’d ever felt had slammed into me. I knew in that moment how much stronger than me he was. I saw how easy it would be for him to take whatever he pleased from me. And it scared me.

Just as I’d feared, he had reverted right back to his cruelty, ridiculing me for trusting him in the first place when he’d so clearly warned me against it. Once again, my mind had found someone who paid the slightest bit of attention to me and latched onto them with puncturing claws, just as I had with Tamlin.

It made me hate myself even more to know that I hadn’t grown at all. When would I ever learn my lesson? No one was going to save me. No one here cared about what happened to me or anything even remotely close. I was a pawn down here. An insignificant piece on a chess board, for the most part ignored.

So, when Nuala and Cerridwen began their routine of getting me dressed and ready for Amarantha’s gala, I didn’t fight them. I let them blush my cheeks and line my eyes, glossing my lips and making them poutier. This time I even asked Nuala to do more to my eyes than I usually allowed, and she’d given a shy smile, blushing as she nodded and got to work. She lined them in such a flawless way that made my eyes cerulean pools, upturned with the seduction of a siren.

My dress tonight was black. The back of the dress was open, falling low on my back. The thin straps ran over my shoulders and down into the deep V-line of the front of the dress. This time, there was only one slit that sliced up on the left side, the fabric splitting above my hip bone. The collar was silver, with one longer chain falling down the center of my chest, between my breasts. At the end of the chain, a sapphire rested against my skin. It was beautiful. It made me feel powerful.

Looking into the mirror, I looked at myself for a long moment. I would not be afraid. I would not cower and grovel. I was in control. I would make myself indispensable. This was a game of strategy, and I would win. If Rhysand wanted to hurt me, I’d hurt him worse. If Amarantha wanted to ruin me, I’d ruin her first.

The girls led me to the Great Hall, and my steps stumbled when I saw the way the room had been changed for the night. It was so dim that my eyes had to take a moment to adjust before I could see to take a step in front of me. Bowls of glowing blue stones lit the pathway in and created pockets of light throughout the room. The servants that bustled about were barely clothed. A tiny slip of lace wrapped around their breasts, leaving nothing to the imagination. They wore skirts that barely covered the curve of their ass.

A violinist in the far corner played slow, sultry, and seductive notes. The air felt intoxicating. A servant walked over to us, a bowl of glowing purple flowers in their hands. I picked one up, twisting it in my fingers as I looked at the way the petals lit up under my touch. They watched me expectantly, and I looked back to Nuala and Cerridwen and tried to understand.

“For you to eat, miss,” Cerridwen whispered. My heart skipped as I looked back at the flower between my fingertips. The faerie wine had gone right to my head in a rush. I couldn’t even imagine what this could do to my body. My eyes scanned the room and noticed that everyone in attendance was in the process of consuming their own purple orb. I sighed, placing it between my teeth.

It tasted light and sweet, like a honeysuckle. I chewed and swallowed it, feeling a pathway of lightness falling down into my stomach. The girls led me to the back of the room where Rhysand typically lurked, and sure enough, he was in a semi-circle of plush leather seating, almost like a booth with no table. He sat in the dead center, arms stretched along the back of the seat as girls on either side of him fawned and groped at him. He grinned lazily as he saw me approaching, knowing I was seeing him draped in women like they were ornaments.

“Feyre darling,” he greeted smugly. I glared at him and gave no response. Nuala gave me an apologetic look as she held the end of the leash out to Rhysand. Wrapping the loop around his hand, he gave a rough jerk that sent me stumbling towards him. The girls at his sides grinned mischievously, one running a hand down his chest as the other gripped his thigh.

Even he looked different tonight. He wore his usual all black, but his eyes were lined with gold, the violet sparkling against it. His fingers were clad with jeweled rings, and he looked… darker. More sultry and seductive than usual. Typically, he was quite intimidating, but tonight, he seemed to be inviting all the attention.

The edges of him started to blur, sparkling with blue energy. I became highly aware of every glide of the fabric of my dress against my skin. Rhysand’s eyes were still on mine as the two girls began to kiss and suckle at his neck. The corner of his mouth curved into a smirk as he watched me stand and awkwardly watch his body being worshipped as he held the leash to the collar he’d had fastened around my neck.

Rhys turned his head, never breaking eye contact, as he whispered something into both girl’s ears that I couldn’t hear. They looked to one another and grinned, rising and walking off by themselves, joining hands and twining their fingers together.

He was left alone, eyes still watching me with glimmering satisfaction. He’d wanted to make me uncomfortable, and he’d succeeded. He yanked the leash again, making me stumble until I was stood between his wide-spread legs. His scent invaded my nose like an intoxicant.

“Have you come back for more?” He asked haughtily, tilting his head to the side as he looked me over. His eyes snagged on the hip where the fabric of my dress slit, trailing all the way down my exposed leg.

“In case you missed the whole collar around my neck, leash in your hand thing, I didn’t have much of a choice,” I growled.

“You do look quite spectacular,” he admitted, eyes meeting mine again. Every look he trailed across my skin set me on fire, my skin buzzing. My head felt dizzy, in the way it gets after you’ve had a bit too much wine.

“What do you want?” I hissed.

“That is quite a loaded question, Feyre darling,” he smirked. “I want a great number of things, especially where you’re concerned.” I glared at him, but he was smug and much too proud of himself to notice or care.

“I thought I was just a way to pass the time,” I snarled.

He hummed; eyes drunk on my body.

“And I could be a way to pass yours,” he said slyly. Had he meant that to be as suggestive as it sounded? My cheeks blazed as his hands found my hips, pulling me to sit on one of his legs. He smelled so gods-damned good that I nearly wanted to lean into his neck to smell even more of him.

“Could you?” I raise a brow. He shrugs.

“If that was what you wanted,” he said simply.

“I hate you,” I said.

“Inconsequential,” he said, eyes still roaming my body and particularly snagging on my breasts and the way this dress pushed them up.

“You hate me,” I scoffed.

“All the more exciting,” he murmured, his nose dragging along the most sensitive parts of my neck. My breath hitched, and my core heated. I should be embarrassed of the way my body always reacted to him, but whatever was in that flower had me leaning further and further back against him.

“Just physical,” I panted. “Nothing more.”

“Nothing more,” he agreed, pressing a kiss to my neck. My eyes fluttered closed at the touch of his mouth. His lips were so soft against my skin.

“This is my choice,” I swallowed. “You didn’t trick me into anything. I feel nothing but disdain toward you.” I could feel him smile against my neck.

“Your choice,” he nodded.

“I’m not just your little-”

“Feyre,” he said, like a command. He pulled back from my neck to look at me. My heart stuttered. “Just fucking kiss me.” Butterflies erupted in my stomach at his words. His eyes flicked down to my mouth, and I watched the way his eyes glazed with need. He gripped the side of my face, pulling me down and crashing his lips against mine desperately.

I hummed against him, his lips feeling euphoric against mine. He slid his tongue along my bottom lip, and I opened for him, allowing him to explore my mouth with his tongue. Each stroke and flick raced like lightning straight between my legs. Rhys gripped my thigh, resituating me in his lap so that I was straddling him as he claimed my mouth. I could feel the hardness of him between my legs and I felt dizzy with desire.

Moans sounded around me, and I pulled back. All around the room, pairs and groups touched each other, all swooned with need as they pawed at each other’s clothes to get them off. They kissed and licked and fucked each other right there in the open, just like they hadn’t a care in the world. I throbbed around nothing as I watched, wondering what the fuck those flowers were.

“Aphrodisiac,” Rhys said, and my attention focused back on him. He trailed fingers lightly down my arm, making me shiver. “Makes your skin sensitive, your body reactive, and your sex drive amped.” Oh, fuck. Oh, no. Why had I just blindly taken it? Why hadn’t I asked, been sure?

“Aren’t there… other places… that you’d… that you’d want to be?” I panted as Rhys started kissing my neck again, using his grip on my hips to grind up against me. I gasped at the feeling, lips parted, and eyes squeezed shut.

“No,” he said simply. “For just one night, I want you to distract me.” I shivered again as I kissed him again. My back arched, pushing my breasts into his chest harder. My hands raked through his hair, allowing my tongue to make love to his in a slow, sensual pattern. He moaned into my mouth, and I swallowed the sound, desperate to make him do it again.

Just for that moment, I wanted a distraction, too. I wanted to feel something other than despair and loneliness. His nails scraped down my back as he kissed me. Everything about him was so addicting. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get enough.

I pulled back, tilting my head to kiss his neck. He turned his head slightly to give me better access as his hands began to roam my body eagerly. I whimpered when he palmed one of my breasts, thumb tracing over my nipple. He caressed it again and again, making wetness pool between my thighs.

“You make the loveliest little noises,” he groaned as I bit his neck, soothing the hurt with my tongue. “I can’t wait to hear what new sounds you make when I make you come.” Goosebumps flooded across my flesh. He grabbed my ass, pulling me harder against him. The way my dress was made allowed him to tug it to the side, only my underwear separating me from him.

“Rhys,” I panted, and he growled, pulling me down even harder against him as he moved his hips. My eyes rolled back into my head. It’d been so long since I’d felt this good, this alive.

“Say it again,” he begged. His hand slid underneath the fabric of my dress on the other breast, pinching my nipple with his fingers and rolling it under his thumb.

“Rhys,” I moaned, and he pulled the strap down my arm, attaching his hot mouth against my nipple, flicking it with his tongue. I whined, pushing it harder against his mouth, the building neediness between my legs overwhelming all of my senses.

“Again,” he said against my breast.

“Rhys,” I repeated. “Your mouth feels so good.” He pulled his mouth off of me with a pop, grinning mischievously up at me.

“I know a place it feels even better,” he purred, nipping at my jaw. My cheeks set on fire, and I grew even wetter, my body aching for his. I couldn’t even bring myself to care that there were so many other people in the room.

“Where?” I gasped. He slid a hand between us, fingers lightly touching my clit over the fabric of my underwear. My mouth hung open and my eyes screwed shut.

“My tongue would feel even better worshipping you between your legs,” he cooed, and I tried to grind into his hand, but he was teasing me. “Do you want me to taste you, Feyre?” My heart skipped several beats and nearly jumped from my chest. I couldn’t have stopped the word from spilling out, even if I’d wanted to.

“Please,” I whispered, and he growled, dipping a hand below the waistband of my underwear. His fingers traced through my slick, shuddering as he explored me. His finger used my arousal to circle my clit, and I was mewling like a kitten as he sucked my nipple back into his mouth.

“You’re soaked, Feyre,” he groaned.

“Rhys,” I whined, and his head tipped back as he groaned.

“Fuck, you’re killing me here,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “But no one else but me gets to see you like this. Hold on to my neck, sweetheart.” I obeyed, wrapping my arms around the back of his neck as he hoisted me up and stood. I wrapped my legs around his torso as he carried me down the hallway. I kissed and sucked on his neck, hearing the way he was struggling to not just slam me up against one of the walls in the unevenness of his breath.

He kicked the door to his room open, reaching behind him to lock it as he sat me on my feet. Looking down at me, his chest rose and fell quickly. The tension built between the two of us was tangible and electric.

“Turn around,” he said gently. I did as he asked, and he slowly tugged the zipper down on the back of my dress. He pulled the straps down my arms and allowed the fabric to slide off of me and pool at my feet. He kissed my shoulder.

He bent, sliding his fingers into the waistband of my underwear, slowly pulling them down, kissing the backs of my thighs as he went. I stepped out of them and turned back to see how hooded with lust his eyes were.

But he left the collar secured around my neck, sapphire resting between my breasts.

“Get on the bed, Feyre,” he commanded quietly. Biting my lip, I walked to the bed and climbed in, situating my back against his pillows. I suddenly felt self-conscious being this far away from him. But he was looking at me like he wanted to fucking devour me.

“Spread your legs,” he instructed, and worrying my lip with my teeth, I spread them a little less than a foot apart, feeling his gaze on my glistening heat. “Spread them wider.” My breath caught in my throat, and I spread them wide for him, giving him a great view of just how aroused I was.

“That’s a good girl,” he purred. He prowled up the bottom of the bed, situating himself so that his mouth hovered inches above the most intimate parts of my body. He looked up at me from under his lashes as he slowly blew air across my cunt. I gasped as the icy sensation it caused, and seeing my reaction, he did it again.

He started to kiss the innermost parts of my thighs and I writhed impatiently underneath him. He lapped his tongue against the sensitive skin, reveling in every sound and motion I made in response to his mouth.

“So responsive,” Rhys praised. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think Tamlin never tasted you.” My face caught on fire and all amusement dropped from my face. How had he known that? I was so embarrassed, so inexperienced.

“I-...”

“Feyre,” Rhys said in a warning tone. “Please don’t tell me no one has ever done this to you before.” I bit my lip, and he read my answer from my face, eyes growing wide and hungry, and he swore under his breath. “So, my tongue will be the only one that’s ever been inside of you?”

I nodded, and he looked like I’d just given him the best gift of his life.

“That’s so fucking hot,” he admitted.

“Really?” I said, an anxious squeak to my voice.

“Really.”

I watched him as he slowly leaned his head down, his tongue lightly tracing my clit. I gasped, my legs jerking closed protectively, but his hands pried them back apart, opening me up for himself. He sat back up and his thumbs traced the sides of my cunt before spreading me even further as he looked drunkenly at my pussy.

“Holy gods,” he whined. “Just relax for me, sweetheart, I’ll make you feel good.” I shuddered and he licked a line up my spread pussy, groaning at the taste of me. His mouth felt like liquid ecstasy. I wasn’t sure if it was the flower I'd eaten or if his mouth just really felt that good on me. He licked me slowly again, flicking his tongue against my clit once he reached the top.

Then his entire mouth closed over me and I screeched, the warmth absolutely delectable against such sensitive skin. He fucked me with his mouth, leaving no parts of me unexplored or unstimulated. He plunged his tongue inside me and my thighs tightened. I was embarrassed by how much noise I was making, but it just felt so good.

“That feel good, baby?” He asked and I nodded frantically. “Be my good girl and let go. I want to see that pretty face when you come for me.” I throbbed at the lack of his touch, and nearly begged him to keep going.

Without needing instruction, he suckled at my clit again. He pressed two fingers at my lips, and mumbled against me to open my mouth. I did, sucking his fingers and circling my tongue around them in a way that made him groan. He pulled them back, pressing them to my entrance. I gasped and tensed. He pulled back to watch my face as he oh-so-slowly pushed his fingers inside me. I knew he could feel how hard I was pulsating around his fingers, and his cheeks flushed and his pink lips parted as he watched.

“So fucking pretty and so fucking tight,” he whined, going back to work. He pumped his fingers in and out of me with a slow rhythm, sucking my clit simultaneously. My eyes screwed shut and I panted, my body feeling like it was being devoured by flames.

“Rhys,” I whined, threading my fingers through his hair and holding his mouth against me as I bucked my hips, grinding against his face. He hummed in pleasure. “Oh GODS, Rhys… Feels so good… Please, oh gods, please.” I begged and whined as he forced me to my peak.

“Come on my face, baby,” he groaned. “Show me how good it feels.” I cried out, my legs shaking as I began to orgasm, contracting around Rhys’s fingers as he continued to suck at my clit. I keened, tossing my head back and arching my back nearly off the bed as he ruthlessly pleasured me.

He slowed his movements when he felt me begin to come down from my crest. Once I was fully done, he sat up on his knees between my legs. He swore, shaking his head as he looked down at me, still blissed out and opened up for him.

“That was so gods-damned hot, Feyre,” he groaned, palming himself over his pants. “Fuck.” I loved how flushed he was, how effected by my pleasure he seemed. He hadn’t even gotten off but looked like he just had the best sex of his life.

“Fuck me,” I said, and he shook his head, climbing off the bed. My mouth fell open and I watched him with wide eyes as he dug in a cabinet for an unopened bottle of whiskey.

“Rhys,” I demanded, and he finally looked at me again, ripping the cork out of the bottle and taking a few deep pulls of the amber liquid. “Why not?” He pulled the bottle from his lips, wiping his mouth, still glistening with my arousal, on the back of his hand.

“Because,” he said, “when I fuck you, I want it to be because you want me, not because you took an aphrodisiac and forgot that you hated me for a few minutes. I won’t fuck you until you’re sober and ask me to.” I wasn’t sure why, but it made me angry.

“Who’s to say I even let you fuck me at all?” I raised a brow in challenge and the widest grin I’d ever seen spread across his face as his eyes flicked down to where my legs were still parted for him, and he chuckled. I snapped my legs closed, sitting up as I watched him.

“That was fun,” he said pleasantly. “Get some rest, Feyre. I’ll see you around.” He smiled and walked to the door and I whined in protest.

“You’re leaving?” I squeaked and he looked back at me with confusion etched into his perfect features. Truthfully, he had every right to be confused. I probably was even more so than he was.

“Just a distraction, right, Feyre?” He shrugged. I blinked. "Just physical?"

“Right,” I said, not even believing myself.

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart,” he said as he left, closing the door behind him. I growled in frustration, collapsing back onto the pillows and staring up at the ceiling. Why had I gone and muddied the waters like this? Why did I put myself in a vulnerable position with him again? I wondered if I would ever learn my lesson when it came to Rhysand.

Chapter Text

The dreams I slipped into were the first pleasant ones I’d had since I went Under the Mountain. I dreamt of a cozy cabin tucked back between snow-capped mountains, a warm amber glow radiating from within. I felt a fierce sense of comfort and belonging. I felt… happy. I watched the people inside the cabin laughing and telling jokes by the fire, cups of steaming tea in their hands and blankets around their shoulders as though they’d just come inside.

Outside the snow was shuffled and kicked about, walls of snow packed vertically in what I could only assume had been protection in a snowball fight. My chest ached. I wanted to walk through the door, to join in on their banter and their love. I couldn’t make out their faces through the fogged-up window.

Laughter burst from inside the small wooden house, and a sense of calm and peace rushed over me. I didn’t know who the people were, but I instinctually knew it was never something I was meant to be a part of. My feet stayed rooted where they were, just watching and listening, feeling bits of my heart mend just hearing their joy.

“Feyre, wake up,” a voice hissed. I gasped, scrambling backward as I rubbed my eyes. I blinked hard, my vision slowly returning to me. My heart nearly stopped. I had to still be dreaming, couldn’t possibly be seeing what I was.

“Tamlin?” I croaked, coughing.

“Feyre, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have-” He began, but then stopped mid-sentence. His upper lip curled, and he looked around Rhysand’s room, taking stock of everything and particularly noting the state of the bed.

“Why are you here?” I whispered, leaning forward slightly so I could see his features better, but he refused to look at me. I went to touch his face, but he recoiled from my touch. His eyes were blazing with anger. For the first time around Tamlin, fear struck my chest. I’d never feared Tamlin hurting me, but now I wasn’t so sure. His anger sucked all of the life from the room. “Tamlin?”

“She was right about you,” he growled, baring his teeth slightly. His claws began to extend in place of his fingernails, and my eyes widened as I watched. He wouldn’t hurt me, would he? What had set him off?

“What do you mean,” I asked, my voice strained. I was so tired of being held on strings by anyone who wanted to yank me about. I was expected to do exactly as asked and never form individual thought. Some version of the idea of me in his head had been tarnished, and that was reason enough to be violently reactive as though I hadn’t watched him dote over Amarantha while he regularly left me to starve.

“Is that why you left the Great Hall early? To come back here and fuck him?” He sounded disgusted at the idea, as if I somehow still belonged to him despite his complete disregard for my life. Had he forgotten that I’d crawled over glass to save him from Amarantha’s blade? My fist clenched around my wrapped bandage as I glared at him with all of the ire I could muster.

“Excuse me?” I said, raising my brows. He scoffed.

“This room reeks of sex, and no other male scent than Rhysand’s,” he said condescendingly, still refusing to even look at me. So, he gets to show up in the middle of the night after over a month and be jealous of the first attention I’d allowed myself to have? As though he didn’t likely spend every night with Amarantha?

“You have some audacity to come into my room-”

“Rhysand’s room,” he snarled, but I pretended he hadn’t even spoke.

“- in the middle of the fucking night and ask- sorry, no, you didn’t ask did you? You come in here and assume things that have nothing to do with you anymore,” I said, throwing every ounce of spite I could into my words. I refused to remain docile and agreeable anymore. I was fucking angry. And it was about time he knew I was.

“The evidence is pretty damn clear,” he said, narrowing his eyes.

“And where have you been?” I shouted, not even caring if we were heard anymore. My rage blinded my need to protect him. He didn’t protect me, so why should I?

“I beg your pardon?”

“Yeah, as you fucking should,” I threw my hands up in the air, fighting back angry tears. I’d always been an angry crier and I despised it. I didn’t want him to think I was crying over him. “You left me down there in that cell to die. I came to save you. I sacrificed myself and lost my family to protect you. And the love I get in return is abandonment and the refusal to acknowledge my existence.” Tears spilled out, but I chose to ignore them and pretend they weren’t real.

“So, you go and whore yourself?” He grimaced. “I don't give you enough attention and you give yourself to that lowlife, even after I told you not to trust him. You ignored my wishes and did as you pleased with no regard for me.” Oh, I was going to kill him. My hands itched with the urge to wrap my hands around his neck and strangle him. It wasn’t fair to place all blame and anger on him, but he was in front of me, and it was practically foaming out of my mouth.

“Regard?! Have you gone mad? What regard do I owe you, after everything?” His claws dug into the linens on Rhysand’s bed like he was just barely holding himself back from using them to hurt me. Some sick part of me wanted to provoke him. I wanted to see just how far he’d take it.

“I got you out of that disgusting hovel and funded your family’s survival, despite you slaughtering one of my men. I clothe you in luxuries you only could have dreamed of without me, gave you space to paint, romanced you by pools of starlight. I gave you a home and something to live for. I fed you, fucked you, and kept you safe,” he listed, as though it were a score he’d been keeping for quite some time. I was a charity case that’d snagged his attentions, and now I’d lost my novelty.

“You did not give me something to live for,” I snarled, pointing my finger in his face. “You took what I lived for away. I had a purpose before you, a life. Perhaps it wasn’t as ‘luxurious,’ but I woke up every day knowing that everything I went through was to keep my family healthy and alive. You stuffed me in that great big mansion and made me an ornament only to be played with on special occasions, and even then, being held with such fragility that I knew it was all inauthentic,” I accused, voice breaking slightly. But I wasn’t done. Not even close. “You saw in me what you wanted to. The vision you created of me in your head stole my voice, my power, my fight. I was a hunter, and you wanted a damn debutante. You didn’t even know how unhappy I was, because you didn’t even care. You didn’t learn about me enough to even see changes in me, as I started to lose myself. Before I came here, my sister begged me not to go. She said she’d felt something wrong about you, that she sensed something bad was coming. But I was so blinded by you and your false kindness that I never even saw it, and I damned myself in the process.” My chest rose and fell with fervor as my nostrils flared.

“You ungrateful little brat-”

“Ungrateful?!” I shouted, laughing humorlessly at the obscene ridiculousness of it all. He was tucked so deeply into his own delusion that he couldn’t even see me. Not even now as I shouted at him and pleaded with him to understand how I was hurting. “You didn’t even try to help me.”

“I couldn’t,” he snapped, like I was too idiotic to comprehend what he’d been through.

“No?” I ask, raising both eyebrows in challenge.

“Amarantha would have had my head if she’d known I’d helped you,” he said through gritted teeth, rolling his neck like I was making him tense.

“And yet Rhysand could help me?” I threw at him, before I’d even comprehended what was about to fly out of my mouth. My eyes widened, jaw slack as I saw the words register for him. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“And just how did he help you, Feyre?” He belittled me. “By teaching you how to suck him off? Crawl for him and roll over like a well-trained pup at the first pat on your head? Do you have any idea how repulsive the thought of you being with him is?” My fists gripped the pillows so hard that my knuckles turned white.

“Maybe you repulse me,” I huffed.

“Do you even realize how much of a harlot he is? I heard he’s never turned down an invitation, and he certainly degrades himself with the way Amarantha throws him around in the bedroom. He’s half a man at best and would fuck a corpse if he had it available. Which I suppose you will be soon, so maybe he’ll want you even more then.” My stomach roiled at his words. How had this person been inside him all along? This slimy, scaled monster with words of poison spewing from his mouth like a fountain, drenching and ruining everything it touched. I’d slept next to him, fallen in love with him, allowed him access to my body, and all the while this creature was just below his surface, itching to escape.

“You are not at all who I thought you were,” I said, shaking my head as the anger began to dim into the crushing force of betrayal and loneliness. I’d fallen in love with a mirage. I’d seen what I wanted to, because I’d been so desperate for affection, wanting to be saved.

I wanted to go back in time and tell myself that that I wasn’t a damsel in distress, I was a dragon breathing fire on my enemies. I was not meek. Not anymore. The grit of the huntress in me began to rise to the surface, and I welcomed the familiar parts of me I’d discarded for the chance to gain Tamlin’s approval. And never again would I let a man manipulate and take from me.

“I could say the same,” he degraded me. Something shifted in his eyes and posture, and my body immediately set on high alert, the hair on my arms raising in warning. A woman can always feel when she is in danger from a man like a sixth sense. I knew what was about to happen before I could stop it.

“Wha-What are you doing?” I asked as he shifted his body, pinning mine underneath his. Panic thundered in my veins, and I felt nausea and bile rising in my throat.

“You think you’re too good for me now, is that it?” He sneered, body laying heavily atop me so I couldn’t move. Our noses were inches apart. I whimpered, trying with all my might to shove him off of me, but he was too strong. I’d lost nearly all of my muscle mass already from malnourishment. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes and down into my ears. “Oh, don’t fucking cry. You must have known this was coming. You’re a human, and you will not look down your haughty little nose at me and scowl. Maybe you don’t remember quite how strong I am, but I think I can see in your eyes that you’re finally understanding that I have never needed your permission for anything.”

I was going to be sick. I wailed, beating his chest and screaming as I cried, begging him to get off me, begging myself to summon what little strength I had. My legs thrashed, but I didn’t even jostle him. He smiled down at me as I struggled, seeming to enjoy just how terrified I was of him. His pupils were huge, and his fangs seemed more elongated than normal.

“Now be a good little pet and open up for me,” he chided, pressing his knee down hard against mine, knowing I’d either have to move it for him or have my knee caved in backwards. I sobbed as my legs parted for him, and I couldn’t breathe. I squeezed my eyes shut as tightly as I could, praying to whatever gods could hear.

“You really are a pretty little thing,” he shrugged. “It’s a shame you’ve officially outlived your welcome. If I ever make it out of this shithole, I’ll be sure to find your bitch of a sister and tell her just what happened to you. I’ll tell her how you fought to save my life, but before I could interfere, a different, darker High Lord had snapped your neck. I’ll tell her I’d be sure not to waste your sacrifice, but secretly I’ll know. I’ll know that the sacrifice you made was giving me all that was left of you before I disposed of you.”

“Please,” I sobbed, my body trembling so hard that my teeth chattered together. His huge hands grabbed the collar of my shirt- Rhysand’s shirt, and ripped it clean down the middle, exposing my chest entirely. I tried to cover myself with my arms, but he wrenched them apart and forced my hands over my head.

“It’s a shame you’ve become a danger to my own security here,” he sighed. “I could have used you for so much longer. I mean really, this is all your fault, isn’t it? Had you not been so foolish, I’d given you safety and escape from me. That pretty little human mind convinced you that the handsome fae who’d kidnapped you was a softie inside, just for you. I didn’t help you because you are not worth my own life. But gods, your body feels good.” I tried to headbutt him, but he pulled back too quickly. My limbs turned gelatinous as I cried, my body finally giving up, barely being able to choke down breath.

“Please,” I begged, but he ignored me, taking my body however he liked. His hand slid between us, and I cringed as I felt him grab me possessively, and I nearly threw up at how similar it felt to the way he’d touched me before. He’d never been gentle or considerate. I’d assumed that was how all fae were, until… until Rhysand.

“Although it’s not nearly as satisfying knowing Rhysand has parted those pretty little thighs, too. Let’s chalk it up to lack of resources. And tonight, unluckily for you, you were convenient, and he was predisposed,” he grinned like he knew something I didn’t.

“Get off me!” I shouted, bucking my hips as hard as I could, but I barely moved him. His grin widened, and it hit me then how predatory he really looked. He looked like all the fae from my childhood nightmares.

“Your fight only makes this more satisfying,” he chuckled, and I sobbed desperately, trying to wrench myself from his grip in any way that I could. His face was inches from mine as he watched me panic, until it wasn’t.

A sound that mimicked the largest clash of thunder imaginable made me flinch, and when I opened my eyes, Tamlin’s head was immediately wrenched backward at the most painfully awkward angle. Rhysand had a fist grip on Tamlin’s long blonde hair, and he used it to drag Tamlin’s body up and off of me. Rhysand looked like a vengeful god. I had never seen anger as potent as what was roiling off of him in waves.

“Couldn’t pick on somebody your own size?” Rhysand said with a smug smirk, but I could tell that it was a cover for the festering rage just underneath the surface.

“You’re supposed to be with-”

“You severely underestimate my skills, Tamlin. I’m hurt,” he said, hand over his heart as he roughly kicked Tamlin’s ribs loud enough that I heard one crack. Tamlin hissed and coughed as the air got knocked from his chest.

“See, Feyre?” Tamlin said with a level of snark a man with a broken rib should never have. “I told you that you weren’t special. All he’ll ever be is Amarantha’s whore.” Another lash of Rhys’s leg, and he now had three broken ribs.

“That may be true,” Rhys mused, “but I’ve never been pathetic enough to force myself on someone a fourth of my size.” I gripped the blanket up to my chest, and the rustling seemed to remind Rhysand that I was still in the room. He looked at me, a perfect portrait of agony. With horrible timing, my brain automatically took a mental image. Maybe one day I’d paint just how much emotion his eyes held.

“Feyre,” he said gently. I sniffled, and his attentions were right back on Tamlin.

“Fucking sick bastard,” Rhys snarled. “I should make you watch as I rip out every organ in your body. You put on a good show the last century, but you’re still the same immoral prick you’ve always been, aren’t you? You’d think you would have learned your lesson last time about touching what’s mine. Someone should have warned you that I don’t fucking share.” Rhys said, seizing his mind with his eternally dark power. With one thought, Rhys could kill him. That’s truly all it would take. A half-hearted wish.

“You killed my family,” he barked, drool slipping down his chin at the lack of control he now had over his motor functioning. It must be a terrifying thing, mustn’t it? Being vulnerable to someone else’s violence while being entirely physically unable to protect yourself. Must be quite dreadful.

“You like to throw that tidbit out there as though it were an isolated event,” Rhysand laughed. “Shall I tell Feyre the full story? Show her just how much of a little bitch you are? Because where I’m from, hurting people weaker and more vulnerable than you makes you a little bitch. So, is that true, Tam? Are you a little bitch?” Rhys had taken away all of his functioning, and he couldn’t respond, but Rhys sent another shattering kick against Tamlin’s mutilated ribcage.

“I can tell you the answer is yes, Feyre,” Rhys chuckled. “Tamlin and I were friends. He used intel I gave him in trust and confidence to open an opportunity for his father to slaughter my mother and sister, hanging parts of their violated bodies in his study like trophies. Like a little. Fucking. Bitch.” Each of the last words were their own separate blows against Tamlin’s body.

The panic in Tamlin’s eyes was tangible, but he had no way to speak or retaliate. Rhysand wailed on him relentlessly, his anger suffocating all the air in the room. She could tell he wanted to do worse, wanted to brutalize Tamlin, but held back because Feyre could see.

“Boys, boys,” Amarantha tutted from the doorway, eyes piqued with interest as she saw the position Tamlin and Rhysand were in, becoming slightly less interested when she noticed Feyre. “What is going on here?”

Rhysand stiffened, his muscles looking rigid enough to snap in half.

“Found him trying to touch what’s mine,” Rhys snarled, twisting his hand and using magic to force Tamlin into a sitting position. “Betraying you in secret like he expected you to never find out. He snuck into my room and tried to force himself on the human while he knew I was with you.” Amarantha’s eyes narrowed, looking at each person in the room carefully, deliberating fates as though she were picking what to eat from a menu.

“And the human?” Amarantha arched a brow.

“A faithful little pet, just as I told you she’d be in no time. She alerted me to his intrusion and despite how contented I was serving you; I came to contain him and ready him for your punishment. Not before I finished you, though. I was having entirely too much fun to stop. I hope you don’t mind I already started. Snakes in the grass put quite the bad taste in my mouth, and I serve you alone. His betrayal enrages me.” I watched every twitch of Rhysand’s body and face. He was quite good at placing a mask on his face, but there were tells of how he was really feeling in the lines and positions of his body. I’d already noticed a few by now. The tenseness in his shoulders in every room Amarantha was also in. The way he tried to appear bored by picking lint from his jacket, but I’d come to find was actually a sign he was anxious.

“Delightful as ever, my darling,” Amarantha praised. “Tie him in my wing? I may have more fun tonight after all. I thought you’d provided that for me, but I’m always glad for more. Who knows what I’ll choose to do to him?” She stood in the doorway, looking at Rhysand like a preening cat. My gut twisted.

“As you wish,” he nodded curtly.

She made to walk away, but stopped herself in the doorway, looking back at Rhys.

“Rhysand, dear, afterwards you’re free to return here and take whatever you need from the human, since I shall be quite busy. Tragic you’re so touchy about sharing. I’d love to watch. Maybe one day we bring her to my chambers. I’m loathe to admit, she’s growing on me,” Amarantha said with a sultry smile and wink before sauntering off.

Rhysand looked back at me; worry written in every line of his face.

“I will be right back,” he said like it was a sacred promise. He waited until I acknowledged him to lurch Tamlin to his feet, dragging him down the hallway, the door magically swinging shut and locking behind him.

Left alone, the events of tonight all flooded back over me, and I curled in on myself, sobs silently wracking my body. I had never felt so helpless before. I felt sick, like my skin was filthy, and my body was overheating. Terrified to allow my skin to be any more exposed than it was, I still lay under the blanket, even as sweat made my hair stick to my neck and forehead.

It was around a half hour later when Rhysand returned. He slowly peeked his head in the door like he was checking to make sure it was okay he was entering. I remained curled into a ball, looking at him from bloodshot eyes. He looked bereaved.

“Feyre,” he said so softly that he didn’t even sound like himself. I blinked at him but gave no reply or sign that I’d even heard him. I couldn’t I didn’t have the energy. My body felt immobilized. I’d only just now been able to soothe myself into quietness in place of jagged, raw sobs.

“Are you okay?” He asked, watching me closely. I didn’t answer, just looking at where he stood barely inside the doorway, like he was afraid to scare me. He shoved his hands in his pockets awkwardly as he tried to conjure a way to fix it all. “Is it okay if I just sit with you?” He asked, pointing to the chair on the other side of the room to make it clear that he wasn’t trying to encroach on my space. For that, I was grateful. I didn’t think he’d hurt me, but the confirmation made me feel like I could breathe. I nodded and he dipped his head, walking slowly to the chair and sitting, facing me. Seeing the sweat soaking my hair, he gave no signs of it, but I knew he used magic to make the air grow colder.

“I used to have terrible nightmares as a child, and my mother would always come to just sit with me,” he began, looking down at his hands were he twisted a silver ring around his pinkie finger. “My brothers made fun of me relentlessly for it. Calling me a ‘momma’s boy’ and things of the sort. But it never stopped her from coming, and I never wanted her to. Just to know that someone else was there to make sure I was safe from anything that might have used my vulnerability against me. She made me feel safe, but never forced me to talk about it. I always knew I could if I needed to, but she never pressed me.” I watched him closely, noting his body language as he spoke. I kept quiet, hoping it would encourage him to keep speaking, and it did.

“Gods, I haven’t talked about them in years,” he scoffed, no trace of humor in his voice. He seemed to get lost in his own head, the thoughts and emotions flickering across his face like he was processing something he hadn’t before.

“Why not?” I asked, my voice croaky.

“No use dredging up the past,” he shrugged. “I’ll never have that life back, so I try not to make myself miserable by thinking about it.” He looked sorrowful. There was a deep and lonely darkness in him that he tried with all of his strength to keep suppressed, but on nights like this, his mask would slip, and I’d catch glimpses of who he might be without everything else here.

“Would you want it back, if you could?”

He scoffed, his violet eyes finally meeting mine.

“More than you can imagine,” he admitted.

“There’s a lot more to you than I thought,” I said, sniffling and adjusting the pillow under my head as I watched him narrow his eyes at me, tilting his head to the side and curving the corner of his lips into a sly smirk.

“Is that so?”

“I’m not sure why you do, but I know you trust me,” I said into the quiet air between us. He looked at me- really looked at me, then. With raw, open emotions. For one second, he wasn’t hiding from me. “I know you put yourself at risk protecting me.” He didn’t answer, just searched me for information he seemingly wasn’t finding.

“I felt your panic,” he murmured. “I don’t think I have felt so afraid in my entire life, except maybe when I watched you drag yourself across glass shards.” He was being truthful, laying his thoughts on the table, and she couldn’t understand why. Why would her being in danger make him so afraid?

“Why could you feel my panic?” I said wearily, like there was a lot of information I was missing. Rhys stiffened, picking at lint on his pants.

“I’m what is called a daemati. I have the ability to enter minds and control them, as you witnessed with Tamlin. Let’s just call it keeping tabs on you. I don’t invade your privacy. I sort of linger right at the precipice of my mind and yours, so that if you called for me, I could feel you, but wouldn’t violate your mind,” he explained, looking unsure of himself.

“So, you did hear me when I was trying to save him,” I confirm, knowing that my helpless pleads had somehow summoned him to the chasm. I’d been betting on chance when I’d tried and had no way to guarantee whether or not I had even been right.

“Yes,” he said simply.

“Why were you afraid?” I asked, and he immediately dropped my gaze, fidgeting with his ring again. I had my suspicions, but I was curious to know what his answer would be.

“I feel… quite protective of you, Feyre,” he said, his voice a deep rumble in his chest. A shiver snaked down my spine. “As bad for me as it is, caring for you has at least given me more sense of purpose than senseless violence and killing.” I’d always imagined that he didn’t enjoy the blood and gore as much as he pretended he did, and here was confirmation.

“Why is it bad for you?”

“Full of questions tonight, aren’t you?” He chuckled. “It’s bad for me because I can’t seem to stay away from you, despite my best intentions.” I chewed my bottom lip, watching him.

“Do you still have nightmares?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard. He assessed me with a quiet laugh.

“Sometimes,” he admitted.

“I do, too,” I said, and his smile faded.

“I’m sorry about the other night,” he said, and I shook my head opening my mouth to stop him, but he held up a hand. “Please just let me get this out, Feyre.” I nodded, and he continued. “In your nightmare, you started to claw at your own face and hurt yourself. Without even thinking, I restrained you with no care for how scary that might feel for you. But I need you to know that you don’t have to be afraid of that with me. If I ever do stay again, for whatever reason, I’ll be more mindful of how I utilize my strength and size. I’m sorry I made you feel afraid.”

I wasn’t sure why his words made emotion swell in my chest, but my eyes stung like I might start crying again but choked it back. I didn’t want him to feel guilty again because of the way I reacted.

“Would you like to stay?”

Caught off guard again, he blinked quickly, assessing me to tell if I was serious or not. I was. It surprised even me, but the thought of him staying didn’t make me feel unsafe. Not anymore.

“Feyre, I don’t want to make you feel-”

“You could always go shack up with the bloody red Queen?” I said, raising both brows in challenge. The corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a genuine smile.

“Okay,” he nodded.

I smiled at him, scooting backward and patting the bed next to me. Maybe it would be nice to have a friend. Even just being able to talk like human beings made me feel like I was coming back to life again. Being near him breathed vitality into my bones.

He walked over and slid in beside me, facing me. We looked at each other for a while, out faces only a foot apart. We didn’t touch at all, but even having someone else there calmed the overwhelming fear that likely would have come the moment I was alone with my thoughts.

“Goodnight, your Highness,” I said, reaching out and flicking his nose before turning to face the wall. He blew out the candle beside the bed and stayed on his side. He chuckled at my title I’d given him.

“Goodnight, Feyre darling,” he whispered into the darkness a few minutes later as I felt myself drift off. That night, I slept peacefully. No nightmares haunted me.

Chapter Text

I was disgusted with myself. Utterly and fully repulsed. Feyre had perched on my lap in one of those skimpy ass dresses, her thighs draped around one of my legs. She hadn’t wanted to. She didn’t want my hands on her body. I’d forced her to do it. And I felt fucking disgusted with myself for it.

I was sure my brothers would barely recognize me now. Had Azriel seen what I’d forced Feyre to do, he likely would have separated my head from my shoulders the moment he saw me again. Cassian would most certainly have helped. They would be so disappointed with who I’d become without them. Morrigan would… Mor would never forgive me for all that I’d done since I’d been gone. She would be embarrassed by me and how all I’d been whittled down to was Amarantha’s whore.

But the part I hated the most was that I liked it. I hated that I liked having Feyre sitting in my lap, her warm vanilla scent settling over me like an intoxicant. I loathed how having her skin pressed against mine was the first physical touch I had actually wanted in fifty years. I’d become some selfish, vile creature underneath these rocks.

To imagine the way my skin crawled like it was covered in piles of spiders- all spindly legs crawling over one another- when Amarantha touched me and know that I was making Feyre feel that exact feeling made me want to vomit on my own shoes. To know that I had become the bad guy in her story was worse than a dagger to the heart. Would she ever understand? Could I really expect her to?

When I’d heard her screaming out for me- even though I’m not entirely quite sure she knew it was me she was reaching for- I’d nearly thrown up right onto where Amarantha held my head between her legs. She’d sounded so afraid and helpless, begging for something to make it stop. If I hadn’t memorized her voice at this point, it easily could have been mistaken for my own inner dialogue.

I felt fear like I’ve never felt in my life knowing that I couldn’t even run to her, or I’d likely get us both killed. Forcing myself to get Amarantha off as quickly as was physically possible while hearing her fall apart in my head was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I hated myself.

Disgust was a feeling I was incredibly intimately acquainted with, but fear? Fear was new. Fear was something I hadn’t felt much after my first year of servicing Amarantha had passed. But when I heard Feyre’s panic, I was afraid.

When I’d seen that slimy rat bastard using his weight to hold her down as she begged him to stop- I almost blew my entire cover and ruined it all. I’d nearly gotten us both killed. A white-hot rage simmered under my skin, and it took everything I had left of my sanity to keep from torturing him in the most physically painful ways I could think of. And then I’d heal him and start all over again.

But lying beside her now, I found that my fear hadn’t faded. I was still terrified for her. I was still afraid of what could have happened if I hadn’t heard her. I was afraid because she was still vulnerable. I couldn’t be here all the time. On the nights I wasn’t forced to perform for Amarantha, I’d been sitting outside of my door with a bottle of whiskey in my hand, sleeping slumped against the wall to make sure no one messed with her. Tonight, I’d been gone, and Tamlin had known and taken advantage of the one opportunity I’d unintentionally given him.

I knew Tamlin was a wimpy traitor, but I never imagined he was a rapist, either. In the short time we’d been friends, he was known to have bedded an alarming number of females, but it never crossed my mind that he could have forced himself on them. It made me so nauseous that I couldn’t sleep.

I brought the whiskey bottle to my lips and embraced the familiar warmth and burn of an old friend sliding down my throat. There weren’t many days I spent sober anymore. I was disintegrating underneath the weight of my responsibility. I looked down at where my legs laid over the blankets on my bed.

The mountains inked upon my knees looked back at me like they were taunting me. Oh, what those markings had once meant to me. The represented a promise I’d made long ago, to protect the people I was born to rule. I’d done quite a shitty job. I wondered what they’d done in my absence.

Had Velaris moved on as though I’d never existed? Had they selected a new leader? Were they even still alive? On nights like these when I actually allowed myself to remember what life was before, my heart felt so heavy that I sometimes worried it would give out, the strain of my life becoming too much to bear.

So, I drank.

I drank and I numbed my pain until it didn’t sting anymore, until I felt okay again. Not that I ever really felt okay. Most days I didn’t even feel alive. I felt like a ghost of who I once was. I’d made so many promises. I had sworn to protect my people, and I’d failed them. Not very many of them were left. Amarantha used them like bargaining chips against me.

She’d promised me that if I gave in to her and let her have my body, that she wouldn’t harm a hair on the Night Court people’s head. Until she’d become paranoid of rebellion, anyway. When Feyre had to watch Vincent and Elias’s executions, I had hoped she would understand. I hoped that she’d see what happened when someone betrayed Amarantha and understand that I had no other choice.

Vincent and Elias were old acquaintances of mine. I hadn’t even known my people were plotting rebellion. Had I known, I would have helped or stopped them. My own people no longer trusted me. They sneered and whispered just as hatefully as the rest when I walked by. It was too dangerous to them to try and defend my honor. If preoccupying Amarantha helped them survive, I would do it every single time. They deserved none of this. I shielded them as much as I could.

Just as I was now trying to shield Feyre. And miserably failing her.

Fifty years was a long time. I’d stopped trying to find a way out of my position long ago. It was pointless. I wouldn’t escape her, not as long as she was alive. Though she’d likely find a way to haunt me even in death.

When she’d first propositioned me, I’d been indignant. The next time it made me furious. The third time, she presented me an ultimatum. I could either fuck her properly and happily, or she’d slaughter any Night Court man, woman, and child she could get her cold hands on. I’d reasoned that my body wasn’t worth that much protection when it would cause so many deaths. So, I’d let her have whatever she wanted from me.

Back in the beginning, I used to believe that one day she’d grow bored and no longer seek me out, but if anything, she demands more of my time now. I’d tried being unenthusiastic and make her disappointed in my performance, but she found new ways to threaten me. If I wasn’t enthusiastic about my participation, she’d kill my people just the same.

I’d used magic to numb my skin so I couldn’t feel her touch, but she’d caught on pretty quickly and nipped it in the bud. No, she forced me to participate and praise her, urging on my own abuse. She on occasion would threaten me so severely that she could even twist my arm into begging for her to touch me. Her cruelty truly knew no bounds.

If she ever knew of the affections I’d begun to feel toward Feyre, she’d never allow her to live and see the results. I also didn’t trust Feyre enough to tell her the truth. So, if I had to be her bad guy to keep her alive, I was okay with that. I’d do whatever it took, as long as she was safe. I just prayed to all the gods Amarantha would never figure that out.

—----------------------------------------

The next night, we were all summoned for another of Amarantha’s dramatic gatherings she used as excuses to ensue violence and solicit sex. Everything about Amarantha was calculated. She was always 7 steps ahead of everyone else.

Nuala and Cerridwen emerged from my wing, holding an embroidered velvet lead that was tightly secured to Feyre’s collar. I smiled, but inside my stomach did flips. I gripped the arms of my chair to keep her from ever seeing the way my hands were shaking. She didn’t scowl at me this time as she walked over. A small flare of hope lit in my chest.

She stood between my legs and without instruction, sat in my lap with both of her legs between mine. She didn’t quite meet my eyes, and she didn’t speak. My heart was thundering in my chest and beads of sweat threatened to start on my forehead.

“Feyre darling,” I purred, and she flashed a half-hearted smile. My hope sank.

“Hi,” she said softly, her voice unusually meek.

“You look decadent,” I praised her. She pretended she hadn’t heard me. Something was off tonight. Her energy was somber and melancholy. Feyre usually had such a fire about her that it’d restarted my own.

“Is she executing someone tonight?” She squeaked out, looking anywhere but at me. The way her eyes seeped with sadness made me ache.

“Yes,” I say plainly, watching her face fall even more. I knew how she felt. I’d seen so much death at this point that it’d become commonplace. Feyre had never seen anyone die before she’d come Under the Mountain. At least not violently.

“Okay,” she nodded, turning to face forwards and likely pretend that she wasn’t perched on my thigh. I couldn’t blame her.

Over Feyre’s shoulder, I caught Amarantha watching us. Her eyes were narrowed in suspicion, and instinctually, my hands found Feyre’s hips. She stiffened under my touch and I nearly winced. I dragged the tips of my fingers across the top of her back, pushing her hair to one side and putting my mouth close to her exposed ear. She shivered.

“I’m going to touch you, Feyre,” I murmured into her ear. She nodded and my hands began to roam her body. I slid them down her soft, creamy thighs, and ran them along her rib cage. She leaned back into me, and I nearly groaned at the feel of having her so close.

Amarantha watched my hands squeeze Feyre’s breasts in my palms. I kneaded her flesh and she moaned, freezing in panic as soon as she caught herself. Her cheeks turned aggressively red, and I wanted to take it back so badly. Amarantha hmmph’d and turned back to her cohorts.

“It’s okay,” I cooed into her ear, my hands tracing up and down her arms soothingly. “It’s just your body reacting to being touched. I know it’s not for me.” Feyre looked back over her shoulder at me, eyes searching mine for a moment before she turned back around.

She still felt tense, and I chose for that moment to trust her as much as I could let myself. She didn’t deserve what I was doing to her, and even if I couldn’t make it better, I could reassure her that it never had to go farther again.

I fought off thoughts of what she felt like on my tongue.

“I won’t force you to do anything intimate with me outside of this room,” I whispered to her softly. “You don’t have to do anything sexual with me that you don’t want to, but in this room, I need you to pretend that we do. Amarantha will hurt you if she thinks you’re a threat to her, and earning my respect is something she’s never managed to do. I don’t even want to begin to think of what she might do to you if I’m not careful.” Feyre pulled away to watch me cautiously, lips parted as she tried to rationalize where I fit in her brain.

“And if I want to?” She asked, taking me completely by surprise. My eyes flicked down to those perfect and pink pouty lips of her. She sucked in a breath, wriggling in my lap slightly. Gods, I wanted her. "What if I wanted to do intimate things with you outside of this room?"

I couldn’t figure out what it was about her that had me so hooked. She just consumed me from the moment I laid eyes on her. All I ever thought about was making sure she was safe and wondering what it might feel like to be inside her. She swallowed roughly.

“Then I am eager to provide,” I purred, watching her bite her lip and fighting the urge to discover what it would feel like between my teeth, too.

“It would mean nothing,” she said, raising her brows in challenge. I swallowed the ache.

“Not a thing,” I agreed with a sleepy, sensual smile.

“It would just be a distraction,” she folded her arms across her chest protectively.

“Just a distraction,” I nodded.

She bit her lip again, watching me. I could see the thoughts tossing and turning behind her eyes as she wagered with herself whether it was worth it to have a moment of reprieve if it might mean betrayal. Finally, after a minute or so, she nodded and turned back again.

We watched Amarantha’s accusations and nauseatingly bloody execution wordlessly. It wasn’t until he crowds began to wither and Amarantha pranced to her wing that Feyre turned back to me.

“Distract me,” she begged.

I smirked.

Chapter Text

“Distract me,” I breathed out. The corner of Rhys’s mouth tipped upwards in his familiarly seductive smirk, and heat swirled low in my belly. He set my skin and senses on fire in a way I’d never experienced before.

I didn’t want to think about what was happening to Tamlin wherever Amarantha had taken him. I didn’t want to think about the blood curse trapping us all underground. I certainly didn’t want to think about the still-healing wounds on my body and how Tamlin hadn’t cared if he was hurting me when he pushed his whole lumbering body weight on top of me. I didn’t want to think about anything.

All I wanted was to feel Rhysand everywhere. I wanted to feel his hands on my body and his mouth hot on my skin. I didn’t even care that it was wrong. I wanted out of my own head so desperately that I’d take distraction in whatever form it came in.

“It would be my pleasure, Feyre darling,” Rhys purred. He wrapped his arms around my middle and lifted me, my legs instinctually wrapping around his waist and arms around his neck. He looked at me like I was a treat being dangled in front of him.

He walked us down the increasingly familiar hallway to the bedroom we’d grown to somewhat share, easing the door open and setting me on my feet as the door clicked shut behind us. I watched as he walked over and grabbed another whiskey bottle from his seemingly bottomless supply.

An itch in my brain wondered how much he was really drinking. The caretaking instincts inside my chest wanted to stop him and talk about it, but I shoved those urges as deep down as they could go. He was not my responsibility. If he wanted to drink himself into a stupor, who was I to judge?

He took a stiff swig and sat the bottle on the table, eyes watching me like a predator stalking its prey. My heart thrummed under my skin, my blood rushing in anticipation of what his touch might feel like.

“What kind of distraction are you after, love?” Rhys asked, holding the bottle by its neck out to me in an offering. I wrapped my fingers around the cool glass, bracing myself and taking as big of a sip as I could muster, grimacing at the taste, but loving the burn that traced its way down my esophagus and into my stomach. I could see how he’d grow reliant on such relief. Especially after being down here for as long as he had been.

“Anything to make me forget every single moment after I entered this hellish place,” I chuckled. His eyes flicked down, and he took another drink from the bottle, dulling his own senses. “I wish I’d never have been foolish enough to end up here. This place is an echo chamber of horrors with no reprieve.”

He looked back to me and chose to not give that a reply. He paused for a brief moment and then pounced, his hands knotting in my hair and bringing my lips crashing against his. I hummed against his mouth as he held my head in place, tipping my head back to open my mouth to him as he traced my mouth with his tongue. I moaned and he gripped my hair harder, sighing into my touch. I held his arms as he made love to my mouth with his own.

He walked me backwards slowly, never stopping his kiss, my legs hitting the foot of his bed and buckling my knees, collapsing me back onto his bed. I scooted backwards until my back was against the pillows. He watched with a satisfied smirk before climbing over me, settling his hips in the cradle between my own.

He wasted no time attaching his mouth back to mine. He consumed my senses. All I could smell was the citrus and musk smell of him, tasting him in my mouth and breathing him in like air. His hand gripped my throat lightly, using his thumb to hold my head exactly as he wanted it. I was dying for more, needing him everywhere he’d fit.

“You look so good with my hands around your neck,” he groaned, tightening his grip. My eyes nearly rolled back into my skull as he licked the roof of my mouth, rolling his hips against mine. He felt so good.

“Touch me, Rhys,” I panted, feeling his smile against my lips. His hand snaked between us, and I moaned as he cupped my pussy over the fabric of my dress, gently massaging his fingers against me before slowly pulling it to the side, fingers exploring the mess I’d made between my thighs for him.

He groaned and I swallowed the sound as he slowly explored me, circling my entrance with one finger before slowly pressing it inside. My back arched and I gasped at the delightful intrusion, and he pulled back from our kiss to watch me with hooded, lustful eyes and flushed cheeks.

He slowly pulled his finger out of me and pressed it back inside, adding another one this time. I groaned at the subtle stretch, and his eyes watched his fingers, lips parted and breathing jagged. He looked so beautiful when he was this unhinged.

“I love the way you look with my fingers inside you,” he murmured, watching his own handiwork. I bucked my hips at his words. I needed more. I wanted all of him, everything he had to give me.

“You touch me so well,” I sighed, and he looked up at me like he was in a daze. He kissed me again, his tongue pressing inside of my mouth as he began to thrust his fingers in and out of me faster, using his thumb to add pressure to my clit. I moaned and writhed underneath him, and he swallowed every sound like it was exactly what he was after.

“Be a good girl and come on my fingers, Feyre,” he commanded. “Show me how good I make you feel.” I cried out, squeezing my eyes shut as he fucked me with his hand, his eyes fixated on my every reaction to his touch. How the hells was he so damn skilled with his hands? He knew the female body so well- had memorized all the right buttons to push to elicit a response.

“Oh, Rhys, oh gods,” I whined. “Please don’t stop. Just like that, oh my gods, don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispered, leaning to suck at my neck, his mouth hot and luxurious against my skin. My mouth dropped open as I neared my climax, and I felt like I was being doused in oil and lit on fire from the inside as I crested, feeling myself pulsate around Rhys’s fingers as I came.

“You’ve made such a pretty mess for me, Feyre,” he groaned as he worked me down from my high. “I have an idea of how we can clean you up.” Gods, the idea of his mouth on me again was so enticing, but I had other things on my mind now.

I shook my head and his brows furrowed, fingers pausing their movements inside me. I bit my lip and locked his eyes on mine as I reached between us and palmed his cock over his black pants. His eyes snapped shut and he hissed, tensing and sucking in air through his teeth. I jumped back like I’d been electrocuted, my hand snatching back from him.

“Oh, my gods, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean- oh, gods,” I whined, cheeks burning as I buried my face in my hands. He pulled his hands out of and away from me but stayed laying on top of me. I heard the sounds of him licking his fingers clean and he then used his hand to slowly tug my hands away from my face, watching and searching my eyes for answers.

“Feyre,” he said softly, and I wanted to disappear into the bedrock of the caves.

“I didn’t even ask you, I’m so sorry, I just- I,” I stumbled, but he stayed silent as he watched me struggle, seemingly searching for the words himself. He had not wanted me to touch him, and I’d just done it anyway.

“Feyre,” he repeated. “It’s okay.” He looked like he was in pain. His features held a tightness they hadn’t a moment ago, and it squeezed a fist around my heart, smashing the organ under its grip.

I was so embarrassed, so overwhelmed with guilt and regret. He could see it in every inch of my body. I wanted to curl in on myself and disappear. After another moment, he reached to the nightstand where he’d abandoned his bottle of whiskey and took a 10 second pull from it, handing it to me silently. I took it from him, repeating his actions and sitting it back on the side table. He looked back down at me.

He gently grabbed my hand, caressing my fingers with his thumb and kissing it before he slowly- and softly enough that it was easy to pull away- guided my hand back between us, placing it where it’d been before I pulled away. I looked up at him, searching for any proof that he actually wanted this.

“Touch me, Feyre,” he encouraged. “It’s okay, you can.”

My brows furrowed and the pain in my chest became a chasm of agony. There was so much pain written in every line of his body, so much hurt and betrayal and lack of ownership of his own body and actions. How had I never noticed it before?

“Rhys,” I pleaded, trying to pull my hand away but he caught it in his own, squeezing my fingers in his own like he was trying to comfort me. Like I was the one in need of comforting because I was embarrassed.

“I want you to touch me, Feyre,” he whispered, his eyes glassy. The violet of his irises had deepened into something much darker. My heart sank so deep into my stomach I worried it may just disappear. “Please.”

“It hurts you,” I whispered, and he didn’t answer, an even deeper glimmer of pain forming in his eyes. I didn’t know how to do this- how to make him trust me. I didn’t have the answers to his pain, and I didn’t even understand why it was there at all. But I knew I’d triggered something in him without ever meaning to.

“I’m okay, Feyre,” he shook his head. “Let me distract you.”

“Rhysand,” I said, and he flinched at my use of his full name. “What just happened?”

“Nothing happened, Feyre,” he tried to comfort me. “Just caught me off guard is all. I want this, I want you.” Then why did it feel like he didn’t? Was he only saying this as a way to keep me from feeling badly?

“Rhys, please,” I begged, and he growled, sitting up and off of me, standing by the bed, adjusting himself in his pants, and snatching the whiskey bottle before going to sit at the small table in his room. My bottom lip wobbled as I watched him go.

“You and your damn bleeding heart,” Rhys swore, half under his breath. I flinched. “It’ll get you killed one day.” I watched him guzzle even more whiskey, and my worry from earlier returned. How often was he drinking this much? He did it nearly every time I saw him. What pain lurked under his guise of narcissism that was haunting him so much that he felt a constant need to numb it? He was so different from the version of himself I’d first met. It was hard to know if he was unravelling or just letting me see this side of him finally.

“Why does it hurt you that I touched you?” I speak into the dim light of his room, and he took another hearty tug of whiskey. For a moment, I was sure he wasn’t going to answer. The silence and unanswered question lingered between us awkwardly.

“It doesn’t,” he said simply, still not meeting my eyes.

“Does she…,” I swallowed harshly before I continued. “Does she hurt you?”

Rhys scoffed, drinking more whiskey. It was pouring down his throat at an alarming rate now. I had half a mind to take the bottle and shatter it, but I knew he’d just have another bottle stashed somewhere else.

“She hurts everyone,” he rolled his eyes.

“I mean sexually, Rhys. Does she hurt you sexually?”

“Don’t stick your nose where it’s not wanted, Feyre,” he snarled. “You’ve made it clear enough by now how little you think of me. You’ve said it yourself. We’re not friends and this is just sex. Sorry I came here to fuck you and don’t want to unload personal trauma instead.” His words stung like he’d slapped me across the face. I blinked to combat the tears blurring my vision.

“I’m sorry,” I choked out, and he scoffed again, shaking his head and drinking more of the amber alcohol sloshing around in the glass bottle. He had such a harsh grip on the neck that I worried it may shatter in his palm. His knuckles were white, and his back was stiff.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” he sighed. “I’ll just go find somewhere else to get used for the night, just like you expect of me. I’ll see you around, Feyre. Glad to get you off.” He gave me a two-finger salute with a humorless laugh before shaking his head and scoffing again, turning the whiskey bottle up as he opened the door and clanged it shut behind him.

I bit my lip as the tears began to cascade down my cheeks, still an angry red. I had half a mind to go after him, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for what he might say to me if I did. So, I just let him work it out on his own.

His reaction told me that there was so much more to the story than I was seeing, but I was missing too many pieces to understand the puzzle fully. It didn’t fit together in my brain. How was he simultaneously so good and so bad? I had no idea how to categorize him in my brain, but I knew trauma when I saw it.

I may have not known why he recoiled from my touch but seemed so comfortable touching me, but I knew I hadn’t made up his reaction. His quickly escalated anger had let me know as much. He didn’t trust me with that side of himself. I knew I couldn’t force him to tell me anything. It would have to be on his own time and in his own way, but my heart ached with the need to soothe the scars marring his heart.

I rolled over in bed and mulled over everything he’d told me about himself, tossing and turning it in my mind to try and make sense of him. He was an enigma. One I wasn’t sure I’d ever have the wits to crack. I just hoped that wherever he’d gone, he was okay.

Chapter Text

I tossed and turned for what must have been at least an hour before I gave up with an exasperated huff, yanking the blanket off of my body and swinging my legs so that my feet made contact with the bone-achingly cold stone floor. I had no idea where he’d be, but I had to go and find Rhysand. The way he’d left the room earlier had been haunting me, ricocheting through my mind nonstop. I just had to know that he was okay and that he hadn’t drunkenly stumbled into the chasm and drowned.

I slid my shoes onto my feet, searching Rhysand’s drawers until I found a plain sweatshirt, yanking it over my head and trying not to feel ill at the smell of him all around me like an embrace. I wanted to understand. I’d pieced together by now that Rhysand wasn’t necessarily here by choice, and that his relationship with Amarantha was nowhere close to being what it seemed.

I despised that I cared so much. I shouldn’t care what happens to him, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was never going to get any sleep if I didn’t check. So, I entered the hallway as quietly as I could, banking on everyone having been intoxicated from Amarantha’s party and hopefully dead to the world.

I had no clue where to look for him. I hoped he’d only been conveying his hurt feelings when he’d suggested he’d find someone else- hoped he hadn’t gone to Amarantha. The thought made my stomach turn sour. Amarantha grated a nerve inside of me that lit a short fuse these days.

Entering the Great Hall, the huge chamber echoed with an unfamiliar emptiness. The sounds of my footsteps echoed off the stones and bounced around the room. Very few sconces were still lit, and I squinted into the darkness as I pondered where he might have gone. There was a lesser occupied wing that broke off from the back corner of the Great Hall, and my instincts told me that was likely where he’d gone. It looked moody and brooding enough.

I lifted a torch from the wall, using he small flame as a light source as I wandered deeper into the cave system, hoping I didn’t get lost or worse. Who knew what could be lurking in these caves this late at night. I shuddered thinking about it.

I walked a way into the hallway before I heard a faint clinking sound. I froze, eyes wide and body stiff. Whoever was around the corner had likely already seen the flickering light of the flames I held in my hand. I took a deep breath, slowly peeking around the corner and squinting into the darkness. I heard groaning and my knees nearly went weak.

“Fuck,” I hissed, rushing down the hallway, stashing my torch in a holster along the wall above the spot where Rhysand was slumped against the wall. He looked barely conscious, his head lolling against the stone and a look of misery on those beautiful features. It knocked the air from my stomach to see him like this.

“Feyre,” he said happily, eyes glassed and far away. He was beyond plastered. “What are you doing here?” I swore under my breath again as I took in how cut and bruised his knuckles were. Blood had dried along the backs of his hands and along the grip of the now empty whiskey bottle. I wasn’t even sure it was the same bottle as before.

“I’m looking for you, you prick,” I murmured, mentally strategizing for how I was going to get him up and out of here unnoticed. Not that they’d laid out a drinking policy, but I was certain it would not be good if Amarantha found him like this.

“That’s so nice,” he sighed. “You’re so pretty.” He reached his hand up to cup my cheeks and I wish it wasn’t quite as endearing as it was. He looked at me with a glimmer in his eyes I’d never seen there before. It was likely just the whiskey, but it warmed my heart all the same.

“Okay, Rhys, I’m gonna need you to stand up and put your arm around my shoulders, okay?” I said slowly and he gave a sappy smile. I helped him to his feet, and he did as I asked. I realized quite quickly how our huge height difference might make this hard. He swayed on his feet; his brows furrowed like he wasn’t quite sure how he’d lost his footing.

“Why are you helping me? I thought-” He hiccupped drunkenly and swallowed before continuing. I grabbed the torch and lit the way as we walked back toward his room. “I thought you hated me.”

My heart sank as I looked up at him, but he was already distracted and mentally moved on. My eyes stung as we kept walking, nearing the mouth of the cave that led back into the Great Hall. Almost there. I could do this.

“You’re so pretty, Feyre,” he smiled, tugging me closer into his side. Sober Rhys would never behave as he was now. I wondered if this was more like who he really was, under the disguise he fed everyone. “Like a flower… or a pretty cake.” I snorted at his goofiness, and he smacked a kiss to the top of my head.

We crossed the Great Hall without being seen, and before I knew it, we were back at the door to Rhysand’s room. I led him over to the bed, transferring his weight and causing him to sprawl across it.

The most powerful High Lord in Prythian history strung out across his bed, hiccupping and drunk. It wasn’t a sight I particularly ever thought I’d see, but I didn’t hate it. This side of him- the one that let his guard down- was… nice.

I poured him a glass of water, watching him drink it all before he slumped back down onto the bed. I snorted as I looked at how pleased he looked.

I walked into his bathroom, finding a few clean cloths and the remnants of what he’d used on my wounds from the glass. I wet the rags with hot water, carrying it all back in my arms. I sat down on the floor in front of his legs, crossing my own.

“Hi, Feyre darling,” he said with a soft smile, sitting up so I was on the floor between his legs. I gently reached up, grabbing his large hand in my more delicate one, tugging it so he relaxed his arm. He watched where I touched him, lips slightly parted.

“Hi, Rhys baby,” I joked, and his eyes came alight. He smirked.

"Careful, Feyre," he teased. "I've already shown you what I can do with my tongue."

"You're ridiculous," I chuckled, a blush creeping onto my cheeks.

“Why are you helping me?” He asked, suddenly serious. I used the warm cloth to clean the cuts along the backs of his hands, sure he’d likely punched the cave walls or something of the sort to earn them. He hissed when I poured the disinfectant onto his wounds.

“I was worried about you when you stormed out,” I said quietly, and he watched me work for a few moments in silence before he found the words and the courage to speak again. I wrapped a bandage around this hand, tying it securely and gesturing for him to give me the other to start my process over again.

“I wanted you to touch me, Feyre,” he murmured, so low that I barely caught it. My eyes flicked up to his, and it was like he could see right through me. All I’d ever felt was reflected there in those violet irises. “I just… I’m not sure I know how to do this anymore- this thing, whatever it is, with you. I can’t let her hurt you because of me.” He looked so pained, a lifetime’s worth of pain radiating from his body.

“Why would she hurt me?” I asked, even though I could assume the answer. I wanted to hear him say it- here, now, in this emotionally vulnerable place he’d finally allowed me to be privy to.

“Because I-” He scoffed and looked down at his already bandaged hand, his jaw flexing. “I want you in ways I have never wanted her.” His eyes met mine, and I felt like he was piercing my soul. But that meant…

“Does she force herself on you?” I asked, pouring disinfectant over his second hand, dabbing it dry before beginning to secure the bandage around it. He watched me, carefully choosing his words.

“I have never wanted to be with her,” he answered, slightly avoiding the question while still answering. “Tamlin’s father was her greatest ally once. My father was the one who killed him, after he and Tamlin had killed my mother and sister. Amarantha chose to seek her revenge on my father by making me her whore, spitting on his memory in the only way she could. Somewhere along the line, she got attached.” I watched him carefully, still holding his hand in mine despite the fact that I had already finished bandaging it.

“I’m… I’m so sorry, Rhys,” I whispered into the fragile energy between us.

“I’m not innocent in all of it, by any means, but if it means my family is safe, I’ll do whatever is required of me,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. I wanted to prod him for more information, but this was not the time for that. I wanted to know who he meant when he said family is his mother, father, and sister were all dead.

“I’m sorry for the things I said to you,” I whispered, my thumb rubbing gently across his bandaged hand. He watched where our hands were connected with a look that bordered on agony. I wondered how long it’d been since anyone had spoken to him like this- like a friend. If anyone had ever apologized for all the things that had been happening to him for 50 years. “I didn’t mean them. I was ignorant and mean, and I should never have said them.”

My eyes stung again as I watched him contemplating it in his mind, as if trying to figure out whether or not he deserved an apology after all he’d done. My chest ached for the pain I’d likely caused him tonight. He’d gotten so drunk alone that he’d destroyed his hands taking his hurt out on the cave walls.

“I am so sorry,” I repeated, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand, holding it in mine as I looked up at him. His eyes flicked down to his sweatshirt on my body, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

“I’m okay,” he nodded, clearly trying to move off the subject, and I was fine with that. When he glanced away, I used the sleeve of the sweatshirt to wipe underneath my eyes, catching the falling tears before he had a chance to catch them.

Rhys stood, stumbling over to the corner of his room and unearthing yet another bottle of whiskey. It was alarming how many he had by now. I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him he’d perhaps had enough, but he held it out to me. Hesitantly, I took the unopened bottle.

“Don’t let a man drink alone, Feyre,” he half-heartedly joked, collapsing back onto his bed and scooting until his back was against the wall, legs laid horizontally across his bed. He patted the spot next to him, gesturing for me to join him. I rolled my eyes, fighting a smile as I climbed up next to him.

I stared at the ceiling as I opened the bottle and sipped at it as we sat together in the most comfortable silence I’d ever felt. Just sitting next to him here made me feel so much less alone, even if we weren’t talking. Here was this equal parts dark and light fae who had from the moment he saw me endangered himself to keep me safe. All of his anger and snark had just been a way to keep me at arm's length, so I never saw this side of him.

“Thank you for finding me,” he said eventually, eyes staring at some nick in the wall, mind far away from it all.

“I was afraid you’d fall in the chasm,” I joked lazily. He scoffed.

“I didn’t mean to… blow up on you like that,” he admitted.

“I know,” I nodded.

“I don’t like to show that I’m hurting,” he sighed.

“Neither do I,” I said.

“I just never wanted to put you in danger,” he said, scratching the back of his neck and running a rough hand through his hair as I took another sip of the toxic amber liquid, I was nursing. My body felt warm, a light tingle caressing my skin. “If she knew… If she knew I’d helped you, she would torture me.”

“Torture?”

“Oh, yes, death would be much too easy a punishment for me. She has plenty of more visceral ways of hurting me. She’s quite practiced,” he confessed. My heart squeezed in my chest.

“What was your life like before all this?” I found myself rather curious for who Rhys was in a different life- of who he could have been to me if we’d met under different circumstances. Rhys smiled softly as he reminisced.

“Perfect,” he admitted. “My family and I lived in a House in the mountains together. We’d take walks by the river that curled through an art district, have snowball fights, cook dinner together at night. We’d gather by the fire during trips further North to my mother’s cabin, drinking tea and talking late into the night.” Tears welled in my eyes for the millionth time as I remembered the dream I’d had nights ago- of standing outside of a cabin, watching a warm and comfortable life, but never being permitted to join it. I remembered the feeling of longing in my chest that coincided with happiness that they were in such high spirits and were safe.

I’d been seeing Rhysand’s family- but how was that possible?

“Where are they now?”

He stiffened, and I realized I’d asked the wrong questions and pressed too hard. He had shut off again, not wanting to answer that question and becoming visibly uncomfortable. I was quick to follow up and change the subject.

“Will you stay here tonight?” I asked gently, and he nodded, slowly dethawing. I reached over and grabbed his warm hand within mine. He looked at me with so much emotion in his eyes I worried it would start pouring out of him in a tidal wave. He was so much more open and vulnerable than usual. He wasn’t wearing his mask of indifference tonight.

“One day, when we make it out of here, I want to take you to this festival my Court celebrates every Solstice. I just- I have a feeling you’d really enjoy it. It’s quite sacred to my people, and really very beautiful. We call it Starfall, I’m sure you could assume why. The night sky lights up in the most spectacular ways,” he mused, lost in his own thoughts.

“We’re going to see each other… after this?” I asked, chewing my bottom lip nervously. His eyes searched my face to decipher what it was I was feeling in that moment, but I wasn’t even sure myself.

“I think I’d like to,” he spoke, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. I smiled softly.

“Okay,” I nodded.

“Feyre,” he began, but shook his head, stopping himself.

“What is it?”

“Do you think… Do you think we could ever be friends?” His face was so open, so boyish, that I felt like my chest was being carved open with a serrated blade. The loneliness in his face and voice was a feeling I’d known intimately my whole life.

A single tear fell from my eye, but I didn’t wipe it away.

“I would love to be your friend, Rhys,” I gave him an encouraging smile, which he returned. He was so beautiful and so complex. He was broody and witty, benevolent and violent, kind but rude. He was a mixture of so much good and so much bad, but he felt so human in this moment, so raw and real.

“We have to pretend in front of her, but not here,” he said, and I understood what he meant. Amarantha could never know that the dynamic between us had shifted. I refused to endanger either of us, so I would have to be careful.

“Let’s get some sleep,” I said as I climbed off the bed, untying each of his shoes and slipping them off as he smiled lazily at me. I sat his shoes by the door with my own and pulled back the blankets. He started unbuttoning his shirt, and I tried to hide my panic. When my eyes flicked back up, he was watching me with bubbling amusement. He slid the shirt off his shoulders, showing his muscular and tattooed torso. My face caught on fire, and I quickly looked away, trying to act busy.

He undid the button on his pants, sliding down the zipper and my head jerked up, eyes wide as I watched him lift his hips, sliding them down his legs and discarding them to the corner of his room. He smirked as I looked at him only in his boxer shorts.

“Something wrong, Feyre?” He said with a tilt of his head. My blush deepened.

“Nope,” I squeaked. He chuckled.

“Didn’t expect me to sleep in dress clothes, did you?” He winked, and I placed the lid back on the whiskey bottle, sitting it on the table and quickly blowing out the candle as I slid underneath the blankets, facing away from Rhys.

He settled in behind me, his scent like a comfort I’d never known I wanted or needed. He didn’t touch me, but I could feel his body heat radiating into mine. I turned over to face him and he smiled through the darkness at me. He slowly reached up a hand, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek affectionately.

“You are my salvation, Feyre,” he murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to my forehead before rolling over and facing away from me. I stared at his back in shock for a long while, watching his breathing deepen and even out before my body finally gave in and sleep took me, too.

Chapter Text

I woke the next morning to Rhysand climbing over me and off the bed. He shrugged on his button-up as he watched me smile lazily up at him, bedhead and all. He rolled the cuffs of his sleeves, smirking as he watched me watch him dress. He tugged on his trousers and fastened them, tightening his belt and slipping on his shoes.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Rhys winked, turning on his heel to walk to the door.

“I’ll be the one on the leash,” I teased. His eyes darkened slightly.

“My mouthwatering rival,” he mused with a soft smile before slipping out of the door and disappearing. My face heated and I grumbled, rolling over and shoving my face into the pillows, trying to keep myself from screaming. How did he make me feel this way with bare minimum effort?

I eventually lulled myself back to sleep for a few more hours, my body relishing in the rest it was getting while sleeping between Rhysand’s silk sheets. I had been down here long enough to know I wouldn’t be getting out easily. I knew what I’d always feared most, and that was the opinions of the people around me that I imagined were teetering on the verge of rejecting me regardless.

When I’d thought of Rhysand, I’d thought about the Court members sneers. I’d heard Tamlin’s accusations of betrayal, echoed with the distaste of my own inner moral code. How could I in good conscience swoon over a vicious and unrepentant murderer, betraying the one I’d promised myself to? In my mind, I’d always felt that if other people were upset with my decisions, my insides would twist and douse me with shame.

But walking to Rhysand now, I couldn’t bring myself to regret the decisions that had led me here. If being in this hellish place had taught me anything, it was that no one was coming to save me. Tamlin couldn’t save me, and neither could Rhysand. If I wanted to fuel the fire of pride in my chest, I would have to feel worthy of it. I needed to prove to myself that I was more than someone who took the punches and turned their cheek for more. I would be brave, and I would be cunning, and I would get us out of this place.

Rhysand’s eyes flicked sensually down the curves of my body, and the thought of them ever looking at anything else made my throat burn with envy. I wanted his hands on me and his mouth everywhere. I would get him out of this. I would find a way. And once I did, no one else would ever lay a finger on him ever again.

Nuala and Cerridwen had truly outdone themselves tonight. The gown I wore was slightly more extravagant than the ones before had been. I could only assume that meant nothing good, but I felt alive for the first time since Tamlin had forced me to go home. My skin buzzed with the energy of the room, and the low hum of chatter did nothing to calm my nerves. The gown was a deep, deep blue with shimmering embroidery that painted a portrait of the night sky that danced when it caught the light.

“My enamoring adversary,” Rhys purred as he elegantly grasped the end of the leash that was secured around my throat. He smirked up at me, that familiarly wicked glimmer glinting in his violet eyes.

“My pretty boy High Lord,” I cooed, matching his seductive tone. He reached out for me, and I made no hesitations before crawling in his lap, not unlike I had before. My legs straddled his thighs and my arms naturally twined around his neck. His scent was intoxicating.

“Oh, you think I’m pretty,” he smiled. I pursed my lips to hide my matching flash of teeth. Something about him was particularly delicious tonight. My thoughts of him were far from pure, and I could only hope his were filthy enough to match.

“Like a cake,” I taunted, and he groaned, leaning his head back against the chair as he remembered his drunken words from the night before. He cringed and shuddered.

“Not my smoothest moment,” he admitted, the faintest blush tinting his perfect cheeks.

“I quite liked your honesty,” I quipped.

“Oh, did you,” he smirked playfully. “Care for another truth, then?”

My stomach swooped as his eyes flicked down to the curve of my lips with no shyness whatsoever. His eyes were lined lightly with gold, making him all the more alluring and mysterious looking. The gold around his eyes matched the golden stars on my dress. That was no accident.

“Yes,” I breathed, and his eyes met mine again, the corner of his mouth twitching upward wickedly. His hands roamed up my thighs, thumbs caressing my skin with reverence. His touch sent fire rushing through my veins.

“The truth is, Feyre darling,” his voice was liquid smoke as he made my heart skip, “I spent quite a lot of time picturing what this dress might look like on you,” his lips grazed my jaw, trailing up to my ear, “and now all I can think about is getting you out of it.” My stomach flipped and my breath caught, eyes fluttering.

“Do you want my truth?” I whispered.

“Certainly,” he smirked, beginning to kiss at my neck, flicking his tongue against the sensitive skin above my jugular. I could hardly focus with him touching me like this, so my reply took a moment.

“The truth is,” I panted, “I have wondered what you’d feel like inside me since the moment I saw you, in those dark caves at Calanmai. even when I wasn’t supposed to be thinking of anyone else- especially you- in that way. When Tamlin would fuck me, I would pretend he was you.” He growled against my skin, nipping me with his teeth. I moaned, tossing my head back.

“You’re my pretty little good girl, aren’t you?” He groaned in worship.

That was the exact moment Amarantha chose to demand all attention be directed toward her. She had at least five males draped around her like decor. She looked positively gleeful. Which was never a good sign.

I turned in Rhysand’s lap, my back resting against his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. His hands held my hips, my ass pressed against where I could feel his hardness. I was highly aware of where every junction of my body met his.

“I’m feeling quite generous tonight,” Amarantha said, with a clear, high laugh that horrifyingly sounded genuine. “Do as you please. I know I will.” She smirked and went back to her pile of men. They all grabbed at her, pulling her down and into their arms. They all played like lovers, all vying for the terror of a Queen’s attention.

Rhysand slowly dragged his fingers across my upper back, pushing my hair to one side and leaning to kiss my neck on the other. I hummed as I felt the press of his soft lips to my skin. His hand came under my arms and wrapped around my throat, applying gentle pressure to the sides, limiting my blood flow and making me lightheaded.

“Well look at that,” Rhys murmured scandalously. “Looks like I’m all yours tonight, Feyre darling.” I shivered and he moaned, pulling me back against him harder. I tried not to watch the half-clothed men on the dais all but tearing Amarantha’s clothes off.

“I want you,” I panted.

"Do you?" He challenged.

"So badly," I breathed out.

“Do you feel that ache between your legs? Are you aching to have me buried deep inside you?” Rhys continued, squeezing my throat the slightest bit tighter. My eyes fluttered closed as I focused all my attention on the way he was goading and touching me.

“Gods, don’t you?” I writhed in his lap desperately.

“It’s all I’ve thought about for days,” he grumbled, grinding his hips against me slightly.

“Why are you taking so long, then?” I complained and he gave a dark chuckle.

“I’m savoring you, Feyre,” he whispered against my neck. “I want to know every sound, shiver, and curve of your body. I want to take my time with you so that when I do finally sink inside that pretty little cunt, your body is begging for me just like your mouth will be.” My eyes rolled into the back of my head, and I whimpered, so desperate for him I really was about to start begging.

Then let me hear it, Archeron.

Rhysand’s voice had echoed into my mind, but he hadn’t spoken. The words seemed like they’d come from my own brain. Had I gone mad? My forehead creased and I looked back at him warily. He looked back at me with smug insolence.

Scared? He purred into my mind, and I gasped. He chuckled.

“What the hells is that?!” I hissed, and he just grinned.

“Never wanted to freak you out,” he said, shrugging.

“So, you could do that all along?” My eyes widened. He nodded with no small amount of pleasure. I was going to lose my mind. Had he been reading my thoughts constantly? The thought made me nauseous.

Yes, but not in the ways you think. Which is the main reason I never told you, he said into my mind, eyes locked on mine. I didn’t want you to be afraid of me. Knowing how extensive my powers were and what untampered access I had to your mind only would have pushed you away even more. I don’t and haven’t searched your thoughts. Only when you reach out across that mental bridge do I hear you. But I can speak to you like this, yes.

“Unfair,” I rasped, my head dropping back against his shoulder.

“I never claimed to play by the rules,” he breathed by my ear, the desire becoming more and more apparent from the tone and pace of his words. I loved knowing I affected him this way. It only made me all the more inclined to seduce him.

“There are no rules,” I taunted with a low murmur, turning back to straddle him once more. His hands continued to grip my hips, pulling me closer to his erection. My core ached with the need to get him undressed and in his bed.

“No?” He said drunkenly, his nose brushing against mine.

I shook my head with a wicked grin.

“So, if I wanted to, say… kiss you,” he smirked, “that wouldn’t break a rule?”

“Oh, you’ve crossed the line now,” I joked with mock anger. He grinned, his hand knotting at the base of my scalp and leaning me forward to press his lips against mine. It felt like fireworks exploded between the bridge of his lips and mine. I gasped against his mouth, and he used the opportunity to slide his tongue in to play with mine.

I kissed Rhys with the fervor of someone tasting water after years in a dry desert. He moaned into my mouth and my core heated, every limb of my body begging to cling to his as tightly as possible. I ached with the need to feel him everywhere. Particularly in the deepest spot of me that I’d never be able to reach on my own.

“Rhys,” I pleaded against his lips, and he groaned, gripping the back of my neck tighter as he held my mouth against his own. “Take me back to the room.” Finally caving, Rhys tugged my thighs tighter around his middle and stood, never stopping his attack on my mouth as he slowly walked us out of the room and back to his own.

Once there, he threw me backward onto the bed, a gasp passing my lips as he looked down at me. The strap on my left shoulder had fallen when I had, showing nearly my entire breast, but not quite. His eyes narrowed in.

“Fuck,” he murmured.

“I need you closer,” I whined, and he walked forward, gripping the insides of my thighs to pull them apart, nestling himself between them. His weight on my body was a reprieve I had desperately needed. I could feel how hard he was pressed against my hip.

He started kissing my neck as his hands ghosted up the side of my rib cage before palming my breast in his hand, kneading the flesh and flicking his finger lightly across my nipple. It sent shocks of pleasure rushing between my thighs, and I felt like I was going to die.

He moved so that his mouth encircled my nipple. It was hot and wet, and I nearly rolled my eyes into the back of my head as he grinded his hips down into me, applying pressure to my clit through our clothes. He pulled the traps to my dress down, leaning back to help me shimmy out of it until I was completely naked underneath him. He looked me over drunkenly.

“Feyre,” he murmured.

“Yes?”

“You know I respect you, right?” He said, lips parted and eyes still taking in my body like it was intoxicating. I could’ve gotten drunk on him just looking at me like that. It made my skin prickle, a shiver snaking up my spine.

“I do,” I nodded.

A wicked, sadistic smirk crept across his face as his eyes slowly met mine again.

“Good,” he purred. “Because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”

My stomach swooped and I felt breathless as he started to unfasten his belt, quickly undressing fully before situating back between my hips. I felt his cock pressed against the warmth of my folds, and my eyebrows screwed upwards and together.

Rhys thrusted his hips, his cock gliding through my arousal. He squeezed his eyes shut like it felt so good it was painful. I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck to pull him down to me so that I could suckle on his neck. He swore, thrusting again. The glide of us together was otherworldly. I’d never felt anything like Rhys and he wasn’t even inside me yet.

“You look so pretty underneath me,” he whispered, thrusting again. My grip around his neck tightened and our noses brushed together as we breathed each other’s air. He made me feel need I never knew was possible. "So wet and ready to take my cock."

“I need you inside me,” I whined, and he moaned, thrusting once more, applying more pressure this time, making the friction undeniably perfect. Then he leaned back, looking down at me with a smug smile, likely seeing how flushed I knew my cheeks must be.

He gripped my hips, flipping me onto my stomach forcefully. He brushed my hair out of my face as I laid my head against the mattress. He gripped my hips again, forcing them high into the air as a hand came to make sure my head stayed down. He kneed my legs further apart, giving him ample space to kneel between my calves.

He leaned in, licking up my center with a rumbling moan that sent vibrations rushing through me. He sucked my clit into his mouth, rubbing his tongue against it roughly, making my breathing uneven and panicked. It felt so good; he felt so good.

“I love the way you taste on my tongue, Feyre,” he groaned, and I whimpered, pressing my hips back into his face. He gripped my thighs with bruising force, devouring me from behind. I was so riled up that it took no time at all for me to be blabbering and coming all over his face. He lapped up my arousal like it was air and he was drowning.

“Oh, my gods, Rhys, oh my gods,” I whined into the bed, eyes screwed shut as my body tried to calm back down. Rhys smacked my ass harshly, then kneading it with his hands as he admired the red mark he’d left on my skin.

“You want me to fuck you?” He asked, seeking confirmation.

“Like you hate me,” I breathed, and he swore helplessly, his voice cracking slightly.

“Then shut up and take this cock like the good girl I know you can be,” he growled, positioning himself at my entrance, teasing me for a few moments before slamming home so harshly it knocked the air from my lungs.

“Rhys,” I cried.

“So fucking tight and perfect,” he murmured, pulling out to thrust in again just as hard. I gasped. He slowly began to pick up his pace until he was fucking me passionately, my head being rutted into the mattress and my cunt squeezing around him in excruciating tightness.

I moaned, deep and low in my throat, the sound needy and desperate.

“I know, baby, I know,” he hissed through gritted teeth, fucking me mercilessly. “I’m gonna take care of you. Teach you who this cunt has always belonged to.” I cried out as he hit that perfect sweet spot deep, deep inside that made my body go molten. He tilted my hips, his fingers bruising my skin as he pounded into me.

“G-Gonna cum,” I whimpered, and he swore.

“Fucking hells, me too,” he groaned, tipping his head back. His chest glistened with sweat as he worked me. Tears began to leak from the corners of my eyes as my orgasm built low in my belly. His dark hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and he looked gobsmacked.

“Please,” I begged.

“Gonna fuck my cum into you so deep that there’s never another doubt who you belong to. He can’t fuck you this good, can he? Only I can make this pretty little cunt weep for me.” His possessiveness threw me over the edge. I came with a screech, feeling his hips stutter their rhythm as I squeezed him so hard that my vision went dark for a split second.

“Oh, gods, Rhys, please,” I wailed, tears falling quickly from the corners of my eyes, which were clenched shut. I felt his cock twitch inside me as he started to come, and my mouth hung open as I tried to catch my breath.

“This perfect little body was made for me to own and fuck,” he growled, thrusting a few last forceful times before slowly pulling out, cursing at the way his cum dripped down my thighs.

“You feel so good,” I told him, and he gave a smug smile, telling me to not move. Seconds later, he returned with a cloth, helping me clean his cum from my skin. He was sure to clean me off before himself, both of us collapsing into the others’ arms the moment we could.

I loved the way his skin warmed mine. It was the first semblance of comfort- real, true comfort- that I’d ever felt. He held me tightly like he thought I would disappear if he didn’t. We cuddled in silence for a good while before he spoke.

“You make me feel alive again,” he said quietly, his body behind mine, lined with every curve as he held me to his chest. “You make me want to be alive again. I think I had been dead for a long time before you found me. Even when you saw the ugliest parts of me, you still took care of me. No one has ever taken care of me before.”

I was careful to let the tears fall in silence, not wanting to let him know how deeply his words cut into my once-hollow chest. I also think I’d been dead until I found Rhys. I finally felt surges of excitement and fear and longing. He made me feel again when I had convinced myself I never would.

“Why not?” I asked, prompting him to continue.

“Because I try so hard to convince everyone that I don’t need to be taken care of,” he sighed. “I had always been the person who everyone relied on. I was the stable one; the one who didn’t need anyone and always had the answers. I created a mask of emotionless snark, and I was so good at it that no one ever questioned or wanted to know what might be just underneath. Until you.”

“My sisters had always relied on me,” I sniffled. “I never had the luxury of falling apart or of needing more. When Tamlin found me, he showed me the first taste I’d ever had of someone else being in charge. The relief was so tangible that my mind confused it for love. I was grateful to him for finally allowing me to breathe, until I realized breathing came too easy there, in that place with him.” Rhys listened quietly, his thumb rubbing gentle soothing strokes on my hip.

“Go on,” he encouraged, knowing that I had so much more I’d never been able to say out loud, but needed to. I needed to release my anger for myself and let it go.

“I realized it wasn’t being in charge that I was running from. I liked to make decisions and be independent. Most of my life had been spent alone in the forest. I didn’t like having my choices- of what to wear or what to eat or when to sleep or what places I was allowed to go- taken from me. I liked ruling myself. What I was running from was the pretense that I had it all together, like I had to always be the strong one. I never had a place I ever felt safe enough to crack open my hardened shell and let my emotions ooze out of me like blood.” I stared at the wall as I thought, recounting my life and my relationships with the people around me.

“I had too much of a penchant for martyrdom,” Rhys said. “I believed I could handle anything. I knew I was stronger than the others in my family, and if I could shoulder the burdens alone, then they’d never have to even know they existed. They got the peace they deserved if I was the only one suffering.”

“Your well-being matters, too,” I whispered, turning in his arms to face him, our legs tangling together. He looked at me with so much pain and loss in his eyes. And fear. He looked terrified.

“No one cared to know what it felt like to be me,” he said softly. My brows knit together with concern. I reached up and pushed his black hair off of his forehead.

“I do,” I admitted vulnerably. “I care about what you feel.”

His eyes moistened and he fought back the tears that threatened to come.

“Thank you,” he croaked out. I leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose, making him chuckle, a few tears consequently leaking down his cheeks.

“Neither of us have to be the strong one,” I told him, my hand cupping the side of his face. I felt so many things towards him that it was hard to know which was the strongest. I’d hated him, but I also understood him. “Here- with each other- we can both give up being that way. We can be powerful together, by leaning on one another and learning how to be strong again without losing ourselves.”

Rhys sniffed, his mouth twisting to the side to fight back his emotions.

“Where have you been for 500 years,” he laughed a sad laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind my ears. He looked at me like I was the world.

“I think I was waiting for you,” I said with a soft, melancholy smile. He tugged me closer into his chest and rubbed my back in slow soothing motions until I fell asleep cuddled against him, the both of us naked and vulnerable.

Chapter Text

The next two weeks passed by in a blur of tangled limbs and desperate whispers in the dark. Rhysand stole away from Amarantha to spend more time with me as much as he could without rousing suspicion. We hadn’t slept together again, but gods we kissed every moment we could get our hands on each other. Life had nearly become bearable again, and I actually laughed and smiled a few times. Amarantha had been much more tame, rarely enacting violence or even calling meetings. She had seemed to be quite busy with other things. Who knew what she was getting up to, I was just grateful for a moment of pause.

I should have known it wouldn’t last. It never does.

Nuala and Cerridwen rushed me down the hall, one sister latched on to each of my arms as they silently scurried. They hadn’t spoken when they’d roused me from bed, but they made it clear there was no time to waste. Luckily, they had come at a moment that Rhysand was gone and not sprawled across my chest. I trusted the girls, but the idea of Amarantha ever knowing the true nature of my blossoming friendship with Rhys was terrifying.

Rhysand was positioned at Amarantha’s side, his face a cold mask of indifference. It was like a swift punch in the gut to see him once again so cold and inhuman. I told myself it was just an act, that this was something he had to do. My heart was hammering against my rib cage. Amarantha looked furious; her scarlet mouth downturned as she looked at her constituents with dissatisfied haughtiness.

The door behind the obsidian throne screeched open, and neither Rhysand nor Amarantha flinched as from their periphery came the Attor. The beast shrieked and shook its head, licking its sharpened teeth and scanning the room. Its leathered skin stretched as it lithely perched upon the dais. No one in the entire Court moved a muscle, not even the children. They stood in terrified silence, awaiting their fate. Would this be the day their Queen used them as feed for her pet?

“Kallias, come kneel, dear,” Amarantha declared, tapping her talon-shaped nails against the crystalline surface of the arm of her throne. Rhysand looked unsurprised. Had he known she was going to do something like this? It felt like betrayal somehow, like he hadn’t trusted me enough to tell me what dangers lurked, but was content to kiss my lips raw? I glared at him, hoping he felt the weight of my stare, but he never once met my eyes.

Kallias’s boots clinked against the cave’s floor as he slowly approached her throne. A few feet out, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head before her. She arched an eyebrow and scoffed with disdain. This was not good. It was really, really not good. The energy of the room made my hands shake and I felt like my lungs couldn’t keep down enough air.

“Are you aware of the sins the men of your Court have committed against me this evening?” Amarantha accused, Rhysand shifting his weight and crossing his arms beside her as he looked down his nose at his fellow High Lord.

“No, my Queen,” Kallias shook his head, raking his hand through his snow-white hair and looking up at her with eyes so crystal-clear blue that at first glance, they took your breath away.

“I find that interesting,” she said as she sucked her teeth, picking up her goblet and swirling around the liquid before drinking it elegantly, then she spoke again. “Eight of your men attempted to collapse my blood ward and escape just moments ago, thinking me a fool. Even sacrificed one among them in a pathetic attempt at bartering with the gods. Of course, it was fruitless, and now they have disgraced their families and committed an open act of rebellion against me. Kallias, tell me, in your Court, how do you deal with traitors?” It was a trick question, that much was obvious.

“Situations vary, my Queen,” Kallias murmured, pleading on his icy pale features. He knew what she meant to do- if Amarantha had her way, she was going to murder seven more of Kallias’s already quickly dwindling Court.

“Do they?” She arched a brow. “What would you do?”

“Imprisonment,” Kallias offered. “The time to fit the offence.”

Amarantha gave a high, amused laugh.

“In Winter Court? Please,” she chuckled. “You Winter-hardened bastards give even Rhysand’s Nightmares a run for their money in brutality. No, I’ve heard stories of what some of the men under your watch get up to. Learned quite a bit from them, actually. A natural talent for killing, certainly. I heard there were men among you who would skin other fae alive when they’d committed unforgivable crimes such as these.”

“No, my Queen, I have never-”

“No matter,” she cut him off, holding up a hand. “I’m not even certain why I asked. Curiosity, perhaps. I already have much more entertaining plans for the rest of our evening.” Amarantha stood, slowly walking down the steps of the dais as she sauntered through the crowd, her shoulders painfully straight. Her posture was just as rigid as a corpse.

I chewed the insides of my cheeks as I watched the scene play out, anxiety causing my flesh to heat, sweat beading along my forehead and lower back. Rhysand looked bored as he straightened his cuffs and picked a stray piece of lint from his jacket.

“You see, clearly my last demonstration wasn’t convincing enough. I’d thought it would suffice to keep the lot of you in line, but I was mistaken. So, I’ve been pondering what would fix our little problem here. Seven traitorous Winter court men,” she sucked in a breath with a wince, “now that’s fun torture. But, these men, like I’d said, are hardened. They’re all quite accustomed to pain, and that just won’t do. No, I want the desperation of shredded vocal cords. So, how would I achieve something so intriguing?” I nearly jumped from my skin when I noticed Amarantha had circled and come up right behind me. She dragged a claw up my arm, snagging a brunette curl in her hand and twisting it around her finger. I remained still, barely even breathing until she’d moved on.

Rhysand’s eyes briefly flicked to mine, but they were gone before I could even make out his expression. Amarantha perched back on her throne with a sigh, tossing her auburn hair back over her shoulders, exposing her deathly pale neck.

“Children,” Amarantha smiled, flashing her uncomfortably white teeth.

No one breathed. Not even Rhysand.

The Attor chittered, the noise eerily like a human laugh. Amarantha watched the reactions on the faces of those she loved to torment most. I stood, cheeks flushed in panic as I fought every part of my body begging to flee, to get away from this room. The small shield of safety I’d convinced myself was there was gone in the blink of an eye. No, I was frightened, and nothing I could do would hide that fact.

“My Queen?” Kallias croaked, and her attentions focused back on his, her smile wide and goading. She was eating this up, feeding on their fear like it was a cocktail. And there, Rhysand stood beside her, making no effort to contain her.

“Children,” she repeated as though it were a silly question. “Among the eight of them, they have twelve children.” Kallias looked ill. I was right alongside him. She couldn’t be serious, could she? Cruelty had to know some bounds, have some uncrossable line, hadn’t it? Surely no one was that evil, not even Amarantha.

“I don’t understand,” Kallias swallowed, shaking his head worriedly.

“Oh, don’t be coy, Kallias,” Amarantha rolled her eyes. “Rhysand, dear, do hold Kallias’s mind. I would hate to see him make an unwise choice in a moment of fear.” Rhysand turned towards the white-haired High Lord, and I saw the moment Rhysand seized his mind, keeping him from movement. This could not be happening, and yet it was.

“Guards, please complete your tasks,” Amarantha ordered dismissively, opening the decanter of dark red wine and pouring more into her gem-crested goblet. She sucked a spilled drop from her fingers and replaced the decanter.

The guards stepped forward, ushering the crowd back toward the wall at the far side of the room. My throat felt thick as I stumbled back, the guards marching menacingly toward me. Oh, gods. They remained in a line, prepared to stop anyone attempting to move forward.

A guard creaked open a door and twelve children came out in a single-file line. Their tiny wrists were bound, the skin around their holds an angry, irritated red. They'd struggled to get free, but their delicate bodies hadn't been able. Bile roiled in my stomach, and I felt like I was about to lose my footing. Rhysand caught my eye, giving me a stern look as I likely looked ready to spill my guts across the floor.

Another line of guards walked out from Amarantha’s wing, each holding a handcuffed Winter Court member, a blade poised at their throats to keep them compliant. They each had crusted blood on their faces and clothes and their skin was spattered with purple and yellow bruises. The men were then lined up at the base of the dais, facing their children, who were in the aisle between the crowd and Amarantha.

The men knelt, a couple of the blades being held with such pressure that they’d already nicked the skin, blood dripping down their necks as they silently wept for their offspring and themselves. The Attor cawed, crawling down the steps and into the aisle where it was poised to strike the children, licking its teeth as it salivated.

I couldn’t let this happen. I would never be able to live with myself if I let this happen. The faces of these scared children would be reflected back at me every time I was finally brave enough to shut my eyes again. A little boy who was likely only four whimpered, his bottom lip wobbling as the viscous creature eyed him with hunger. An older girl shouldered the little boy behind her, covering his body with her own. She was a mere child herself. Rhysand wouldn’t allow this, would he?

“This is such a beautiful show of love, is it not?” Amarantha smiled at the crow. “Do you see how afraid they are? The way their precious little bodies tremble? Look at their faces, remember their eyes, and know that this all could have been avoided had you kept your rotten mouths shut and stayed in line. Your babies never needed to feel the pain of being shredded apart with claws and teeth had you not thought yourselves masterminds and rebels.” My chest tightened. I lost my view of Rhysand, and I frantically searched for him. Amarantha narrowed her eyes at me, and I froze.

Her stare felt as though it pinned me in place, a butterfly with its wings stapled to the ground. She liked to watch me squirm, knowing that festering, wormy fear in my gut was nearly eating me alive. She’d known this would scare me on many other levels, knowing I was human and emotional. It was more than that, though. She looked... suspicious.

The men bellowed against the blades, each cry forcing the metal further into their dermis. They hissed in pain, cheeks shiny with tears as they whispered their children’s names like prayers. The children screamed and cried, calling out for their mothers being held back by the guards and begged their fathers who were paralyzed by their own leaking mortality.

“Please,” the man on the end howled, his plea cut off by a drowned gargling as the guard pressed harder against his throat, causing him to suffocate on his own pooling blood. He coughed and spit, the red splatter blending in with the blood-red marble of the floor. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.

The little boy teetered on his feet, accidentally falling onto his bottom and crying louder, and I instinctually made to shove my way through the guards, when all of my muscles stopped short, and I lost control of my limbs entirely.

Don’t you dare step in, Rhysand snarled into my mind.

I looked at him wide-eyed as tears poured from my eyes and down my frozen cheeks. He looked angry, and he held my eyes like he was teaching me a lesson, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever hated him more than I did in that moment, not even being able to wipe away my own tears.

Just keep looking at me, he said soothingly, and I felt a coolness brush across the back of my neck like he’d applied an ice pack there. His violet eyes looked molten as he kept my attention. The Attor finally lunged, latching its maw around the brave young girl’s leg. She gargled in pain as she heard the crunching of her own bone and the shredding of her own muscle and flesh.

At me, Feyre, Rhys murmured, and I redirected my gaze, panting through my nose with flared nostrils as I tried to not fall apart. I wanted to rush to the little boy and protect him, keep him from anything and everything that would ever hurt him, but I had to just stand still and listen to the sickening ripping of skin as the Attor devoured them, picking each of their tiny bones clean.

If I were in Rhysand’s place, I knew my eyes must have been terrifying. I was on the verge of spiraling into a darkness I was positive I’d never muster the courage to climb back out of. I knew I would let myself rot in that desolation, just as I deserved to for standing here and not intervening.

The screams of their fathers had all nearly died out now, their hearts giving out from exertion and from the jagged indentions on their jugular veins. They lay in a lake of blood, their lifeforces mixing and creeping out across the floor. Amarantha sat on her throne, looking quite pleased with herself. I wanted more than anything to cut out and feed her own entrails to her.

I squeezed my eyes shut, sobs wracking my body as Rhysand’s talon-gripped hold on my mind held me upright and kept me from crawling into the fetal position on the floor with my hands over my ears, losing my voice from my gasped attempts to make it all stop.

She will pay for this, Rhysand said into my mind, but I couldn’t open my eyes. Not as I still heard a young, sweet voice whimpering accompanied with the rattling growl of the Attor. I will kill her, Feyre. You have my word that I will make her pay for this.

I cried harder, my chest feeling ready to cave in on itself. Once it was finally, finally over, Rhysand released me and I scrambled off down the hallway and into his room, slamming the door behind me as I crashed to the floor and clutched my chest, everything in me feeling as though it were ripped to tatters at the seams of my very being. Twelve. Twelve Winter Court children and eight men were now dead as a consequence of their attempt to save their families. And Rhysand had held them captive as he forced us all to watch her violence and cruelty for ourselves.

Are you okay? I will be there as soon as I can, Rhysand ensured in my mind. I envisioned slamming a wall down between us, cutting of his access to me and my mind. I wasn’t foolish enough to imagine he couldn’t break his way through, but I prayed to the cauldron he had enough mercy left in his icy, wretched heart to leave me be.

I desperately gasped, choking for air as I sobbed harder than I ever had. I felt as though I were exercising year old demons from my body as I mourned for all I’d had and lost and all I would never get to have at all. They were bitter, angry tears. I pressed my forehead against the cold stone floor as I screamed, cursing Amarantha and Tamlin and Rhysand and everyone who had brought me to this point, this breaking.

I would see the little boy’s face in my mind for the rest of my days- however numbered they may now be. I would never know his name. I would never know what kind of games he liked to play or what his favorite foods were. But I’d always know what he sounded like when he was being ripped apart by a barbaric winged demon.

Eventually, I sat back up, still sitting on the floor with my back against the frame of Rhysand’s bed. I sniffled and wiped my cheeks on the backs of my hands as I allowed numbness to take it all away. Tomorrow, I would be required to go on as if I didn’t just witness twenty people being eaten alive.

The door pushed open, and I spun, ready to snarl at Rhysand that he was the last person I wanted to see right now but I stopped short. My heart stuttered and frankly, nearly stopped all together. Because I wasn’t looking at Rhysand. No, instead, Amarantha lingered in the doorway, a smug, knowing smirk on her face as she looked down at where I slumped on the floor.

Chapter Text

“Hands,” Amarantha demanded, and my eyes widened. She arched a perfectly groomed brow expectantly, holding out her hands. I sat on the edge of her bed, having just gotten back from her performance of volatile anger and brutality.

Reluctantly, I offered my hands out to her. Before I even had the opportunity to open my mouth to argue, she slapped cuffs around my wrists, forcefully yanking them over my head and securing the metal wiring of her headboard. My pulse quickened at the restriction.

"Wait-"

"Silence," she seethed, eyes narrowing at me.

She'd bound me before, but this time felt different.

It certainly wasn’t something new between the two of us, especially in the beginning years before I’d given up trying to make it all stop. She’d frequently bind my hands above my head as she writhed atop me and used my body however she chose to, knowing I had no other choice but to watch and feel her body. Amarantha was quite fond of anti-magic metals. I’d likely have red rings of raw skin admonishing my wrists for the next few days.

I expected her to swiftly undress me, but she did not. She looked down the bridge of her nose at me, and I finally registered the disdain in her face. There was a look in her eyes I’d only ever seen when she was feeling vindictive. It seemed her child slayings weren’t enough punishment for the day. If she was binding me to her bed, there was something she didn’t want me to see. My chest tightened.

Feyre.

We’d both seen her flee the scene of Amarantha’s violence with her hand cupping her mouth. She was in my room at the moment by herself. Amarantha had been much less demanding with my time as of late, and I’d comforted myself by repeating in my head that she’d found a new toy to maim, but now I wasn’t so sure. Her room smelled like no other males but me. Not even Tamlin. She hadn’t even told me what she’d done with him.

So, when Amarantha turned on her heel and walked out the door after chaining me, my heart leapt into my throat. I felt like I was suffocating on my own fear. Feyre had looked so afraid. I’d had to hold her mind to keep her from getting herself killed. I wondered then if Amarantha had noticed. Had she seen the panic in Feyre’s eyes and the stationary stiffness of her muscles? I didn’t even want to think about what she might do if she knew I was protecting Feyre in such ways.

Are you okay? I’ll be there soon, I spoke into Feyre’s mind, but she gave me no response. The walls of her mind clamped down, refusing to let me inside. Not wanting to hurt her, I kept myself from prying my way in, but it was beginning to eat me alive. I had no idea where Amarantha had gone or what she was up to, and Feyre wouldn’t talk to me.

I squeezed my eyes shut in a feeble attempt at centering myself, but it was fruitless. I wouldn’t calm down, not until I knew Feyre was safe and back in my arms. I’d been careless and foolish to assume Amarantha was daft when I knew she had the suspicious nose of a bloodhound. She’d certainly have noticed by now how much more time I’d been spending in my room. We hadn’t discussed the specifics, but I had assumed she was aware Feyre had been staying in my quarters.

With a sickening flip of my stomach, I realized how wrong I’d been about it all. She hadn’t been being kinder or less interested. She’d been testing me, poking at my resolve to see what I might do with slack in the reigns. And I’d endangered Feyre for my own selfish wants and needs. In order to feel less crushingly lonely, I’d placed her right in Amarantha’s line of fire. I knew how possessive she was of me, and I’d still made such a floundering mistake.

I tried to reach out to Feyre again, but there was nothing on the other side. She was radio silent, and I had no idea whether or not forcing myself into her mind would worsen things. She could be mourning alone, and Amarantha could be off torturing Tamlin for all I knew, but my mind gravitated towards the worst possible scenario.

There was no part of Amarantha that needed Feyre. To kill her would leave no consequence and killing just so happened to be Amarantha’s favorite way to spend her time. I yanked roughly against the cuffs on my wrists, and hissed in pain when my skin began to singe from the burn of the iron.

I contemplated reaching out to the girls and asking that they go and check on her, but I couldn’t endanger them, too. And if I thought Amarantha was suspicious now, she’d be bloodthirsty if she saw that I’d sent out my spies to protect the girl she’d gifted to me as a living sex toy. How would I even defend such a thing?

I left the bridge between Feyre’s mind and my own wide open in case there was any give from the other side. She had to be furious with me if she’d somehow taught herself how to shield. As long as she was alive, I reminded myself. As long as I got her out of here alive, I could live with her hating me. It would cut me up inside, but I could rest knowing I’d done everything I could have to protect her.

I just prayed I wasn’t too late.

Chapter Text

“Ah, just the little human I was looking for,” Amarantha’s scarlet mouth curved up into a viscous smile. She leaned against the doorway as she looked down at where I’d been having my meltdown on the floor. I scrambled up and gave a messy bow, keeping my head low to not give her an excuse to attack.

“My Queen,” I sniffed.

“Oh, am I?” She grinned. “That’s so good to hear. It’s been a long time coming that you and I had a chat, don’t you think?” She clicked Rhysand’s door shut, walking to perch elegantly at the small table he frequented. I wondered if Amarantha had really ever been in this room much. He seemed to always be required to travel to her on command.

“How can I be of service?” I asked, clearing my throat and trying my best to sound polite and weak. The more she underestimated, the better.

“Your lover,” she said, arching a brow. My heart stammered in my chest and threatened to give out altogether. Where was Rhysand? He said he’d be here soon. I swallowed and chewed my cheeks to keep myself from turning to look at the door.

“My lover?” I asked softly.

If she tried to hurt me here, there would be no one coming to the rescue like Rhysand had when I’d walked on shards of glass to keep Tamlin from decapitation. I wondered where he was now, what she’d done with him.

“Tamlin?” She raised a brow, like she’d read my mind. I blinked, stumbling back a step. I sniffed again, forcefully and quickly wiping my cheeks that were still stained with tears. I likely looked highly pathetic.

“The traitor,” I nodded, and Amarantha’s lips twitched.

“You’re quite a clever girl, aren’t you, Feyre?” She said, her voice like a velvet caress down my spine. It made my skin bristle. The sensation entirely missed its mark and came off all wrong.

“In what way, my Queen?”

She smiled wider, batting away my question with her hand, like it hadn’t truly mattered. She tapped her nails on the wood surface of Rhysand’s table, and my eyes fixated on the dangerous spikes they were carved into. Weapons.

“How are you finding life under the care of my sweet Rhysand?” she hummed, narrowing her eyes in on me suspiciously. Sweat beaded on the back of my neck as I tried to keep my thoughts straight and politely answer her question, but I was starting to panic about where Rhysand had gone.

“I am happy to be of service, my Queen,” I bowed my head. She chuckled.

“He is quite a lay, isn’t he?” She scrunched up her nose playfully and my stomach turned sour. The thought of her hands on his body- oh, it made me want to gouge her eyes out. Knowing how many times she’d stolen his body from him made me nauseated.

“He says I am his toy to use as he pleases,” I concede, hoping she’s buying the story I’m feeding her. I prayed to the gods it matched the one Rhysand had been telling. “My pleasure and comfort are not of concern.”

Amarantha howled with laughter, slapping her hands together joyfully.

“Well, cauldron be damned,” she cackled. “He’s broken you in like a wild horse, hasn’t he? He might even be better than me at whipping disobedient whores into shape. I suppose he did learn from the best.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulders, the blood-red strands tumbling down her back.

“Yes, my Queen,” I murmured. She snorted.

“Well, little bird, you’re treated to the night off I suppose,” she hummed to herself, satisfied with what she’d found here. “Although it would intrigue me to have your answer on one thing.” There was a wicked glimmer in her eyes, and I did not like it.

“The night off?” I questioned.

“Rhysand is currently strapped to my bed for later use,” she replied, holding her hand out in front of her to examine her manicure. “On occasion, he gets particularly broody, and I have to spend a few days reminding him who it is he belongs to. I’m sure you’ll find ways to make yourself useful in the meantime?”

Days?! She planned to use him for days?! She said this as though it were routine, something that simply happened here, but I had never heard something so gut-wrenching in my entire life. Thinking of him being physically bound to her bed as she violated him on repeat for days made me want to spill my guts all over her high-heeled shoes.

“Yes, my Queen,” I nodded. It physically pained me to say it and keep the malice from my voice, but I managed.

“Tamlin betrayed me,” she said bitterly, sucking her teeth.

I was silent, not sure what response she was gunning for.

“I suppose it left me curious about you, little bird. Of your undying love for him.” She said mockingly. Ah, this. The age-old story she continued to relive of her sister’s betrayer and his eye she wore in an enchanted ring upon her hand. She wanted to know if my affections had stood the test.

“He is a traitor,” I said simply, not speaking any more than I needed to. I could tell it frustrated her that I was so carefully avoiding all of her webbed traps. Talking with Amarantha felt like a dancing game of wit. She always had an ulterior motive to her questions. She was hoping to catch me in a lie, I could just feel it.

“True,” she scoffed, “but not the question, dear.”

“What is it you would like to know, my Queen?” I said with a soft smile.

“Do you still love the High Lord?” She hadn’t named him, and that was quite intentional. She watched me with the eye of a hawk, watching every twitch of my fingers and adjustment of my body weight.

“I serve Rhysand,” I conceded, and her lip curled. She was getting angry, and quickly. I needed to diffuse it, and now. “But His Grace belongs to you only. I cannot have emotions for a traitor and effectively serve my master simultaneously.” Amarantha narrowed her eyes, hollowing her cheeks as she evaluated me.

“How did he make you so obedient?” She asked, and my heart skipped, my palms slickening. My head was absolutely scrambling for the answer as she watched me like a bug under a magnifying glass.

“There are steep punishments for my disobedience,” I swallowed. “Rhysand has very strict rules, and I must follow each of them closely and constantly.” Amarantha shook her head in dismay, like this was the furthest from what she’d expected to find when she had flounced through the doorway.

“What do you believe I should do about Tamlin?” She tested me.

“Your Highness, I believe you have better judgement than someone like me could ever possess. Why should you want advice from a lowly human when you have a Court of others who are much closer to your level of knowledge and power?” I said, answering her without actually answering, again. She growled under her breath.

“Do you believe he deserves death?” She said, slamming her fist against the table.

“I believe all punishments should fit their crime,” I say simply. She rises from her chair, walking over to stand in front of me. She looks me over from head to toe with oozing disdain. Her haughty features tower over mine from out stark difference in height. She wasn’t as beautiful as I’d anticipated her to be, especially from such a close distance.

She reared her hand back and cracked it across my cheek, snapping my head to the side harshly, making my skin sting. I gasped, staying still as I gulped down a few breaths before looking back to her. She looked satisfied with herself, but not as much as she did after she smacked me a second time. My cheekbone would likely bruise from the force of her blows.

“Keep your filthy little human hands exactly where they belong and nowhere further,” Amarantha snarled, stooping to come nose-to-nose to me. “Get no ideas and make no mistakes- you will never take him from me. If I even suspect you of trying, I’ll hang you in the Great Hall just low enough to let the fae men get to you, but high enough to watch your gradual decay and decomposition.”

My eyes widened and I blinked at her.

“My Queen I have no intention-”

“Heed my warning, little bird. And know that I do not give second warnings. Consider yourself in favor of the gods that I’ve offered you even one. You are to remain in the place of a servant and absolutely nothing more. You are not to sleep beside him, to dine with him, to converse with him. You are a hole for his use when his pleasure is not part of my agenda. If I believe you have begun to think yourself anything more, I’ll string you up in the Great Hall all the same. Perhaps I’ll even make him be the one to execute you. That could be quite poetic. Don’t expect him for a few days at minimum.” She walked to the door, looking back over her shoulders at me.

I wanted to scream and throw things at her and rage over the injustice she forced upon everyone she came across. I hated how paralyzed I was in my own complacence of being in this place. I didn’t even know how I would begin to attempt to escape a place such as this. I could never be caught even contemplating it. I trusted Rhysand enough- perhaps a mistake. But he was also my best and only option as far as allies go, and I knew I’d never make it on my own.

“I understand, my Queen. I wish to obey your orders and please you,” I bowed my head again. She scoffed with a huffy laugh.

“I’m sure you do, dear,” she said, shaking her head as she left into the hallway, slowly pulling my door closed behind her. I stared blankly at the entry way for much too long. I didn’t know how to even begin processing the conversation I’d just had or why she’d even had it. Why had she not just disposed of me and saved herself the trouble?

My stomach twisted.

She still hoped to somehow win Rhysand’s authentic affection and admiration. She knew if she outright killed me, that he’d emotionally retract from her even more. Plus, she enjoyed the leverage she had against Tamlin when it came to me, as loathe as he likely was to admit it.

My stomach lurched as I rushed to the toilet of Rhysand’s bath chambers, emptying my stomach into the bowl with guttural gags and spitting. The thought of him being tied to that bed for days. Knowing there was nothing I could do. Knowing how ashamed he likely would feel, despite none of it being his fault. As I vomited, I imagined her pale white hands leaving scratch marks down his tanned back, cutting into his skin as she took all of him.

Amarantha could not win. I would not let her win. She would pay for the things she had done to me, but more than anything, she would pay for the things she did to Rhysand. I couldn’t wait to see the shock on her face as I drove a knife into her heart and twisted, doing to her what she’d done to thousands of others guiltlessly. It was going to be a long couple of days and would take all strains of willpower I had left to hold myself back from doing something very, very stupid. She would pay. I had to keep reminding myself over and over. She would pay. She would. I would make sure of it.

I didn't have the luxury of being rash. This had to be done perfectly.

Chapter Text

Four nights later, Rhysand staggered into his room looking haggard and exhausted. I immediately stood from the table where I’d been eating, in such a rush the chair nearly toppled over backward. I walked to stand in front of him, looking up and taking in the deep purple shadows underneath both of his eyes that told me he likely hadn’t slept at all.

I opened my mouth, unsure of what to do or say, but I didn’t have to.

It was like his knees almost gave out when he wrapped his strong arms around me, burying his face in my neck and holding me to his chest like it was a lifeline. He held me that way for several long moments before his shoulders started to faintly shake. My brows knitted as I squeezed my eyes shut, the tears still rolling down my cheeks anyway.

I took his hand, walking him over to the bed. He sat down on the edge, his eyes unfocused and hazy. I untied his shoes and helped him out of them. He cooperated but was otherwise barely conscious. I sat back against the headboard, reaching for him. He leaned over to lay on top of me, resting his head against my belly. I stroked his hair softly and he nuzzled into me, closing his eyes and sighing heavily.

“Rhys,” I murmured as I pushed his hair off of his forehead. He didn’t move, but I knew he was listening to me. Maybe that was all he could afford to give right now. “I’m glad you’re back.” He wrapped his arms around my middle tighter, holding me like glass he was afraid to drop.

His hair was so soft underneath my fingers, and he seemed to purr like a kitten when I played with his hair. I was happy to let him rest on my chest if that was what would chase the ache away. I didn’t even want to begin to think of what his last four days had been like. My days had become monotonous routines of the girls delivering food at mealtimes and forcing me to bathe on days when it felt impossible. I spent most of my hours stuck in Rhysand’s room with nothing to do that I’d started to drive myself mildly insane from my own company, so I was just happy to be with another human.

I wanted to puncture Amarantha’s eyeball on a dagger and parade it as a trophy for ever putting him in this position. I wished my skin could soak up his pain and grief, even just to lighten his load the tiniest fragment. His shoulders always seemed so heavy. I had no idea how he’d managed to get by as long as he had. I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to deal with all he’d endured.

“Are you okay?” I asked softly, cupping his cheek with a light touch. His violet eyes blinked open and found mine to reveal then oceans of heartache lurked beyond.

“I am now,” he whispered.

I gave him a sad smile, hoping he would let me in.

“She came here,” I admitted, afraid of his reaction. He stiffened, pushing his weight up on his arms as he still loomed over me, looking down into my eyes in pursuit of answers. I swallowed, trying to choose my words wisely. “She threatened me to stay away from you.”

“Feyre, what?” Rhys scolded, moving to sit up, but I caught his arms, slowly pulling him back to lay on my chest, and he sighed as he gave in. “Why did you shut me out? How did you learn how to shield?”

I shook my head, playing with his hair again.

“I was just so angry at you. I slammed this wall down in my mind and didn’t know how to reopen it. Then she told me what she was going to do to you and I-”

He pulled away again, sitting up fully, resting his arms on the tops of his bent knees.

“What do you mean she told you what she was going to do to me?” He said, his eyes glossing slightly in a way that let me know he was panicking. I wasn’t sure how to tell him this without upsetting him. But he needed to know.

“She said when you get ‘broody’ she has to teach you a lesson and that I wouldn’t see you for a few days. I swear, it was nothing else. You have to know I’d never judge you for something like this,” I pleaded with him, but he was already shutting me out. I didn’t know how to stop it or make it better. I wasn’t good at these conversations, and barely understood my own emotions.

“Bitch,” he scoffed under his breath, shaking his head.

“Rhys,” I tried again.

He looked back up at me hesitantly.

“I think she was getting jealous of you spending so much time here,” I say, chewing my bottom lip awkwardly. I had no clue how much he did or did not want to know.

“Trust me, she made sure I was aware,” Rhys said, moving to place his back against the headboard next to mine, crossing his arms and ankles as he stared straight ahead at the wall, chewing the insides of his cheeks. His dark hair was messier now from my hands, but still fell in his eyes in a way that was dizzying at its most modest.

“I missed you while you were gone,” I confessed.

The corner of his mouth twitched.

“I was afraid she would hurt you and I wouldn’t be there to help you,” he said quietly. “I thought for hours about how upset with myself I’d be if I never got to tell you that you were the truest friend I’d ever had. I know that likely sounds silly. I told myself we had to make it through this because I refuse to let you lose a future full of so much love and comfort and peace. So, if I couldn’t find it within myself to fight for me anymore, I would fight for you and the life you’ve yet to even live.”

“I’ll fight for you enough for both of us,” I say simply, and when he looks over at me, his face was so open and vulnerable that it nearly cracked me clean in half. His eyes moistened and he blinked quickly and looked away, but I reached out my hand, cupping his cheek and turning his face back toward mine. “You deserve to be fought for.”

He pulled my hand from his face and into his lap. He toyed with my fingers and sniffled like he was fighting back tears that kept threatening to spill. He brought the back of my hand to his lips and kissed it, his lips lingering for a moment before he kept it in his lap. His lips pursed as he thought.

“Thank you,” he whispered, barely loud enough to be heard. I squeezed his hand.

“Thank you,” I repeated. “I would have starved and frozen were it not for you risking your life to help me.” He started to shake his head, so I climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs as I gripped both sides of his face to force him to look at me.

“I am part of the reason why you were ever here to begin with,” he laughed humorlessly, still trying to break eye contact to keep himself from crying, but I wasn’t having it. I knew he needed to hear this.

“It’s not your fault,” I murmured to him, my thumbs caressing his cheek.

“Not my fault?” He scoffed. “I have caused so much death and pain and done so many horrid things in her name, knelt before her and let her humiliate and degrade me despite being a High Lord-”

“It’s not your fault, Rhysand,” I repeated calmly, determined to tell him as many times as he needed to hear it before he understood how serious I was.

“I can’t and didn’t protect my people, and I’ve been here 50 years and still haven’t found out how to beat her and it’s just pathetic that-”

“It’s not your fault,” I said slowly. He sniffed and looked at me warily, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “You never asked for this. You didn’t choose to be here any more than anyone else. You protect your people and me by giving away all of yourself. You’re destroying yourself to minimize the damage she does to everyone else. It is not your fault that we are here. It is not your fault that she is who she is and conducts such atrocious acts of violence. It’s not your fault she makes you serve in her bedroom. It’s not your fault those children died and it’s not your fault you haven’t saved everyone.”

Tears flowed freely down his cheeks now, and he hugged me tightly to his chest, burying his face in my hair as sobs wracked his body. My own silent tears landed on his shoulder, and I ached from deep inside of my chest at the whimpering sounds he made when he cried like this. I wasn’t sure I’d ever heard a more pained sound.

“I’m going to fight for you, Rhys,” I whispered, kissing the top of his head. “You get to have that future ahead of you, too. I would be so pissed at you if you got me all attached to you down here and then left me.” There was a joking tone, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. Seeing even an infinitesimal sign that he was feeling better was a flood of air into suffocating lungs.

He leaned forward and kissed each of my collarbones, kissing up my neck to meet my mouth. I sighed into his touch, my stomach flipping in anticipation as my skin set on fire underneath his touch. His kiss was sweet and slow.

“Thank you, Feyre darling,” he whispered against my lips, and I couldn’t fight my smile, which he matched, and we giggled together for a second before he shifted us into a better position to lay together and began to rub slow, soothing strokes down my back.

“Do you miss them?” I asked, chewing on my bottom lip.

“Who?”

“Your family,” I said softly. “Wherever they are.”

“Very much,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “This is the longest I’ve ever been apart from them in my entire nearly 600 years. My brothers particularly.” He held me carefully against every curve and line of his muscular frame. His familiar and seductive scent surrounded me entirely, like he was all my world consisted of.

“You have brothers?”

“Hmm,” he affirmed. “Not by blood, but in every way that truly counts, I have two. Plus, my cousin, who would absolutely adore you.” He smiled nostalgically, finally allowing himself to remember them in what was probably a very long time.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” I grin, and he returns it, flicking me on my nose.

“I would love to see it,” he chuckled.

“What about your brothers? Would they like me?” I said, wagging my eyebrows and biting my lip playfully. He leaned in and kissed me, feeling our mouths smiling against one another’s.

“Inviting yourself home to meet my family already, are we, Feyre darling?” He teased, and my cheeks blushed a deep red. I opened my mouth to tell him it was a joke, but he looked at me lovingly as he continued without needing prompting. “They would love teasing me about you, that’s for sure. I think they’d quickly see what I see.”

“And what is it you see?” I asked nervously.

“I see someone brave, who risked everything to save someone they loved, and that is something they would very much respect and admire. Plus, you and Cass are nearly mirrors of one another in most ways.” I giggled, hugging him tighter.

“So, one of your brothers is named Cass?” I asked, wanting to hear more and more about him. I’d listen to anything he’d offer me. I wanted to know more of him, to see the dark crevices he didn’t often share with anyone else.

“Cassian,” he nodded. “And Azriel. My cousin is Morrigan. It’s been a very long time since I’ve said their names out loud. Thank you for letting me.” The sincerity in his voice was so raw. It was blatantly obvious how much he meant what he’d said.

“I’ll be sure you get to say them a lot more,” I promised, snuggling impossibly closer to him. It felt like I could never be close enough. “I will figure out how to get us out of here, and you will see them again.”

Rhys kissed the top of my head.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Feyre,” he confessed.

“In what way?”

“You’re fiercely loyal and incredibly decisive. You would make quite a leader, you know,” he said. I scoffed and rolled my eyes at him. I’d already had this same conversation with Tamlin once when he’d been talking about the possibilities of marriage one day.

“Too bad Prythian rejects female leadership,” I chuckled sarcastically.

“Says who?”

“Tamlin,” I told him. “He said there was no such thing as a High Lady when we spoke about weddings and the prospects and responsibilities of being with a High Lord.”

Rhys growled something hateful under his breath.

“That’s bullshit,” he criticized. “I refuse to force my partner into subservience. They will be equal to me in all ways, or I won’t have one. I don’t wish for a partner so that I can control and domineer them. I want someone brave and logical who can help me lead and be a rock to lean on in moments of uncertainty.”

“Oh,” I said.

“You deserve more than him, you know,” he sighed.

“Maybe,” I shrug.

“No, Feyre, not maybe,” he growled in frustration. “I see so much inside of you that it’s nearly impossible for me to believe he’d ever view you as lesser, regardless of species. He’s a bumbling oaf and you are witty and sharp and quick on your feet. You are compassionate and bold, and unafraid of facing the consequences of standing up to wrong. You have brought me back to life in more ways than I think I could ever tell you.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. I looked again at the dark marks under his eyes and remembered how he’d spent his last four days. As much as I wanted to soak up every minute I had with him, I knew he needed rest more than anything else. “Get some sleep, Rhys.”

He nodded, getting up and changing into something comfier before laying down and tugging me back into his side and sighing happily. It wasn’t long before his breathing evened and I felt the relaxation of his muscles. It brought me enough relief to fall asleep myself, tangled up in him.

Chapter Text

I wake up to the feeling of Feyre shimmying her hips back into mine. I sucked in a sharp breath through my nose and blinked into the darkness. In her sleep, Feyre had been nearly grinding against me trying to get comfortable. I lay stiffly behind her, trying to breathe quietly. The light and sweet smell of her makes me close my eyes, the corner of my lips twitching upward. Spending nights with Feyre had quickly become like a drug to me. Were there not life and death- hers and mine- I would have been here every night to the point that she’d likely grow sick of me.

I just loved being near her. She had such a familiar warmth and brilliance about her. She was stubborn and witty and quick on her feet. I hadn’t been joking when I’d told her about thinking she was similar to Cass. They had the same goofy demeanor when they let their walls down, but in times of necessity she is a natural born leader. I’d love to see the way such skills could blossom were she to rule beside me.

I knew that was fruitless thinking. We’d told one another that this was purely for comfort in a desperate situation. The last thing she needed was me requiring something from her above what it was now. She likely still had complicated feelings for Tamlin, even though it made me nauseous to consider. I likely didn’t want to know what her reaction would be if I told her I’d developed an affection for her. It was better left unsaid between us.

Her hips shifted again, and I internally cursed myself. The way her body moved against mine had me growing hard against her back. She was trying to sleep, and I was being an asshole. I tried to think of other things, distract myself. It was impossible when I could smell her and could feel my skin against hers.

She’d become a carnal craving of mine. I held myself back, but I frequently thought about how she looked when I made her feel good. She was enticing and forbidden. It only made me want her all the more. I wondered what she was dreaming about that had her so restless. She hummed in her sleep.

She moved again, and my hand gripped her hips roughly. Now that was on purpose. Was she trying to turn me on? The idea of her trying to subtly coerce me into touching her was mouthwatering. She pressed her whole body back into me and I hummed, draping her hair back over her shoulder and pressing soft, slow kisses to the delicate skin of her neck.

She moaned, tipping her head back against my shoulder as I dragged my teeth across her skin. My hand left her hip to explore the soft skin of her belly, my fingers tracing lightly as I continued to kiss her. Her hand moved back to grip my thigh, grinding her ass into me even more. I groaned, my hands skating upward to cup her breasts, rolling a nipple underneath my fingers.

“Rhys,” she panted. My cheeks dimpled. Gods, I loved when she said my name, but I loved it even more when she moaned it. What a delicious sound.

“Yes, sleepy girl?” I chuckled, nipping at her jaw. “Is there something you need?”

“Yes,” she gasped as I pinched her nipple. Her body responded to my touch in a way that made me lust drunk. “You, I need you.” My cock twitched and my eyes nearly rolled back into my skull. She sounded so desperate. It made me want to ruin her.

“Yeah, baby? What do you need from me?” I smirked. She turned in my arms to face me, our legs interlocking in a way that had my thigh pressed between hers. I pressed against her core, and she whimpered, gripping my shoulders.

She buried her hands in my hair, gripping and pulling at the strands as she pressed my mouth against hers. Her plush lips felt like spun silk against my own. I placed my hand on her lower back, pushing her harder against my thigh and encouraging her to rock her hips.

“Mm, yeah that’s a good girl,” I purred as she moaned into my neck, grinding herself against my thigh. “Make yourself feel good for me.” She kissed my neck, panting through her breaths like she was running a marathon. I loved the way her body responded to mine; it fed me with the sweetest adrenaline.

I flipped her onto her back, kneeling between her spread legs. I was nearly nose-to-nose with her as I slipped my hand down the front of her bottoms, letting my fingers slide through her slick. I groaned at how insanely wet she was. She clung to my arms like a life raft and screwed her eyes shut as I used her arousal to circle her clit slowly and firmly.

“Rhys,” she gasped.

“I know, baby,” I cooed. “Feels good, doesn’t it? You like it when I touch you like this?” She bucked her hips against my hand, seeking more friction. I smirked, just this once giving her what she wants easily. She just looked so sweet with her sleepy, swollen eyes. And gods, the way she said my name could sway any proud man.

“Please,” she moaned, so I obliged. Two of my fingers slid inside of her easily, and I could already feel her pulsating around me. My cock was achingly hard, and it took all of my self-control to not take her exactly as I wanted to.

I fucked my fingers in and out of her tight cunt, using the heel of my hand to apply pressure to her clit. Her fingers dove into my hair and pulled, our parted lips opened as we breathed together, our foreheads touching. It felt so intimate and raw to see her undone for me like this.

“Come for me, Feyre,” I murmured. “I want to feel you come apart under my hands.” She cried out, her back arching as I pressed the heel of my hand harder against her pussy, still rhythmically fucking her with my fingers. Her pussy gripped me tight as she came unglued, coming all over the palm of my hand. I kissed her through it, kissing her cheeks and nose and forehead as she whimpered and whined.

Once she blinked and came back into her body, she was still grabbing for me like it hadn’t quite been enough for her, and gods, that turned me on even more. It was like she couldn’t keep her hands to herself. She reached between us and palmed my cock over the fabric of my sweats, and I sucked in a pained breath, watching her bite her lip as she began to stroke me over my clothes.

She looked up at me shyly.

“C-Can I taste you?” She asked, and I nearly got dizzy just at the thought of those sweet little lips wrapped around me so tight and hot. I nodded and she pulled down the fabric of my pants. I assisted her, pulling them off and tossing them in the floor. I knelt on the bed, and she adjusted herself on all fours in front of me, wrapping a delicate hand around my length.

“Gods, Feyre,” I breathed as she opened her mouth, sticking out her tongue and rubbing the head of me across the warm wetness there. It was otherworldly to watch. She lapped her tongue around me, tasting and exploring as she went. I gathered her hair into one hand as I watched her, allowing her a moment to figure it out on her own.

“You taste so good,” she whispered, wrapping her lips around me and taking me halfway into her mouth. I groaned, watching her through hooded eyes as she began to bob her head, taking me deeper into her mouth with every pass. She pulled back, looking up from under her lashes at me as she pumped me in her hand.

“Don’t be so gentle with me when I know you want more,” she said, and I truly thought I was going to start seeing stars. Nothing in the world felt like Feyre. Nothing. I cursed under my breath but chose to give her what she wanted.

“Open your jaw more,” I instructed her as I gripped the back of her head and slid my cock deeper than she’d dared. She gagged around me, and my eyes nearly rolled back into my skull. I pulled back out, pushing in even deeper, hitting the back of her throat and then going even a bit further, taking a slow pace, but making her take more of me. "That's it, baby, suck me harder."

She hummed around my cock, and I whimpered, a pathetic noise of just what she was doing to me with her mouth. I pulled out and gripped her hair roughly, looking her in the eyes to let her know I wasn’t going to be gentle anymore. She nodded as much as she could, giving me the okay.

I slammed myself into her throat, groaning as I held her there, feeling her gag around me. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, and she looked so fucking pretty that the sight would be permanently burned in my brain.

I pulled out again and picked up my pace, fucking her throat with fervor as I took what I needed from her. Her mouth was so hot and wet and delectable. It was transcendental to feel her taste me this way, and even more so when she moaned to let me know she was enjoying this just as much as I was. She slipped her hand between her thighs as I used her throat, and I’d never seen a lovelier sight.

“Yeah, baby, play with that pretty little pussy for me,” I groaned. “Such a good fucking girl for me. You’re doing so good, baby, I’m so proud of you.” She moaned deeply, her back arching as she touched herself. My hair stuck to my forehead with sweat, and a familiar sheen covered Feyre’s back as she pleasured herself.

“Fuck yes,” I gritted my teeth as I held myself deep in her throat. “Fucking choke on my cock and take me deep.” She whined as I continued to fuck her mouth. Her hand between her legs began to speed up, and I could tell from her body that she was about to come, and gods, I was going right along with her.

“Come with me, Feyre,” I hissed. I pumped deeper in her throat, feeling my cock twitching and dripping down her throat with pre-cum. “Take this cock just like a good girl.” She rolled her eyes back as she came, and the sight alone undid me entirely. I spilled down her throat with a shuddering moan, and she kept sucking, draining me of every drop.

When it became too sensitive, I pulled out and bent to kiss her, not even minding the taste of myself along her tongue. She was so perfect for me. Every part of her called out to me like it was mine to take.

“You did so good for me, sweetheart,” I whispered against her lips. “Sucked me so well.” She hummed and kissed me back, hands burying in my hair. Her lips were swollen by the time I finally released her, and I carried her into my bathroom, letting her take care of herself as I cranked on the shower and stepped inside. Once she had finished peeing, she climbed into the shower with me.

The warm water cascaded over the both of us, and she wrapped her arms around my torso, burying her face against my chest as she held me. I held her back just as hard, rubbing soothing strokes over her hair. It had to be the middle of the night. I was more than excited to crawl back into bed with her and hear the way she breathed when she slept.

I poured soap in my hands and lathered it in her hair, using my nails to massage her scalp. She closed her eyes as I took care of her completely, washing out the suds and conditioning the ends. I used a cloth to wash her body, taking my time and pressing kisses along her skin. She was so sleepy and pleased. It made my heart soar. I was about to take her to bed and come back to finish myself, when she whined in protest.

“Now you,” she said softly, and I felt like my chest was going to crack open entirely. “Come here. I want to take care of you.” I blinked, nodding hesitantly. I sat on the small bench in the shower, and she straddled my lap. I wasn’t sure what she expected, but I was immediately hard again. She gave me a sheepish look before she reached between us, notching my cock at her entrance and sinking down onto me.

“You’re killing me,” I groaned, tipping my head back against the shower wall, loving the way she looked with water streaming down her body, especially when my cock was deep inside her. She lifted herself, holding my shoulders for balance as she rode me.

“You just feel so good,” she growled, picking up her pace. “It’s fucking addicting. I crave the way your cock feels inside me. Just so deep and so full.” She moaned, and I felt her cunt begin to pulsate around me. I was still so sensitive from earlier that I wasn’t going to last long at all.

“You are everything, Feyre,” I whispered, pressing sweet kisses to her chest before sucking a wet nipple into my mouth. She cried out, writhing in my lap and squeezing me so tight that I shuddered.

“Rhys,” she screamed as my cock twitched inside her, her orgasm triggering my own and making me spill inside her as she continued to ride me. Eventually she stilled, catching her breath and kissing me drunkenly.

Once she had calmed herself back down, she reached to the side and grabbed the shampoo, squirting some of it into her palm. I was still inside her as she scrubbed my hair, the look of focus on her face so adorable that I couldn’t help but grin. She took care of me with equal- if not more- detail than I had for her. Once she eventually lifted off me, the sight of my cum spilling out of her was intoxicating. She cleaned us both off, scrubbing my whole body, too.

Once she was finished, I stepped out and grabbed two towels, wrapping her in one before grabbing my own. I dried off quickly, as did she. Once we had mopped the water from our skin, we crawled back into bed, neither of us bothering to dress again. Her naked body pressed against mine, her skin so warm and soft. Her wet hair pressed against where she laid on my arm, and the sweet smell of honeysuckle clung to her skin like an aphrodisiac.

She began to snore softly, and I held her head to my chest, my heart aching from all that I felt for her. She had to quickly become my entire life, and I wondered if she even had a clue. She was all I thought about and all I ever wanted or needed. If she was all I ever got, I would be incandescently happy and would want for nothing.

“My girl,” I murmured into her hair, kissing her head before slowly drifting off in her arms, dreaming about a life we could have had if we’d met in another world. I dreamed of her, as I did most nights. Thoughts of her chased the nightmares away.

Chapter Text

I met Rhysand’s gaze over the brim of his glass, his eyes focused and attentive. He lounged on the arm of Amarantha’s throne, his cerulean silk shirt draping across his chest in a way that made my knees weak. His tattoos peeked out and across his chest, and I remembered the feeling of pressing my mouth there. His eyes quickly snapped away, saying something witty that made Amarantha and the two other fae atop the dais chuckle in delight. Rhysand was quite charming when it benefitted him.

“Feyre,” a dark, smooth voice spoke from behind me. I turned to find a towering man draped in white and gold. His deep skin tone shone with a warmth I’d thought had gone extinct in these tunnels. I’d seen the High Lord of the Day Court enough at gatherings by this point but seeing him so close was another thing entirely. He was beautiful in a way that I had never seen. Everything about him was inviting.

“H-Hi, High Lord,” I said awkwardly, mocking a sketchy bow. He chuckled.

“Helion,” he corrected. “Hello, little love.”

“I-I-... Um, thank you for-”

“Mind our company, darling,” he spoke, and the endearment was almost as delicious as it was when it rolled off Rhysand’s tongue. I stiffened, immediately snapping my mouth closed. Gods, I needed to be more careful. Too much was riding on this to ever give it the opportunity to be anything other than perfect.

“Right,” I nod curtly.

“I’ll admit myself impressed by your bravery, Miss Archeron,” Helion said with a slow smile. His voice was a deep rumble in his chest. Every part of the man leaked power. I could only imagine how it would feel had Amarantha not stolen most.

“Me?”

“Indeed,” he nodded, gesturing to where Amarantha kissed Rhysand’s neck. My stomach churned and I quickly looked away. Helion noted my demeanor, and I could have kicked myself. “Takes great courage to stand when the odds are not tipped in your favor. I’ve watched you. You have quite the tendency for trouble.”

I swallowed.

“I suppose you could say so,” I nodded.

“I like your fire,” Helion smiled. “I could see why Rhysand admires you so.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Helion raised a brow. He was testing me, and I’d just confirmed all of his suspicions with my reaction. I was off kilter tonight. I needed to get a grip on myself before I risked the lives of everyone in the room. It was a dangerous game we were playing.

“Thank you,” was all I choked out. Helion hummed in response.

“Seems the hour draws near,” he spoke, eyes flicking momentarily to the dais behind me. I couldn’t turn to see what he had seen without alerting Amarantha to the attention and watchful eyes. “See you when the darkness takes hold.”

And with that, he was gone, off to prance about and socialize. My eyes went to Rhys, but I felt like I’d been kicked in the gut when I saw him kiss Amarantha, slipping his tongue past her lips. I knew what that felt like. I knew the way it made your stomach drop and your heart pound. I knew how the smell of him wrapped around you like an intoxicating and all-consuming blanket.

I spun on my heel and after checking to ensure no one was watching my movements, I headed toward our room, at the very last second catching Helion’s curious eyes. I scurried quickly down the hallway, shutting myself inside the room with a deep breath of relief. Kicking off my ridiculous shoes, I crawled into bed, still in my dress.

I laid my head on the pillow and pretended I didn’t feel the tear roll from the side of my eyes to drip on the pillowcase. There were so many more important things at play tonight, and I was crying because I’d seen Rhys kiss his abuser, something I knew he did nightly. I suppose seeing it was harder than knowing it.

I hadn’t even realized I’d dozed off until Rhys came quietly through the door, his silk shirt no longer tucked in and halfway unbuttoned. I gave him a tight-lipped smile as he sat on the bed next to where I laid on my side, his hand tucking my hair behind my ear. I could not make him feel guilty for the things he did to keep us both alive. I already knew the ways it gnawed at him, and I didn’t intend to add fuel to the fire of self-loathing.

“Hi,” I said, voice thick with sleep. The corner of Rhys’s perfect lips twitched. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my cheek. I closed my eyes and inhaled his scent. His smell and nearness never failed to calm my nerves.

“Are you ready?” He whispered. Sitting up, I nodded. I pulled my shoes back on and smoothed my hair what little bit I could. I tried not to also notice how messy Rhysand’s was. It didn’t work.

“Did everything work?” I asked him, chewing my bottom lip.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Took a bit longer than I expected, but she was energetic tonight. I hadn’t intended to take so long getting back to you.” I wrapped my arms around his middle, hugging him ferociously. He stiffened for a moment, and then returned my hug with equal fervor and enthusiasm.

“I’m glad you’re here,” I murmured into his shirt.

“Me too,” he said quietly.

We finally pulled away and opened the door, heading down the winding cave hallways, heading to the chasm. The growing volume of the rushing water made my hands shake, my steps uncertain. My cuts were nearly a forgotten memory by now, but when I thought about it too hard, it was like I could still feel them.

Rounding the corner and coming into full view of the black river, my eyes found five High Lords speaking to one another in hushed, worried tones. I felt sick. The Hell Amarantha would unleash if she found us all here would be catastrophic. I looked nervously at Rhysand, and he clasped my hand in his own, running a reassuring thumb across the back.

“Rhys,” Kallias nodded, opening up the circle to include us. “I trust everything went according to plan?” Rhysand had managed to slip a message to all of the High Lords with his daemati abilities and had told them all to meet here at this exact time. Rhys had been indisposed all day, charming Amarantha and plying her with wine. Once she’d already begun to slightly slur her words, Rhys fixed her another drink, pouring in the same sleep potion he’d given me when I’d needed it, adding a little extra for good measure.

He’d given her the glass, watching anxiously as she slowly sipped it down, and had likely been made to service her until she’d fallen asleep. The idea was that she would think she had a debilitating hangover and not question where Rhysand had wandered off to during the night. Rhys had arranged this meeting in hopes of coming up with a plan of escape.

“Of course,” Rhys cleared his throat.

“I met your… partner,” Helion cooed, being very specific about his word choice as he gave Rhysand a look that said a lot more than I’d been able to interpret. The two had known each other for centuries and likely had many an inside joke.

“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Rhys smiled down at me and I blushed, elbowing his ribs playfully. Helion smiled as he watched the two of us together. A knowing look filled the man’s eyes, like he was having deja vu of some sort, reliving a love since passed.

“Undoubtedly,” Helion winked. I grinned.

“We don’t have much time,” Beron snapped, crossing his arms over his bear-like chest. He was impatient, stamping his foot rhythmically as though he had somewhere better to be. I decided quickly that I didn’t like him very much.

“I think it’s obvious that Helion, once unleashed, is the only chance we have,” Kallias said anxiously, rubbing at the back of his pale neck. He looked haggard, and I only could imagine the pain of watching those children- I shook my head, reminding myself to focus.

“Nothing we aren’t used to, darling,” Helion said cheekily, leaning an elbow on Kallias’s shoulder. The white-haired High Lord gave a sheepish smile, looking down at the floor.

“If we time it right, we can likely weaken her enough to kill her. Her death would break the shackles she keeps on our powers. We will only have one chance,” Rhysand said, voice deadly serious. He gripped my hand tightly, the only signal he gave of just how nervous he really was.

“But what about the blood ward?” I spoke up, reminding them of the unbreakable spell Amarantha had sealed over us like a tomb. She’d said if she died, no one would be able to break the ward. Was it worth it to live down here among ourselves if it meant she was gone?

“Helion,” Kallias said, nodding to his friend who still used him for support.

My brow furrowed. Beron groaned with gritted teeth, shifting his weight. For the first time, I saw him clearly. He was just as afraid as all of them. He hid his fear with anger and impatience, but he was terrified.

“Spell-cleaver,” Beron grumbled. “He can break unbreakable magic.”

Hellion wagged his eyebrows and shook his fingers playfully.

“Would she not have accounted for that?” I asked, hating to be the rain on their parade, but needing to know for certain that all of our bases were covered.

“Not if she doesn’t know,” Helion shrugged.

Oh.

“It’s all we have,” Rhys said just to me, like he knew I needed the reassurance from him that this was the best option. He knew I trusted him, that his confidence genuinely would relieve my panic.

“How can I help?” I asked.

“You’ll have your part when the time comes, but for now, do as you have been,” Kallias spoke. I nodded, knowing that I was a liability to all of them. I didn’t even want to know what kind of convincing Rhysand had to do to get them to agree to allow me to come. "Draw no attention or suspicion to yourself."

“The girls have belladonna,” Rhys swallowed. “I can slip it to her in small increments. Slowly it will begin to eat away at her body and her power. By poisoning her, we may be able to make it a fairer fight. We just must convince her to let her guard down.” All heads turned to him, and I felt sick to my stomach. I hated the sacrifices he was being forced to make. I knew how dirty they made him feel.

I was sure to worship him a little extra on the days I noticed it weighing heavier. I tried to lessen his load as much as he’d let me. I was well aware, though, how much harder this was for him than it was for anyone. He had lost the rights to his own body.

“That…” Helion furrowed his brows. “That may actually work.”

Hope was a fickle thing, but again it began to spark in my chest.

It had to work. It just had to.

Chapter Text

“Helion feels pretty confident about breaking the blood ward,” Rhys whispered into my hair as he held me to his chest. He was warm and solid underneath me and my body formed perfectly to his- like we’d been made so that all our features fit together like puzzle pieces.

“Yeah?” I murmured sleepily into his shirt.

“I just have kind of been thinking about what it would mean if we really got out of here,” he sighed. I nestled in closer to him and his fingers grazed my skin where my shirt was hitched up, exposing a sliver of my lower back.

“What do you mean?”

“I just-” He began, but sighed, rubbing a hand roughly down his face. “I’m not sure about our odds of rescuing Tamlin. I have no clue where she’s keeping him. I tried to pry, but she got oddly suspicious, and I had to drop it. Of course, I hope he is alive, but I’m not sure. I’m not really certain who he would have named heir of his estate. Perhaps Lucien? He’s a fine enough male and I’m sure he’d be willing to keep Tamlin’s word-”

I lifted my head, narrowing my eyes at him.

“What are you trying to say?” I asked, raising a brow.

“Well, I didn’t want to assume anything of you. You told me you wanted a distraction, Feyre. I am more than happy to provide that for you, but I was always aware you had no intentions of-”

I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his, forcing him to stop talking. He inhaled sharply through his nose and stiffened before relaxing into my touch and passionately grabbing the back of my head to kiss me harder. He slipped his tongue past my lips, and I swallowed his moan while kissing him back with equal intention.

“I go,” I whispered between kisses, “where you go.” He pulled back and looked at me with glassy eyes. His thumb caressed my cheek as he searched my eyes for any evidence that I may be trying to joke with him. Finding none, he pulled me into a tight hug, burying his face in my neck in the ways he did when he felt more emotion than he knew how to handle. I stroked the back of his head, twining his dark hair through my fingers.

“Do you mean it?” He whispered softly against the skin of my neck.

“More than I’ve ever meant anything,” I sigh. “Did you really think after everything- after you’d saved us both, that I’d just leave you to go back to him?” His silence let me know that was exactly what he’d been expecting. It broke my heart, knowing how much he still put himself at risk for me, thinking I wouldn’t choose him in the end anyway. Rhysand was endlessly selfless, even at the expense of himself.

“I try to consider myself replaceable,” he said quietly. “It hurts less when it’s inevitably true. The more I can anticipate the emotional blow, the easier it will be to come back from. Although I’m not sure I would ever come back from losing you. Not really.”

“You won’t lose me,” I promised him. I would do whatever it took to keep that promise. I would be the one to show him that not everyone leaves. I would show him that some people are trustworthy and mean what they say when they tell him they care about him. More than care about him.

“Feyre,” he sighed, shaking his head, opening his mouth to tell me not to make promises that I wasn’t sure I could keep, but I wasn’t having it. Not tonight. Not when there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel, showing us that we might really survive this.

“I want to see the Night Court,” I whispered to him. He held me tighter to his chest, like he was afraid I wasn’t really there with him, like he’d imagined it all. I held him even tighter to show him that I was.

“I would love to see you there,” he murmured.

“Tell me about it,” I say, hoping to coax him into a better headspace. While talking about home made him sad, it also reminded him of all that was waiting for him on the other side of this. I needed to stoke the flames of his fight and keep him hopeful.

“About home?”

I nodded. He rolled onto his back, looking up at the ceiling as he thought about what he wanted to say. His eyes darkened to a deeper shade of purple when he thought like this. His jaw was shadowed with facial hair scruff, telling me he hadn’t shaved in a few days, which was unlike him. If there was one thing Rhysand was obsessive about, it was his appearance. It made him look older, more rugged.

“My city is called Velaris,” he spoke. “I typically stay in a townhome I own along the bend of the Sidra, but I’d like to refer to home as being the house that sits high up atop a mountain. My family calls it the House of Wind. There is a library there that I helped to build. It seems never ending with the way it winds up infinite levels, with offsets and hallways that feel nearly impossible to memorize. I spent a lot of time there before things fell apart. It had always been a safe space to me, even before I could fully understand what it meant to those it housed. I- I really hope to see it again. I think it would mean something entirely different to me now.”

“In what way?” I ask him, listening intently.

“Well,” he sighed, “it was set aside as a safe space for women who had been victims of violence or assault.” He swallowed roughly, his voice getting thick. “Of course, it had always been something I took quite seriously and thought I understood the pain of, but now, having a space like that… I just… I think it would comfort me in a way that had always been out of my understanding.” My heart ached inside my chest for the pain he wore around his neck like a weight, constantly trying to drag him under the tidal wave of hopelessness that relentlessly crashed against him.

“You’ll see it again,” I told him.

He nodded solemnly, clearly at his limit with talking about it. I wasn’t sure when I’d gotten so good at reading his body language, but I could read him like a book at this point. I appreciated that I could give him those small comforts and was able to respect his boundaries without even having to have been told them.

“How are you feeling about your role in all of this? Do you think you’ll be able to slip her the belladonna without her noticing anything?” I ask him, and the strain on his face eases slightly.

“I think so,” he admitted. “I make her drinks pretty frequently, but I’m also not the only one. If the amounts are trace enough, she shouldn’t be able to detect them taste wise, and she wouldn’t be able to pinpoint it directly to me without investigation.”

“Just please be careful,” I ask.

“I will,” he agreed.

“I love when you tell me more things about yourself,” I encourage him.

“Tell me things about you,” he suggests. “Tell me about your sisters.”

“Well, my oldest sister is incredibly strong-willed and blunt. Which are things about her I used to dislike. The more time I’ve spent apart from her, I realize that it was just her way of refusing to allow life to keep hurting her. Nesta was the only one of us old enough to fully understand the impact of what it was like when our family lost our money along with our mother. I think she resented my father for his lack of ambition and will to help us. She purposefully didn’t play the role of a parent, which I thought had made it my responsibility, but now I realize that I think she was testing my father. I think she wanted to see how bad he would really let it get without stepping up for us. I’ve always felt the need to be a mediator, and so instead of joining her in her anger, I blamed her for our circumstances instead and took it upon myself to do it all.”

“She sounds… difficult,” Rhys said hesitantly.

“Most days,” I nodded. “I don’t excuse her behavior, but I think I’m beginning to understand her more since being here. My middle sister, Elain, has always had a talent for avoiding the hardest parts of life. She gardens and wears the nicest clothes we’re still able to find. She finds her value in her beauty, and Nesta and I had always seen her softness as a need to protect her even more. Now I wonder if we had sheltered her too much, let her sit on the sidelines too long. I wonder how they are now, or who has stepped up to take on my responsibilities. I wonder if they think of me, or if they miss me. I wonder if my father has finally gotten up and attempted to look for me. They had all watched Tamlin, in the form of a beast, steal me away, and I never saw any evidence of them having looked for me.”

Rhys lifted my hand to his mouth, pressing kisses to my knuckles as he listened to me recount my childhood and family. He was so drawn in, commenting when necessary, and nodding to make sure I knew he was listening and that I had his attention. I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt so heard.

“I think I felt really alone in that house,” I confess. “I don’t think my sisters ever really knew me. I’m not sure I’d ever given them a chance. Seeing how close they were only ever made me angry and envious. I wonder what it might have been like had I just tried to join them. I wonder if my own mental blocks had kept me from having closer relationships in my life. I’m not sure why I keep everyone at arm's length.”

“I do the same,” Rhys said. “It feels like the best thing to do for the people you love when you feel like the problem resides within yourself. I always understood my power and how it made me different from my family. I never gave them the true opportunity to know me, either. It seemed safer for them that way. I kept my problems to myself because then I could limit their impact.”

“It only ever hurt us,” I conclude.

“Maybe now it doesn’t have to be the same,” Rhys offered. “Maybe you and I can teach each other how to be vulnerable. Will you see your sisters once Amarantha is dead?” He asks me, and it was certainly something that had been haunting my mind.

“I think I’d like to, if they’d have me,” I say, chewing my bottom lip.

“I’m sure they would,” he ensures. “Give them the chance to make things right with you. I think as creatures, humans and fae can be so polarizing in our anger that we neglect to consider how things could be viewed alternatively. Perhaps your sisters didn’t understand the way their closeness impacted you- it’s possible they took your anger and standoffishness as a distaste for them. Is it possible they took it as a sign that you didn’t want those bonds with them?”

“It’s certainly possible,” I admit, the new perspective automatically giving me a new vantage point. I’d need to mull it over more to fully understand what I believed, but it was an angle I’d never considered on my own. I pondered the ways that partnership- like the one I’d begun to form with Rhys- could change you for the better and could encourage growth in your other relationships. I think I offered him things he could use more of, and I knew he did the same for me.

“So, would you… would you want to stay with me, after? I could get you a place of your own if you’d be more comfortable, I could get you anything you needed to feel safe. You just say the word, Feyre, and anything you ask for is yours.” He said, and my heart squeezed in my chest.

“Thank you, Rhys,” I smiled gently. “I’d like to stay with you, if you would be okay with that.” Rhys’s lips twitched like he was fighting back a grin, and I chuckled. He laughed with me, a huge dimply grin spread across his face, and he was so beautiful that it knocked the air from my lungs.

“Gods,” he laughed, unable to stop smiling. “I’m sorry. I look so goofy, I just-... Feyre, that would make me happier than anything else ever could. The thought of always having you around, I- that sounds like an ideal life for me.”

I kissed his cheek, and he turned his head to capture my lips with his own. I kissed him slowly, telling him everything I didn’t know how with my body. He shifted so that he was on top of me, and I wrapped my legs around his middle. He moaned against my mouth as he ground into me, growing hard as I tugged on his hair.

“Feyre,” he panted.

“I want you, Rhys,” I breathed.

“Fuck,” he swore, kissing down my neck. He shoved down his sleep pants, tugging my shorts along too until we were bare against each other. He pulled my shirt over my head and his mouth found my breast, swirling his tongue around my nipple. His mouth was hot on my skin and turned my core molten. He ground his hardness against me, shivering at how wet I already was for him.

He reached between us, positioning his cock at my entrance, and slowly shifted his hips forward as he pressed inside me. He panted against my neck, dragging his teeth across my skin in a way that made my skin ripple with goosebumps. I arched my back, digging my heels into his ass and pushing him deeper inside me with a groan. He returned the sound of pleasure, kissing me and licking the roof of my mouth delicately.

“Gods, you feel made for me,” he groaned, and I sighed in pleasure as he rolled his hips, taking me deeper and deeper with each thrust. He felt so good gliding in and out of me. He held me close to his chest, like he couldn’t possibly touch me enough. It felt like our souls were twining with one another.

“I love the way you feel inside me,” I whimpered, and he slightly picked up his pace. I cradled the back of his head as he continued to breathe against my skin. He moaned and gave an especially slow buck of his hips, stilling deep inside me to feel me pulsate around him.

“I just feel so close to you,” he whined softly, kissing my skin delicately.

“I feel it, too,” I agree, and he shivered under my touch. I moved my hips to meet his. He pulled back to look into my eyes, our foreheads resting against one another’s. We breathed together as he fucked me deeper, his mouth hanging open slightly as he began to near his climax. Seeing the pleasure so clearly written on his face made me begin to meet his thrusts eagerly, feeling my legs tighten around him as I worked myself up to come with him.

“Please,” he said through gritted teeth, “please come with me.” I nodded against his forehead, squeezing my eyes shut as I held on to the back of his neck. He swore as he felt my grip on his cock tighten. I dug my nails into the back of his neck, screaming in exasperation as I threw my head back.

I came all over his cock as he came inside me, the two of us deep in the throes of ecstasy together. He held me as he pumped his cum inside of me, taking a few moments to catch our breath together before we separated, feeling him spill out of me.

As was becoming a bit of a routine for us, we showered together, taking delicate care of one another. When we laid naked on top of one another in Rhysand’s bed, he fell asleep in moments, his head against my chest. His breathing was soft as he slept, and his face relaxed so much that he looked so much younger and more innocent.

Looking at his face, I thought three words. In the darkness as he slept, I whispered them, knowing that for now, saying them aloud was enough for me, even if he didn’t hear them. It made me feel lighter to have said them.

Chapter Text

It took two weeks of stealthy poisoning to notice any difference in Amarantha. I’d been too afraid to dose her harshly. If she ever had even an inkling that I was harming her, my head would be on a spike before I could even open my mouth to explain. I didn’t emphasize the real danger I was putting myself in to Feyre, but she had an idea. The rest of the High Lords remained as unseen as they could, per usual. The less Amarantha paid them any attention, the less harm she tended to cause to them or their people. She knew none of them had enough power to overthrow her and had instilled enough fear that she thought she was safe to assume we would not be in cohorts.

After two weeks, Amarantha developed a cough. It started out as a subtle clearing of her throat but continued to develop into something wetter, gnarlier. It was difficult to not flash her a self-satisfied grin. The circles underneath her eyes were turning purple in a way I’d never seen on her. Her skin was pale, and she sometimes appeared quite clammy. She didn’t mention it, though. Not to me.

“Rhysand, doll, fetch me a cask of faerie wine, would you?” Amarantha called out to me from her bedroom. I leaned over the mirror of her vanity, looking at the gaunt hollowing of my features. The bitch was running me ragged. I’d endured her for fifty years now, but it still became harder to appease her every single day. I wanted to bust the chalice to a jagged edge and use it to slice open her veins, but instead, I poured the wine and took it to her.

She gave me a pleased smile as I transferred the cup into her colorless hand. She cleared her throat harshly, trying to swallow a cough. She sipped deeply from the wine, attempting to ease the burning itch in her esophagus.

“Tell the kitchen I’d like to take my dinner in my room tonight. Make yourself scarce, I’m feeling a little unwell. I do not wish to be seen at this moment.” Amarantha barked, coughing as quietly as she could manage, her eyes turning glassy and red as her face strained.

“As you wish,” I nodded to her, and she shooed me from her room with a flick of her wrist. As I walked out and shut the door behind me, I heard her hack even harder. The corner of my lips twitched.

I did as she asked and alerted the kitchen faeries that Amarantha would like a different dinner arrangement for the night, and I felt lighter than I had in weeks. When I walked, my step had more of a bounce, and it felt easier to exist. I knew my night could now be spent wrapped up in Feyre like twisted and tangled branches of a tree.

That was, until I saw Kallias waiting outside of the kitchen for me, like he’d known precisely where I would be. The white-haired High Lord tugged on his baby blue robes awkwardly. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“How is… it… going?” He asked, chewing on the inside of his cheeks restlessly.

“I’m starting to see change. She asked to take her dinner alone in her room,” I explained, and the High Lord sagged with relief, but just as quickly gave me a look of warning. Something was wrong.

“Helion was testing the wards last night, trying to understand the magic and what would be required to disarm it. The moment he made move to touch it, the Attor was squawking and quick on our heels. She’s made it some kind of guard dog. We managed to avoid being seen, but she knows someone was messing with the wards last night,” Kallias said, his voice as quiet as he could manage while still being understood.

Fuck.

That means she had plenty of reason to suspect someone may be plotting and doing something to deteriorate her health. It put me in worlds more danger, and I was nearly sick to my stomach with relief over the fact that I hadn’t added anything to her drink just now. I wasn’t even sure if that plan would work after this. I would have to be incredibly careful, and even still, I ran an enormous risk.

“Why did you not ask me? I could have warned you,” I growled, rubbing the heel of my hand against my eye. “She’d paranoid and beyond suspicious. Of course, she took measures of protecting the ward.” Frustration was oozing from me, but I tried to rope it back in. They hadn’t meant to cause any harm. They’d thought they were helping.

“We didn’t realize- Rhysand I am sorry,” Kallias said, his shoulders hunched. I sighed.

“It’s okay,” I nodded. “I’ll make sure it’s okay. Just alert me next time. I can help.”

Kallias nodded, dismissing himself wordlessly. I took in a deep breath. All of this balanced on the edge of a razor blade, and it grew more precarious by the minute. I walked around to the back entrance of the kitchen, where only the workers would ever enter or exit. I tucked myself in the corner, what use I still had over my shadows being used to hide myself in the darkness.

I watched the kitchen faeries fuss about, cooking and creating meals to feed all of those entombed under this cursed rock bed. They all seemed anxious, just as they had every right to be. Amarantha was cranky today, and she was vindictive on her best days. Thinking on my feet, I sent a bit of my magic, in the form of shadow, creeping into the storage closet.

A loud crash sounded as I strained my power, using the magic to knock over a stack of pots. The amount of effort was mortifying. Sure, I was allowed to keep a much larger allotment of magic than my fellow High Lords, but it was by no means a sufficient amount. Each use of my magic without Amarantha's permission drained me.

The metallic clanging made the kitchen workers gasp, looking to each other with wide-eyed worry. They all scurried to the sound, checking to see what may have happened. Once they were out of my line of sight, I slunk into the kitchen, deciphering which plate was to be sent to Amarantha’s bedchambers based on the fine dining ware and intricate plating upon the tray.

Looking around a last time to ensure I wasn't being watched, I pulled the small bottle from my pocket, using the dropper to deposit drops of belladonna into the plate of food, being sure that nothing looked abnormal or out of place. I’d had this idea last night. To avoid her direct suspicion, I needed for the poisoning to be relatively untraceable and to come from multiple sources.

Amarantha was too proud to ever think lowly kitchen fae would feel bold enough to slip her poison. No, she would look to the members of her stolen Court for that. I slipped back out of the kitchen silently before they came back and saw me. Feeling satisfied with my work, I spun on my heel and walked down the hallway to go and find Feyre.

Chapter Text

“I’ve been betrayed,” Amarantha said, sucking a tooth as she leaned back against her headboard. Her satin robe was all that covered her breasts. I lay sideways at the foot of her bed, my head balanced on my hand.

“Betrayed?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. A strike of panic threatened to fight its way to the surface, but I refused to allow it to. She would sense a shift in my energy if I allowed it to show.

“Hmm,” she hummed, chewing on the inside of her cheeks.

“Who should I kill?” I grinned, tracing my fingers up her bare leg. She narrowed her eyes at me in thought. My stomach tightened under the scrutiny of her gaze.

“I’ve felt rather under the weather,” she said offhandedly. “My magic has begun to feel more… muted. Tame.” My smile dropped, but I quickly recovered the bumble. So, the belladonna was working. I’d dosed her a few more times since Feyre and I had spoken about it. I slipped into the kitchen to mix it in with her meals, occasionally slashed drops into her goblet of wine.

“What could cause that?” I scrunched my brows together.

“Exactly what I would like to know,” Amarantha sighed. “I intend to solve this quickly. My Court must never see me in a moment of weakness.” My throat felt thick as I weighed her words.

“I have full faith,” I said.

“No worries, I already have a lead.” She said, a sadistic curve tugging at her lips. That smile never meant anything good. Gods, what did she think she’d figured out? It made me nauseous to know that she could possibly pin my crimes on someone innocent, but I was also nauseous at the idea of being caught.

“Anything you need my assistance with?” I asked, secretly hoping she’d tell me her plan. The hope was quickly gone when she dismissed me, mumbling about having much she needed to do and needing no distractions. Perhaps I’d been too brave in my poisoning.

I was halfway to Feyre when Kallias came scrambling down the hallway, nearly crashing straight into me. His eyes were blown wide in a gripping flurry of panic, and my heart dropped into my stomach the moment I met those ice blue eyes. She had done something. It took her no time after I left to ensue violence. I should have known, should have sensed it somehow.

I gripped Kallias’ arms harshly, shaking him in an attempt to get him to focus, but his eyes flitted about in terror. What was he running from? What had he seen? His usually pale skin was nearly translucent with fright. I’d never seen the High Lord so worried.

“Kallias,” I said sternly, trying to force him to meet my eyes. “What happened?” He was panting wildly, tugging at his collar like he couldn’t properly breathe. My mind immediately went to Feyre, and I was itching to find her and make sure she was okay.

“She-” He breathed harshly, shaking his head. I growled, moving to shove past him, but he caught me before I could. “No, you can’t go in there, Rhysand. You shouldn’t see.” I looked at him incredulously, trying again to move past him, but he was insistent.

“Kallias!” I growled again, trying to wrangle his hands from my lapels.

“No!” He shouted. “You- You can’t! I won’t let you!”

“Let me go,” I snarled, leveling him with a malicious gaze. Something in my face must have scared him more than whatever he’d witnessed, because he finally let me go. My wild eyes searched him before stomping down the hallway he’d run from.

“Rhysand, please!” Kallias shouted after me, but I couldn’t allow myself to hear him. I rounded the corner and felt the immediate shift of energy in the air. Something dark was here. It lurked in the shadows and dared to brave the light.

The door to the kitchen hung open, the lights inside flickering like they’d witnessed catastrophe. My breath caught in my throat as I reached out a hand, pushing the door open with an eerie creak.

All I saw was red.

Blood, still wet and fresh, coated the walls in haphazard spraying patterns. Puddles covered the floor. It dripped from surfaces. It crawled down the walls. Blood was all I could focus on. My vision was blurry with the overwhelm of the massacre I was faced with.

Crumpled bodies of kitchen fae littered the room, discarded like broken dolls. One fae was nailed to the walls, the thick long nails piercing through his throat and into the wall behind him, holding him upright like the living dead. I was choking, gagging. My throat felt swollen closed. I blinked and blinked, but the blur wouldn’t fade.

I needed to see them. I needed to see their faces, memorize them and memorialize them. None of them had deserved to be butchered, but I’d led Amarantha here on a leash to cover my own ass. I felt sick. Sick in a way I never had before.

A titanium wave of self-loathing doused me like gasoline, and I was ready to light the match. I needed to end this. There was nothing after this. There was no coming back, no redemption. Redemption no longer existed for me. This, this was my fault. I might as well have slaughtered them all myself. My hands would permanently be stained with their blood. A skinny, sleight fae male was slumped against the wall. He couldn’t have been older than 14. He still had a training apron on. His face was cold and pale, empty of life. He looked back at me accusatorily, like even in death he’d known who was to blame.

I pulled his clammy hands into mine, his blood transferring and sticking to my skin. I held the side of his face, a tear trailing down my cheek and onto my neck. I had never wanted to cease to exist the way I did in that moment.

A sob cracked my chest as I let out a pathetic cry, crawling on my hands and knees deeper into the kitchen. An old, wrinkled woman with kind eyes lay with her throat cut, eyes frozen on the ceiling. I pleaded with whatever force there was to undo this. To take it back. To give this punishment to me, instead.

The woman's name was Miriam and she had been a small solace on some of my darkest days. She'd discovered in the earlier years that the occasional sweet treat would make me perk right up, and I would always find hidden desserts left for me on especially bad days. I wasn't sure how she knew when I'd need them, but she always did.

Now she was dead in my arms.

I pulled her body into my lap, hugging her to my chest as I broke over and over again. My clothes stained with blood and my skin stuck to theirs, but I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t leave them here alone to grow cold and rot. Amarantha’d left this mess intentionally. She wanted everyone to see what had happened. It was yet another warning to not fuck with her.

The thing she didn’t realize, though, was that she’d just autographed her own death warrant. She’d finally made me snap. I had enough and I would end this, even if she took me down with her. The vile bitch didn't get to win. She should be the lifeless corpse left to die alone and rot out in the open as a warning.

“Rhys,” a sweet, small, broken voice cried.

I looked up, my eyes tired and bloodshot.

Feyre stood in the doorway; her face just as gaunt as Kallias’s had been. Something in the innocence of her upturned nose and pink pout shattered me all over again. I bowed my head, tears falling so quickly that they once again stole my vision.

Feyre crossed the room instantly, her hand petting the back of my head soothingly. She tugged me back into her arms on the floor and I collapsed against her. I held her as tightly as I could as I cried 50 years' worth of tears into her frail shoulder. She was so small, so breakable. Amarantha could hurt her so easily.

If that ever happened- if I ever lost her- I wouldn’t survive it. It would be the thing to finally kill me after all of this loss and gore. I felt her tears falling against my skin, but she kept silent. Neither of us spoke, we just held one another as we cried. Eventually the sobs faded to jaded eyes and hollow chests.

Feyre eventually helped peel my zombified form from the floor. She held my hand delicately as she helped me back down the hallway and to our room. She walked me to the bathroom we shared and helped remove my blood-soaked clothes. She helped me sit down in the shower. I stared at the floor soullessly as she washed the blood from my skin. I didn’t even feel alive, and I certainly didn’t deserve her compassion. Once she knew the truth, she’d likely never be able to look at me again.

Feyre hummed sweetly as she worked, her focus entirely on me, ignoring the blood on my own skin. I wished more than anything that I had the energy or strength to take care of her too, but there was nothing left inside me. She’d snuffed out my last flame. I wasn’t sure even Feyre could relight it now.

She helped me out of the bath, gently patting a towel against my skin to dry me. She walked me to the bed and pulled back the blankets, helping me crawl in first. She walked back to the bathroom, and I heard the faucet crank once more. I stared at the wall until my eyes stung like they were ablaze.

She would never forgive me for this.

I would never forgive me for this.

Chapter Text

Warning: talk of suicide, explicit sexual content

I wanted to know what was going on in his head. He kept his eyes cast to the floor the entire time I’d helped to clean the blood from his skin. I’d never seen him so hollow before, not even on his drunken nights of melancholic thinking. It was like there wasn’t a person inside him anymore, just muscles moving a corpse.

I’d found him with a dead body in his lap, sobbing and coated in more blood than I think he realized. He had smeared it across his cheeks when wiping his eyes, it coagulated in the strands of his hair when he ran an anguished hand through the locks. That room- gods, that room was nauseatingly thick with violence. I had no clue what had happened, but I knew that Rhysand was not okay.

It kept me from sleep, brows furrowed in thought as I stared at his bare back as he faced away from me and toward the wall. His breathing was even, but I doubted he was really asleep. I leaned forward, pressing my lips between his shoulder blades tenderly. He sucked in a quick breath, but made no other moves. I kissed across his shoulders next, twisting my head to kiss his neck, too.

His shoulders shook silently, and his jagged breathing let me know that he was crying and trying to hide it from me. I didn’t say anything, just snuggled closer to his back, wrapping my arms around his middle and holding him tightly, my eyes squeezed shut and stray tears leaking from the corners at the sound of his pain. I kept kissing his back, hoping any of it was a comfort. I didn’t know what else to do.

He was still crying a few minutes later, and I sat up to peer over his arm to see his face. He stared blankly at the wall, empty even now, alone with me. What had she done to him? It was like she’d drained him of everything that made him who he was. It fueled a deep and burning rage inside my stomach, the acidic feeling twisting and turning in my gut. I wanted her dead.

“Rhys, honey,” I whispered gently, using my fingers to push the hair off of his forehead. He blinked, but made no move to respond or look at me. Okay, then. At least I knew he was listening. “I am so sorry. I know you’re in so much pain right now, and I am so, so sorry. Feel the hurt however you need to. I’m not going anywhere. I will be right beside you, waiting when you’re ready to talk about it. I will never leave you alone in this. Nothing she did could ever make me feel differently about you. I know who you are. And if all you can do right now is listen to me, then I want you to really hear me.”

I sniffled, trying to keep my own composure as he squeezed his eyes shut at my words, tears falling faster than before. But he needed to hear me. I needed him to hear me. “You are a good man, Rhysand. You put your life at risk to save me before you even knew me. You sacrificed yourself to save as many of your people as you could. You bear the brunt of Amarantha’s destruction so that no one else has to. You are a good leader, a good friend, and you have glued me back together more times than I can count by now. Lean on me, please. Let me love you in this. I don’t want you to hold it alone.”

He turned his body, burying his face in my lap as he wrapped his muscular arms around my middle. My fingers twisted in his hair, massaging his scalp. He nuzzled into me. His skin was so warm against mine. He still didn’t speak, and I couldn’t really blame him, but he was allowing me to comfort him in the only way he could right now. For that, I was appreciative.

I fell asleep with Rhysand in my lap and my head tipped back to rest against the headboard. Eventually, Rhysand woke up and stretched lazily, sighing as he blinked his violet eyes open to look up at me. The faintest tug on the corner of his mouth let me know he was happy to see me.

He picked up my hand, lacing his fingers through mine.

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely, pressing a kiss to the back of my hand. I pulled our hands to my own lips, doing the same to him.

“Always,” I promised him.

“She figured out about the poison.” Rhysand looked at our hands, avoiding my eyes as his cheeks turned pink with anger. “She assumed it was the kitchen staff, and didn’t hesitate. I couldn’t save them. It was all my fault, and I couldn’t protect them.” He said, crying again. It was like he couldn’t stop. His eyes were puffy and his nose was raw from the amount of times he’d had to wipe it with a napkin.

“Rhys,” I shook my head in disbelief. “That is not true. Nothing could have stopped her once she put her mind to something, and if you’d have tried, she would have killed you, too. You cannot protect and save everyone. You are one person. You are exhausting yourself by carrying the weight of everyone’s life on your shoulders.”

“I dosed the food in the kitchen,” he growled in frustration, like he wanted me to be angry with him. He expected it, craved it even. He wanted my wrath because he felt like he deserved it.

“You were trying to help us find a way to kill her so that she can never hurt anyone else like that again,” I reassured him, rubbing my hand up and down his arm.

“I’m lost, Feyre,” he said, his voice cracking. “I don’t know what else to do. I’m so tired. I feel so heavy, and it feels so hard to find the will to even crawl out of bed these days. She took everything from me, and everytime I find hope of escaping her, she makes everything worse for everyone.” He sounded truly broken. My heart ached in my chest.

“I know,” I soothed, pulling him closer to me.

“Before you came, I-... I was in such a dark headspace that I had started to plan a way to end things for myself. I just wanted to make it stop. I couldn’t bear another night with her hands on my body and her tongue in my ear. I told myself I’d jump into the chasm. It would be painful, but I wouldn’t be able to change my mind. Once I had gone into the water, I knew I would never come back up. The thought of it soothed my pain for that moment where I imagined it.” The thought of him feeling so alone that he would do such a thing sliced my chest wide open and yanked out my heart in a clenched fist.

“I’m so glad you didn’t,” I breathed, fighting tears of my own.

“So am I,” he reassured me, squeezing my hand in his own. “You were what brought me back to life. I felt hope for the first time in over 40 years. Some days, I felt like maybe you were the last good thing I was gifted. That if I had to go, at least I got to spend time with you and know you before I did. That night I came down to see you in your cell for the first time was the night I’d stood at the edge of the chasm. I was ready to do it. I had a whiskey bottle in my hand and nothing to lose. Until I heard you crying. The sound called out to me like you were right next to me. It was the strangest thing. I knew I had to see who you must be, to have gotten into my head so easily.”

“Why could I?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I have my theories, but nevermind that. I just wanted to thank you. Thank you for being my friend, Feyre.”

“I will always be your friend, Rhys,” I said, pressing my lips together in a thin line to keep my bottom lip from wobbling with emotion.

“I have to kill her soon,” he swallowed. “I can’t let anyone else die. She has to go.”

“I will help in any way I can,” I added supportively.

“Thank you.”

“This isn’t just physical,” I sighed, rubbing the tears from my cheeks with my palm. He looked up at me, eyes searching my face, his own brow deeply furrowed.

“What?” His voice was small and wary.

“Between us, Rhys,” I explained. “What we’re doing here is not just sex.”

Silence.

“I know.”

“You know?”

He nodded.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I begged, hoping to place the pressure on him instead of myself. I couldn’t let myself blurt out feelings if they weren’t reciprocated. With all the abuse he’d suffered, it wasn’t fair to expect anything of him that he wasn’t genuinely ready and happy to give.

“I’m thinking, Feyre darling,” his eyes flicked up to meet mine from under his lashes, “that if any other man ever touched you, he would no longer have hands. Does that clear things up for you?”

My stomach heated at his words.

“Maybe,” I choke out.

He nodded.

“Let me be clearer then,” he said, reaching for me. I let him twist us to that I was on top of him, straddling his hips as I draped across his chest, my elbows supporting me on either side of his head. His hands found my hips and drifted down to my ass, pulling me down against him, where I could feel how hard he already was. “You. Are. Mine.” He growled the words against my neck as he planted kisses there. I gasped, opening my throat up to give him easier access to those sweet spots his lips and tongue always knew how to find. We were both naked, which meant his cock slid through my wetness immediately. He let out a shuddering groan.

“If someone else touches you ever again, they’ll wish they hadn’t,” I whined against his touch, his hand cradling my face as he devoured my mouth with his own. With his other hand he pushed my hips down as he ground up into me. I moaned as his hardness added such delicious friction between my thighs. Gods, why did that feel so good?

“Gonna keep you so full of my cum that everyone will smell me on you and know exactly who you belong to,” Rhys snarled, grinding into me harder. My mouth hung open as I panted for him. He was so hard, the head of his cock pushing against my clit with the perfect amount of pressure with every roll of his hips. The way he was whining underneath me made it evident that it felt just as good for him as it did for me.

He kept grinding against me until my eyes squeezed shut and my breath caught in my throat. As I came, he shoved his cock inside me, feeling me pulsate around him as I rode out my high. The stretch of him heightened the pleasure, and I felt breathless.

“Fuckkkkk,” he groaned, gripping my hips to lift me up just to slam back into me even harder, making me whimper. “So tight and perfect.”

“You feel so good,” I whispered as I started to rock my hips, riding his cock. I moved my hips, finding the movements that made him hit that gloriously pleasurable spot deep inside of me.

“Want you to soak my cock in your cum,” he sighed, tipping his head back in pleasure. He looked so pretty like this, underneath me and making such desperate noises. It drove me wild, my speed and fervor picking up as I bounced on his cock, taking him deep.

“Gonna come again,” I writhed in his lap, my hips undulating of their own accord as he continually stroked that spot inside me that had me milking his cock all over again as I came.

“Same,” he said through gritted teeth, sitting up and wrapping his arms around me as I rode his cock in his lap, feeling his teeth bite down on my collarbone as he came, pumping his cum as deeply inside me as he could. He held me to his chest, rocking me slightly and rubbing soothing strokes up and down my spine.

"Did so good for me, my pretty girl," he murmured against my neck. I hummed with a sleepy smile. I loved when he praised me like this. It made a blush form in my cheeks.

I pulled back and kissed both of his cheeks where the tears had dried on his skin. I looked into his eyes, holding the sides of his face. Adoration in my eyes, I grinned at him. He smiled back to me.

"Rhys, I-... I love you," I whispered, our faces only inches apart.

His eyes blew wide, pupils dilating. He pulled me so hard against his chest that the air rushed out of my lungs. I wheezed out a laugh, holding him back. He murmured inaudibly into my shoulder, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Say it again, please say it again," he said quietly.

"I love you, Rhysand," I repeated, making sure he looked at me when I said it.

"I've always loved you, Feyre," he sighed happily. "I've never even had to try. Loving you comes so naturally to me that I could never deny it. You consume my mind."

I chewed my bottom lip, fighting a big cheesy grin. He kissed my forehead.

"I love you," I whispered into his skin as I cradled my face against his neck. "So much, I love you."

"I love you," he returned.

We cleaned up and laid back down together, both feeling the smallest bit better just to be in one another’s arms and be so physically reminded that we no longer had to deal with any of this alone. We had each other.

Chapter Text

I woke up with bleary vision and a pounding headache. I was ready to fully blame it on the tears I’d shed until I looked to the nightstand to see an uncorked bottle of whiskey and remembered. Surely, I hadn’t drank enough to feel this badly? There was only a little gone from the bottle. I grimaced, sitting up to rest my head in my hands.

Screeching filtered through the hallway and registered in my ears. Panic sucker-punched me as I realized Feyre was no longer next to me. Her side of the bed felt cold, like it had been a while since she had laid next to me. The clock read 4am. She should not have been out of bed, and I should never have slept through her leaving.

I scrambled up from the bed, my legs getting tangled in the sheets in my haste. I pulled on pants and a shirt faster than I think I’d ever dressed myself, ducking into the bathroom to make sure that wasn’t where she’d been. She wasn’t there. My skin went cold. A bead of sweat formed at the nape of my neck. I yanked on my boots, storming down the hall, breathing heavily.

More than anything, I wanted to scream her name, but I knew that wasn’t wise. Gods, where was she? My mind continued to venture toward the fear that something very bad had happened. I’d been foolish last night to believe Amarantha wouldn’t have hunted me down for my reaction to her work. But the only reason she would take Feyre and not me was if-

I couldn’t even allow myself to think it. I attempted to summon my magic, trying to connect with Feyre mind-to-mind, but my powers felt muted. This was very, very bad. Amarantha had likely dosed my whiskey, knowing it was where I tended to bury my sorrows. She’d done this on purpose, to distract me. To hurt me. Then, while I was unable to protect her, stole Feyre in the middle of the night.

“One can only play a game for so long without growing bored,” Amarantha sighed, her voice echoing down the hall to me. The stone reverberated her speech like it was haunted. And truthfully, it might as well have been.

I picked up my pace, rounding the corner.

And I saw.

Nothing could have stopped me from falling to my knees.

My kneecaps cracked harshly against the stone, making my teeth clack together.

I didn’t care.

I couldn’t care.

My worst fears were actualized right in front of me.

Amarantha’s lips formed into a curve of crimson.

She was proud of her work.

She’d certainly taken artistic liberties in its creation.

The sound of a weak, wet inhalation was all it took to snap me from my daze.

She was still alive.

Feyre hung from the wall behind Amarantha’s throne, her blood coating the wall underneath her like fresh paint. Her hands had been stabbed entirely through, nails violently shoved into the gaping holes, holding her to the wall in a position that limited her ability to breathe severely. I wasn’t sure how long she’d been hanging there, but I knew how little time she had now.

I was back on my feet, sprinting directly at Amarantha, my rage so volatile it was likely flowing off me in crashing, ruinous waves. She turned, her eyes catching mine. She feigned shock before giving me a wicked, conniving smile. I wanted to peel every inch of skin from her bones and make her watch.

“There you are, you little traitorous bastard,” Amarantha purred. “So glad you could join us. And just in time for the finale, too!” Two more steps and my hands were wrapped around her throat, squeezing so harshly that her face began to turn purple from the restricted blood and air flow. She gripped my wrists, sinking her claws into my flesh. I gritted my teeth, squeezing even harder.

I was flung across the room, my head smacking back against the limestone of the cave walls. Amarantha touched her throat, glowering at me. She screamed, her hands flicking at me as a large stalagmite broke off and fell directly over my head. I barely rolled out of the way in enough time to dodge it.

“You will pay for this; you twisted sick bitch!” An icy voice exclaimed, and I could barely make out a rush of white as Kallias ran straight for Amarantha. He didn’t even get there before he, too, was slammed brutally against the unforgiving wall.

Beron hurtled a ball of pure flame at her, and she dodged it easily, the ball moving much faster than normal since she’d tempered his powers. Just from one attack he was already sweating. The odds were not looking promising. Amarantha still radiated with power.

Feyre took another shaky breath, and my heart stuttered in my chest. Her eyes were swollen shut, her face bruised and covered in lacerations as though she’d been beaten nearly to death before they’d strung her up. Beron threw another blaze through the air, and as Amarantha dodged, she fell right into the path of Kallias’ counterattack, a heavy block of ice knocking her head sideways, throwing her off balance.

I closed my eyes and strained every ounce of power I could muster. I hoped Kallias and Beron kept her occupied enough for this to work. I mentally pried at the steel doors around Amarantha’s mind, seeking access. It wasn’t giving. She roared with anger, still fighting off the other High Lords. I forced myself to focus.

I mentally summoned a hammer, beating at the hinges of the bolted doors of her mind. Just as she was smacked with a fire ball, one of the hinges broke loose. Swearing, I set to work on the other. She refocused her efforts and the bolt I’d just broken sturdily refastened. Growling, I slashed my talons against the metal, only leaving scratches behind.

Amarantha was choking, coughing. I opened my eyes to see Tarquin flooding her throat with water as Helion held her still, his insanely burly arms making her look so fragile. I closed my eyes again, determined to get into her mind.

As she was drowning, I clawed over and over and over against the most vulnerable part of the steel. A claw punctured through, and I groaned with relief. I yanked at the hole I’d made, forcing the gap bigger and bigger with every force of my hand. The metal groaned unhappily, bending to my will. A gap big enough to squeeze through formed, and I jumped through, landing gracelessly on the other side.

Her mind was a dark and desolate place. She must have hidden her memories and thoughts away somewhere deeper. I took a breath and calmed myself. These were my powers. She only had the ability to do this because she’d stolen it from me. I could fix this. I could find them.

I bolted forward, spider webs snagging in my hair and my eyes barely adjusting to the rabid darkness. I came to several rows of bookshelves and dived between a set. I began pulling the books from the shelves recklessly, letting them crash to the floor at my feet. One book cracked open, revealing its colorful pages to me. Inside I could see Amarantha and her sister when they were younglings.

I’d found them. Amarantha filed her life away in books. I greedily grabbed the next book, thumbing through it to find memories of the war. So, they weren’t in chronological order. Then how were they organized? How could I find what it was I was looking for?

I searched through several more books, my movements jerky and rushed. I found memories of me, spread out on her bed, and wanted to shred them from the spine, but knew I didn’t have that time. I angrily threw it as far as I could into the darker recesses of her mind. Where the hell was the answer I needed?

Opening the last book, I snapped it shut and threw it against the floor when I realized I had been wrong. These were decoy memories; things she was perfectly fine with me seeing. How could I find what she wanted to keep hidden from me?

The inside of her mind rumbled, the ground shaking hard enough to knock over one of the bookshelves, dust sprinkling down from the ceiling. They must be making progress in keeping her contained while I worked. I needed to hurry up. Feyre was dying.

I bolted straight for the darkness, and the breath was reaped from my lungs as I tumbled off the edge of a very high cliff, the complete darkness swallowing me and stealing all sense of direction as I tumbled blindly into the abyss. I finally landed and spun to find a small chair sitting a few feet away from an old woman.

The woman sat in a matching chair, weaving a knitting needle with expert finesse. I cleared my throat, sliding into the seat opposite her. She didn’t look up. Her skin was wrinkled and weathered, but her features were kind. Who was this woman?

“Hello,” I spoke softly.

“Rantha?” The old lady croaked.

“Who are you?” I asked her with bated breath.

“Now, Rantha, don’t you come in here pretending to not know me,” the old lady smiled softly. “I raised you your whole life. I know you down to your bone marrow.” This lady had raised Amarantha? Who was she? And how did she turn out so deviously evil with this lady as a motherly figure?

“Do you keep all of her memories?” I whispered. The older lady chuckled.

“S’pose you could say that,” she nodded; eyes focused on her work. It was mesmerizing to watch her skilled, aged hands practicing their craft.

“Can you tell me what I need to know?”

“Depends whatcha need to know,” she arched a white brow.

“The blood ward,” I spoke quickly, sweat coating my back and forehead as my mind kept flitting back to the pain Feyre must be feeling, if she was even still alive. If I failed this mission, we’d all be.

“Hm,” she hummed.

“How do I take it down?”

“The answer’s in the blood, child,” the lady said before she began to cough, covering her mouth. “It’s always in the blood.”

In the blood? Amarantha had said she was the only one who would be able to remove the wards, and that if she died, there would be no way to remove them at all. I turned the ideas in my mind, like a spider weaving a web.

“Can you tell me more?”

“No more to tell,” she shrugged. I gritted my teeth furiously.

“Please,” I growled.

“Go on somewhere,” she fussed, her mood souring quickly. “I have no use for you when you’re moody. Don’t make me remind you what happens when you defy me.” Perhaps this lady was not as sweet as she seemed.

“Okay,” I said quietly, sliding from my seat to stand.

I turned and ran back toward the jagged metal, leading me from Amarantha’s mind. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I could feel myself being chased. I didn’t allow myself to look back, but I knew if I had, it would have been the old lady, chasing after me to punish me.

I tumbled out of her mind and back into my own body to watch as the High Lords pinned her to the floor, right in the center where the blood wards had been sealed. The answer was in the blood. Well, it was a blood curse, so fucking obviously. Amarantha’s mind had been completely useless.

“Rhys,” Kallias bellowed, and I bolted over, helping to hold her down. She raged and thrashed, spitting and kicking at us all. “Did you find anything?”

“No,” I admitted, unable to meet his eyes.

Amarantha snorted, a raucous laugh wracking through her body.

“You thought I would just allow you to find the answer?” She chuckled. “There is no answer, my sweet. You will never leave.” She began to cough, choking on something wet. This time when she coughed, blood spurted from her mouth and onto her transparently pale skin, the dark color a stark contrast.

In the blood, in the blood, in the blood…

I spared a glance at Feyre, who was no longer moving. I cried out, panic rushing the air from my lungs. I needed to get to her, to be with her. Helion grabbed my wrist, stopping me.

“She’s dead, Rhysand. This is the last thing you can do, to at least make her death mean something. Help us.” I nodded numbly, and the answer washed over me like an icy gust. The answer was in the blood. Only she could come and go. We could never leave without her. If she died, we would never be able to leave.

She knew no one would have bothered with attempting to remove her body or even to keep it intact. But it wasn’t her body you needed to pass the blood ward. It was her blood. You needed her blood to escape. A loophole in her spell that she’d hoped to hide. It was so glaringly obvious.

I leaned over, yanking the dagger from the holster at Kallias’ side, his hands unable to stop me or else he’d have to release her. Kallias looked at me wide-eyed. He was terrified. We all were.

So before I could stop myself, I raised the dagger over my head and plunged it down into her heart. She gasped, her eyes focused on the ceiling as she struggled to draw breath, blood leaking from her chest. One moment, she was there, and the next, she was gone.

I dropped the dagger, the metal hitting the stone with a ringing noise.

Amarantha was dead.

But so was Feyre.

I braved a look over my shoulder.

And I couldn’t fucking breathe.

Chapter Text

Feyre’s body hung lifelessly from the wall. A broken noise ripped from my throat as I crawled to her. I felt like my soul had been shredded in half. She was gone. Feyre was gone. After everything, I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t protect her. And now it was too late.

My body convulsed as I cried. My tears dropped to the stone. None of this had been worth it. Surviving was not worth it. I had nothing to survive for. She couldn’t leave me. I wouldn’t survive this tight aching in my chest. I felt like my lungs had been shredded. The air was thick, and my throat was swollen.

“Rhysand,” Kallias begged from behind me, but nothing could tear my eyes away from the lack of color and life flowing underneath Feyre’s skin. I stood, my hands shaking so violently that they were nearly useless. I began to pull out the nails from Feyre’s palms, easing her down and allowing the weight of her to rest against my chest, releasing her from the wall.

I choked as I realized how cold her skin felt against mine. Feyre had always set me on fire with every little touch. There was nothing left there. I felt like my own soul had untethered and gone somewhere I was not able to reach.

Kallias touched my shoulder gingerly as I laid Feyre on the cold stone. I brushed her hair from her pale face and placed her hands over her heart. Everyone in the room remained silent, only sniffles and awkward shuffling to be heard. But I felt like I was in a vacuum of space. Nothing felt real, and the world was lightyears away.

“Rhysand, let us help you,” Helion urged, kneeling on the other side of Feyre’s body. I looked up at him, my eyes burning like they’d been plunged in acid. Helion’s brow had fused together. He stretched out a hand to me, but when I didn’t respond, he grabbed one of Feyre’s instead.

My lip curled and I moved to push his hands off of her, but Kallias grabbed my wrist. I glared over at him as he went to his knees beside me, but something in his ice blue eyes stopped me. He looked distraught. Heartbroken, even.

Even Beron joined, Tarquin at his side. Tamlin was still missing, but the rest of the High Lords gathered. They each extended a hand, closing their eyes. Power leaked from their fingertips, the golden tendrils descending in a direct path to Feyre’s chest. My eyes widened as I joined, pouring every ounce of what I could muster into her body. I gritted my teeth, straining against my natural instincts to contain my magic.

“Feyre, please,” I sobbed, leaning my forehead against her shoulder. My tears leaked onto her skin. Suffocated cries wracked my entire frame, and I was a tremoring mess. “Please don’t leave me.” I’d never begged for anything in my life, but I was prepared to do absolutely anything to bring her back to me.

She still wasn’t moving, and it was shattering my heart all over again. It had to work.

“Please, baby,” I whispered.

Nothing.

Then she was gasping, coughing and sputtering as she sucked in a lungful of air. I shot straight up, looking down at her with the awestruck disbelief. Her body seized in on itself and she winced, screaming as she curled her body in on itself. She wrapped into the fetal position, her cries desperate and pained.

Her ears lengthened, coming to a point at the same time her jaw shifted, her canine teeth lengthened and sharpened ever so slightly. I blinked at her, and she finally came-to, turning to scan the wall of High Lords looking at her like she was a miracle.

“Feyre,” I choked out.

“Rhys,” she whispered, grabbing both sides of my face. My tears fell even harder now. Even the warmth in her fingertips was enough to start my grief cycle all over again. I pulled her into my arms, and she came readily. I wrapped my limbs around hers and she responded to my every touch. Eventually the High Lords all walked away to give us a moment.

“I was so afraid,” I admitted to her.

“I’m here,” she nodded, pressing her mouth to mine. She tasted salty, her tears coating her lips. I held her tightly to my chest. She was everything to me. And she was here. She was alive.

When I pulled back, I looked into her eyes.

The moment our eyes connected, a band inside me that connected me to her snapped so tightly that it nearly gave me whiplash. Her eyes flew open, and her mouth formed an “o” as she felt it too. The mating bond.

“What was that?” She hissed.

“I’ll explain once we’re out of this cave,” I promised her, kissing her palms sweetly.

My mate. Feyre was mine.

“Rhysand, what do we do?” Kallias asked, scratching his arm as he stood near Amarantha’s corpse, careful to not step in the ichor of her blood. I sniffed, wiping my eyes and helping Feyre to stand. I pressed a kiss to her forehead before I spun on my heel and glided toward the dais. I snatched Amarantha’s cup from the small table beside her throne, pouring the contents out onto the ground.

I walked across the Hall, my shoes echoing with each step in the silence that surrounded me. Amarantha’s Court all onlooked, but no one moved or spoke. I lifted Amarantha’s head by her hair, pulling a knife from the holster at Kallias’ hip and slicing a clean cut across her throat. I angled her so that her blood trickled down into the chalice.

Once it was full, I stood, gesturing for everyone to follow me. I hoped I was right. If I was wrong and I’d doomed us to an eternity here, they would never forgive me. When we reached the boundary that led to the outside world, I nearly went to my knees again. The sunlight was so close, the air so much fresher here. I ached to feel the sun soak into my skin. I wanted wind-chapped cheeks and allergy swollen eyes. I wanted it all, as long as I was free. As long as she was gone.

I poured the blood in a line across the boundary, and it began to sizzle as it touched the ward. Using my fingers, I dipped them into the blood and applied it to the walls and ceiling, creating a full circle around the ward. Then, after taking a deep breath, I took a step forward. And nothing happened.

I was free. We were all free.

I turned, the giddiest, goofiest grin on my face as I saw Feyre’s eyes light up. I opened my arms for her, and she smiled back at me, dashing forward and jumping up into my arms. Her legs wrapped around my middle, and she pressed kisses to my cheeks and forehead, our tears co-mingling.

Around us, everyone celebrated as they left the cave, feeling the outside world for the first time in half a century. I kissed Feyre, running my tongue along her bottom lip until she opened for me, and I worshipped her like I finally had the chance to savor her. There was no longer need to rush. We had all the time in the world for lazy kisses and afternoon cuddles and naps. I was hers and she was mine.

“I love you,” she whispered against my mouth. I smiled against her kiss.

“I love you,” I replied.

“Where do we go now?” She asked, hanging on to my neck as I walked us the rest of the way out of the cave. Once we passed the wards, my magic thrummed in my veins, even after all of it that I’d given to Feyre. I felt like I did before Amarantha ever used my body against me. I felt fucking alive.

“We go home,” I beamed, another tear falling at the thought of seeing my family.

“Home?”

“To Velaris,” I said, pressing my forehead against hers. “The city of Starlight.”

Chapter Text

Rhysand held onto my body and I squeezed my eyes shut as he winnowed us. I fought the nausea that threatened to rise from the rapid movement. The moment we arrived at our destination, Rhys fell to his knees on the floor of what looked like a beautiful town home, decorated with extravagant art and furniture pieces that were both unique and stunning.
My head spun with the reality of the last hour of my life. I had died. Then I was brought back by the High Lords as fae. Something I had no idea how to be. But that wasn’t my focus in that moment, not when Rhysand released a broken, cracking sound from his throat before he was setting me on my feet and bolting across the room, tackling a huge male frame. The man had huge demonic horn-tipped wings exploding from his back.

The other male was a few inches taller than Rhys and had longer hair, too. But they had the same tan skin, Rhysand’s paler from being underground for so long. They were both crying as they fiercely hugged one another, murmuring to each other something too quiet for me to understand.

“RHYS?!” Screeched a blonde from the doorway. She dropped the glass of wine from her hand, the glass shattering on the floor and red liquid pouring out like blood onto the pristine floor. But she didn’t even think twice about it before she was wrestling her way in between Rhysand and the male he’d been hugging.

“Hi, cuz,” Rhys tried to smile, but ended up morphing to a frown as he sobbed. I wanted to hold him, but knew he needed this moment to just be with his family.

“You stupid bat,” the blonde cried into his shoulder. “I have thought about you every single day since you’ve been gone.” Rhys hugged her tighter, softly whispering to her that he missed her, too. It clicked in my mind that these were the people I’d seen in my dream, looking through the outside of a snow-drenched cabin. Had that been Rhysand’s memory? He’d always said it was like I was screaming my thoughts at him. Was that him screaming his at me?

“Az!!! Get your ASS IN HERE!!” The one with the long hair bellowed, and within moments, another winged male slid into the room on his socks, nearly falling in the process. This one was startlingly beautiful. Inhumanely attractive.

“What the hell,” the beautiful one gasped, wrapping his arms around Rhysand and hugging him so tightly that he wheezed. Whoever these people were, Rhysand meant this much to them. It made me feel reassured in my beliefs that he had more to offer than being an evil henchmen for someone actively sexually assaulting him.

A short girl with cropped dark hair emerged from the living room, with a glass of wine to match the one now shattered on the floor of the townhouse. She raised a brow, the corner of her mouth twitching ever-so-slightly.

“It’s good to see you, High Lord,” she purred, and Rhys grinned. He pulled her into an unwanted hug, patting her head affectionately. She all but hissed as she stiffened and pulled away.

“It’s good to see you, too, Amren,” Rhys sighed happily.

“Uh, Rhys, who…” The blonde one quizzed, looking over at me. My cheeks heated as the attention of the entire room was turned to shine on me. Rhysand walked to my side, lacing his fingers through mine as he stood in solidarity with me.

“This,” Rhysand said softly, “is my mate, Feyre.” Mate? Was this what he’d promised to explain later? Oh gods have mercy. It was so much to take in. The blonde smacked a hand over her mouth with a dramatic gasp, and the two winged men whooped and cackled, smacking Rhys on the back playfully. The short dark-haired girl watched with an amused glimmer in her eyes.

“Oh, we have a lot to discuss,” she narrowed her eyes at Rhysand.

He nodded like this had been more than expected from her. I bit my bottom lip to hide my smile.

It was so sweet to get to see him interact with the people who loved him most after watching him be so publicly feared and hated for so long.

“However, it is incredibly lovely to meet you, Feyre,” the blonde smiled. “I’m Morrigan. That’s Cassian, Azriel, and Amren.” She pointed at each person as she said their name, clarifying for me. Which I very greatly appreciated.

“I’m very happy to finally meet all of you,” I smiled meekly. “Rhysand talked about all of you.” Cassian guffawed, waggling his eyebrows at me.

“Hopefully nothing good,” he joked.

“Cass,” Azriel sighed, rubbing his face like he was exhausted.

“What?” Cassian huffed.

“You’re an idiot,” Azriel rolled his eyes.

Morrigan laced her arm through mine, pulling me toward the living room. She looked back over
her shoulder at Rhysand.

“Rhys, clean that up for me, would ya?” She said with a pleasant smile. Rhys rolled his eyes, fighting a smile. He used magic to clean up the glass and spilled wine, following them all into the other room.

“I’m back for one minute and am already doing Morrigan’s chores,” Rhys grumbled.

“So glad you’re back!” Morrigan beamed.

I chuckled, watching the two of them interact with one another. It was very familial. It all was.

What Rhys had here, with these people, was what I’d been chasing my entire life. I’d wanted so badly to belong, to have a place that made saying goodbye so hard and brought tears of joy when reunited. The love in the room was so tangible I felt like I could have reached out and touched it.

“I am Rhys’ cousin,” Morrigan whispered to me. “We have waited a very long time to meet you, my High Lady,” she whispered with a wink and a bump of her hip against mine. I chuckled. High Lady? What had I gotten myself into? Tamlin had said there was no such thing. I’d expected to be just as much an ornament here as I was in Spring Court.

“Obviously we have a lot to talk about, but you two look positively ragged,” Cassian chided, and Rhys narrowed his eyes. “Shower and get some sleep and join us later if you feel up to it. Gods, man, it’s so good to see your face.”

Rhysand hugged his brother again before grabbing my hand and pulling me so enthusiastically down the hallway that it was a mix between a skip and a sprint. He was like a little kid showing off all of his favorite toys. As we walked, he pointed to sculptures and paintings, telling me stories of how he’d obtained them. He made note of dents in the wall from the havoc he and his brothers had wreaked on poor Morrigan.

He pulled me to his- ours, he says as he pulls me inside- and into the extravagant bathroom. My jaw nearly unhinged at the sight of the marble walls and clawfoot tub. Rhys grinned like a mad man at my surprise. He hurried over to the cabinets and started grabbing bottles and tinctures.

“C’mon,” he smiled, tugging me toward the shower that had a raining overhead faucet. “Now I get to treat you like I’ve wanted to since the moment I met you.” Rhys turned on the water and wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me both into the water and into his body.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” I whispered, resting my forehead against his chest. He took a deep breath, like he was soaking it all in as much as he could. He was likely highly aware just how quickly it could all be taken from him. But I would never allow that to happen. Never again.

“Neither can I,” Rhys laughed humorlessly. “I keep feeling like I’m going to wake up from a dream and be back in that place.” I pressed a kiss to his chest, trailing them along his collarbones. He sighed into my touch, and I felt his body relax under mine, becoming pliable for me.

Rhys grabbed the expensive looking shampoo and dumped some into his palm, signaling for me to turn around. With a sheepish smile, I obeyed and he began lathering my hair, the scent of strawberries filling the steam. He scrubbed and massaged my head, taking his time with me. Rhysand had washed my hair before, but never like this.

He conditioned my hair and then washed his own, not allowing me to return the favor. Every time I opened my mouth to argue, he’d just kiss me to shut me up. Then he grabbed a loofah, using the body wash bottle to pour some down his own chest and then across my breasts, with a wicked smile. He lathered our bodies together, our skin sliding against one another's with suds and water.

Then he grabbed huge, fluffy white towels and wrapped one around me. He conjured a stool and told me to sit. When he returned, he pressed a kiss to the top of my head and set to work. He used a creamy body butter and rubbed it all over my skin, easing my aching muscles under the hard work of his skilled hands. Once he finished, he oiled the ends of my hair, helped my apply moisturizer to my face, and then carried me, naked with barely damp hair, over to his bed and allowed me to slide between the sheets. I watched him through the open door of the bathroom as he applied his own skin care and strained for normalcy.

Then, he joined me and we both slept deeper than we ever had, tangled up in one another and grateful to have made it to the other side of hell. Everything would be perfect now. There was no one left to harm us.

Chapter Text

“Respectfully, Rhysand, if you don’t get your ass out of bed I’m coming in there and I’m laying right in the middle of the two of you and I’m going to make it really awkward,” Cassian shouted through the door, banging on it again with his fist. Rhysand groaned beside me, rolling onto his back and blinking rapidly to clear his vision before squinting at the clock that let the both of us know we had slept well into the evening.

“Fuck,” Rhys groaned, burying his face in the pillow.

“I will pick this lock,” Cassian warned.

“Give me a minute,” Rhys yelled back at him through the door.

“I’ve given you almost the full day,” Cassian yelled back. “You have five minutes.”

Rhys rolled over to look at me, a sleepy grin on his face before he wrapped his arm around my back and pulled me on top of him. I giggled, straddling his hips with my thighs as I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He moaned, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss, allowing his tongue to caress my own. Goosebumps erupted against my body and I felt heat swirl low in my belly. He placed a hand at the base of my spine, causing me to rub myself against him, feeling that he was already hard beneath me.

“Mmm, goodmorning,” he murmured against my lips.

“I love waking up like this with you,” I whispered back to him.

“I love the feeling of you against me being the way I wake up,” he agreed, pushing his hand against my ass in a way that had me grinding into him again. I chuckled, burying my face in his neck. “Unfortunately I know Cass well enough to know he is in fact not joking about coming in here.”

I groaned against his neck, pressing kisses and sucking at his skin. His fingers knitted in my hair to hold me against him as he let out a breathy moan. The sound in my ear sent a shiver down my spine. Gods, he just felt so good-

“HURRY UP, ASSHOLE!” Cassian shouted again.

I groaned, rolling off of Rhysand and onto my back. I took a breath before launching myself up and going to get dressed. He followed suit after taking a few extra moments to watch me as I got dressed, a smug smirk painting his lips.

Once we were clothed, he lead me down the hall and into the main living room, a fire roaring and his friends all laughing and talking with glasses of red wine in their hands. The moment they noticed us, they fell silent. I swallowed awkwardly, not sure what to do with myself.

“Goodmorning,” Rhys smiled. They rolled their eyes.

“Not like it’s been 50 years or anything,” Morrigan arched a brow. I chewed my bottom lip. I wasn’t sure what their dynamic was, so I had no clue what response to expect from Rhysand’s mouth.

“I’ve missed your fussing over me,” he grinned, walking to where she sat on the couch and pressing a kiss to her cheek. She pretended to be disgusted, but her smile was unmistakable.

“Feyre, come sit,” Morrigan said cheerily, patting the seat on the couch next to her. With a sheepish smile, I obliged her. The couch was incredibly soft and comfortable, and like everything else here, looked entirely more luxurious than anything I’d ever experienced.

“Do you need anything? Some wine?” She asked me.

“Wine would be great.”

Seeming to like my answer, she happily poured a large glass for me and I took it from her, taking a sip and humming at the taste of it. It seemed Morrigan knew what she was doing when it came to wine.

Rhysand was cackling as he sat with Azriel and Cassian, the three of them having a very animated conversation. Seeing him like this made my heart squeeze in my chest. He was so lively and charming. There was no remnants of the man who was so feared under the mountain. He had shown this side of himself when we were alone, sure, but I’d never seen it in a social setting. My eyes were so drawn to him. Everything he did was so captivating.

“So you two are mates…” Morrigan said to me, her eyebrows waggling.

“Mor, we still need to talk about it. Give it a rest, please? Just be happy I’m home,” Rhysand sighed, the conversation catching his attention from across the room.

“Excuse me for being curious about the last 50 years of your life! I don’t even know how long you two have known each other! We don’t know why you’re here!” Morrigan yelled, exasperated as she threw her hands in the air before taking a deep swig of her wine.

“Fine,” Rhysand sighed, coming to sit next to me on the couch. He plopped down, resting his arm behind my shoulders as he took a deep breath and decided where he should begin. Azriel and Cassian crowded inward to make it clear they were listening and Amren perched in the doorway with an arched brow. “Amarantha is dead.”

“You sure I can’t kill her again?” Cassian huffed angrily. “I’d really love to wring that skinny, pale neck until she turns purple.”

“Cass,” Azriel scolded. Cassian glowered at him, but Azriel kept his eyes on Rhysand.

“With the help of the other High Lords, we were finally able to take her down. I’d been slowly poisoning her for a few months beforehand. She killed Feyre and I was out of my mind with rage and grief and somehow it was enough. The other High Lords helped me to bring Feyre back.”

“Oh shit, so you’re like super mega fae,” Cassian gasped. “Do you have like special powers or something? It’d be pretty lame if you resurrected without them.”

“No, I-“

“Ignore him,” Rhysand rolled his eyes. “Our bond didn’t snap fully into place until she was brought back, due to her being human beforehand. So this is very new to the two of us as well.” He grabbed my hand and knitted our fingers together, flashing me a comforting smile. I gave him one in return.

“I have quite literally thousands of questions,” Azriel shook his head.

“A lot of things happened down there that I’m not sure I can talk about yet,” Rhysand cleared his throat awkwardly. “I promise when I’m ready, you’ll all be the first I talk to about any of it.” I rubbed my thumb across the back of his hand.

“I understand,” Azriel said gently.

“We’re just so happy you’re back, man,” Cassian said, looking upward at the ceiling as his eyes threatened to well with tears and his voice was thick with emotions.

“Nothing was the same without you,” Azriel agreed. “We’re happy to have you here, too, Feyre.” I gave him a soft smile, which he returned.

“Thank you,” I whispered back to him.

“I know I’ve been annoying this morning, you just have no idea what having you back means to me,” Cassian said, ignoring the tears that fell from his bloodshot eyes. Now that I really looked at him, his face was raw and swollen like he’d been crying for quite some time.

“I know, man,” Rhysand said. He reached out a hand for his friend, which Cassian took and gave a squeeze before releasing it. “I spent so many nights telling Feyre about each of you, thinking I’d never see your faces again.”

“Hopefully nothing too bad,” Morrigan chuckled, trying to hide her own emotions.

“Then that would be dishonest,” Amren smirked from the doorway.

Her otherworldly aura was unsettling as much as it was alluring. She drank a darker red liquid from her cup, and I had enough sense to save that conversation for another day.

“I hadn’t spent more than a week apart from you since we were children,” Cassian explained. “Then suddenly you’re gone with no explanation for fifty years. I know how dark things must have gotten. I just hate that I sat here on my ass doing nothing-“

“You protected my people in my absence,” he said, slowly making eye contact with all of them so he knew they were listening. “That is not nothing. That is everything. Thank you.”

“So what was Feyre doing down there as a human?” Cassian furrowed his brows.

“Er, well. She, uh, she was trying to save Tamlin,” Rhysand coughed awkwardly.

“The mutt?” Cassian curled his lip. I snorted.

Rhysand grinned at me from the corner of his eyes.

“That’s the one,” I confessed. “Not my proudest moment.”

“What a damn upgrade,” Cassian guffawed. “Rhysand is sexy.” He pointed to his friend.

“Do not call Rhysand sexy,” Azriel groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Oh, come on, be forreal,” Cassian rolled his eyes. “That is an objectively handsome man.” I bit my lip to keep from laughing at their bantering.

“Handsome? Sure,” Azriel said in annoyance. “Calling him sexy is weird.”

“You’re sexy too, honey, don’t worry,” Cassian grinned, wrapping an arm around Azriel’s shoulders. Azriel glared and tried to shrug him off, but Cass plopped a big kiss on Azriel’s temple.

“Not the point,” Az growled.

“Well where is he then?” Cass asked.

“I’m not sure,” Rhysand admitted.

“Well the bastard knows better than to come after you anyway,” Cassian said simply.

“Right now, can we just enjoy being together?” Rhysand asked quietly, not wanting to relive the horrors of under the mountain. He so obviously just wanted a moment’s peace. Cassian nodded.

“Oh wait!” Cassian yelped. “Feyre, there are so many embarassing stories I can tell you about Rhysie.” Rhys groaned, letting his head fall back against the couch. I giggled.

“I want to know them all.”

Chapter Text

Rhysand awoke from a nightmare gasping for air. I blinked into the darkness as I watched him grip at his chest, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to center his breathing. He looked like he was in physical pain. He’d cut off his screams immediately like he’d scared himself awake and had tried to keep from disturbing me.

I reached my hand out to touch his bare back, but the second my skin made contact with his, he hissed like he’d been burned and jumped up and crossed the room, holding his face in his hands as he paced.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Just-… Just give me a second,” he panted, sounding like he was choking on his own words. I watched him helplessly, having no clue what he was going through or how to help.

“Rhys,” I said reproachfully, and he placed his hands behind his head like he was trying to open his lungs to allow for more air flow.

“I’m okay,” he said. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth as he continued to pace back and forth at the end of the bed.

“Did you have another nightmare?”

He nodded.

“Was it her?”

He nodded again, still trying to slow his breathing.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head.

I chewed the inside of my cheeks as I watched him. My heart broke a million times over knowing this was a pain that would never go away for him. He would be dealing with this trauma for the rest of his life, and I couldn’t take that away for him. All I could do is hold his hand through it all.

“How can I help?”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. He froze for a moment before he bolted for the bathroom. I heard him retching but knew he would want his space.

It was only when I heard the sounds of his sobs that I tiptoed to the bathroom door, seeing him sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest and his head in his hands as he hiccupped through cries.

“Baby? Will you please come sit with me?” I asked him after a while, and he nodded, having tired himself out at that point. I held his hand as I led him back to the bed. He sat down next to me, staring at the floor with a blank expression.

“Even dead, she finds ways to torment me,” he said quietly, and I felt like he’d ripped my heart from my chest. Tears welled in my eyes, and I did everything in my power to keep them from falling.

“I’m so sorry,” I tell him, knowing it means nothing and makes no difference.

“She’s always there when I close my eyes,” he confessed. “Reminding me that my body will always be hers and that there was nothing left of me for anyone else because she’d already taken it all from me.”

I leaned my cheek on his shoulder, wrapping my arms around him as I listened to him speak. His chest rumbled with his words and his skin was hot. I wanted nothing more than to take the burden from him and bear it myself, and it killed me that I was completely helpless, too.

“I have dreams where I wake up and I’m still there and she’s still hurting you and there’s nothing I can do to save you,” he sobbed, breaking down all over again. His body shook as his emotions poured out.

“I’m right here,” I soothed him. “She will never hurt either of us ever again.”

“Feyre, I can’t lose you,” he said, looking at me with tear-filled bloodshot eyes.

“You won’t,” I promise him.

“You are everything to me,” he tells me.

“I love you.”

“Why does none of this feel real? I can’t find my footing here,” he said, his voice breaking. “I feel like at any second it’s all going to be taken from me again. How am I supposed to just go back to being a High Lord like the last 50 years of my life never happened? How can I laugh and smile with my family when I can still feel her all over me?”

I kissed his shoulder, listening intently and allowing him this space to be completely honest with himself and with me. Holding these emotions inside to save everyone else the hurt did nothing but damage him further. I needed him to know that this was safe to do, and that I would always listen.

“I scrub my skin raw in the shower and I still feel so fucking dirty,” he spit. “I’m so constantly disgusted with myself and with who I am. I replay the deaths of all the people she made me kill. I see their eyes and the desperation in their faces as they begged me for their life.”

“You are good, Rhys. You are kind. You are loyal. You are worthy of love and peace.”

“Then why do I feel like this? I’m nauseous every time I think of all the things I did just for the sake of staying alive. I can’t stop replaying how much I hurt you and the ways I degraded you and traumatized you. I can’t even fathom how you could love me.” Tears were streaming down his cheeks so consistently they seemed like they may never stop. He was drowning in oceans of pain.

“Because that is not who you are, Rhysand,” I insisted.

“Yes it is,” he cried out.

“No.” I looked him in the eyes as I said my next words, needing to see that he understood what I was saying to him. “You saved my life. Nothing you did under that mountain was who you truly are. You did what you had to do to protect your family and your home. You protected me and countless others down there. You sacrificed yourself over and over and over enduring pain so that no one else had to. You are selfless and brave and I am so lucky to get to love you.”

“Feyre,” he choked on a sob. He pulled me into his lap, hugging me tightly like he couldn’t bear the thought of ever having to let go. I buried my face in his neck and breathed in the comfort of his scent. He was home to me.

“I love you, Rhysand,” I repeated. I would say it as many times as I needed to for him to hear me and understand. “You are my mate. I will be by your side for the rest of our lives. You do not scare me. I know exactly who you are, and I love every single part of you, even the parts you feel most ashamed of. I will never be ashamed of you. I am so proud of all you have overcome and so proud to get to call you mine.”

“I love you,” he cried into my shoulder, clinging to me for dear life.

“Tell me more about this mating bond,” I said softly, trying to lead him out of his panicked state. He sniffled, laughing gently into my shoulder.

“Well, mates are souls destined for one another. You have to accept the bond for it to be sealed, but for us, it’s certainly there.” I smiled at him, pushing his hair from his forehead where it had clung to his skin with sweat.

“How do you accept the bond?”

“Traditionally, the female would offer the male food,” he explained. “It’s slightly archaic, but that’s how the magic of it works.”

“Any food?”

“Pretty much,” he nodded. “Just something that you have made and offered.”

“C’mon,” I coaxed him, standing up from the bed and tugging on his hand until he rose and followed me. I led him through the townhouse and into the empty kitchen. I pointed to a bar stool pulled up to the kitchen island. “Sit.” He obeyed me, watching wearily.

I opened cabinets, looking for something easy enough to make, and came upon a can of soup. I dumped it into a pot, using the stove to heat it to a simmering temperature before pouring it in a bowl and grabbing a spoon, sitting it in front of him.

He looked up at me with red, sad eyes.

“You know what this means?”

“You love me?” I ask him.

“More than anything,” he tells me.

“Then eat.”

Hesitantly, he picked up the spoon and took a bite of the soup. I felt the bond snap between us immediately. It was a solid gold thread of warm light tying me to him. It’d been there all along, but now it was shimmering and prominent.

And I had never loved him more.

Chapter Text

Once I had finished eating, I waisted no time pulling Feyre into my lap so that her thighs were straddling my hips. I looked deeply into those bright eyes of hers and I felt more peace than I ever had in my entire life. I found home there, in her. She was the warmest feeling I’d ever known, and right now, I wanted to show her that more than anything.

I lifted her up, sitting her atop the kitchen island. She gasped, looking at me with a worried gaze. A smirk curved the edge of my lips as I could practically see her heart beating in her throat’s pulse point. Her breathing was jagged and uneven, and it made me want to kiss her so badly that I feared I’d come unglued.

My hand found the side of her neck, pulling her into me as I kissed her slowly and deeply, moaning as she parted her lips for me and let my tongue explore her mouth. Her soft whimpering noises were driving me crazy. I nipped her bottom lip with my teeth, feeling a deep desire to taste every part of her.

Looking into her eyes, I pressed a hand to her lower belly, pushing her backwards until she was laying on the island, her legs dangling off the edge. Her eyes were lustful as she watched me pull her hips to the edge of the island. She swallowed roughly.

My hands ran up her bare thighs and up her skirt, holding her hips firmly. Leaning forward, I kissed her neck slowly, being sure to flick my tongue in all the right places that had her mewling and clinging to me for dear life.

“Rhys,” she panted, and my eyes nearly rolled back into my head. I grabbed the hem of her shirt, helping her to lift it over her head and off, baring her perfect breasts to me. I made eye contact with her as I sucked one of her nipples into my mouth, flicking my tongue across her and suckling with my lips and tongue.

She arched her back into me, and I gave her what she needed. I sucked her breast harder, and she writhed beneath me. Making her feel this way made me feel drunk with lust and power. I loved the ways she whined and begged for me.

“You’re fucking divine,” I murmured against her skin. “Every inch of you deserves to be worshipped. I don’t plan to stop until I’ve proven that to you.” She shivered, goosebumps flooding her flesh. I kissed her other breast just as teasingly, and I knew she was getting impatient and wet.

Sliding my hand between our bodies, my fingers caressed the outside of her underwear, feeling her arousal soaking through the fabric. I groaned as I rubbed her lightly, desperate to feel more of her, but knowing that teasing her only made her orgasm that much more powerful in the end.

“So wet for me,” I purred, and she blushed. “My needy girl.”

“Please touch me,” she begged.

I kissed down her torso, stopping just under her belly button. I curled my fingers in the fabric of her panties, slowly pulling them down her leg and discarding them along with her shirt. She gasped at the cool breeze against her most sensitive areas. I left her skirt on, allowing it to bunch up at her hips as I slowly sank to my knees, knowing I knelt upon the mountain tattoos I’d still yet to explain to her.

I pulled one leg over each of my shoulders, still watching her take shallow breaths in anticipation. I kissed the highest parts of her inner thighs, slowly lapping my tongue against her skin and loving the way it made her thighs tighten around my head. She could fucking squeeze me to death for all I cared. What a glorious way to die.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whispered to her, watching her cheeks turn an even deeper shade of pink. I loved the way my words and touches affected her. “I want you to suffocate me with these perfect fucking thighs, Feyre. I want to drown between your legs, feeling you come on my face.”

“Rhyssss,” she whined, and I used my thumbs to part her folds, looking into her eyes as I licked a stripe up her center. She groaned deep and low from the back of her throat, her fingers immediately knitting in my hair.

My tongue explored her with no sense of haste, tasting her fully. She was so sweet and savory. I loved the taste of her in my mouth and the way I could make her roll her eyes back in her head.
I sucked her clit harshly, and she gasped, arching her back so hard that she had nearly sat up. I chuckled against her, the vibrations making her whimper even more. I continued flicking my tongue against her, and she began to rock her hips against my face, using my hair as leverage. I allowed her to, holding my mouth open for her to take in whatever way she wanted. Her thighs tightened around me even more, and I moaned against her.

She sped up her pace as I still sucked on her, and she was making such wild, angelic noises that I was certain I must have died to have been lucky enough to hear them. She repeated my name over and over like a mantra, and it nearly made me come untouched. My cock twitched in my pants, aching to fill her.

“Oh, gods, fuck Rhys,” she screeched as she finally hit her apex, coming all over my face. She pulled me up by my hair, kissing me fiercely and tasting herself on my tongue. I groaned into her mouth and she swallowed the sound. I lifted her and she squeaked. I hooked my arms under her knees, walking to the wall and pressing her up against it as I sucked her neck. I used one hand to undo my belt and jeans, shoving them down enough to free my cock.

My hardness slipped through her heated arousal, and I knew I wouldn’t last long.

“Please fuck me,” she begged.

“I’m going to fuck you until the frames fall off the walls,” I growled, lining myself up and slamming deep inside of her. She gasped, digging her nails deep into my shoulders as her mouth hung open. I used it as an excuse to slip my tongue into her mouth, licking the roof of her mouth and making her shudder.

I held her up like she weighed nothing, bouncing her down on to me.

“Harder,” she begged. I obeyed her command, pounding into her at a relentless, harsh pace. She babbled as I hit deep inside her from this angle, and the look on her face let me know I was hitting that perfect spot for her. I felt her begin to pulsate around me and whined.

I bucked my hips into her rougher, hearing the picture frames on the wall next to her head rattle until one finally fell loose and clattered to the ground at my feet. She giggled and held on to me tighter, like she never wanted this to end. And gods, neither did I.

“Fuck, Feyre, you feel so good,” I said through gritted teeth, sweat sticking my hair to my forehead. I fucked her like I’d never get another chance to, the sounds of our connection utterly obscene. She was dripping by now.

She clenched around my cock again, coming with her head tossed back. Seeing her free herself like that caused me to spill deep inside her, cock twitching as I moaned into her neck. I pumped her full of my cum, pausing deep inside her as we both caught out breath together.

I finally slid out of her, carrying her back to the kitchen island and sitting her atop once more. I saw my cum drip out of her and nearly took her all over again, but she looked completely exhausted. I chuckled, kissing her all over her face.

“My perfect girl,” I whispered to her. “Gods, you take me so well.”

“I love you,” she told me.

“Not nearly as much as I love you,” I promised her, knowing that I’d never meant anything more in my life.

Chapter Text

I stared out at Velaris from the roof of the House of Wind, needing a moment to myself to get my head back to normal. I had been going in and out of emotional numbness, my good moments mainly being the ones I spent with Feyre where she managed to make me feel sane again. She was my rock, and I genuinely think I would have fallen through the cracks and disappeared had she not been holding my hand in those first few days back here.

Amarantha hadn’t disappeared like I’d prayed to the Cauldron she would. She still haunted me every time I closed my eyes. It was like a plague. I couldn’t shake her no matter how hard I tried. I did my best to keep Feyre none the wiser, but she’d started to pick up on my turmoil. I hated that she had to see me in such a weak state. I wanted to be more- better- for her.

I was shocked out of my own thoughts by the sound of gigantic wings beating against the chilled air before both Azriel and Cassian landed on the roof, sitting on either side of me. They always seemed to innately know when I needed them. They always had.

“We figured you might want some company,” Azriel said hesitantly. I looked at him, knowing how much pain was likely obviously reflected back to him. Azriel had a way about him that made it easy to be vulnerable. He’d been through so much himself and had a quiet sort of compassion to him.

“Just had a lot on my mind,” I said quietly.

“Will you talk to us about it?” Cassian asked, pulling his knees up toward his chest, but not making it very far due to the sheer size of his body.

“I keep having nightmares,” I admitted with a rough swallow, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. “I can’t sleep.”

“Not even with Feyre?” Az asked.

“She definitely helps, but I hate letting her see how much pain I’m really in. She has enough trauma of her own to handle.”

“It seems to me like Feyre is the kind of strong that can be there for you too, if you’ll let her,” Az suggested softly. “She loves you, and that is so clear to everyone with eyes. Nothing you tell her will make her see you any differently. Just as it is with us.”

“We’re just happy you’re home,” Cass nodded.

“I’ve never felt more pathetic than I did under that mountain,” I scoffed.

“Then talk to us about it,” Cass said.

“It’s hard to,” I admitted, looking at them both for a moment before my eyes focused back on the beautiful warm, twinkling lights of Velaris. I’d missed this place so much more than I’d ever allowed myself to feel. I decided in that moment that I wouldn’t allow Amarantha to steal anything more from me. She only had this power over me because I let her. “She forced me to be her lackey in more ways than one. I had to slaughter so many innocent people that I lost count. I stopped seeing their faces because I had to dissociate so hard to be able to do any of it. Then she… she liked my body, I guess. She decided that was hers as well as my morals and dignity. I tried everything I could think of to keep her hands off of me, but it was all useless in the end.”

They listened intently, maintaining the silence until I continued.

“I tried using magic to numb my skin so that I wouldn’t feel her touching me, but she found out and punished me by tying me to her bed for a few days for her to use at her own convenience. I tried to be bad at it, hoping she would grow bored, but that was no use either. Everyone saw me as her whore. That’s all I was. I was weak and evil and they all despised me. Of course they did. They had every right to hate me. I was awful. I fell into some of the darkest times of my life down there. I contemplated suicide several times and developed a heavy dependency on alcohol. I did whatever I could to numb the pain. I didn’t even feel alive anymore.”

They both had tears falling down their cheeks but still gave me time to gather and organize my thoughts as I spoke. They didn’t interrupt me or try and tell me how to feel. They just listened.
“Life had lost any meaning. I’d given up any hope of ever making it home. I’d drank myself nearly into a coma and was planning to throw myself into the chasm to end it all when I heard Feyre’s screams. Something about the heartbreaking innocence of them drew me in. I had to go and see her. I think somewhere in the back of my mind I always knew she was my mate, but admitting that was admitting that I still had something to lose- that there was still something Amarantha could steal from me. So I tried my best to make her hate me, but no matter how hard I tried, she was always there to catch me when I fell. Even when she thought she despised me, she still took care of me. Even when she thought I was a horrible person.”

Azriel sniffled and Cassian bowed his head low.

“She saved me in more ways than I’ll ever be able to thank her for.”

“I’m so sorry, Rhys,” Azriel murmured.

“I can’t even imagine the pain you went through,” Cass shook his head, a tear falling into his lap.

“I am so sorry I wasn’t there to help you. I failed you. We all failed you.”

“No,” I shook my head. “You didn’t fail me.”

“We did,” Azriel said. “I will be sorry about it until the day I die.”

“It’s my fault I didn’t allow any of you to come with me. I'm glad you never had to be under there.”

“We never should have let you go alone,” Cass said.

“I’d take all of it back in a heartbeat if I could,” Azriel agreed.

“No-…”

“Rhysand, please,” Azriel pleaded. “We have things we need to say to you, too.”

“The main thing being a genuine apology,” Cass nodded. “I am heartbroken knowing how alone you were. We missed you every damn day. None of us had any clue how to rule and doing it in your absence made me feel like a traitor.”

“You only did what I asked of you,” I sniffled.

“It wasn’t enough. I’m sorry we didn’t do more.”

“I am so happy that Feyre was there for you when we weren’t. It’s a debt we’ll owe her for the rest of our lives,” Azriel said.

“We need you to know that we swear to protect her with our lives, just as we would for you,” Cassian promised me. I looked at my brothers, feeling so much love and pain simultaneously that it felt like it wouldn’t all fit inside of my chest. I wasn’t sure how they always knew when I needed them, but I’d never needed them more than in this moment.

I pulled them both into a hug and they clung to me fiercely as they cried, so much adoration and heartache being shared between the three of us. It was like releasing a breath I’d been holding for half a century. Here, in Velaris with the people I loved most in the world, I somehow finally knew it would all be okay someday. It was something I’d certainly have to live with, but it wouldn’t always feel this heavy and raw.

“Also, I may or may not have used your special hair gel when I missed you,” Cassian whimpered, and the three of us busted out laughing between our tears.

“My hair gel?” I cackled, holding my stomach as tears streamed from the corners of my eyes. I loved these two males more than they’d ever know.

“I needed to feel close to you,” he shrugged, laughing with me.

“I wish I could tell you he was lying,” Azriel snickered. “It looked like shit.”

“Hey!” Cassian shouted, shoving him.

“It did! I had to steal it and hide it from him so he’d stop,” Azriel cried laughing.

“THAT WAS YOU?!? I started a fight with Morrigan over that, you asshole!”

“I know,” Az said sheepishly. Cassian grumbled. “It just made your hair look greasy.”

“You two are utterly ridiculous,” I smiled.

“You missed us,” Cass said, bumping me gently with his shoulder.

“More than I can tell you,” I admitted.

“Let’s go for a flight? For old time’s sake?” Az asked.

“Absolutely, yes,” I told him.

We spent the rest of that night together, remembering what it felt like to be each other’s best friends. We laughed and cried and bickered, and I finally began to feel like I had a place here once again. I was finally home.

Chapter Text

“I think I’d like to see my sisters,” I told Rhysand the following week. He’d been mildly hesitant, but supportive none-the-less. He wasn’t my eldest sister’s personal fan by any means after all of those late night talks we’d had in his bedroom under the mountain.

So, the next day he waited for me in the breakfast nook, legs crossed at the ankles as he looked down at some paperwork he’d been sent to look over. I watched him for a moment before making my presence known, loving the crease in his brow when he was deep in thought. It’d been hitting me over and over in heavy waves that he was really mine and we were truly free.

The peace felt fragile, like disaster was looming around the corner with sharpened claws for the moment we let down our guards. Amarantha might have been dead, but that did not mean her memory was. Certainly not for Rhysand, who’d been attempting to hide his grief in mountains of work and time spent with Azriel and Cassian.

“Goodmorning, Feyre darling,” he smiled, the mention of my name smoothing his features and bringing light back into his violet eyes.

“Hi,” I grinned back at him with a small wave, walking over to him. He pulled me down into his lap, kissing my neck with a hum of approval.

“Ready?”

I nodded and he kissed me once more before standing us both up and readying us to winnow together.

We landed in Spring, just before the break in the trees I knew led into the human realms. We crossed through with surprising ease, walking along the mud path that led to the local villages where I’d grown up.

Being in the trees again was a relief I hadn’t realized I needed. The air was different here- sharper and lighter somehow. I closed my eyes and breathed in the familiar smell, letting myself remember all the hours spent out here alone, knowing my family’s survival was dependent on me alone.

When I opened my eyes, I caught Rhysand staring at me with strange look on his face. He looked away quickly, shoving his hands in his pockets and clearing his throat. I blinked, watching him hide his emotions behind walls of mental wards. What had he been thinking about?

“Are you sure about this?” He asked me, his nerves evident in his voice.

“Yes,” I assured him with a nod. “I have to know they’re okay.”

“I understand that,” he said softly.

“Do you think they’ll forgive me? For leaving them?”

“I think they will,” he said thoughtfully, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his side. “I think once you tell them what you experienced, they’ll understand that none of it was your fault.”

“Nesta can hold a grudge,” I said as I chewed the insides of my cheeks.

“She’s your sister,” he said, trying his best to sound reassuring.

“Yes,” was all I said. We walked on for a few more quiet moments before I looked at Rhys. “I miss her.”

“I know you do.”

“I’m sorry for dragging you here.” He looked at me incredulously, stopping his steps. He cupped my face with both hands, studying my eyes.

“I go where you go.”

My eyes stung as I nodded, trying to keep from tearing up. He pulled me into a long hug before he released me. When he did, his expression was unreadable as he turned his attention back to our surroundings.

We walked until we arrived at my family’s home.

Immediately, I knew something was wrong. The windows were all dark and the door hung slightly ajar. I threw Rhysand a concerned glance before creaking the door open and stepping inside. The hearth was dead, like it hadn’t held fire in quite a while.

The kitchen was empty, as was the bedroom. No one was here.

“Feyre?”

“I- I don’t…” I shook my head, looking around for any sign of where my sisters or father could possibly have gone. Everything looked abandoned- there were no indications that any packing had been done. My father’s whittling work sat half finished. There was a basket of flowers that had since died, never being put into a vase for preservation. It appeared that someone was in the middle of cutting up vegetables for dinner, a carrot sitting half cut on the wooden board, growing moldy from exposure to the air.

“Is there somewhere they could have gone?” Rhysand asked me, but my ears were ringing. I felt like I was losing everything all over again, the hollow feeling eating my stomach from the inside.

“No,” I breathed, knowing it was the unfortunate truth. We had nowhere else to go- even during times we were at risk of starvation. So my sisters had not left this cabin voluntarily, or with any kind of preparation.

“Amarantha wouldn’t have known to find them here, would she?” He asked, causing me to flinch at the sound of her name on his lips.

“I don’t know.”

Rhysand muttered something under his breath that I couldn’t quite make out, but I couldn’t even attempt to make conversation right now. Not with my pulse pounding in my temples.

I darted into the bedroom, opening the drawer with flames painted along the front. It was Nesta’s- I’d painted each drawer with things that reminded me of my sisters. I dug through her clothes, shoving them messily to the side as I reached for the ornate hand mirror that had been my mother’s.

Nesta never would have left without this if she’d been given the choice. I sank to my knees, the mirror in my palms. I looked into it, my reflection foreign to me. The circles under my eyes were purple and my hair had seen better days. I looked like hell.

Rhysand loomed in the doorway, watching me closely. I held up the mirror to him.

“Nesta never would have left my mother’s mirror here if she’d known she was leaving,” I explained to him, a tear rolling down my cheek and dropping into my lap.

“Feyre,” Rhys tried again, but I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut.

Amarantha had no way to know where my sisters were- I hadn’t even told Rhysand how to find them. The only person in Prythian that could have known where they were was… My stomach roiled.

Tamlin. Tamlin had seen my sisters- had taken me from this very place when he’d taken me to be his bride. When we’d left under the mountain, we’d looked for him and had found nothing. We’d hoped it’d meant Amarantha had killed him, but now…

Rhysand must have read my face well, because he paled.

“You don’t think…” He started, wincing at me.

“He took them,” I said, my voice bleak. “Tamlin has my sisters.”

Chapter Text

Following my realization that Tamlin had taken my sisters, I went into a frenzy of grabbing a bag and tossing important things in- things I would never want to lose from this place. I grabbed my mother’s mirror and one of my father’s over-sized work shirts. As I did, Rhysand followed me into my former bedroom, looking around with sadness in his eyes. I couldn’t focus on how I didn’t need his pity. I needed his help far too much.

“This,” Rhys said from behind me, grabbing my attention as I dug through the closet. He was looking at an old wooden dresser my sisters and I had all shared. I had painted the front, one drawer for each of us. Flames for Nesta’s fiery spirit, flowers for Elain, and for me… a night sky. “This is beautiful, Feyre.”

My cheeks blushed furiously. I hadn’t known then- could never have had a clue- that one day that night sky would reflect back to me with a far different meaning than it had when I’d painted it. I remembered having dreams of that night sky, and of the three-peaked mountains they shone above.

Now, looking at that painting again, I knew.

It was Velaris. I had always been dreaming of Velaris. My body had yearned for Rhysand and the new home I’d found with him long before I’d known his name or his face. I stared at the painting a moment longer before looking to him. He was watching me carefully, emotions surging in those violet eyes of his.

“One for each of my sisters,” I explained to him, gesturing to the dresser. “Mine was-“

“The night sky,” he finished for me, and I nodded.

I shivered, goosebumps covering my flesh before the weight of the bag in my hand re-registered in my body and I remembered that I had no time for reminiscence. I slung the bag over my shoulder, pausing as I studied my father’s latest wood carving. It was a miniature statue of a wolf. My heart pounded in my chest as I grabbed it and tossed it atop the rest of the belongings I was taking with me.

“We have to go,” I ordered, grabbing Rhysand’s hand and dragging us outside of the small shack I’d once called home. He winnowed us and we fell through time and space, landing back in the townhouse.

Azriel and Cassian’s heads jerked up from where they sat at the breakfast table, talking over a map that they’d spread out. Cassian’s brows furrowed when he looked at the expression on my face. I was sure I looked beyond frazzled.

“I need your help,” I breathed, looking at them with nothing short of desperation. Azriel slowly stood, walking over to me. Before I could register what he was doing, he was on one knee with his head bowed, and Cassian mimicked his stance beside him. My breath caught in my chest, and I felt Rhysand step up behind me, his chest pressed against my back.

“We follow your command,” Azriel said, eyes blazing with devotion as he raised his head again. Cassian caught my eyes.

“I swear to protect and obey, High Lady,” he told me before looking over my shoulder at Rhysand. “With my life.” It was a promise to his friend as well as his leader. The two rose and led us back to the study, closing the door behind us.

“What can we help with?” Cassian asked, and I looked to Rhysand, expecting him to debrief his general, but Rhys just stared back at me. After a moment, I blinked, realizing Cassian had been speaking to me.

“My sisters have gone missing,” I said, my voice shakier than I would have liked. “I think Tamlin took them.”

Azriel’s lip curled in disgust as he listened intently to my words.

“Would he go back to Spring?” Cassian thought out loud, and I shrugged.

“We never found him after… after we escaped.”

“Send me,” Az turned to Rhysand. “I’ll find him.”

Rhys eyed him warily before nodding once. Before we could even finish the conversation, Az opened the balcony doors, stepping outside and with several ferocious beats of his talon-tipped wings, launched into the sky, flying at an alarming pace.

“What could he want with your sisters?” Cassian asked me.

“Leverage?”

Cass tilted his head, considering this. “Scorned men are a fragile bunch.”

I scoffed.

“We will look for them as if they’re one of our own,” Rhys promised, and Cassian agreed. A weight settled on my shoulders to match the pit in my stomach. I knew there was nothing I could do now apart from waiting. Az would find Tamlin quicker than any of us, especially if able to work alone and unhindered.

I wanted to shred the world apart with my bare hands, find them myself, and bury a dagger so deep in Tamlin’s throat-

“Feyre darling,” Rhys murmured, dragging me from my thoughts. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ears. The worry in his eyes was evident. “I promise we will find them.”

I nodded, and he tugged me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me. It was then that I broke, sobbing into his chest. I’d known all of this was far too good to be true. It was stupid to think I could just have happiness and peace.

I clung to Rhysand’s body like a lifeline. At some point, Cassian excused himself and Rhysand walked over to the couch in his study, pulling me down into his lap. I cried into his neck for what felt like an eternity as he murmured sweetly to me, holding me tight to his body like he was afraid to let go.

“I love you,” I sobbed, and the weight of the love I felt for him alone was enough to keep the tears flowing. Rhysand kissed my salty cheeks, then my nose, and lastly my forehead before he looked deeply into my eyes, leveling with me so that he could be sure I was really hearing him.

“I love you.” The intention in his words was clear. He meant every syllable. My chest ached with the way he’d been hurt and the fact that he trusted me with those words. Love was something so intimate and raw, and I’d never felt something so gripping in my life.

I felt tethered to Rhysand in more ways than just through our mating bond. It felt as though we were fated, written in the stars above Velaris. He had always been home to me, even before I knew what that word was supposed to mean.

Chapter Text

Azriel returned a few days later, his hair windswept and wild atop his head as he landed, panting and walking quickly toward where I stood with Rhysand on the porch at the House of Wind. His huge demon’s wings were tucked tightly into his back, and the tension in his body was evident. He was in his usual fighting leathers, but something about his demeanor was immediately off.

Rhysand had received a message from him earlier that night letting him know he would be arriving home after midnight. Rhysand and I, both strangers to sleep, had sat up waiting for his return.

“Your office,” he commanded Rhysand. “Now.”

I swallowed, finding my mouth irritatingly dry. My hands shaking, I followed after Rhysand into the House. For Azriel to have so brazenly commanded Rhysand, this would not be good news. My stomach turned and I felt like I was going to be sick for the millionth time in the last few months. I’d nearly grown accustomed to the feeling.

Entering Rhysand’s office, he slammed the door shut behind us. Azriel paced back and forth across the carpet as I sat stiffly in a chair and Rhysand leaned on his desk. Azriel looked deep in thought, chewing his nails as he watched the floor as he paced. I would have corrected the bad habit in a better time.

“Azriel.” Rhysand’s voice was deathly serious.

“It’s bad,” Azriel said, stopping his pacing to look at me. “I had half a mind to break in and try to get them out myself, Feyre, believe me I did. But he has wards on the entire place like a prison.” I’d never seen Azriel worry before. He always seemed so stoic and confident. The idea that even he knew this was bad was nauseating.

“Tell me,” I swallowed.

Rhysand eyed me nervously from my periphery. Azriel looked between me and Rhysand as if weighing whether that was a good decision for him to make.

“Please,” I begged him, and he nodded, opening his mouth slightly and carefully weighing his words before he spoke again.

“They’re in the Spring Court dungeons.” My face paled. He continued. “They must have still been wearing what they were when he took them, because they were both in nightgowns. Even my shadows knew it was damp and freezing down there. Neither of them even had shoes on. Tamlin has plans to deliver them to the King of Hybern as collateral and leverage against Rhysand.”

The shame hit me like a blow to the stomach. My eyes stung with the urge to release tears, but I blinked them away. I’d had enough crying lately to last me a lifetime. Now was not the time to fall apart.

“It’s all my fault. Everything, all of it. I’m the one to blame. Had I never shot that wolf, I never would have met Tamlin. I would never have gone under the mountain, and they never would have been taken.” I looked to Rhysand and saw the pain briefly register on his face. What I was wishing… Had all of that happened, he would still be imprisoned. He would still be frequently assaulted and forced to commit heinous acts of violence. I never would have met him. He looked away.

“He wants Hybern’s favor,” Azriel said, clearly seeing the tension between Rhysand and I. He rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. “Which means nothing good can come from that.”

“Who… who is he? The King of Hybern?”

“An old ally of Amarantha’s,” Rhysand murmured, still staring at the floor with his arms crossed protectively over his chest. Guilt kicked me in the gut. I wished I’d never said those words, never put these thoughts in his head. I knew without even having to ask that he was yet again blaming himself for what happened to me under the mountain.

I felt tragically stuck in a cycle of constant shame and guilt. I wondered if he or I would ever be free from it. It was torment to live this way. We were both constantly plagued by nightmares, haunted by shadows of someone who no longer existed. Even when Amarantha was gone, she was still here, hurting him and stealing from him.

“What does he want with you?”

“He likely plans to blackmail me into working with him. Hybern has always had an eye for Prythian. Without the High Lords, he would conquer and destroy. We’re all that stands between him and the human realm.” I wanted to bury my head in my hands and scream until there was nothing left of me. When did I finally get to catch my breath? When would Rhysand?

“When does he plan to make his move?” Rhysand turned to Azriel, suddenly all business. This was the face of the High Lord of the Night Court. He buried himself beneath that mask, shoving his emotions down deep and locking them away.

“Soon.” Azriel was fidgeting awkwardly, hating to be the one to reveal this news. He also likely hated being in between the emotional tension Rhysand and I were harboring at the moment. "We have to play this right. We'll only have one shot to get to them."

“I’ll summon Cassian in the early morning. We must prepare ourselves for anything and be ready to head out under nightfall tomorrow evening. Feyre will stay here with Morrigan.” My brow furrowed.

“Rhys,” I began to protest, and he gave me a deadly glare that dared me to challenge him right now.

“I will not endanger you again. I cannot lose you.” His tone was final.

“My sisters won’t recognize you,” I argued. “They’ll never come willingly.”

“They won’t have to,” Azriel said nonchalantly and when my angry gaze fell upon him, his mouth snapped shut like he’d realized his misstep. I chose not to think about what he meant by his words.

“We will get them out, Feyre. You’re untrained in battle and physically weak. I will fight better knowing you’re not in danger.” I scowled at him but remained silent. We would certainly talk about this later.

“Get some rest, Azriel,” I prompted him, giving him an escape route. He bowed his head thankfully, quickly exiting the room.

I looked Rhysand over before leaving the room myself, headed to our shared bedroom. I heard his footfall behind me, trailing me, but I didn’t look over my shoulder.

“You’re angry with me,” he acknowledged. “I guarantee you that you’re nowhere near as fucking angry as I am.” He kicked off his shoes, impatiently undoing the buttons to his shirt.

“I’m not a child, Rhys, and you can’t treat me like one,” I crossed my arms, arching a brow. He scoffed quietly, his anger permeating from him in dark waves.

“Forgive me for valuing your safety and wellbeing.” He pulled his shirt off his shoulders, exposing his bare chest. My eyes involuntarily betrayed me, trailing his body.

My eyes flicked back up to his face to see the dark circles underneath his eyes. He’d been sleeping even less than I had, and I was beyond exhausted. It was the kind of tired that prevented you from sleep.

“You need to get some rest. We can talk about this in the morning.” We would only get a few hours of sleep if we went to bed right at this moment. He needed all the rest he could get.

He shook his head, undoing his belt deftly with one hand, yanking it from the loops around the waistband of his trousers. He doubled it, wrapping it in his hand as he looked at me with those vicious purple eyes, glaring daggers into me. I knew it wasn’t me he was angry with, but that didn’t change the fact that he was positively furious.

“You get some sleep, I’ll be fine. I need to think of a plan, some way to get past Tamlin’s wards and get back out before he notices. I am not ready for a war.” His dark hair hung messily in his eyes, and this version of him reminded me of the one I’d first met under the mountain.

This Rhysand scared me, and part of me- a very dark part- knew how thrilling that was.

He was flexing and unflexing his fists. I bit my lip, watching him. His arm muscles rippled with each movement. I could tell he was desperate for an outlet for his anger. He didn’t know what to do with himself without one.

“I really want a fucking drink,” he sighed. He tipped his head backward, closing his eyes and rubbing them. He was exasperated. He was aching for a vice. I knew he’d been trying his hardest to keep from drinking, a years old habit and stress reliever for him.

“Take it out on me,” I murmured, taking a step closer to him until I was within his arm’s reach. My hand lifted to trail down his chest with the very tips of my fingers, a teasing touch.

He furrowed his brows.

“What?”

“Your anger,” I clarified. “I want you to take it out on me.”

“Feyre…”

“Please, Rhys.”

“I-… I can’t, Feyre,” he shook his head.

“You have before,” I cupped his cheek in my hand, watching the pain flicker in his eyes like a torch on the verge of burning out. “Use me again. I want you to.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but my other hand fell to the button of his trousers.

“I want you to,” I repeated. My fingers slid the button open, pulling his zipper down.

“Feyre,” he sighed, but it was half a moan. I knew he wanted this. I could tell from the way he was straining against the fabric of his trousers, where he was achingly hard.

I went up on my tip toes, my mouth ghosting against his as we shared breath. His hands gripped my waist. He looked at me like he was pathetically, desperately trying to stop himself from wanting this.

“I want you to use me, Rhys. Fuck me like you hate me,” I murmured against his lips, and he let out a breathy moan. “I want you to take whatever you want from me.”

“Fuck,” he whined before finally giving in, crashing his mouth into mine harshly, forcing my lips apart and delving his tongue into my open mouth. One of his hands left my hip and wrapped around the hair at the nape of my neck roughly holding me against his kiss.

“You want to be my whore, Feyre? You want me to treat you like you’re just a toy to me? Then you better be a fucking good one.” He growled, pushing me roughly to my knees. “You know what to do. Impress me.”

I shivered as I pulled his trousers down, freeing his cock and wrapping a hand around him. He sucked in a sharp breath as I licked from base to tip, sucking him into my mouth, using my tongue to massage the underside of him. He gripped either side of my head, holding me still.
He pulled nearly completely out of my mouth before pushing back in, forcing it further down my throat than the first time.

He groaned, tossing his head back as he fucked my mouth at his own leisure, giving no heed to my breathing or gagging around him. Every time I choked on him, he moaned, showing me just how good it felt. It was intoxicating and all I needed in that moment was to distract him, to please him.

“Is this what you wanted? To be just another mouth for me to fuck?” He said through gritted teeth. “Then fucking take it like the good little slut I know you can be. That’s it, good girl. Eyes on me.”

I looked up at him as he looked down his chest, watching me take him over and over again, drool leaking from my mouth and my eyes watering. He swore, moaning and panting with his mouth open. He was fucking godly.

He pulled me off of him, stepping back, his chest heaving with his breath.

“Clothes off. Bend over the bed,” he commanded. I bit my lip, obeying him. I pulled my shirt up and over my head, tossing it to the side before wiggling my hips, pushing my pants down and stepping out of them. Leaving on my purple lace underwear, I smirked at him as I walked to the edge of the bed, slowly bending over, being sure to arch my back in the way I knew drove him crazy.

“Gonna be the death of me,” he murmured under his breath, his hands gripping my ass before smacking it. I gasped, biting my lip to hide my smile.

His fingers traced the lace of my underwear, fingers dipping inside to find me dripping wet. He hummed his approval, pulling my thong to the side to look at me. I shivered as his fingers traced my slit, using my arousal to slick my clit, rubbing it in small, quick circles.

My eyes rolled back into my head at the feeling. He lined himself up with my entrance, gripping my hips with bruising force. He ran a hand up my back, holding me down as he pressed inside. Rolling his hips, I felt him stretch me. He took no time to allow me to adjust before he slammed the rest of the way in, his hips meeting mine.

“Filthy girl,” he growled as he pulled out and pushed back in with slow, hard strokes. I could feel him in my stomach. The slide of his cock found the perfect spot inside me and I moaned. “Wanting me to fuck her like a good little slut, wanting to be degraded by me, used by me.”

His thrusts became rougher and quicker, and his hand once again knotted in my hair, pulling my chest slightly up off the bed, arching my back even harder and hitting my g-spot even harder from this angle.

“Fuck, Feyre, I’m not gonna last,” he huffed, fucking me rougher. I wanted to feel him inside of me for days. I wanted him to fuck the pain away, to make me forget even for a moment how awful everything was. I wanted to get lost in him.

“Harder,” I whined, and he swore again, but gave me what I wanted. He smacked my ass, leaving a red hand print on my skin.

His hand found my clit again, using my wetness to create a delicious glide. I rolled my hips against him as he pulled my hair, fucking me from behind. It took no time before my legs were ferociously shaking, barely holding me up as he worked me.

I felt myself squeeze around him, limiting how far he was able to pull out. He let out a deep, reverberating moan as he thrust in hard one last time, spilling his cum inside me and collapsing onto my back, kissing my shoulder blades reverently.

“You’re so perfect,” he panted. “Thank you for always knowing what I need.” He slowly pulled out of me. He watched his cum spill out of me for a moment before he used his magic to clean me up as well as himself. Then he pulled me into his arms, hugging me tightly to his chest and kissing the top of my head over and over.

He pulled me into bed with him, holding me as close as physically possible. He rubbed my head as it rested on his chest. I could feel his thoughts crashing back in, but this time he felt calmer, more level-headed.

“I feel so guilty,” I whispered to him. He kissed the top of my head again.

“I know.”

I stared into the dark, my own thoughts bringing a storm cloud into my mind.

“There’s nothing we can do at this exact moment. Tomorrow we will save them. We both need to get rest so we’re at our best.” I knew he was right, but that didn’t make the guilt any less heavy.
“I love you so much, Feyre darling,” he murmured to me softly. I returned the sentiment easily. Satisfied, he relaxed into the bed. I listened to his breathing until it evened out and I knew he was asleep.

I was glad he was able to finally get some rest, and I eventually slid into slumber myself. Tomorrow would be hell, but tonight, we rested.

Chapter Text

The next day came earlier than expected. Rhysand woke up before it was light outside, pulling on his fighting leathers. He seemed even more tense than the night before. I silently watched him, knowing he hadn’t realized I was awake yet.

He mumbled something to himself under his breath, yanking his boots on and lacing them quickly. I watched the muscles of his back flex underneath his leathers. Anxiety kicked me in the gut repeatedly. The incoming nausea was brutal, knowing that Rhysand was heading somewhere dangerous, and without me.

If something happened to him, I’d never forgive myself. This is for my sisters, I reminded myself. My sisters need help, and Rhysand is the only one who can provide that. I won’t lose any of them, I consoled myself. He will come home to me.

“Rhysand,” I said quietly, pushing off the blankets and crawling off the bed as I walked over to the armchair he sat in, finishing fastening his second boot.

“It’s okay, Feyre,” he promised, likely hearing the tension in my voice.

“I trust you,” I nodded. “That doesn’t mean I won’t worry.”

“I know,” he murmured, looking at me with surging emotion. It was likely hard for him to leave me, too. We’d spent no time apart since we escaped Amarantha. I leaned on him for constant support and reassurance, and now he was leaving me.

A knock sounded at the door and Rhysand briskly walked to open it, revealing Azriel and Cassian on the other side, fully dressed in their own fighting leathers. Their siphons illuminated the dim light of the hallway. They both looked more serious than I’d ever seen them. My sisters are in good hands, I told myself.

“Give me a minute,” Rhysand asked, voice low and deep. “I’ll meet you in my office.”

They both gave a curt nod and trekked back down the hallway toward Rhysand’s office. Rhys turned back around to me and opened his arms, and I crashed into them, feeling the warmth of his embrace as he squeezed me to his chest. I buried my face in his neck.

We hugged in silence for as long as we could before he started to pull away. He gripped my face in his hands, looking deeply into my eyes. He was so conflicted. It was plainly painted all over his face. He didn’t want to leave, but he knew he had to go.

“I love you,” he swore. “I will see you soon.”

“I love you,” I said back, my throat thick with emotions. He pressed a kiss to my forehead, staying there a moment longer, just to inhale my scent before he pulled away and was out the door before I could even process it.

I paced the floor anxiously, chewing the inside of my cheeks. I should have gone with them, I cursed myself over and over. I knew the layout of Tamlin’s house, knew how his mind worked. I had to consciously remind myself how much longer and more intimately Rhysand had known him.

Rhys was smart and quick on his feet. With Cass and Az at his side, he was indestructible. Tamlin was only one male. He could only defend so much. The odds were stacked against him. This was a desperate effort to regain what he had lost under the mountain- his dignity.

The door hung open as Mor approached, a somber look in her eyes, like she knew the anxiety I was feeling and felt it, too. She’d just gotten Rhysand back. The fear of losing him again the way she had… It was overwhelming.

“How are you?” Mor asked softly, coming to take my hand and leading me to the sofa so I would stop pacing back and forth. The embroidered cushion cradled me as I looked to Mor for guidance. Surely she’d seen the males off to battle before. No, that wouldn’t be true. She was always with them in battle. She’d only stayed to protect me. Rhysand had entrusted her with my life, and that meant I should, too.

“As well as can be expected,” I said, clearing my throat. She offered me a glass of water and I took it from her hands, slowly raising it to my mouth and taking a sip. I hadn’t realized how dry my mouth really was. I ended up finishing the entire glass before sitting it back down.

“They will come home,” Mor assured me. “They always come home.”

“I’m afraid for them,” I confessed. Mor gave me a look of sympathy, sitting next to me and placing her arm around my shoulders, squeezing me affectionately.

“I am, too.”

Her honesty was refreshing. It was nice to know I wasn’t alone in my fear.
So together, Mor and I sat and waited.

Chapter Text

I hated leaving Feyre, but it was the obvious choice to make. I took a deep breath, trying to clear my thoughts of her so I could focus properly. She was with Morrigan. She was safe. Nothing will happen to her while I am gone.

“There’s a side door on the back of the mansion that leads through a passageway into the dungeons,” Azriel was saying, pointing to the map in his hands. We’d flown for hours and hours. My shoulders were sore where my wings met my back. I rolled my shoulders as I listened, trying to find relief.

We’d landed just outside the Spring Court High Lord’s estate, waiting in the tree line for a good opportunity to strike. Four guards stood watch on the porch, but I used my magic to envelop us in the nighttime darkness.

“There are two guards, but they should be easy enough to take care of,” Az continued. “My shadows are already in place to keep watch. I don’t want any surprises. They’ll alert me if something goes awry.”

I gave a quick nod, approving of his plan. Cassian eyed me reproachfully, but said nothing. He could likely feel the tension coming off me in waves. We only had once chance to not fuck this up. Feyre would never forgive me if something happened to her sisters.

We waited until the darkness covered us fully, navigating through the trees to the back of the estate. Almost immediately, I noted the door Azriel had been talking about, and sure enough, there were the two guards. One yawned, leaning back against the wall of the mansion, crossing his ankles.

A dark part of me prickled with a thrill. I gave one last glance around before I seized both of their minds, watching as they stiffly froze. I muddled through their memories, watching as they saw Feyre’s sisters being dragged to the dungeons. I noted that there were another two guards stationed inside.

The poor girls had been barely clothed and shoe-less. Anger sparked in my chest and with one flick of my hand, the two guards collapsed at once, lifeless. Azriel looked at me sharply, but I ignored him, too. Let them think whatever they wanted.

Perhaps they were clinging to some version of me that no longer existed- one with more patience and mercy. This version of me knew all too well that survival takes sacrifice. I motioned for them to follow me as I approached the door.

I slowly creeped it open before a guard shouted, “Who’s there!”

I gritted my teeth, moving to grab for my sword as I kicked the door wide open, but Cassian beat me, slashing his blade ruthlessly, beheading the first guard. The second guard charged at him, yelling.

Cassian fought against him valiantly, the sound of clanging metal echoing off the stone walls. Rhysand searched the corridor. With the amount of racket they were making, someone should have come to aid by now. But the door to the hallway remained shut. Perhaps the mansion was soundproofed somehow? But how would the guards alert anyone to danger if that were the case?

Azriel positioned himself behind Cassian’s opponent, driving his dagger through the man’s spine. The guard gurgled blood, falling to his knees before crumpling into a pile at the Illyrian’s feet. We all looked at each other, likely thinking the same thing. Something felt wrong.

Not intent on wasting any time, I shoved past my brothers, heading down the stairs and into the dungeons. I grabbed a wall sconce on the way down, lighting my path with a flickering orange glow. The shadows danced along the wall, and I moved forward at an impressive pace.

The path led directly to the dungeon cells. There were rows and rows of them, mostly unoccupied. Moving forward, I used the flame to help my search. I neared the back of the room when he heard shuffling.

Looking quickly at the source of the noise, I found two small girls huddled together in a corner, arms wrapped around one another desperately. They peered back at me with hollow eyes. They were cowering even further into the corner of the metal bars as I drew nearer.

Reaching for the lock, I hissed in pain and yanking my hand back. Fae-proofed steel. Why would Tamlin use something like that? I rolled my eyes, stepping back and using my magic to open the cell. It opened easier than I expected it to, the barred door swinging wide.

I looked back over my shoulder at Azriel and Cassian.

“Wait here,” I instructed, handing them the sconce as I walked through the gate and into the cell. Crouching before Elain and Nesta, I looked them over to check for injuries. Seeing no obvious ones apart from intense bruising, I spoke.

“I am here to help you.” Attempting to make my voice gentle and non-threatening, I continued. “I won’t hurt you, but I need you to come with me.”

“Leave us alone,” snapped the one hugging the other protectively. Her lip curled up in a snarl. Ah, so this was Nesta. Feyre’s description had been accurate.

“Your sister sent me,” I tried again.

“Prove it.” Her face was stern as she looked at me bravely. Elain cowered further behind her sister, an instinct she’d apparently always possessed.

“I’m her…” I paused. I wasn’t actually certain what I was to Feyre. I didn’t know how to describe our relationship concisely. “She saved my life.” This snagged Nesta’s attention.

“Go on,” she said curtly.

“She’s a very dear friend of mine,” I explained. ‘Friend’ didn’t even begin to describe it. She was mine in every way a person could belong to another. “She’s safe. She requested I come help both of you. She loves you both deeply.”

Nesta scoffed. “We don’t need help from you.”

Exasperated, I looked around at the conditions they’d been living in. It was inhumane. “Are you sure about that?”

“I don’t trust fae,” she growled out, trying her best to look menacing, even with how small and vulnerable she was. She was like a cornered cat. Any second now she could hiss at me and I’d be unsurprised.

“Rhysand, we have to get out of here,” Azriel warned from behind me. I sighed.

“If I said please would it make a difference?”

“No.”

I gave her a look.

“Maybe we should go,” Elain whispered to her sister. Nesta’s head snapped around and she gave her sister a confused and conflicted look.

“Why?”

“Can’t be worse than here,” Elain spoke softly.

“Actually, it could-“ Cassian began but stopped when Azriel hit him in the stomach. I rolled my eyes again. Cassian loved being a smart ass in the worst possible moments. It was how he coped.

“I will protect you.”

“What’s in it for you? Why do you care?” Nesta narrowed her eyes.

Gods, I thought to myself. If she only knew how much I really cared. How much was really in it for me. I was certain I’d do anything Feyre asked. Anything to keep her looking at me the way she does. Anything for one more moment of her time, attention, or company. But I didn’t say this. Instead, I opted for awkward honesty. “Because I love Feyre.”

Nesta blinked, looking over my shoulder at Cassian and Azriel, surveying them. Cassian watched her with a goofy grin on his face. He wasn’t good at discretion. Something she saw in him must have changed her mind, because she slowly got to her feet, bringing Elain along with her.

I watched Elain and Nesta hesitantly step over the threshold of their dungeon cell, noting how skinny and pale they both looked. I wondered how long they’ve really been down here. By the looks of it, they needed healers.

Once they crossed, I strolled to the entrance himself. I moved to step over the threshold too, but my foot jerked back roughly. Furrowing my brows, I tried again. The same results came immediately. I lifted my hands, pressing them flat against some invisible force, keeping me from exiting.

Panic struck me.

Tamlin must have set up some kind of wards; one that would allow fae entrance but not exit. I was now locked in a dungeon in my enemy’s home. I looked up wide eyed, to find that Cassian and Azriel shared that same fear. They were frozen in place, panic in their eyes.

“Get them out of here!” I commanded, nodding to Elain and Nesta.

When the two Illyrians made no move to leave, I let my patience slip.

“Now! I am your High Lord! Do as I tell you!”

“Rhys,” Cassian tried, but I gave him a deadly glare, and his mouth snapped shut.

“It’s going to take me some time to dismantle the wards,” I said, trying to control my temper.
“Get them somewhere safe.”

The Illyrians swallowed roughly, shuffling toward the door as they obeyed my command very reluctantly. I knew it felt like they were breaking every oath they’d ever made to leave me here, but I couldn’t protect them from behind these wards, and I needed to know Feyre’s family was safe.

Once they left, I began to throw my magic full force at the wards, begging them to shatter. They remained firmly in place, no damage done at all. I tried harder, straining myself, and still nothing.

I was truly trapped.

“Hello, Rhysand,” came a voice that made my blood run cold.

Chapter Text

Ianthe.

I never thought I would ever see her wretched face again, and yet before me she stood, High Priestess garments adorning her. My stomach tightened as I tried to keep my breathing even and not reveal any ounce of emotion. I knew that was exactly what she wanted- a reaction from me.

“Looking quite peaky, dear. Expecting someone else?” She smirked at me, moving languidly closer to the bars of my cell. The curve of her mouth was cruel and haughty. She was enjoying herself.

“What do you want,” I growled through gritted teeth. I hated even giving her the satisfaction of me replying.

“Well, I want you dead, obviously.” She arched a playful brow, laughing at herself. My eyes narrowed, taking in the look of her. She was thinner than I remembered. Crueler and colder somehow. Her pale skin looked sallow.

“Good luck with that,” I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t need luck,” she shook her head earnestly.

I just scoffed. “So where is he?”

“Who?” Her eyes were alight with mischief. She was mocking me, toying with me.

“The one you settled for,” I said, playing into her game.

“I’m long past my affections for you.” Her hood shadowed her face slightly.

“Sure you are.”

She stiffened. My grin widened.

“You smile now. You won’t be smiling soon.” I was getting under her skin, just as I’d intended. It was almost too easy. My confidence began to well in my chest, knowing the part she wanted me to play.

“What? Gonna torture me?” My eyes were alight as I spoke.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll view it that way,” she said, walking back towards the staircase that led back out of the dungeons.

“How so?”

“You really want to know?” She said it like it was a warning. I just looked at her expectantly. She threw her head back, laughing obnoxiously. “I’ll give you a hint. I’m experimenting with Illyrian intelligence.”

My brow furrowed before my heart dropped into my stomach. She’d learned a few things since I’d last seen her. She knew exactly what to do to break me the most.

“Let’s see if they’re stupid enough to fall into a trap twice?” Ianthe mused before snorting a laugh and disappearing up the stairs. Intense fear froze my bones. Azriel and Cassian- they’d be back for me. They’d never leave me here. Ianthe knew that. She was laying a trap for them. I was the bait.

I felt like I was going to be sick all over the floor.

Cassian! I screamed at him mentally, throwing all my power into it.

Azriel! I tried again. Nothing.

Please respond to me, I mentally begged both of them. I ran a panicked hand through my hair, pacing back and forth in my cell. It was likely my daemati powers couldn’t penetrate the wards spelled into the silver cage.

Which meant that I couldn’t warn them. Azriel and Cassian were on their own. I prayed to the Mother that they wouldn’t do anything stupid.

Stay where you are, I pleaded. Protect Feyre. Leave me here. Please don’t try to rescue me. Throwing my magic at the bars over and over again, I sank to my knees. My chest was rising and falling at an alarming rate now.

My skin was cold but sweating simultaneously. The room began to spin, but still I lurched my power forward and out of me. It slammed into the impenetrable wall over and over again.

Nothing worked.

I was trapped.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I wrapped my hands around the steel bars, yanking as hard as I could as I listened to my skin singing on the metal. I hissed in pain, squeezing my eyes shut. I had to get out. I had to get out NOW.

The smell of my burnt flesh was revolting. I finally released the bars, stumbling backwards until I bent over, heaving. I vomited all over my shoes, feeling dizzy and disoriented.
This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Please, not again.

I sank back on my haunches, placing my head between my knees and breathing as slowly as possible to try and calm myself. I could feel Amarantha’s hands on my skin, could see Ianthe lounging naked in my bed, saw Tamlin with his hands on Feyre-

I squeezed my eyes harder, seeing stars behind my eyelids.

“You’re okay,” I told myself quietly. “You’re going to be okay.” My voice broke on the last word, and tears pricked the back of my eyes. The familiar dread and fear washed over me like a tidal wave.

I thought of Feyre. I imagined her arms wrapped around me, her blue eyes I could drown in, and her scowl when I bugged her on purpose. I held on tight to the memory of her. She was my lifeline, not for the first time.

Feyre was safe.

Everything was worth it to know that fact. I decided I didn’t care what happened to me anymore. I would do whatever I had to do to keep Ianthe from hurting my family.

“I love you, Feyre,” I breathed, no longer having the strength to try and reach her mentally. The words gave me solace.

Chapter Text

The moment Cassian crashed through the front door of the House of Wind, my heart sank. In his arms were my sisters, looking sickly and starved. To know they’d been suffering for so long while I’d been lavishing in my new life with Rhysand… I felt like I was going to be ill.

“Nesta,” I breathed her name, and at once her fierce eyes were trained on me.
“Feyre,” Elain sighed in relief, nearly collapsing onto me in her grief. I wrapped my arms around her tightly, closing my eyes. I could still feel Nesta’s eyes watching me closely, like a caged animal.

I pulled back from Elain to address her. Nesta’s chin wobbled slightly and she sniffed as she raised her chin higher, refusing to be vulnerable in this moment. Her eyes told me more, though.

They ached with a deep sadness. It made me long to hold her as I’d done with Elain, but I knew she needed more than anything to be able to keep her center of balance right now. Nesta was meanest when she was most afraid.

“I’m happy you’re safe,” I told her, and she nodded slightly, still watching me intently.

The moment I realized, my knees nearly buckled beneath me. I’d been so focused on the return of my sisters that I hadn’t had time to notice that Cassian…

Cassian was alone.

My stomach lurched. I swallowed, my tongue feeling thick.

“Rhysand,” was all I could manage to choke out, and the reflected look in Cassian’s hazel eyes revealed the horrifying truth.

“Azriel will get him out,” Cassian pleaded, but I wasn’t sure it was me who he was begging. He wore guilt like banner on his face.

“Out?!” I asked, exasperated. Tears welled in my eyes.

“There was some kind of wards on the cell,” Cassian tried desperately to explain. “He was the only one who went in to get your sisters. They were able to cross safely, but he was trapped. I assume it was some kind of magic used specifically to hold him. Azriel stayed behind to try and help. I flew home with your sisters in my arms as quickly as I could.”
I wanted to rage, to throw something across the room and shatter it. This couldn’t be happening again. The panic Rhysand must feel right now, being stuck behind more wards- and by whom?

My mind whirled through the list of enemies we’d made, trying to sound out what was most logical. No one had been able to find Tamlin when we’d broken through Amarantha’s wards, but we’d foolishly assumed that meant he was dead. Something still felt off, like there was a large piece I was missing. Someone or something I wasn’t seeing.

“Did you see anyone?” I ask him, trying to sound as sane as possible.

He shook his head. “Only a few guards, but Feyre…. It was like they were waiting for us, setting a neat trap we walked directly into. Some part of it seemed incredibly planned. It was much too easy for him to get into those dungeons, even being as powerful as he is.”

Someone had baited Rhysand- or me, rather. So what could they want?

I tried to reach out mentally to Rhys, tugging on the bond, but no sign of life came back to me. It wasn’t as though he was gone, it just felt… blocked, somehow. The wards must have contained his powers completely, which meant whoever we were dealing with was not new to magic.

I blinked once before launching into action. I yanked my boots on, lacing them angrily.

“I’m going.” I said firmly. “Either you take me, or I find a way myself.”

Cassian shook his head. “Rhysand would murder me if I brought you into this mess.”

“Then I’ll go alone,” I shrugged, yanking on my jacket. I walked to Rhysand’s nightstand and grabbed the dagger he always kept there, using the holster to fasten it close to my body.

“How?” Cassian asked, crossing his arms. He leaned against the door frame, his shape looming large.

“However I have to,” I stare him down.

“You can’t go there, Feyre,” he sighed.

“Try and fucking stop me,” I challenged, arching a brow at him. “I will not lose him. Whatever it takes. I will find him and I will make sure he comes back home.”

“Yeah? And what about you?”

“What about me,” I scoff.

“Do you honestly think Rhysand would ever be okay without you again? Do you not understand how much you mean to him?” Cassian asked, being firm but gentle and caring.

“I can’t just leave him,” I say, fighting the stinging in my eyes.

“Azriel is there,” Cassian tried to reassure me.

“They want me,” I tell him. “Whoever has Rhysand used my sisters as bait. They may want him, but they were targeting me. I will not let him die for me.”

“I’ll help you,” a powerful female voice rang from behind me.

I turned, a dark grin spreading across my face at the sight of Morrigan, dressed in full battle gear, eyes glittering with rage.

“Mor-“ Cassian started, but in a flash, Morrigan unsheathed her sword and gently allowed her blade to lift Cassian’s chin, the harsh metal slicing into his skin lightly.

“Watch the girls,” Mor nodded to Elain and Nesta, who still looked utterly shell-shocked. Cassian swallowed, sword still pressed to his throat. “Feyre and I will be back soon, once we finish the job you fucked up.”

I had never loved her- or wanted to be her- more than I did in that moment.

Chapter Text

Morrigan apparated us to the border of Tamlin’s estate. I knew Azriel was out here somewhere, but I had no clue where or if he’d been taken, too. All I knew for certain was that I had to get to Rhysand. Had to know he was safe, was okay. Morrigan’s features were schooled into cool, calculated aggression as she watched the entrances and exits of the grand mansion I once called home.

“They’ll be expecting us,” Morrigan said quietly, not looking at me as she spoke. In her, I so clearly saw the face of someone meant to be in Rhysand’s inner circle. She felt so powerful, so in control in that moment. “So let’s give them something they won’t expect. I always thought this place was gaudy anyway. Let’s give it a makeover.”

“A makeover?” My stomach was in knots.

She gave me a devious grin, removing the backpack from her shoulders and unzipping it, revealing its contents to me. Inside was bright red liquid unlike any substance I’d ever seen before. And a shocking amount of it, separated into individual glass vials.

She handed me a palm-full, urging me to be very cautious in their handling. Terrified, but not wanting to show it, I nodded along as she gave me instructions. “We’ll split up. Find strategic spots in the mansion, toss one of these at the wall and get the fuck out of there. You have to be quick. This shit works fast.”

“What is it? Where did you get it?”

“Best you don’t know, I think,” she said nonchalantly, studying the building ahead of us once again.

“What will happen when they bust?”

She finally looked me deeply in the eyes. “A really big boom.”

She had the look of someone desperate to not make the same mistake twice. She would not lose Rhysand again, would not allow someone to domineer over him and remain powerless. No, this time she took matters literally into her own hands. And her hands just to happened to be filled with liquid explosives.

It was so off-handed that I almost thought she wasn’t serious. But she was dead serious. “Oh.”

“I’m planning to play it in our favor that we know Rhysand is locked deep underground in the dungeons.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, and didn’t want to admit how nervous it really made me, because she seemed so confident in this plan. “What if Azriel’s in there?”

“He’s not that stupid, you can literally see the wards, Feyre. Look closely.” I obeyed, squinting at the building until it came more into focus, the barely noticeable buzzing haze around the outside of the building. Once I utilized my senses, it really was obvious.

“These potions are designed to destroy physical magic barriers.”

“Again, where did you get them?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want genuine answers to, Feyre. Just be glad I’m here with them now to steal your boyfriend back.” She rolled her eyes, beautiful even then.

“Okay.”

“Vandalize wisely, don’t blow your arm off saving Rhysand’s dumb ass.” She was joking again, but it still had that deadly serious edge. “Let’s bring him home.” She embraced me quickly before she was gone, disappeared into the trees to my right, which meant it was my job to go left.

I kept to the tree-line for 10 feet or so before I saw a spot in the walls split wide by the bay window where I’d spend so many of my days cooped up and believing I had been saved. I turned the angry red vial in my palm, contemplating it for a moment when I heard a cacophonous explosion, my ears ringing slightly.

After that, there was no more time to think. I threw the vials with all my might, the liquid coating the pristine white walls in the violence of red. It seeped down for a few moments before the blast became utterly deafening. I lost count of the amount of explosions we caused or how much damage we’d done. Tears streaming down my soot-smeared cheeks as I unleashed all the anger that was pent up inside my chest at the thought of this place. At the thought of Tamlin, at the thought of someone once again trying to take Rhysand from me.

Distracted, I didn’t realize we’d made a full circle and that the explosions had grown closer and closer together until a piece of debris came flying towards my head, and I only just ducked out of the way before my head was cut clean off. I blinked the ash from my vision, focusing my eyes on the mess and rubble we’d made of such a beautiful mansion, and realized I no longer saw the haze of the wards standing.

Chapter Text

I dashed toward the ruined mansion, my hair whipping wildly in the wind as I careened my head around in search of Morrigan. I knew wherever she was, she could handle her own. Turning back to my own path, I dodged a hole in the ground, nearly twisting my ankle in the process.

Once I neared the destruction, I slowed slightly, trying to make sense of the mansion's layout. Wherever Rhys was, it was underneath all this rubble. I heard a low grunt and shuffling of feet. I rounded the corner to find Azriel's vein-corded muscles working hard as he lifted a huge piece of stone wall off the ground, revealing a descending staircase.

"Go!" He yelled at me, gesturing down into the dark depths.

Pausing only long enough to take a breath, I ducked my head under the rocks and Az slowly let the rock down, covering my escape and sealing me in darkness. I fumbled blindly, waving my arms in front of me and ever so carefully and slowly descending the stair case.

I knew I was at the bottom when I felt the floor even out and the wall was in front of me. I followed the wall around a bend and could see a faint blue glow up ahead.

"Who's there?" Rhysand commanded, and my heart dropped. I raced toward the sound, toward the small ball of light I now recognized as his starlight.

"Rhys!" I cried out, reaching for him through the bars of his cage. He held me awkwardly around the metal, breathing unevenly in a way that let me know he really hadn't expected me to come for him.

I pulled back to look him in his violet eyes as I told him what I needed to say.

"Always, in every lifetime. I will always come find you." His eyes grew glassy before he realized the situation we found ourselves in.

"I love you," was all he could muster.

"Tell me what you know," I commanded, my shoulders back and head clear. I would get him out of here. He'd no doubt already expended his power in order to fight his way out, so it wasn't likely that anything he could do would make much of a difference.

"Ianthe,” he explained. “Likely with Tamlin’s help. They’ll be coming for us starting the moment they heard whatever disaster you caused to get in here.” So, he’d definitely heard the explosions, then. I gave him a quick, cheeky grin.

“Bombs, from Morrigan.”

“Likely place for them to be.”

I laughed.

Then the best idea I’d ever had struck me. Ianthe and Tamlin were skilled in their own ways, sure. But Tamlin’s specialty certainly had never been wards. No, that was where Rhys excelled. So how would those two geniuses think to imprison someone with the ability to shatter nearly any ward?

“I know what to do,” I said, looking around on the floor for anything sharp. I dropped to my knees, hoping to find a suspiciously placed and sharpened stone, but was finding nothing.

“What are you doing?”

I ignored him, continuing my hunt. My eyes now adjusted to the darkness, I headed back toward the way I’d entered. What are the odds I find a perfectly placed broken, jagged rock? I snatched it up, knowing I wanted to do this out of Rhysand’s eye line.

I used the jagged edge, clenching my eyes shut and gritting my teeth as I used the rock to rip my skin open on my arm, bright red blood blooming and spilling over. His fae senses caught on immediately. He was at the bars, yelling.

“Feyre, what are you doing?” He said, panicked. “Are you bleeding?” He likely scented the iron-like smell.

“I’m saving you,” was all I said, coming around the corner. His eyes immediately locked in on the blood gushing from where I’d just created a wound on myself. I dropped to my knees at the front of his cell, allowing the blood to slowly trickle from my arm and down onto the metal bars, that started to sizzle immediately.

Spurred on by the sight, I used my palms to smear the barrier with my blood.

“Feyre, please,” Rhysand begged. He likely thought I was utterly losing my mind right in front of him. He looked dumbstruck.

The sizzling faded into nothing. I swore under my breath, starting to panic. I knew we didn’t have much longer until we were discovered, or Mor and Az were. I grabbed the rock again.

“Feyre, please, stop,” he begged and pleaded. “Don’t hurt yourself for me.”

“Rhysand.” I snarled impatiently. He just looked at me. “Would you do it for me?”

He was silent. He knew I was right and that he’d bleed for me, too. The only difference is that my blood contained a piece of every High Lord of Prythian, and I also knew Tamlin learned blood magic from Amarantha. It was an utter shot in the dark, but it had to work. I had to save him.

I deepened the cut on my arm, hissing at the pain, tears stinging my eyes as blood poured more freely from me. I utterly doused the barrier in my blood and the sizzling returned, but nothing else. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I used my hands to smear it more.

“Feyre, you have to stop. It’s not working. They are coming for me and I cannot let them find you, too. PLEASE. I am begging you to go find Azriel.

I shook my head angrily. “It’ll work. It has to.”

“Listen-“

“No,” I growled, adding more and more of my blood. I felt lightheaded and dizzy and suddenly I wasn’t quite sure what I was supposed to be doing?

My vision went black and I collapsed backwards, hitting my head on the cold stone, entirely unconscious.

Somewhere from the deep recesses of my brain, I heard Rhysand’s desperate attempts to get me to sit up, to talk to him, to show him I’m okay and breathing. The sizzling of my fountain of blood was roaring now, feeling like it was consuming me whole.

A loud shattering sound and I knew the ward was gone.

My limbs limply hung as Rhysand scooped me up into his arms, moving very quickly towards the door. He sat my body down on the stairs and I was swimming in and out of black tunnels in my vision. “Rhys,” I said weakly. He pushed the rock away quickly, adrenaline spiking his strength.

“Take her,” he ordered to someone, and I smelled the fresh spring air.

My body was passed to another hard chest, and I recognized the familiar scent of Azriel immediately, my head lulling back slightly as my eyes rolled involuntarily. The magic it took to crack the ward combined with my blood loss was drowning me.

“I am going to rip his heart from his chest for this.”

My head went dark.