Chapter 3
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Ianthe went on, “But it makes the right statement. I’ve spent time amongst enough courts to know
how they operate. Trust me in this.”
“I do trust you,” I said, and waved a hand toward the papers before us. “You know how to do these
things. I don’t.”
Silver tinkled at Ianthe’s wrists, so like the bracelets the Children of the Blessed wore on the other
side of the wall. I sometimes wondered if those foolish humans had stolen the idea from the High
Priestesses of Prythian—if it had been a priestess like Ianthe who had spread such nonsense
among humans.
“It’s an important moment for me as well,” Ianthe said carefully, adjusting the circlet atop her hood.
Teal eyes met mine. “You and I are so alike—young, untested amongst these … wolves. I am
grateful to you, and to Tamlin, to allow me to preside over the ceremony, to be invited to work with
this court, be a part of this court. The other High Priestesses do not particrly care for me, nor I for
them, but … ” She shook her head, the hood swaying with her. “Together,” she murmured, “the
three of us make a formidable unit. Four, if you count Lucien.” She snorted. “Not that he particrly
wants anything to do with me.”
A leading statement.
She often found ways to bring him up, to corner him at events, to touch his elbow or shoulder. He
ignored it all. Last week, I’d finally asked him if she’d set her sights on him, and Lucien had merely
given me a look, snarling softly, before stalking off. I took that as a yes.
But a match with Lucien would be nearly as beneficial as one with Tamlin: the right hand of a High
Lord and another High Lord’s son … Any offspring would be powerful, coveted.
“You know it’s … hard for him, where females are involved,” I said neutrally.
“He has been with many females since the death of his lover.”
“Perhaps it’s different with you—perhaps it’d mean something he’s not ready for.” I shrugged,
searching for the right words. “Perhaps he stays away because of it.”
She considered, and I prayed she bought my half lie. Ianthe was ambitious, clever, beautiful, and
bold—but I did not think Lucien forgave her, or would ever forgive her, for fleeing during
Amarantha’s reign. Sometimes I honestly wondered if my friend might rip her throat out for it.
Ianthe nodded atst. “Are you at least excited for the wedding?”
I fiddled with my emerald ring. “It’ll be the happiest day of my life.”
The day Tamlin had asked me to marry him, I’d certainly felt that way. I’d wept with joy as I told him
yes, yes, a thousand times yes, and made love to him in the field of wildflowers where he’d brought
me for the asion.
Ianthe nodded. “The union is Cauldron-blessed. Your survival of the horrors Under the Mountain
only proves it.”
I caught her nce then—toward my left hand, the tattoos.
It was an effort not to tuck my hand beneath the table.
The tattoo on her brow was of midnight-blue ink—but somehow still fit, still ented the feminine
dresses, the bright silver jewelry. Unlike the elegant brutality of mine.
“We could get you gloves,” she offered casually.
This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.
And that would send another message—perhaps to the person I so desperately hoped had
forgotten I existed.
“I’ll consider it,” I said with a nd smile.
It was all I could do to keep from bolting before the hour was up and Ianthe floated to her own
personal prayer room—a gift from Tamlin upon her return—to offer midday thanks to the Cauldron
for ournd’s liberation, my triumph, and Tamlin’s ensured dominance over thisnd.
I sometimes debated asking her to pray for me as well.
To pray that I’d one day learn to love the dresses, and the parties, and my role as a blushing, pretty
bride.
I was already in bed when Tamlin entered my room, silent as a stag through a wood. I lifted my
head, going for the dagger I kept on the nightstand, but rxed at the broad shoulders, at the
hallway candlelight gilding his tan skin and veiling his face in shadow.
“You’re awake?” he murmured. I could hear the frown in his voice. He’d been in his study since
dinner, sorting through the pile of paperwork Lucien had dumped on his desk.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I said, watching his muscles shift as he moved to the bathing room to wash up. I’d
been trying to sleep for an hour now—but each time I closed my eyes, my body locked up, the walls
of the room pushed in. I’d gone so far as to throw open the windows, but … It was going to be a
long night.
Iy back on the pillows, listening to the steady, efficient sounds of him preparing for bed. He kept
his own quarters, deeming it vital for me to have my own space.
But he slept in here every night. I’d yet to visit his bed, though I wondered if our wedding night
would change that. I prayed I wouldn’t thrash awake and vomit on the sheets when I didn’t
recognize where I was, when I didn’t know if the darkness was permanent.
Maybe that was why he hadn’t pushed the issue yet.
He emerged from the bathing room, slinging off his tunic and shirt, and I propped myself on my
elbows to watch as he paused at the edge of the bed.
My attention went right to the strong, clever fingers that unfastened his pants.
Tamlin let out a low snarl of approval, and I bit my bottom lip as he removed his pants, along with
his undergarments, revealing the proud, thick length of him. My mouth went dry, and I dragged my
gaze up his muscled torso, over the panes of his chest, and then—
“Come here,” he growled, so roughly the words were barely discernable.
I pushed back the nkets, revealing my already naked body, and he hissed.
His features turned ravenous while I
crawled across the bed and rose up on my knees. I took his face in my hands, the golden skin
framed on either side by fingers of ivory and of swirling ck, and kissed him.
He held my gaze through the kiss, even as I pushed myself closer, biting back a small noise when
he brushed against my stomach.
His callused hands grazed my hips, my waist, then held me there as he lowered his head, seizing
the kiss. A brush of his tongue against the seam of my lips had me opening fully for him, and he
swept in, iming me, branding me.
I moaned then, tilting my head back to give him better ess. His hands mped on my waist,
then moved—one going to cup my rear, the other sliding between us.
This—this moment, when it was him and me and nothing between our bodies …
His tongue scraped the roof of my mouth as he dragged a finger down the center of me, and I
gasped, my back arching. “Feyre,” he said against my lips, my name like a prayer more devout than
any Ianthe had offered up to the Cauldron on that dark solstice morning.
His tongue swept my mouth again, in time to the finger that he slipped inside of me. My hips
undted, demanding more, craving the fullness of him, and his growl reverberated in my chest as
he added another finger.
I moved on him. Lightningshed through my veins, and my focus narrowed to his fingers, his
mouth, his body on mine. His palm pushed against the bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs,
and I groaned his name as I shattered.
My head thrown back, I gulped down night-cool air, and then I was being lowered to the bed, gently,
delicately, lovingly.
He stretched out above me, his head lowering to my breast, and all it took was one press of his
teeth against my nipple before I was wing at his back, before I hooked my legs around him and
he settled between them. This—I needed this.
He paused, arms trembling as he held himself over me.
“Please,” I gasped out.
He just brushed his lips against my jaw, my neck, my mouth.
“Tamlin,” I begged. He palmed my breast, his thumb flicking over my nipple. I cried out, and he
buried himself in me with a mighty stroke.
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