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“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.” — Sarah J. Maas