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Sarah J. Maas

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“Tamlin?' I peered at my hands, the blood, and when I beheld Rhys, when I saw my grim-faced friends, and my drenched, immortal sisters- There was nothing but shock and confusion on Rhys's face as I scrambled back from him. Away from them. Toward Tamlin. 'Tamlin,' I managed to say again. Lucien's eye widened as he stepped between me and Elain. I whirled on the King of Hybern. 'Where-' I again faced Rhysand, 'What did you do to me,' I breathed, low and guttural. Backing toward Tamlin. 'What did you do?' Get them out. Get my sisters out. Play- please play along. Please- There was no sound, no shield, no glimmer of feeling in our bond. The king's power had blocked it out too thoroughly. There was nothing I could do against it, Cursebreaker or no. But Rhys slid his hands into his pockets as he purred, 'How did you get free?' 'What?' Jurian seethed, pushing off the wall and storming toward us. But I turned toward Tamlin and ignored the features and smell and clothes that were all wrong. He watched me warily. 'Don't let him take me again, don't let him- don't-' I couldn't keep the sobs from shuddering out, not as the full force of what I was doing hit me. 'Feyre,' Tamlin said softly. And I knew I had won. I sobbed harder. Get my sisters out, I begged Rhys through the silent bond. I ripped the wards open for you- all of you. Get them out. 'Don't let him take me,' I sobbed again. 'I don't want to go back.' And when I looked at Mor, at the tears streaming down her face as she helped Cassian get upright, I knew she realised what I meant. But the tears vanished- became sorrow for Cassian as she turned a hateful, horrified face to Rhysand and spat, 'What did you do to that girl?' Rhys cocked his head. 'How did you do it, Feyre?' There was so much blood on him. One last game- this was one last game we were to play together.”

“Jurian stalked over to Lucien amid the rising squabble, laughing under his breath, 'Do you know what Illyrian bastards do to pretty females? You won't have a mate left- at least not one that's useful to you in any way.' Lucien's answering growl was nothing short of feral. I spat at Jurian's feet. 'You can go to hell, you hideous prick.' Tamlin's hands tightened at my shoulders. Lucien spun toward me and that metal eye whirred and narrowed. Centuries of cultivated reason clicked into place. I was not panicking at my sisters being taken. I said quietly, 'We will get her back.' But Lucien was watching me warily. Too warily. I said to Tamlin, 'Take me home.”

“I did it for you, too, you know.' Cold, hard words. 'I went with him to get you back.' 'I never realised what a powerful motivator guilt can be.' 'That day you- went away,' he said, struggling to avoid that other word- left. 'I beat Tamlin back to the manor- received the message when we were out on the border and raced here. But the only trace of you was that ring, melted between the stones of the parlour. I got rid of it a moment before Tam arrived home to see it.' A probing, careful statement. Of the facts that pointed not toward abduction. 'They melted it off my finger,' I lied. His throat bobbed, but he just shook his head, the sunlight leaking through the forest canopy setting the ember-red of his hair flickering.”

“You might be willing to get on your knees for Hybern, but I certainly am not.' He exploded. Furniture splintered and went flying, windows cracked and shattered. And this time, I did not shield myself. The worktable slammed into me, throwing me against the bookshelf, and every place where flesh and bone met wood barked and ached. My knees slammed into the carpeted floor, and Tamlin was instantly in front of me, hands shaking- The doors burst open. 'What have you done,' Lucien breathed, and Tamlin's face was the picture of devastation as Lucien shoved him aside. He let Lucien shove him aside and help me stand. Something wet and warm slid down my cheek- blood, from the scent of it. 'Let's get you cleaned up,' Lucien said, an arm around my shoulders as he eased me from the room. I barely heard him over the ringing in my ears, the slight spinning to the world. The sentries- Bron and Hart, two of Tamlin's favourite lord-warriors among them- were gaping, attention torn between the wrecked study and my face. With good reason. As Lucien led me past a gilded hall mirror, I beheld what had drawn such horror. My eyes were glassy, my face pallid- save for the scratch just beneath my cheekbone, perhaps two inches long and leaking blood. Little scratches peppered my neck, my hands. But I willed that cleansing, healing power- that of the High Lord of Dawn- to keep from seeking them out. From smoothing them away. 'Feyre,' Tamlin breathed from behind us. I halted, aware of every eye that watched. 'I'm fine,' I whispered. 'I'm sorry.' I wiped at the blood dribbling down my cheek. 'I'm fine,' I told him again. No one, not even Tamlin, looked convinced. And if I could have painted that moment, I would have named it A Portrait in Snares and Baiting.”

“I know better than to tell you to be careful, or to come home. But I want you home. Soon. And I want him dead for putting a hand on you. Even with the entirety of the land between us, his rage rippled down the bond. I answered, my tone soothing, Technically, his magic touched me, not his hand. The bathwater was cold by the time his reply came through. I'm glad you have a sense of humour about this. I certainly don't. I sent back an image of me sticking out my tongue at him. My clothes were back on when his answer arrived. Like mine, it was wordless, a mere image. Like mine, Rhysand's tongue was out. But it was occupied with doing something else.”

“You're going back. To the Night Court.' I shouldered my heavy pack and finally looked at him. 'Yes.' His tan face had paled. But he surveyed Ianthe, the two dead royals. 'I'm going with you.' 'No,' was all I said, heading for the trees. A cramp formed deep in my belly. I had to get away- had to use the last of my power to winnow to the hills. 'You won't make it without magic,' he warned me. I just gritted my teeth against the sharp pain in my abdomen as I rallied my strength to winnow to those distant foothills. But Lucien gripped my arm, halting me. 'I'm going with you,' he said again, face splattered with blood as bright as his hair. 'I'm getting my mate back.' There was no time for this argument. For the truth and debate and the answers I saw he desperately wanted. Tamlin and the others would have heard the shouting by now. 'Don't make me regret this,' I told him.”

“Lucien leaned his head back against the rock wall behind us. 'And then I'll ask your mate how he survived it- knowing you were engaged to someone else. Sharing another male's bed.' I tucked my freezing hands under my arms, gazing toward the gloom ahead. 'Tell me when you knew,' he demanded, his knee pressing into mine. 'That Rhysand was your mate. Tell me when you stopped loving Tamlin and started loving him instead.' I chose not to answer. 'Was it going on before you even left?' I whipped my head to him, even if I could barely make out his features in the dark. 'I never touched Rhysand like that until months later.' 'You kissed Under the Mountain.' 'I had as little choice in that as I did in the dancing.' 'And yet this is the male you now love.' He didn't know- he had no inkling of the personal history, the secrets, that had opened my heart to the High Lord of the Night Court. They were not my stories to tell. 'One would think, Lucien, that you'd be glad I fell in love with my mate, given that you were in the same situation Rhys was in six months ago.”

“His red hair gleamed in the faint firelight a moment later as he shoved through the flaps and swore. 'Maybe I should sleep out there.' I rolled my eyes. 'Please.' A way, considering glance as he knelt and removed his boots. 'You know Tamlin can be... sensitive about things.' 'He can also be a pain in my ass,' I snapped, and slithered under the blankets. 'If you yield to him on every bit of paranoia and territorialism, you'll just make it worse.' Lucien unbuttoned his jacket but remained mostly dressed as he slid onto his sleeping roll. 'I think it's made worse because you two haven't... I mean, you haven't, right?' I stiffened, tugging the blanket tighter onto my shoulders. 'No. I don't want to be touched like that- not for a while.' His silence was heavy- sad. I hated the lie, hated it for how filthy it felt to wield it. 'I'm sorry,' he said. And I wondered what else he was apologising for as I faced him in the darkness of our tent.”

“I heard Lucien first. 'Back off.' A low female laugh. Everything in me went still and cold at that sound. I'd heard it once before- in Rhysand's memory. Keep going. They were distracted, horrible as it was. Keep going, keep going, keep going. 'I thought you'd seek me out after the Rite,' Ianthe purred. They couldn't be more than thirty feet through the trees. Far enough away not to hear my presence, if I was quiet enough. 'I was obligated to perform the Rite,' Lucien snapped. 'That night wasn't the product of desire, believe me.' 'We had fun, you and I.' 'I'm a mated male now.' Every second was the ringing of my death knell. I'd primed everything to fall; I'd long since stopped feeling any guilt or doubt about my plan. Not with Alis now safely away. And yet- and yet- 'You don't act that way with Feyre.' A silk-wrapped threat. 'You're mistaken.' 'Am I?' Twigs and leaves crunched, as if she was circling him. 'You put your hands all over her.' I had done my job too well, provoked her jealousy too much with every instance I'd found ways to get Lucien to touch me in her presence, in Tamlin's presence. 'Do not touch me,' he growled. And then I was moving. I masked the sound of my footfalls, silent as a panther as I stalked to the little clearing where they stood. Where Lucien stood, back against a tree- twin bands of blue stone shackled around his wrists. I'd seen them before. On Rhys, to immobilise his power. Stone hewn from Hybern's rotted land, capable of nullifying magic. And in this case... holding Lucien against that tree as Ianthe surveyed him like a snake before a meal. She slid a hand over the broad panes of his chest, his stomach. And Lucien's eyes shot to me as I stepped between the trees, fear and humiliation reddening his golden skin. 'That's enough,' I said. Ianthe whipped her head to me. Her smile was innocent, simpering. But I saw her note the pack, Tamlin's bandolier. Dismiss them. 'We were in the middle of a game. Weren't we, Lucien?' He didn't answer. And the sight of those shackles on him, however she'd trapped him, the sight of her hand still on his stomach- 'We'll return to the camp when we're done,' she said, turning to him again. Her hand slid lower, not for his own pleasure, but simply to throw it in my face that she could-”

“You tell them I killed them. In self-defence. After they hurt me so badly while you and Tamlin did nothing. Even when they torture you for the truth, you say that I fled after I killed them- to save this court from their horrors.' Blank, vacant eyes were my only answer. 'Feyre.' Lucien's voice was a hoarse rasp.”

“His red hair was tied back, and there wasn't a hint of finery on him, just armoured leather, swords, knives... His metal eye roamed over me, his golden skin pale. 'We've been hunting you for over two months,' he breathed, now scanning the woods, the stream, the sky. Rhys. Cauldron save me. Rhys was too far back, and- 'How did you find me?' My steady, cold voice wasn't one I recognised. But- hunting for me. As if I were indeed prey. If Tamlin was here... My blood went icier than the freezing rain now sluicing down my face, into my clothes. 'Someone tipped us off you'd been out here, but it was luck that we caught your scent on the wind, and-' Lucien took a step toward me. I stepped back. Only three feet between me and the stream. Lucien's eye widened slightly. 'We need to get out of here. Tamlin's been- he hasn't been himself. I'll take you right to-' 'No,' I breathed. The word rasped through the rain, the stream, the pine forest. The four sentinels glanced between each other, then to the arrow I kept aimed. Lucien took me in again. And I could see what he was gleaming: the Illyrian fighting leathers. The colour and fullness that had returned to my face, my body. And the silent steel of my eyes. 'Feyre,' he said,' holding out a hand. 'Let's go home.' I didn't move. 'That stopped being my home the day you let him lock me up inside of it.' Lucien's mouth tightened. 'It was a mistake. We all made mistakes. He's sorry- more sorry than you realise. So am I.' He stepped toward me, and I backed up another few inches.”

“Little Lucien,' Rhys purred. 'Didn't the Lady of the Autumn Court ever tell you that when a woman says no, she means it?' 'Prick,' Lucien snarled, storming past his sentinels, but not daring to touch his weapons. 'You filthy, whoring prick.' I loosed a growl. Lucien's eyes sliced to me and he said with quiet horror, 'What have you done, Feyre?' 'Don't come looking for me again,' I said with equal softness. 'He'll never stop looking for you; never stop waiting for you to come home.' The words hit me in the gut- like they were meant to. It must have shown in my face because Lucien pressed, 'What did he do to you? Did he take your mind and-' 'Enough,' Rhys said, angling his head with that casual grace. 'Feyre and I are busy. Go back to your lands before I send your heads as a reminder to my old friend about what happens when Spring Court flunkies set foot in my territory.' The freezing rain slid down the neck of my clothes, down my back. Lucien's face was deathly pale. 'You made your point, Feyre- now come home.' 'I'm not a child playing games,' I said through my teeth. That's how they'd seen me: in need of coddling, explaining, defending... 'Careful, Lucien,' Rhysand drawled. 'Or Feyre darling will send you back in pieces, too.”

“Will he go to war Over me?' He knew who I meant. The hot temper that had been on Rhys's face moments before turned to lethal calm. 'I don't know.' 'I- I would go back. If it came to that, Rhysand. I'd go back, rather than make you fight.' He slid a still-wet hand into his pocket. 'Would you want to go back? Would going to war on your behalf make you love him again? Would that be a grand gesture to win you?' I swallowed hard. 'I'm tired of death. I wouldn't want to see anyone else die- least of all for me.' 'That doesn't answer my question.' 'No, I wouldn't want to go back. But I would. Pain and killing wouldn't win me.' Rhys stared at me for a moment longer, his face unreadable, before he strode to the door. He stopped with his fingers on the sea urchin-shaped handle. 'He locked you up because he knew- the bastard knew what a treasure you are. That you are worth more than land or gold or jewels. He knew, and wanted to keep you all to himself.' The words hit me, even as they soothed some jagged piece in my soul. 'He did- does love me, Rhysand.' 'The issue isn't whether he loved you, it's how much. Too much. Love can be a poison.' And then he was gone.”

“Is it true that you left Tamlin because he locked you up in his house?' I tried to block out the memory, the terror and agony of my heart breaking apart. But I nodded. 'And is it true that you were saved from confinement by the Night Court?' I nodded again. Tarquin said, 'The Spring Court is my southern neighbour. I have tenuous ties with them. But unless asked, I will not mention that you were here.' Thief, liar, manipulator. I didn't deserve his alliance. But I bowed my head in thanks.”

“I'm sorry.' I blinked. 'What do you possibly have to be sorry for?' 'His hands were shaking- as if in the aftermath of that fury at what Keir had called me, what he'd threatened. Perhaps he'd brought me here before heading home in order to have some privacy before his friends could interrupt. 'I shouldn't have let you go. Let you see that part of us. Of me.' I'd never seen him so raw, so... stumbling. 'I'm fine.' I didn't know what to make of what had been done. Both between us and to Keir. But it had been my choice. To play that role, to wear those clothes. To let him touch me. But... I said slowly, 'We knew what tonight would require of us. Please- please don't start protecting me. Not like that.' He knew what I meant. He'd protected me Under the Mountain, but that primal, male rage he'd just shown Keir... A shattered study splattered in paint flashed through my memory. Rhys rasped. 'I will never- never lock you up, force you to stay behind. But when he threatened you tonight, when he called you...' Whore. That's what they'd called him. For fifty years, they'd hissed it. I'd listened to Lucien spit the words in his face. Rhys released a jagged breath. 'It's hard to shut down my instincts.' Instincts. Just like... like someone else had instincts to protect, to hide me away. 'Then you should have prepared yourself better,' I snapped. 'You seemed to be going along just fine with it, until Keir said-' 'I will kill anyone who harms you,' Rhys snarled. 'I will kill them, and take a damn long time doing it.' He panted. 'Go ahead. Hate me- despise me for it.' 'You are my friend,' I said, and my voice broke on the word. I hated the tears that slipped down my face. I didn't even know why I was crying. Perhaps for the fact that it had felt real on that throne with him, even for a moment, and... and it likely hadn't been. Not for him. 'You're my friend- and I understand that you're High Lord. I understand that you will defend your true court, and punish threats against it. But I can't... I don't want you to stop telling me things, inviting me to do things, because of the threats against me.' Darkness rippled, and wings tore from his back. 'I am not him,' Rhys breathed. 'I will never be him, act like him. He locked you up and let you wither, and die.' 'He tried-' 'Stop comparing. Stop comparing me to him.' The words cut me short. I blinked. 'You think I don't know how stories get written- how this story will be written?' Rhys put his hands on his chest, his face more open, more anguished than I'd seen it. 'I am the dark lord, who stole away the bride of spring. I am a demon, and a nightmare, and I will meet a bad end. He is the golden prince- the hero who will get to keep you as his reward for not dying of stupidity and arrogance.' The things I love have a tendency to be taken from me. He'd admitted that to me Under the Mountain. But his words were kindling to my temper, to whatever pit of fear was yawning open inside of me. 'And what about my story?' I hissed. 'What about my reward? What about what I want?' 'What is it that you want, Feyre?' I had no answer. I didn't know. Not anymore. 'What is it that you want, Feyre?' I stayed silent. His laugh was bitter, soft. 'I thought so. Perhaps you should take some time to figure that out one of these days.' 'Perhaps I don't know what I want, but at least I don't hide what I am behind a mask,' I seethed. 'At least I let them see who I am, broken bits and all. Yes- it's to save your people. But what about the other masks, Rhys? What about letting your friends see your real face? But maybe it's easier not to. Because what if you did let someone in? And what if they saw everything, and still walked away? Who could blame them- who would want to bother with that sort of mess?' He flinched. The most powerful High Lord in history flinched. And I knew I'd hit hard- and deep. Too hard. Too deep. 'Rhys,' I said.”

“But it seems true. Tamlin's pet is now owned by another master.' 'You should see how I make her beg,' Rhys murmured, nudging my neck with his nose. Keir clasped his hands behind his back, 'I assume you brought her here to make a statement.' 'You know everything I do is a statement.' 'Of course. This one, it seems, you enjoy putting in cobwebs and crowns.' Rhys's hand paused, and I sat straighter at the tone, the disgust. And I said to Keir in a voice that belonged to another woman, 'Perhaps I'll put a leash on you.' Rhys's approval tapped against my mental shield, the hand at my ribs now making lazy circles. 'She does enjoy playing,' he mused onto my shoulder.”

“And will I still be bound by this bargain at Nynsar, too?' Silence. I pushed. 'After- after what happened-' I couldn't mention specifics on what had occurred Under the Mountain, what he'd done for me during the fight with Amarantha, what he'd done after- 'I think we can agree that I owe you nothing, and you owe me nothing.' His gaze was unflinching. I blazed on. 'Isn't it enough that we're all free?' I splayed my tattooed hand on the table. 'By the end, I thought you were different, thought that it was all a mask, but taking me away, keeping me here...' I shook my head, unable to find the words vicious, clever enough to convince him to end this bargain. His eyes darkened. 'I'm not your enemy, Feyre.' 'Tamlin says you are.' I curled the fingers of my tattooed hand into a fist. 'Everyone else says you are.' 'And what do you think?' He leaned back in his chair again, but his face was grave. 'You're doing a damned good job of making me agree with them.' 'Liar,' he purred. 'Did you even tell your friends about what I did to you Under the Mountain?' So that comment at breakfast had gotten under his skin. 'I don't want to talk about anything related to that. With you or them.' 'No, because it's much easier to pretend it never happened and let them coddle you.' 'I don't let them coddle me-' 'They had you wrapped up like a present yesterday. Like you were his reward.' 'So?' 'So?' A flicker of rage, then it was gone. 'I'm ready to be taken home,' I merely said. 'Where you'll be cloistered for the rest of your life, especially once you start punching our heirs. I can't wait to see what Ianthe does when she gets her hands on them.' 'You don't seem to have a particularly high opinion of her.' Something cold and predatory crept into his eyes. 'No, I can't say that I do.”

“He stopped a hand's breath away, his golden face tight. 'I told you once, and I'll tell you again,' he said. 'I am not your enemy.' 'And I told you once, so I'll tell you again. You're Tamlin's enemy. So I suppose that makes you mine.' 'Does it?' 'Free me from my bargain and let's find out.' 'I can't do that.' 'Can't or won't?”

“Lucien cleared his throat. 'She meant no harm, Tam.' 'I know she meant no harm,' he snapped. Lucien held his gaze. 'Worse things have happened, worse things can happen. Just relax.' Tamlin's emerald eyes were feral as he snarled at Lucien, 'Did I ask for your opinion?' Those words, the look he gave Lucien and the way Lucien lowered his head- my temper was a burning river in my veins. Look up, I silently beseeched him. Push back. He's wrong, and we're right. Lucien's jaw tightened. That force thrummed in me again, seeping out, spearing for Lucien. Do not back down- Then I was gone. Still there, still seeing through my eyes, but also half looking through another angle in the room, another person's vantage point- Thoughts slammed into me, images and memories, a pattern of thinking and feeling that was old, and clever, and sad, so endlessly sad and guilt-ridden, hopeless- Then I was back, blinking, no more than a heartbeat passing as I gaped at Lucien. His head. I had been inside his head, had slid through his mental walls-”

“I'm sorry,' he murmured, and my spine tingled. He kissed my neck again. 'I'm sorry.' I ran a hand down his arm. 'Tamlin,' I started. 'I shouldn't have said those things,' he breathed onto my skin. 'To you or Lucien. I didn't mean any of them.' 'I know,' I said, and his body relaxed against mine. 'I'm sorry I snapped at you.' 'You had every right,' he said, though I technically didn't. 'I was wrong.' What he said had been true- if he made exceptions, then other faeries would demand the same treatment. And what I had done could be construed as undermining. 'Maybe I was-' 'No. You were right. I don't understand what it's like to be starving- or any of it.”

“Tamlin- Tamlin, I can't... I can't live my life with guards around me day and night. I can't live like that... suffocation. Just let me help you- let me work with you.' 'You've given enough, Feyre.' 'I know. But...' I faced him. Met his stare- the full power of the High Lord of the Spring Court. 'I'm harder to kill now. I'm faster, stronger-' 'My family were faster and stronger than you. And they were murdered quite easily.' 'Then marry someone who can put up with this.' He blinked. Slowly. Then he said with terrible softness. 'Do you not want to marry me, then?' I tried not to look at the ring on my finger, at the emerald. 'Of course I do. Of course I do.' My voice broke. 'But you... Tamlin...' The walls pushed in on me. The quiet, the guards, the stares. What I'd seen at the Tithe today. 'I'm drowning,' I managed to say. 'I am drowning. And the more you do this, the more guards... You might as well be shoving my head under the water.' Nothing in those eyes, that face. But then- I cried out, instinct taking over as his power blasted through the room. The windows shattered. The furniture splintered. And that box of paints and brushes and paper... It exploded into dust and glass and wood.”

“I awoke each night, shaking and panting. And became glad when Tamlin wasn't there to witness it. When I, too, didn't witness him being yanked from his dreams, cold sweating coating his body. Or shifting into that beast, and staying awake until dawn, monitoring the estate for threats. What could I say to calm those fears, when I was the source of so many of them?”

“Get out.' He pointed toward the staircase. 'She'll come to you when she's ready.' Rhysand just brushed an invisible fleck of dust off Tamlin's sleeve. Part of me admired the sheer nerve it must have taken. Had Tamlin's teeth been inches from my throat, I would have bleated in panic. Rhys cut a glance at me. 'No, you wouldn't have. As far as your memory serves me, the last time Tamlin's teeth were near your throat, you slapped him across the face.' I snapped up my forgotten shields, scowling. 'Shut your mouth,' Tamlin said, stepping further between us. 'And get out.”

“Feyre,' he said, reaching for me, but I stepped out of range. 'Why do you need to know these things? Is it not enough for you to recover in peace? You earned that for yourself. You earned it. I relaxed the number of sentries here; I've been trying... trying to be better about it. So leave the rest of it-' He took a steadying breath. 'This isn't the time for this conversation.' It was never the time for this conversation, or that conversation. But I didn't say it. I didn't have the energy to say it, and the words dried up and blew away. So I memorised the lines of Tamlin's face, and didn't fight him as he pulled me to his chest and held me tightly.”

“I'm not going to be a part of this war you think is coming. You say I should be a weapon, not a pawn- they seem like the same to me. The only difference is who's wielding it.' 'I want your help, not to manipulate you,' he snapped. His flare of tempter made me at last lift my head. 'You want my help because it'll piss off Tamlin.' Shadows danced around his shoulders- as if the wings were trying to take form. 'Fine,' he breathed. 'I dug that grave myself, with all I did Under the Mountain. But I need your help. Again, I could feel the other unspoken words. Ask me why; push me about it. And again, I didn't want to. Didn't have the energy to. Rhys said quietly, 'I was a prisoner to her court for nearly fifty years. I was tortured and beaten and fucked until only telling myself who I was, what I had to protect, kept me from trying to find a way to end it. Please- help me keep that from happening again. To Prythian.' Some distant part of my heart ached and bled at the words, at what he'd laid bare. But Tamlin had made exceptions- he'd lightened the guards' presence, allowed me to roam a bit more freely. He was trying. We were trying. I wouldn't jeopardize that. So I went back to eating. Rhys didn't say another word.”

“That girl who had needed to be protected, who had craved stability and comfort... she had died Under the Mountain. I had died, and there had been no one to protect me from those horrors before my neck snapped. So I had done it myself. And I would not, could not, yield that part of me that had awoken and transformed Under the Mountain. Tamlin had gotten his powers back, had become whole again- become that protector and provider her wished to be. I was not the human girl who needed coddling and pampering, who wanted luxury and easiness. I didn't know how to go back to craving those things. To being docile.”

“When I go back...' 'As your presence here isn't part of our monthly arrangement, you are under no obligation to go back.' He rubbed at his temple. 'Unless you wish to.' The question settled in me like a stone sinking to the bottom of a pool. There was such quiet in me, such... nothingness. 'He locked me in that house,' I managed to say. A shadow of mighty wings spread behind Rhys's chair. But his face was calm as he said. 'I know. I felt you. Even with your shields up- for once.' I made myself meet his stare. 'I have nowhere else to go.' It was both a question and a plea. He waved a hand, the wings fading. 'Stay here for however long you want. Stay here forever, if you feel like it.' 'I- I need to go back at some point.' 'Say the word, and it's done.' He meant it, too. Even if I could tell from the ire in his eyes that he didn't like it. He'd bring me back to the Spring Court the moment I asked. Bring me back to silence, and those sentries, and a life of doing nothing but dressing and dining and planning parties.”

“I made you an offer when you first came here: help me, and food, shelter, clothing... All of it is yours.' I'd been a beggar in the past. The thought of doing it now... 'Work for me,' Rhysand said. 'I owe you, anyway. And we'll figure out the rest day by day, if need be.' I looked toward the mountains, as if I could see all the way to the Spring Court in the south. Tamlin would be furious. He'd shred the manor apart. But he'd... he'd locked me up. Either he so deeply misunderstood me or he'd been so broken by what went on Under the Mountain, but... he'd locked me up. 'I'm not going back.' The words rang in me like a death knell. 'Not- not until I figure things out.' I shoved against the wall of anger and sorrow and outright despair as my thumb brushed over the vacant band of skin where that ring had once sat. One day at a time. Maybe- maybe Tamlin would come around. Heal himself, that jagged wound of festering fear. Maybe I'd sort myself out. I didn't know. But I did know that if I stayed in that manor, if I was locked up one more time... It might finish the breaking that Amarantha had started. Rhysand summoned a mug of hot tea from nowhere and handed it to me. 'Drink it.' I took the mug, letting its warmth soak into my stiff fingers. He watched me until I took a sip, and then went back to monitoring the mountains. I took another sip- peppermint and... liquorice and another herb or spice. I wasn't going back. Maybe I'd never even... gotten to come back. Not from Under the Mountain.”

“You can barely sleep through the night,' he said carefully. I retorted, 'Neither can you.' But he just plowed ahead, 'You can barely handle being around other people-' 'You promised.' My voice cracked. And I didn't care that I was begging. 'I need to get out of this house.' 'Have Bron take you and Ianthe on a ride-' 'I don't want to go for a ride!' I splayed my arms. 'I don't want to go for a ride, or a picnic, or pick wildflowers. I want to do something. So take me with you.”

“Then Nesta asked, 'Your High Lord... You went through all that' -she waved a hand at me, my ears, my body- 'and it still did not end well?' I was heavy in my veins again. 'That lord built a wall to keep the Fae out. My High Lord wanted to keep me caged in.' 'Why? He let you come back here all those months ago.' 'To save me- protect me. And I think... I think what happened to him, to us, Under the Mountain broke him,' Perhaps more than it had broken me. 'The drive to protect at all costs, even my own wellbeing... I think he wanted to stifle it, but he couldn't. He couldn't let go of it.' There was... there was much I still had to do, I realised. To settle things. Settle myself.”

“When are you going to talk about how you wrote a letter to Tamlin, telling him you've left for good?' The question hit me so viciously that I sniped, 'How about when you talk about how you tease and taunt Mor to hide whatever it is you feel for her?' Because I had no doubt that he was well aware of the role he played in their little tangled web. ... Cassian let out a startled, rough laugh. 'Old news.' 'I have a feeling that's what she probably says about you.' ... But the question he'd asked swarmed in my skull. You've left for good, you've left for good, you've left for good. I had- I'd meant it. But without knowing what he thought, if he'd even care that much... No, I knew he'd care. He'd probably trashed the manor in his rage. If my mere mention of him suffocating me had caused him to destroy his study, then this... I had been frightened by those fits of pure rage, cowed by them. And it had been love- I had loved him so deeply, so greatly, but...”

“I'd been in love, and I'd meant it- the happiness, the lust, the peace... I'd felt all of those things. Once. ... But maybe those things had blinded me, too. Maybe they'd been a blanket over my eyes about the temper. The need for control, the need to protect that ran so deep he'd locked me up. Like a prisoner.”

“Tamlin remained asleep as I crept back into my darkened bedroom, his naked body sprawled across the mattress. For a moment, I just admired the powerful muscles of his back, so lovingly traced by moonlight, his golden hair, mussed with sleep and the fingers I'd run through it while we made love earlier. For him, I had done this- for him, I'd gladly wrecked myself and my immortal soul. And now I had an eternity to live with it.”

“...sometimes I wondered if I heard his breath catch, only for a heartbeat. I never had the nerve to ask if he was awake. He never woke when the nightmares dragged me from sleep; never woke when I vomited my guts up night after night. If he knew of heard, he said nothing about it. I knew similar dreams chased him from slumber as often as I fled from mine. The first time it happened, I'd awoken- tried to speak to him. But he'd shaken off my touch, his skin clammy, and had shifted into that beast of fur and claws and horns and fangs. He'd spent the rest of the night sprawled across the foot of the bed, monitoring the door, the wall of windows. He'd since spent many nights like that.”

“But even if stability reigned for a hundred years, I doubted I'd ever awaken one morning and not put on the knife. A hundred years. I had that- I had centuries ahead of me. Centuries with Tamlin, centuries in this beautiful, quiet place. Perhaps I'd sort myself out sometime along the way. Perhaps not.”

“I said to him at last, 'I don't want your damn pity.' 'It's not pity. Tamlin said I shouldn't tell you-' He winced a bit. 'I'm not made of glass. If the naga attacked you, I deserve to know-' 'Tamlin is my High Lord. He gives an order, I follow it.' 'You didn't have that mentality when you worked around his commands to send me to see the Suriel.' And I'd nearly died. 'I was desperate then. We all were. But now- now we need order, Feyre. We need rules, and rankings, and order, if we're going to stand a chance of rebuilding. So what he says goes. I am the first one the others look to- I set the example. Don't ask me to risk the stability of this court by pushing back. Not right now. He's giving you as much free rein as he can.' I forced a steady breath to fill my too-tight lungs. 'For all that you refuse to interact with Ianthe, you certainly sound a great deal like her.' He hissed, 'You have no idea how hard it is for him to even let you off the estate grounds. He's under more pressure than you realise.' 'I know exactly how much pressure he endures. And I didn't realise I'd become a prisoner.' 'You're not-' He clenched his jaw. 'That's now how it is and you know it.' 'He didn't have any trouble letting me hunt and wander on my own when I was a mere human. When the borders were far less safe.' 'He didn't care for you the way he does now. And after what happened Under the Mountain...' The words clanged in my head, along my too-tense muscles. 'He's terrified. Terrified of seeing you in his enemies' hands. And they know it, too- they know all they have to do to own him would be to get ahold of you.' 'You think I don't know that? But does he honestly expect me to spend the rest of my life in that manor, overseeing servants and wearing pretty clothes?' Lucien watched the ever-young forest. 'Isn't that what all human women wish for? A handsome faerie lord to wed and shower them with riches for the rest of their lives?' I gripped the reins of my horse hard enough that she tossed her head. 'Good to know you're still a prick, Lucien.' His metal eye narrowed. 'Tamlin is a High Lord. You will be his wife. There are traditions and expectations you must uphold. We must uphold, in order to present a solid front that is healed from Amarantha and willing to destroy any foes who try to take what is ours again.”

“So give him time, Feyre,' Lucien said. 'Let's get through the wedding, then the Tithe next month, and then... then we can see about the rest.' 'I've given him time,' I said. 'I can't stay cooped up in the house forever.' 'He knows that- he doesn't say it, but he knows it. Trust me. You will forgive him if his family's own slaughter keeps him from being so... liberal with your safety. He's lost those he cares for too many times. We all have.' Every word was like fuel added to the summering pit in my gut. 'I don't want to marry a High Lord. I just want to marry him.' 'One doesn't exist without the other. He is what he is. He will always, always seek to protect you, whether you like it or not. Talk to him about it- really talk to him, Feyre. You'll figure it out.' Our gazes met. A muscle feathered in Lucien's jaw. 'Don't ask me to pick.”

“Alis coughed from the shadows of the house, and I remembered to start walking, to look toward the dais- At Tamlin. The breath knocked from me, and it was an effort to keep going down the stairs, to keep going my knees from buckling. He was resplendent in a tunic of green and gold, a crown of burnished laurel leaves gleaming on his head. He'd loosened the grip on his glamour, letting that immortal light and beauty shine through- for me. My vision narrowed on him, on my High Lord, his wide eyes glistening as I stepped onto the soft grass, white rose petals scattered down it- And Red ones. Like drops of blood amongst the white, red petals had been sprayed across the path ahead. I forced my gaze up, to Tamlin, his shoulders back, head high. So unaware of the true extent of how broken and dark I was inside. How unfit I was to be clothed in white when my hands were so filthy. Everyone else was thinking it. They had to be. Every step was too fast, propelling me toward the dais and Tamlin. And toward Ianthe, clothed in dark blue robes tonight, beaming beneath the hood and silver crown. As if I were good- as if I hadn't murdered two of their kind. I was a murderer and a liar. A cluster of red petals loomed ahead- just like the Fae youth's blood had pooled at my feet. Ten steps from the dais, at the edge of that splatter of red, I slowed. Then stopped. Everyone was watching, exactly as they had when I'd nearly died, spectators to my torment. Tamlin extended a broad hand, brows narrowing slightly. My heart beat so fast, too fast. I was going to vomit. Right over those rose petals, right over the grass and ribbons trailing into the ailse from the chairs flanking it. And between my skin and bones, something thrummed and pounded, rising and pushing, lashing through my blood- So many eyes, too many eyes, pressed on me, witness to every crime I'd committed, every humiliation- I don't know why I'd even bothered to wear gloves, why I'd let Ianthe convince me. The fading sun was too hot, the garden too hedged in. As inescapable as the vow I was about to make, binding me to him forever, shackling him to my broken and weary soul. The thing inside me was roiling now, my body shaking with the building force of it as it hunted for a way out- Forever- I would never get better, never get free of myself, of the dungeon where I'd spent three months- 'Feyre,' Tamlin said, his hand steady, as he continued to reach for mine. The sun sank past the lip of the western garden wall; shadows pooled, chilling the air. If I turned away, they'd start talking, but I couldn't make the last few steps, couldn't, couldn't, couldn't- I was going to fall apart, right there, right then- and they'd see precisely how ruined I was. Help me, help me, help me, I begged someone, anyone. Begged Lucien, standing in the front row, his metal eye fixed on me. Begged Ianthe, face serene and patient and lovely within that hood. Save me- please, save me. Get me out. End this. Tamlin took a step toward me- concern shading those eyes. I retreated a step. No. Tamlin's mouth tightened. The crowd murmured. Silk streamers laden with globes of gold faelight twinkled into life above and around us. Ianthe said smoothly. 'Come, Bride and be joined with your true love. Come, Bride, and let good triumph at last.' Good. I was not good. I was nothing, and my soul, my eternal soul was damned- I tried to get my traitorous lungs to draw air so I could voice a word. No- no. But I didn't have to say it. Thunder crackled behind me, as if two boulders have been hurled against each other. People screamed, falling back, a few vanishing outright as darkness erupted. I whirled, and through the night drifting away like smoke on a wind, I found Rhysand straightening the lapels of his black jacket. 'Hello, Feyre darkling,' he purred.”

“What do you want from me?' 'Want? I want you to say thank you, first of all. Then I want you to take off that hideous dress. You look...' His mouth cut into a cruel line. 'You look exactly like the doe-eyed damsel he and that simpering priestess want you to be.' 'You don't know anything about me. Or us.' Rhys gave a knowing smile. 'Does Tamlin? Does he ever ask you why you hurl your guts up every night, or why you can't go into certain rooms or see certain colours?' I froze. He might as well have stripped me naked. 'Get the hell out of my head.' Tamlin had horrors of his own to endure, to face down. 'Likewise.' He stalked a few steps away. 'You think I enjoy being awoken every night by visions of you puking? You send everything right down that bond, and I don't appreciate having a front-row seat when I'm trying to sleep.' 'Prick.' Another chuckle. But I wouldn't ask him what he meant- about the bond between us. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of looking curious.”

“My lower lip trembled, and I began unbuttoning my gown, then tugged it off my shoulders. I let it slide to the ground in a sigh of silk and tulle and beading, a deflated soufflĂ© on the marble floor, and took a large step out of it. Even my undergarments were ridiculous, frothy scraps of lace, intended solely for Tamlin to admire- and then tear into ribbons. I snatched up the gown, storming to the armoire and shoving it inside. Then I stripped off the undergarments and chucked them in as well.”

“What a pretty little wedding,' Rhysand said, stuffing his hands into his pockets as those many swords remained in their sheaths. The remaining crowd was pressing back, some climbing over seats to get away. Rhys looked me over slowly, and clicked his tongue at my silk gloves. Whatever had been building beneath my skin went still and cold. 'Get the hell out,' growled Tamlin, stalking toward us. Claws ripped from his knuckles. Rhys clicked his tongue again. 'Oh, I don't think so. Not when I need to call in my bargain with Feyre darling.' My stomach hollowed out. No- no, not now. 'You try to break the bargain, and you know what will happen,' Rhys went on, chuckling a bit at the crowd still falling over themselves to get away from him. He jerked his chin toward me. 'I gave you three months of freedom. You could at least look happy to see me.”

“I'll be taking her now.' 'Don't you dare,' Tamlin snarled. Behind him, the dais was empty. Ianthe had vanished entirely. Along with most of those in attendance. 'Was I interrupting? I thought it was over.' Rhys gave me a smile dripping with venom. He knew- through that bond, through whatever magic was between us, he'd known I was about to say no. 'At least Feyre seemed to think so.”

“Rhys was the least of my concerns. Tamlin had seen the hesitation, but had he understood that I was about to say no? Had Ianthe? I had to tell him. Had to explain that there couldn't be a wedding, not for a while yet. Maybe I'd wait until the mating bond snapped into place, until I knew for sure it couldn't be some mistake, that... that I was worthy of him. Maybe wait until he, too, had faced the nightmares stalking him. Relaxed his grip on things a bit. On me. Even if I understood his need to protect, that fear of losing me... Perhaps I should explain everything when I returned. But- so many people had seen it, seen me hesitate-”

“... the door creaked and a golden fox-face appeared- along with a narrowed metal eye. 'Shit,' said Lucien. 'It's freezing in here.' It was but I was too nauseated to notice. Keeping my head up was an effort, let alone keeping the food down. He unclasped his cloak and set it around my shoulders. Its heavy warmth leaked in to me. 'Look at all this,' he said, staring at the paint on me. Thanksfully, it was all intact, save for a few places on my waist. 'Bastard.' 'What happened?' I got out, even though I wasn't sure I truly wanted the answer. My memory was a dark blur of wild music. Lucien drew back. 'I don't think you want to know.' I studied the few smudges on my waist, marks that looked like hands had held me. 'Who did this to me?' I asked quietly, my eyes tracing the arc of the spoiled paint. 'Who do you think?' My heart clenched and I looked at the floor. 'Did- did Tamlin see it?' Lucien nodded. 'Rhys was only doing it to get a rise out of him.' 'Did it work?' I still couldn't look Lucien in the face. I knew, at least, that I hadn't been violated beyond touching my sides. The paint told me that much. 'No,' Lucien said, and I smiled grimly. 'What- was I doing the whole time?' So much for Alis's warning. Lucien let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his red hair. 'He had you dance for him for most of the night. And when you weren't dancing, you were sitting in his lap.' 'What kind of dancing?' I pushed. 'Not the kind you were doing with Tamlin on Solstice,' Lucien said and my face heated. From the murkiness of my memories of last night, I recalled the closeness of a certain pair of violet eyes- eyes that sparkled with mischief as they beheld me. 'In front of everyone?' 'Yes,' Lucien replied- more gently than I'd heard him speak to me before. I stiffened. I didn't want his pity.”