《A Court of Mist and Fury》


 Chapter 1

    Chapter 1


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    PART ONE


    THE HOUSE OF BEASTS


    CHAPTER


    1


    I vomited into the toilet, hugging the cool sides, trying to contain the sounds of my retching.


    Moonlight leaked into the massive marble bathing room, providing the only illumination as I was


    quietly, thoroughly sick.


    Tamlin hadn¡¯t stirred as I¡¯d jolted awake. And when I hadn¡¯t been able to tell the darkness of my


    chamber from the endless night of Amarantha¡¯s dungeons, when the cold sweat coating me felt like


    the blood of those faeries, I¡¯d hurtled for the bathing room.


    I¡¯d been here for fifteen minutes now, waiting for the retching to subside, for the lingering tremors to


    spread apart and fade, like ripples in a pool.


    Panting, I braced myself over the bowl, counting each breath.


    Only a nightmare. One of many, asleep and waking, that haunted me these days.


    It had been three months since Under the Mountain. Three months of adjusting to my immortal


    body, to a world struggling to piece itself together after Amarantha had fractured it apart.


    I focused on my breathing¡ªin through my nose, out through my mouth. Over and over.


    When it seemed like I was done heaving, I eased from the toilet¡ªbut didn¡¯t go far. Just to the


    adjacent wall, near the cracked window, where I could see the night sky, where the breeze could


    caress my sticky face. I leaned my head against the wall, ttening my hands against the chill


    marble floor. Real.


    This was real. I had survived; I¡¯d made it out.


    Unless it was a dream¡ªjust a fever-dream in Amarantha¡¯s dungeons, and I¡¯d awaken back in that


    cell, and¡ª


    I curled my knees to my chest. Real. Real.


    I mouthed the words.


    I kept mouthing them until I could loosen my grip on my legs and lift my head. Pain splintered


    through my hands¡ª


    I¡¯d somehow curled them into fists so tight my nails were close to puncturing my skin.


    Immortal strength¡ªmore a curse than a gift. I¡¯d dented and folded every piece of silverware I¡¯d


    touched for three days upon returning here, had tripped over my longer, faster legs so often that Alis


    had removed any irreceable valuables from my rooms (she¡¯d been particrly grumpy about me


    knocking over a table with an eight-hundred-year-old vase), and had shattered not one, not two, but


    five ss doors merely by identally closing them too hard.


    Sighing through my nose, I unfolded my fingers.


    My right hand was in, smooth. Perfectly Fae.


    I tilted my left hand over, the whorls of dark ink coating my fingers, my wrist, my forearm all the way


    to the elbow, soaking up the darkness of the room. The eye etched into the center of my palm


    seemed to watch me, calm and cunning as a cat, its slitted pupil wider than it¡¯d been earlier that


    day. As if it adjusted to the light, as any ordinary eye would.


    I scowled at it.


    At whoever might be watching through that tattoo.


    I hadn¡¯t heard from Rhys in the three months I¡¯d been here. Not a whisper. I hadn¡¯t dared ask


    Tamlin, or Lucien, or anyone¡ªlest it¡¯d somehow summon the High Lord of the Night Court,


    somehow remind him of the fool¡¯s bargain I¡¯d struck Under the Mountain: one week with him every


    month in exchange for his saving me from the brink of death.


    > But even if Rhys had miraculously forgotten, I never could. Nor could Tamlin, Lucien, or anyone


    else. Not with the tattoo.


    Even if Rhys, at the end ¡­ even if he hadn¡¯t been exactly an enemy.


    To Tamlin, yes. To every other court out there, yes. So few went over the borders of the Night Court


    and lived to tell. No one really knew what existed in the northernmost part of Prythian.


    Mountains and darkness and stars and death.


    But I hadn¡¯t felt like Rhysand¡¯s enemy thest time I¡¯d spoken to him, in the hours after Amarantha¡¯s


    defeat. I¡¯d told no one about that meeting, what he¡¯d said to me, what I¡¯d confessed to him.


    Be d of your human heart, Feyre. Pity those who don¡¯t feel anything at all.


    I squeezed my fingers into a fist, blocking out that eye, the tattoo. I uncoiled to my feet, and flushed


    the toilet before padding to the sink to rinse out my mouth, then wash my face.


    I wished I felt nothing.


    I wished my human heart had been changed with the rest of me, made into immortal marble.


    Instead of the shredded bit of ckness that it now was, leaking its ichor into me.


    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 the 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¡ªfor him, I¡¯d dly wrecked myself and my immortal soul.


    And now I had eternity to live with it.


    I continued to the bed, each step heavier, harder. The sheets were now cool and dry, and I slipped


    in, curling my back to him, wrapping my arms around myself. His breathing was deep¡ªeven. But


    with my Fae ears ¡­ 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 or heard, he said nothing about it.


    I knew simr dreams chased him from his slumber as often as I fled from mine. The first time it had


    happened, I¡¯d awoken¡ªtried to speak to him. But he¡¯d shaken off my touch, his skin mmy, and


    had shifted into that beast of fur and ws 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.


    Curled in the bed, I pulled the nket higher, craving its warmth against the chill night. It had


    be our unspoken agreement¡ªnot to let Amarantha win by acknowledging that she still


    tormented us in our dreams and waking hours.


    It was easier to not have to exin, anyway. To not have to tell him that though I¡¯d freed him, saved


    his people and all of Prythian from Amarantha ¡­ I¡¯d broken myself apart.


    And I didn¡¯t think even eternity would be long enough to fix me.


    CHAPTER


    2


    ¡°I want to go.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    I crossed my arms, tucking my tattooed hand under my right bicep, and spread my feet slightly


    further apart on the dirt floor of the stables. ¡°It¡¯s been three months. Nothing¡¯s happened, and the


    vige isn¡¯t even five miles¡ª¡±


    ¡°No.¡± The midmorning sun streaming through the stable doors burnished Tamlin¡¯s golden hair as he


    finished buckling the bandolier of daggers across his chest. His face¡ªruggedly handsome, exactly


    as I¡¯d dreamed it during those long months he¡¯d worn a mask¡ªwas set, his lips a thin line.


    Behind him, already atop his dapple-gray horse, along with three other Fae lord-sentries, Lucien


    silently shook his head in warning, his metal eye narrowing. Don¡¯t push him, he seemed to say.


    But as Tamlin strode toward where his ck stallion had already been saddled, I gritted my teeth


    and stormed after him. ¡°The vige needs all the help it can get.¡±


    ¡°And we¡¯re still hunting down Amarantha¡¯s beasts,¡± he said, mounting his horse in one fluid motion.


    Sometimes, I wondered if the horses were just to maintain an appearance of civility¡ªof normalcy.


    To pretend that he couldn¡¯t run faster than them, didn¡¯t live with one foot in the forest. His green


    eyes were like chips of ice as the stallion started into a walk. ¡°I don¡¯t have the sentries to spare to


    escort you.¡±


    I lunged for the bridle. ¡°I don¡¯t need an escort.¡± My grip tightened on the leather as I tugged the


    horse to a stop, and the golden ring on my finger¡ªalong with the square-cut emerald glittering atop


    it¡ªshed in the sun.


    It had been two months since Tamlin had proposed¡ªtwo months of enduring presentations about


    flowers and clothes and seating arrangements and food. I¡¯d had a small reprieve a week ago,


    thanks to the Winter Solstice, though I¡¯d traded contemtingce and silk for selecting evergreen


    wreaths and gands. But at least it had been a break.


    Three days of feasting and drinking and exchanging small presents, culminating in a long, rather


    odious ceremony atop the foothills on the longest night to escort us from one year to another as the


    sun died and was born anew. Or something like that. Celebrating a winter holiday in a ce that


    was permanently entrenched in spring hadn¡¯t done much to improve my generalck of festive


    cheer.


    I hadn¡¯t particrly listened to the exnations of its origins¡ªand the Fae themselves debated


    whether it had emerged from the Winter Court or Day Court. Both now imed it as their holiest


    holiday. All I really knew was that I¡¯d had to endure two ceremonies: one at sunset to begin that


    endless night of presents and dancing and drinking in honor of the old sun¡¯s death; and one at the


    following dawn, bleary-eyed and feet aching, to wee the sun¡¯s rebirth.


    It was bad enough that I¡¯d been required to stand before the gathered courtiers and lesser faeries


    while Tamlin made his many toasts and salutes. Mentioning that my birthday had also fallen on that


    longest night of the year was a fact I¡¯d conveniently forgotten to tell anyone. I¡¯d received enough


    presents, anyway¡ªand would no doubt receive many, many more on my wedding day. I had little


    use for so many things.


    This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


    Now, only two weeks stood between me and the ceremony. If I didn¡¯t get out of the manor, if I didn¡¯t


    have a day to do something other than spend Tamlin¡¯s money and be groveled to¡ª


    ¡°Please. The recovery efforts are so slow. I could hunt for the vigers, get them food¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not safe,¡± Tamlin said, again nudging his stallion into a walk. The horse¡¯s coat shone like a dark


    mirror, even in the shade of the stables. ¡°Especially not for you.¡±


    He¡¯d said that every time we had this argument; every time I begged him to let me go to the nearby


    vige of High Fae to help rebuild what Amarantha had burned years ago.


    I followed him into the bright, cloudless day beyond the stables, the grasses coating the nearby


    foothills undting in the soft breeze. ¡°People want toe back, they want a ce to live¡ª¡±


    ¡°Those same people see you as a blessing¡ªa marker of stability. If something happened to you ¡­


    ¡± He cut himself off as he halted his horse at the edge of the dirt path that would take him toward the


    eastern woods, Lucien now waiting a few yards down it. ¡°There¡¯s no point in rebuilding anything if


    Amarantha¡¯s creatures tear through thends and destroy it again.¡±


    ¡°The wards are up¡ª¡±


    ¡°Some slipped in before the wards were repaired. Lucien hunted down five naga yesterday.¡±


    I whipped my head toward Lucien, who winced. He hadn¡¯t told me that at dinnerst night. He¡¯d lied


    when I¡¯d asked him why he was limping. My stomach turned over¡ªnot just at the lie, but ¡­ naga.


    Sometimes I dreamed of their blood showering me as I killed them, of their leering serpentine faces


    while they tried to fillet me in the woods.


    Tamlin said softly, ¡°I can¡¯t do what I need to if I¡¯m worrying about whether you¡¯re safe.¡±


    ¡°Of course I¡¯ll be safe.¡± As a High Fae, with my strength and speed, I¡¯d stand a good chance of


    getting away if something happened.


    ¡°Please¡ªplease just do thi


    s for me,¡± Tamlin said, stroking his stallion¡¯s thick neck as the beast nickered with impatience. The


    others had already moved their horses into easy canters, the first of them nearly within the shade of


    the woods. Tamlin jerked his chin toward the baster estate looming behind me. ¡°I¡¯m sure there


    are things to help with around the house. Or you could paint. Try out that new set I gave for you for


    Winter Solstice.¡±


    There was nothing but wedding nning waiting for me in the house, since Alis refused to let me lift


    a finger to do anything. Not because of who I was to Tamlin, what I was about to be to Tamlin,


    but ¡­ because of what I¡¯d done for her, for her boys, for Prythian. All the servants were the same;


    some still cried with gratitude when they passed me in the halls. And as for painting ¡­


    ¡°Fine,¡± I breathed. I made myself look him in the eye, made myself smile. ¡°Be careful,¡± I said, and


    meant it. The thought of him going out there, hunting the monsters that had once served Amarantha


    ¡­


    ¡°I love you,¡± Tamlin said quietly.


    I nodded, murmuring it back as he trotted to where Lucien still waited, the emissary now frowning


    slightly. I didn¡¯t watch them go.


    I took my time retreating through the hedges of the gardens, the spring birds chirping merrily, gravel


    crunching under my flimsy shoes.


    I hated the bright dresses that had be my daily uniform, but didn¡¯t have the heart to tell Tamlin


    ¡ªnot when he¡¯d bought so many, not when he looked so happy to see me wear them. Not when his


    words weren¡¯t far from the truth. The day I put on my pants and tunics, the day I strapped weapons


    to myself like fine jewelry, it would send a message far and clear across thends. So I wore the


    gowns, and let Alis arrange my hair¡ªif only so it would buy these people a measure of peace and


    At least Tamlin didn¡¯t object to the dagger I kept at my side, hanging from a jeweled belt. Lucien had


    gifted both to me¡ªthe dagger during the months before Amarantha, the belt in the weeks after her


    downfall, when I¡¯d carried the dagger, along with many others, everywhere I went. You might as well


    look good if you¡¯re going to arm yourself to the teeth, he¡¯d said.


    But even if stability reigned for a hundred years, I doubted I¡¯d ever awaken one morning and not put


    on the knife.


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 Chapter 2

    Chapter 2


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    A hundred years.


    I had that¡ªI had centuries ahead of me. Centuries with Tamlin, centuries in this beautiful, quiet


    ce. Perhaps I¡¯d sort myself out sometime along the way. Perhaps not.


    I paused before the stairs leading up into the rose-and-ivy-covered house, and peeked toward the


    right¡ªtoward the formal rose garden and the windows just beyond it.


    I¡¯d only set foot in that room¡ªmy old painting studio¡ªonce, when I¡¯d first returned.


    And all those paintings, all the supplies, all that nk canvas waiting for me to pour out stories and


    feelings and dreams ¡­ I¡¯d hated it.


    I¡¯d walked out momentster and hadn¡¯t returned since.


    I¡¯d stopped cataloging color and feeling and texture, stopped noticing it. I could barely look at the


    paintings hanging inside the manor.


    A sweet, female voice trilled my name from inside the open doors of the manor, and the tightness in


    my shoulders eased a bit.


    Ianthe. The High Priestess, as well as a High Fae noble and childhood friend of Tamlin¡¯s, who had


    taken it upon herself to help n the wedding festivities.


    And who had taken it upon herself to worship me and Tamlin as if we were newly minted gods,


    N?velDrama.Org holds ? this.


    blessed and chosen by the Cauldron itself.


    But I didn¡¯tin¡ªnot when Ianthe knew everyone in the court and outside of it. She¡¯d linger by


    my side at events and dinners, feeding me details about those in attendance, and was the main


    reason why I¡¯d survived the merry whirlwind of Winter Solstice. She¡¯d been the one presiding over


    the various ceremonies, after all¡ªand I¡¯d been more than happy to let her choose what manner of


    wreaths and gands should adorn the manor and grounds, what silverwareplemented each


    meal.


    Beyond that ¡­ while Tamlin was the one who paid for my everyday clothes, it was Ianthe¡¯s eye that


    selected them. She was the heart of her people, ordained by the Hand of the Goddess to lead them


    from despair and darkness.


    I was in no position to doubt. She hadn¡¯t led me astray yet¡ªand I¡¯d learned to dread the days when


    she was busy at her own temple on the grounds, overseeing pilgrims and her acolytes. Today,


    though¡ªyes, spending time with Ianthe was better than the alternative.


    I bunched the gauzy skirts of my dawn-pink gown in a hand and ascended the marble steps into the


    house.


    Next time, I promised myself. Next time, I¡¯d convince Tamlin to let me go to the vige.


    ¡°Oh, we can¡¯t let her sit next to him. They¡¯d rip each other to shreds, and then we¡¯d have blood


    ruining the table linens.¡± Beneath her pale, blue-gray hood, Ianthe furrowed her brow, crinkling the


    tattoo of the various stages of a moon¡¯s cycle stamped across it. She scribbled out the name she¡¯d


    dashed onto one of the seating charts moments before.


    The day had turned warm, the room a bit stuffy even with the breeze through the open windows.


    And yet the heavy hooded robe remained on.


    All the High Priestesses wore the billowing, artfully twisted andyered robes¡ªthough they certainly


    were far from matronly. Ianthe¡¯s slim waist was on disy with a fine belt of sky-blue, limpid stones,


    each perfectly oval and held in shining silver. And atop her hood sat a matching circlet¡ªa delicate


    band of silver, with arge stone at its center. A panel of cloth had been folded up beneath the


    circlet, a built-in swath meant to be pulled over the brow and eyes when she needed to pray,


    beseech the Cauldron and Mother, or just think.


    Ianthe had shown me once what the panel looked like when down: only her nose and full, sensuous


    mouth visible. The Voice of the Cauldron. I¡¯d found the image unsettling¡ªthat merely covering the


    upper part of her face had somehow turned the bright, cunning female into an effigy, into something


    Other. Mercifully, she kept it folded back most of the time. asionally, she even took the hood off


    entirely to let the sun y in her long, gently curling golden hair.


    Ianthe¡¯s silver rings gleamed atop her manicured fingers as she wrote another name down. ¡°It¡¯s like


    a game,¡± she said, sighing through her pert nose. ¡°All these pieces, vying for power or dominance,


    willing to shed blood, if need be. It must be a strange adjustment for you.¡±


    Such elegance and wealth¡ªyet the savagery remained. The High Fae weren¡¯t the tittering nobility


    of the mortal world. No, if they feuded, it would end with someone being ripped to bloody ribbons.


    Literally.


    Once, I¡¯d trembled to share breathing space with them.


    I flexed my fingers, stretching and contorting the tattoos etched into my skin.


    Now I could fight alongside them, against them. Not that I¡¯d tried.


    I was too watched¡ªtoo monitored and judged. Why should the bride of the High Lord learn to fight


    if peace had returned? That had been Ianthe¡¯s reasoning when I¡¯d made the mistake of mentioning


    it at dinner. Tamlin, to his credit, had seen both sides: I¡¯d learn to protect myself ¡­ but the rumors


    would spread.


    ¡°Humans aren¡¯t much better,¡± I told her atst. And because Ianthe was about the only one of my


    newpanions who didn¡¯t look particrly stunned or frightened by me, I tried to make


    conversation and said, ¡°My sister Nesta would likely fit right in.¡±


    Ianthe cocked her head, the sunlight setting the blue stone atop her hood glimmering. ¡°Will your


    mortal kin be joining us?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I hadn¡¯t thought to invite them¡ªhadn¡¯t wanted to expose them to Prythian. Or to what I¡¯d


    be.


    She tapped a long, slender finger on the table. ¡°But they live so close to the wall, don¡¯t they? If it


    was important for you to have them here, Tamlin and I could ensure their safe journey.¡± In the hours


    we¡¯d spent together, I¡¯d told her about the vige, and the house my sisters now lived in, about


    Isaac Hale and Tomas Mandray. I hadn¡¯t been able to mention re Beddor¡ªor what had


    happened to her family.


    ¡°For all that she¡¯d hold her own,¡± I said, fighting past the memory of that human girl, and what had


    been done to her, ¡°my sister Nesta detests your kind.¡±


    ¡°Our kind,¡± Ianthe corrected quietly. ¡°We¡¯ve discussed this.¡±


    I just nodded.


    But she went on, ¡°We are old, and cunning, and enjoy using words like des and ws. Every


    word from your mouth, every turn of phrase, will be judged¡ªand possibly used against you.¡± As if to


    soften the warning, she added, ¡°Be on your guard, Lady.¡±


    Lady. A nonsense name. No one knew what to call me. I wasn¡¯t born High Fae.


    I¡¯d been Made¡ªresurrected and given this new body by the seven High Lords of Prythian. I wasn¡¯t


    Tamlin¡¯s mate, as far as I knew. There was no mating bond between us¡ªyet.


    Honestly ¡­ Honestly, Ianthe, with her bright gold hair, those teal eyes, elegant features, and supple


    body, looked more like Tamlin¡¯s mate. His equal. A union with Tamlin¡ªa High Lord and a High


    Priestess¡ªwould send a clear message of strength to any possible threats to ournds. And secure


    the power Ianthe was no doubt keen on building for herself.


    Among the High Fae, the priestesses oversaw their ceremonies and rituals, recorded their histories


    and legends, and advised their lords anddies in matters great and trivial. I hadn¡¯t witnessed any


    magic from her, but when I¡¯d asked Lucien, he¡¯d frowned and said their magic was drawn from their


    ceremonies, and could be utterly lethal should they choose it. I¡¯d watched her on the Winter Solstice


    for any signs of it, marking the way she¡¯d positioned herself so that the rising sun filled her uplifted


    arms, but there had been no ripple or thrum of power. From her, or the earth beneath us.


    I didn¡¯t know what I¡¯d really expected from Ianthe¡ªone of the twelve High Priestesses who together


    governed their sisters across every territory in Prythian. Ancient, celibate, and quiet had been the


    extent of my expectations, thanks to those whispered mortal legends, when Tamlin had announced


    that an old friend was soon to upy and renovate the crumbling templeplex on ournds. But


    Ianthe had breezed into our house the next morning and those expectations had immediately been


    trampled. Especially the celibate part.


    Priestesses could marry, bear children, and dally as they would. It would dishonor the Cauldron¡¯s


    gift of fertility to lock up their instincts, their inherent female magic in bearing life, Ianthe had once


    told me.


    So while the seven High Lords ruled Prythian from thrones, the twelve High Priestesses reigned


    from the altars, their children as powerful and respected as any lord¡¯s offspring. And Ianthe, the


    youngest High Priestess in three centuries, remained unmarried, childless, and keen to enjoy the


    finest males thend has to offer.


    I often wondered what it was like to be that free and so settled within yourself.


    When I didn¡¯t respond to her gentle reprimand, she said, ¡°Have you given any thought to what color


    roses? White? Pink? Yellow? Red¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not red.¡±


    I hated that color. More than anything. Amarantha¡¯s hair, all that blood, the welts on re Beddor¡¯s


    broken body, spiked to the walls of Under the Mountain¡ª


    ¡°Russet could be pretty, with all the green ¡­ But maybe that¡¯s too Autumn Court.¡± Again, that finger


    tapped on the table.


    ¡°Whatever color you want.¡± If I were being blunt with myself, I¡¯d admit that Ianthe had be a


    crutch. But she seemed willing to do it¡ªcaring when I couldn¡¯t bring myself to.


    Yet Ianthe¡¯s brows lifted slightly.


    Despite being a High Priestess, she and her family had escaped the horrors of Under the Mountain


    by running. Her father, one of Tamlin¡¯s strongest allies amongst the Spring Court and a captain in


    his forces, had sensed troubleing and packed off Ianthe, her mother, and two younger sisters


    to Vahan, one of the countless faerie territories across the ocean. For fifty years, they¡¯d lived in


    the foreign court, biding their time while their people were butchered and enved.


    She hadn¡¯t once mentioned it. I knew better than to ask.


    ¡°Every element of this wedding sends a message to not only Prythian, but the world beyond,¡± she


    said. I stifled a sigh. I knew¡ªshe¡¯d told me this before. ¡°I know you are not fond of the dress¡ª¡±


    Understatement. I hated the monstrosity of tulle she¡¯d selected. Tamlin had, too¡ªthough he¡¯d


    though the dress was absurd, the priestess knew what she was doing. I¡¯d wanted to push back


    about it, hating that though he agreed with me, he had sided with her, but ¡­ it took more energy


    than it was worth.


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 Chapter 3

    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¡ªif 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¡ªyoung, 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¡ªperhaps 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¡ªbut 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¡ªtoward 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¡ªbut 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¡ªperhaps 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¡ªa gift from Tamlin upon her return¡ªto 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¡ªbut 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¡ª


    ¡°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¡ªone going to cup my rear, the other sliding between us.


    This¡ªthis 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¡ªI 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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 Chapter 4

    Chapter 4


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    For a moment, I was nothing, no one.


    Then we were fused, two hearts beating as one, and I promised myself it always would be that way as he pulled


    out a few inches, the muscles of his back flexing beneath my hands, and then mmed back into me. Again and


    again.


    I broke and broke against him as he moved, as he murmured my name and told me he loved me. And when that


    lightning once more filled my veins, my head, when I gasped out his name, his own release found him. I gripped


    him through each shuddering wave, savoring the weight of him, the feel of his skin, his strength.


    For a while, only the rasp of our breathing filled the room.


    I frowned as he withdrew atst¡ªbut he didn¡¯t go far. He stretched out on his side, head propped on a fist, and


    traced idle circles on my stomach, along my breasts.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about earlier,¡± he murmured.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I breathed. ¡°I understand.¡±


    Not a lie, but not quite true.


    His fingers grazed lower, circling my belly button. ¡°You are¡ªyou¡¯re everything to me,¡± he said thickly. ¡°I need ¡­ I


    need you to be all right. To know they can¡¯t get to you¡ªcan¡¯t hurt you anymore.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± Those fingers drifted lower. I swallowed hard and said again, ¡°I know.¡± I brushed his hair back from his


    face. ¡°But what about you? Who gets to keep you safe?¡±


    His mouth tightened. With his powers returned, he didn¡¯t need anyone to protect him, shield him. I could almost


    see invisible hackles raising¡ªnot at me, but at the thought of what he¡¯d been mere months ago: prone to


    Amarantha¡¯s whims, his power barely a tricklepared to the cascade now coursing through him. He took a


    steadying breath, and leaned to kiss my heart, right between my breasts. It was answer enough.


    ¡°Soon,¡± he murmured, and those fingers traveled back to my waist. I almost groaned. ¡°Soon you¡¯ll be my wife, and


    it¡¯ll be fine. We¡¯ll leave all this behind us.¡±


    I arched my back, urging his hand lower, and he chuckled roughly. I didn¡¯t quite hear myself speak as I focused on


    the fingers that obeyed my silentmand. ¡°What will everyone call me, then?¡± He grazed my belly button as he


    leaned down, sucking the tip of my breast into his mouth.


    ¡°Hmm?¡± he said, and the rumble against my nipple made me writhe.


    ¡°Is everyone just going to call me ¡®Tamlin¡¯s wife¡¯? Do I get a ¡­ title?¡±


    He lifted his head long enough to look at me. ¡°Do you want a title?¡±


    Before I could answer, he nipped at my breast, then licked over the small hurt¡ªlicked as his fingers atst dipped


    between my legs. He strokedzy, taunting circles. ¡°No,¡± I gasped out. ¡°But I don¡¯t want people ¡­ ¡± Cauldron boil


    me, his damned fingers¡ª¡°I don¡¯t know if I can handle them calling me High Lady.¡±


    His fingers slid into me again, and he growled in approval at the wetness between my thighs, both from me and


    him. ¡°They won¡¯t,¡± he said against my skin, positioning himself over me again and sliding down my body, trailing


    kisses as he went. ¡°There is no such thing as a High Lady.¡±


    He gripped my thighs to spread my legs wide, lowering his mouth, and¡ª


    ¡°What do you mean, there¡¯s no such thing as a High Lady?¡±


    The heat, his touch¡ªall of it stopped.


    He looked up from between my legs, and I almost climaxed at the sight of it. But what he said, what he¡¯d implied


    ¡­ He kissed the inside of my thigh. ¡°High Lords only take wives. Consorts. There has never been a High Lady.¡±


    ¡°But Lucien¡¯s mother¡ª¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s Lady of the Autumn Court. Not High Lady. Just as you will be Lady of the Spring Court. They will address


    you as they address her. They will respect you as they respect her.¡± He lowered his gaze back to what was inches


    away from his mouth.


    ¡°So Lucien¡¯s¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear another male¡¯s name on your lips right now,¡± he growled, and lowered his mouth to me.


    At the first stroke of his tongue, I stopped arguing.


    CHAPTER


    3


    Tamlin¡¯s guilt must have hit him hard, because although he was gone the next day, Lucien was waiting with an


    offer to inspect the progress on the nearby vige.


    I hadn¡¯t visited in well over a month¡ªI couldn¡¯t remember thest time I¡¯d even left the grounds. A few of the


    vigers had been invited to our Winter Solstice celebrations, but I¡¯d barely managed to do more than greet them,


    thanks to the size of the crowd.


    The horses were already saddled outside the front doors of the stables, and I counted the sentries by the distant


    gates (four), on either side of the house (two at each corner), and the ones now by the garden through which I¡¯d


    just exited (two). Though none spoke, their eyes pressed on me.


    Lucien made to mount his dapple-gray mare but I cut off his path. ¡°A tumble off your damned horse?¡± I hissed,


    shoving his shoulder.


    Lucien actually staggered back, the mare nickering in rm, and I blinked at my outstretched hand. I didn¡¯t let


    myself contemte what the guards made of it. Before he could say anything, I demanded, ¡°Why did you lie about


    the naga?¡±


    Lucien crossed his arms, his metal eye narrowing, and shook the red hair from his face.


    N?velDrama.Org holds ? this.


    I had to look away for a moment.


    Amarantha¡¯s hair had been darker¡ªand her face a creamy white, not at all like the sun-kissed gold of Lucien¡¯s


    skin.


    I studied the stables behind him instead. At least it was big, open, the stable hands now off in another wing. I


    usually had little issue with being inside, which was mostly whenever I was bored enough to visit the horses


    housed within. Plenty of space to move, to escape. The walls didn¡¯t feel too ¡­ permanent.


    Not like the kitchens, which were too low, the walls too thick, the windows not big enough to climb through. Not


    like the study, with not enough natural light or easy exits. I had a long list in my head of what ces I could and


    couldn¡¯t endure at the manor, ranked by precisely how much they made my body lock up and sweat.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t lie,¡± Lucien said tightly. ¡°I technically did fall off my horse.¡± He patted his mount¡¯s nk. ¡°After one of them


    tackled me off her.¡±


    Such a faerie way of thinking, of lying. ¡°Why?¡±


    Lucien mped his mouth shut.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    He just twisted back to the patient mare. But I caught the expression on his face¡ªthe ¡­ pity in his eye.


    I blurted, ¡°Can we walk instead?¡±


    He slowly turned. ¡°It¡¯s three miles.¡±


    ¡°And you could run that in a few minutes. I¡¯d like to see if I can keep up.¡±


    His metal eye whirred, and I knew what he¡¯d say before he opened his mouth.


    ¡°Never mind,¡± I said, heading for my white mare, a sweet-tempered beast, if not a bitzy and spoiled. Lucien


    didn¡¯t try to convince me otherwise, and kept quiet as we rode from the estate and onto the forest road. Spring, as


    always, was in full bloom, the breezeden with lc, the brush nking the path rustling with life. No hint of the


    Bogge, of the naga, of any of the creatures who had once cast such stillness over the wood.


    I said to him atst, ¡°I don¡¯t want your damn pity.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not pity. Tamlin said I shouldn¡¯t tell you¡ª¡± He winced a bit.


    ¡°I¡¯m not made of ss. If the naga attacked you, I deserve to know¡ª¡±


    ¡°Tamlin is my High Lord. He gives an order, I follow it.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t have that mentality when you worked around hismands to send me to see the Suriel.¡± And I¡¯d


    nearly died.


    ¡°I was desperate then. We all were. But now¡ªnow 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¡ªI 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 de


    al 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 realize.¡±


    ¡°I know exactly how much pressure he endures. And I didn¡¯t realize I¡¯d be a prisoner.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not¡ª¡± He clenched his jaw. ¡°That¡¯s not 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.¡±


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    Chapter 5


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    ¡°He didn¡¯t care for you the way he does now. And after what happened Under the Mountain ¡­ ¡± The words


    nged in my head, along my too-tense muscles. ¡°He¡¯s terrified. Terrified of seeing you in his enemies¡¯ hands.


    And they know it, too¡ªthey 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.¡± Ianthe had given me almost the same speech yesterday.


    ¡°The Tithe is happening soon,¡± he continued, shaking his head, ¡°the first he¡¯s called in since ¡­ her curse.¡± His


    cringe was barely perceptible. ¡°He gave our people three months to get their affairs in order, and he wanted to


    wait until the new year had started, but next month, he will demand the Tithe. Ianthe told him it¡¯s time¡ªthat the


    people are ready.¡±


    He waited, and I wanted to spit at him, because he knew¡ªhe knew that I didn¡¯t know what it was, and wanted me


    to admit to it. ¡°Tell me,¡± I said tly.


    ¡°Twice a year, usually around the Summer and Winter Solstices, each member of the Spring Court, whether


    they¡¯re High Fae or lesser faerie, must pay a Tithe, dependent on their ie and status. It¡¯s how we keep the


    Original from N?velDrama.Org.


    estate running, how we pay for things like sentries and food and servants. In exchange, Tamlin protects them,


    rules them, helps them when he can. It¡¯s a give or take. This year, he pushed the Tithe back by a month¡ªjust to


    grant them that extra time to gather funds, to celebrate. But soon, emissaries from every group, vige, or n will


    be arriving to pay their Tithes. As Tamlin¡¯s wife, you will be expected to sit with him. And if they can¡¯t pay ¡­ You


    will be expected to sit there while he metes out judgment. It can get ugly. I¡¯ll be keeping track of who does and


    doesn¡¯t show up, who doesn¡¯t pay. And afterward, if they fail to pay their Tithe within the three days¡¯ grace he will


    officially offer them, he¡¯ll be expected to hunt them down. The High Priestesses themselves¡ªIanthe¡ªgrant him


    sacred hunting rights for this.¡±


    Horrible¡ªbrutal. I wanted to say it, but the look Lucien was giving me ¡­ I¡¯d had enough of people judging me.


    ¡°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¡ªhe doesn¡¯t say it, but he knows it. Trust me. You will forgive him if his family¡¯s own ughter


    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 simmering 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¡ªreally 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.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re deliberately not telling me things.¡±


    ¡°He is my High Lord. His word isw. We have this one chance, Feyre, to rebuild and make the world as it should


    be. I will not begin that new world by breaking his trust. Even if you ¡­¡±


    ¡°Even if I what?¡±


    His face paled, and he stroked a hand down the mare¡¯s cobweb-colored mane. ¡°I was forced to watch as my


    father butchered the female I loved. My brothers forced me to watch.¡±


    My heart tightened for him¡ªfor the pain that haunted him.


    ¡°There was no magic spell, no miracle to bring her back. There were no gathered High Lords to resurrect her. I


    watched, and she died, and I will never forget that moment when I heard her heart stop beating.¡±


    My eyes burned.


    ¡°Tamlin got what I didn¡¯t,¡± Lucien said softly, his breathing ragged. ¡°We all heard your neck break. But you got to


    you from that danger again, even if it means keeping secrets, even if it means sticking to rules you don¡¯t like. In


    this, he will not bend. So don¡¯t ask him to¡ªnot yet.¡±


    I had no words in my head, my heart. Giving Tamlin time, letting him adjust ¡­ It was the least I could do.


    The mor of construction overtook the chittering of forest birds long before we set foot in the vige: hammers


    on nails, people barking orders, livestock braying.


    We cleared the woods to find a vige halfway toward being built: pretty little buildings of stone and wood,


    makeshift structures over the supplies and livestock ¡­ The only things that seemed absolutely finished were the


    Sometimes, the normalcy of Prythian, the utter simrities between it and the mortalnds, still surprised me. I


    might as well have been in my own vige back home. A much nicer, newer vige, but theyout, the focal points


    ¡­ All the same.


    And I felt like just as much an outsider when Lucien and I rode into the heart of the chaos and everyone paused


    theirboring or selling or milling about to look at us.


    At me.


    Like a ripple of silence, the sounds of activity died in even the farthest reaches of the vige.


    ¡°Feyre Cursebreaker,¡± someone whispered.


    Well, that was a new name.


    I was grateful for the long sleeves of my riding habit, and the matching gloves I¡¯d tugged on before we¡¯d entered


    the vige border.


    Lucien pulled up his mare to a High Fae male who looked like he was in charge of building a house bordering the


    well fountain. ¡°We came to see if any help was needed,¡± he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. ¡°Our services


    are yours for the day.¡±


    The male nched. ¡°Gratitude, my lord, but none is needed.¡± His eyes gobbled me up, widening. ¡°The debt is


    paid.¡±


    The sweat on my palms felt thicker, warmer. My mare stomped a hoof on the ruddy dirt street.


    ¡°Please,¡± Lucien said, bowing his head gracefully. ¡°The effort to rebuild is our burden to share. It would be our


    honor.¡±


    The male shook his head. ¡°The debt is paid.¡±


    And so it went at every ce we stopped in the vige: Lucien dismounting, asking to help, and polite, reverent


    rejections.


    Within twenty minutes, we were already riding back into the shadows and rustle of the woods.


    ¡°Did he let you take me today,¡± I said hoarsely, ¡°so that I¡¯d stop asking to help rebuild?¡±


    ¡°No. I decided to take you myself. For that exact reason. They don¡¯t want or need your help. Your presence is a


    distraction and a reminder of what they went through.¡±


    I flinched. ¡°They weren¡¯t Under the Mountain, though. I recognized none of them.¡±


    Lucien shuddered. ¡°No. Amarantha had ¡­ camps for them. The nobles and favored faeries were allowed to dwell


    Under the Mountain. But if the people of a court weren¡¯t working to bring in goods


    and food, they were locked in camps in awork of tunnels beneath the Mountain. Thousands of them, crammed


    into chambers and tunnels with no light, no air. For fifty years.¡±


    ¡°No one ever said¡ª¡±


    ¡°It was forbidden to speak of it. Some of them went mad, started preying on the others when Amarantha forgot to


    order her guards to feed them. Some formed bands that prowled the camps and did¡ª¡± He rubbed his brows with


    a thumb and forefinger. ¡°They did horrible things. Right now, they¡¯re trying to remember what it is to be normal¡ª


    how to live.¡±


    Bile burned my throat. But this wedding ¡­ yes, perhaps it would be the start of that healing.


    Still, a nket seemed to smother my senses, drowning out sound, taste, feeling.


    ¡°I know you wanted to help,¡± Lucien offered. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    So was I.


    The vastness of my now-unending existence yawned open before me.


    I let it swallow me whole.


    CHAPTER


    4


    A few days before the wedding ceremony, guests began arriving, and I was grateful that I¡¯d never be High Lady,


    never be Tamlin¡¯s equal in responsibility and power.


    A small, forgotten part of me roared and screamed at that, but ¡­


    Dinner after dinner, luncheons and pics and hunts.


    I was introduced and passed around, and my face hurt from the smile I kept stered there day and night. I


    began looking forward to the wedding just knowing that once it was over, I wouldn¡¯t have to be pleasant or talk to


    anyone or do anything for a week. A month. A year.


    Tamlin endured it all¡ªin that quiet, near-feral way of his¡ªand told me again and again that the parties were a way


    to introduce me to his court, to give his people something to celebrate. He assured me that he hated the


    gatherings as much as I did, and that Lucien was the only one who really enjoyed himself, but ¡­ I caught Tamlin


    grinning sometimes. And truthfully, he deserved it, had earned it. And these people deserved it, too.


    So I weathered it, clinging to Ianthe when Tamlin wasn¡¯t at my side, or, if they were together, letting the two of


    them lead conversations while I counted down the hours until everyone would leave.


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    ¡°You should head to bed,¡± Ianthe said, both of us watching the assembled revelers packing the great hall. I¡¯d


    spotted her by the open doors thirty minutes ago, and was grateful for the excuse to leave the gaggle of Tamlin¡¯s


    friends I¡¯d been stuck talking to. Or not talking to. Either they outright stared at me, or they tried so damn hard to


    ¡°I¡¯ve another hour before I need to sleep,¡± I said. Ianthe was in her usual pale robe, hood up and that circlet of


    silver with its blue stone atop it.


    High Fae males eyed her as they meandered past where we stood by the wood-paneled wall near the main doors,


    either from awe or lust or perhaps both, their gazes asionally snagging on me. I knew the wide eyes had


    nothing to do with my bright green gown or pretty face (fairly ndpared to Ianthe¡¯s). I tried to ignore them.


    ¡°Are you ready for tomorrow? Is there anything I can do for you?¡± Ianthe sipped from her ss of sparkling wine.


    The gown I wore tonight was a gift from her, actually¡ªSpring Court green, she¡¯d called it. Alis had merely lingered


    while I dressed, unnervingly silent, letting Ianthe im her usual duties.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± I¡¯d already contemted how pathetic it would be if I asked her to permanently stay after the wedding. If


    I revealed that I dreaded her leaving me to this court, these people, until Nynsar¡ªa minor spring holiday to


    celebrate the end of seeding the fields and to pass out the first flower clippings of the season. Months and months


    from now. Even having her live at her own temple felt too removed.


    Two males that had circled past twice already finally worked up the courage to approach us¡ªher.


    I leaned against the wall, the wood digging into my back, as they nked Ianthe. Handsome, in the way that most


    of them were handsome, armed with weapons that marked them as two of the High Fae who guarded Tamlin¡¯s


    By now, I¡¯d be ustomed to people kissing her silver rings and beseeching her for prayers for themselves,


    their families, or their lovers. Ianthe received it all without that beautiful face shifting in the slightest.


    ¡°Bron,¡± she said to the one on her left, brown-haired and tall. ¡°And Hart,¡± she said to the one on her right, ck-


    haired and built a bit more powerfully than his friend. She gave a coy, pretty tilt of her lips that I¡¯d learned meant


    she was now on the hunt for nighttimepanionship. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen you two troublemakers in a while.¡±


    They parried with flirtatiousments, until the two males began ncing my way.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Ianthe said, hood shifting as she turned. ¡°Allow me to introduce Lady Feyre.¡± She lowered her eyes, angling


    her head in a deep nod. ¡°Savior of Prythian.¡±


    ¡°We know,¡± Hart said quietly, bowing with his friend at the waist. ¡°We were Under the Mountain with you.¡±


    I managed to incline my head a bit as they straightened. ¡°Congrattions on tomorrow,¡± Bron said, grinning. ¡°A


    fitting end, eh?¡±


    A fitting end would have been me in a grave, burning in hell.


    ¡°The Cauldron,¡± Ianthe said, ¡°has blessed all of us with such a union.¡± The males murmured their agreement,


    bowing their heads again. I ignored it.


    ¡°I have to say,¡± Bron went on, ¡°that trial¡ªwith the Middengard Wyrm? Brilliant. One of the most brilliant things I


    ever saw.¡±


    It was an effort not to push myself wholly t against the wall, not to think about the reek of that mud, the gnashing


    of those flesh-shredding teeth bearing down upon me. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Oh, it sounded terrible,¡± Ianthe said, stepping closer as she noted I was no longer wearing that nd smile. She


    put a hand on my arm. ¡°Such bravery is awe-inspiring.¡±


    I was grateful, so pathetically grateful, for the steadying touch. For the squeeze. I knew then that she¡¯d inspire


    hordes of young Fae females to join her order¡ªnot for worshipping their Mother and Cauldron, but to learn how


    she lived, how she could shine so brightly and love herself, move from male to male as if they were dishes at a


    banquet.


    ¡°We missed the hunt the other day,¡± Hart said casually, ¡°so we haven¡¯t had a chance to see your talents up close,


    but I think the High Lord will be stationing us near the estate next month¡ªit¡¯d be an honor to ride with you.¡±


    Tamlin wouldn¡¯t allow me out with them in a thousand years. And I had no desire to tell them that I had no interest


    in ever using a bow and arrow again, or hunting anything at all. The hunt I¡¯d been dragged on two days ago had


    almost been too much. Even with everyone watching me, I hadn¡¯t drawn an arrow.


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    They were still waiting for a reply, so I said, ¡°The honor would be mine.¡±


    ¡°Does my father have you two on duty tomorrow, or will you be attending the ceremony?¡± Ianthe said, putting a


    distracting hand on Bron¡¯s arm. Precisely why I sought her out at events.


    Bron answered her, but Hart¡¯s eyes lingered on me¡ªon my crossed arms. On my tattooed fingers. He said, ¡°Have


    you heard from the High Lord at all?¡±


    Ianthe stiffened, and Bron immediately cut his gaze toward my inked flesh.


    ¡°No,¡± I said, holding Hart¡¯s gaze.


    ¡°He¡¯s probably running scared now that Tamlin¡¯s got his powers back.¡±


    ¡°Then you don¡¯t know Rhysand very well at all.¡±


    Hart blinked, and even Ianthe kept silent. It was probably the most assertive thing I¡¯d said to anyone during these


    parties.


    ¡°Well, we¡¯ll take care of him if need be,¡± Hart said, shifting on his feet as I continued to hold his gaze, not bothering


    to soften my expression.


    Ianthe said to him, to me, ¡°The High Priestesses are taking care of it. We will not allow our savior to be treated so


    ill.¡±


    I schooled my face into neutrality. Was that why Tamlin had initially sought out Ianthe? To make an alliance? My


    chest tightened a bit. I turned to her. ¡°I¡¯m going up. Tell Tamlin I¡¯ll see him tomorrow.¡±


    Tomorrow, because tonight, Ianthe had told me, we¡¯d spend apart. As dictated by their long-held traditions.


    Ianthe kissed my cheek, her hood shielding me from the room for a heartbeat. ¡°I¡¯m at your disposal, Lady. Send


    word if you need anything.¡±


    I wouldn¡¯t, but I nodded.


    As I slipped from the room, I peered toward the front¡ªwhere Tamlin and Lucien were surrounded by a circle of


    High Fae males and females. Perhaps not as refined as some of the others, but ¡­ They had the look of people


    who had been together a long time, fought at each other¡¯s sides. Tamlin¡¯s friends. He¡¯d introduced me to them,


    and I¡¯d immediately forgotten their names. I hadn¡¯t tried to learn them again.


    Tamlin tipped his head back andughed, the others howling with him.


    I left before he could spot me, easing through the crowded halls until I was in the dim, empty upstairs of the


    residential wing.


    Alone in my bedroom, I realized I couldn¡¯t remember thest time I¡¯d trulyughed.


    The ceiling pushed down, therge, blunt spikes so hot I could see the heat rippling off them even from where I


    was chained to the floor. Chained, because I was illiterate and couldn¡¯t read the riddle written on the wall, and


    Amarantha was d to let me be impaled.


    Closer and closer. There was no oneing to save me from this horrible death.


    It¡¯d hurt. It¡¯d hurt and be slow, and I¡¯d cry¡ªI might even cry for my mother, who had never cared for me, anyway. I


    might beg her to save me¡ª


    My limbs iled as I shot upright in bed, yanking against invisible chains.


    I would have lurched for the bathing room had my legs and arms not shook so badly, had I been able to breathe,


    breathe, breathe¡ª


    I scanned the bedroom, shuddering. Real¡ªthis was real. The horrors, those were nightmares. I was out; I was


    alive; I was safe.


    A night breeze floated through the open windows, ruffling my hair, drying the cold sweat on me. The dark sky


    beckoned, the stars so dim and small, like speckles of frost.


    Bron had sounded


    as if watching my encounter with the Middengard Wyrm was a sporting match. As if I hadn¡¯t been one mistake


    away from being devoured whole and my bones spat out.


    Savior and jester, apparently.


    I stumbled to the open window, and pushed it wider, clearing my view of the star-flecked darkness.


    I rested my head against the wall, savoring the cool stones.


    In a few hours, I¡¯d be married. I¡¯d have my happy ending, whether I deserved it or not. But thisnd, these people


    ¡ªthey would have their happy ending, too. The first few steps toward healing. Toward peace. And then things


    would be fine.


    Then I¡¯d be fine.


    I really, truly hated my wedding gown.


    It was a monstrosity of tulle and chiffon and gossamer, so unlike the loose gowns I usually wore: the bodice fitted,


    the neckline curved to plump my breasts, and the skirts ¡­ The skirts were a sparkling tent, practically floating in


    the balmy spring air.


    No wonder Tamlin hadughed. Even Alis, as she¡¯d dressed me, had hummed to herself, but said nothing. Most


    likely because Ianthe had personally selected the gown toplement whatever tale she¡¯d weave today¡ªthe


    legend she¡¯d proim to the world.


    I might have dealt with it all if it weren¡¯t for the puffy capped sleeves, so big I could almost see them glinting from


    the periphery of my vision. My hair had been curled, half up, half down, entwined with pearls and jewels and the


    Cauldron knew what, and it had taken all my self-control to keep from cringing at the mirror before descending the


    sweeping stairs into the main hall. My dress hissed and swished with each step.


    Beyond the shut patio doors where I paused, the garden had been bedecked in ribbons andnterns in shades of


    cream, blush, and sky blue. Three hundred chairs were assembled in thergest courtyard, each seat upied by


    Tamlin¡¯s court. I¡¯d make my way down the main aisle, enduring their stares, before I reached the dais at the other


    end¡ªwhere Tamlin would be waiting.


    Then Ianthe would sanction and bless our union right before sundown, as a representative of all twelve High


    Priestesses. She¡¯d hinted that they¡¯d pushed to be present¡ªbut through whatever cunning, she¡¯d managed to


    keep the other eleven away. Either to im the attention for herself, or to spare me from being hounded by the


    pack of them. I couldn¡¯t tell. Perhaps both.


    My mouth went paper-dry as Alis fluffed out the sparkling train of my gown in the shadow of the garden doors. Silk


    and gossamer rustled and sighed, and I gripped the pale bouquet in my gloved hands, nearly snapping the stems.


    Elbow-length silk gloves¡ªto hide the markings. Ianthe had delivered them herself this morning in a velvet-lined


    box.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be nervous,¡± Alis clucked, her tree-bark skin rich and flushed in the honey-gold evening light.


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± I rasped.


    ¡°You¡¯re fidgeting like my youngest nephew during a haircut.¡± She finished fussing over my dress, shooing away


    some servants who¡¯de to spy on me before the ceremony. I pretended I didn¡¯t see them, or the glittering,


    sunset-gilded crowd seated in the courtyard ahead, and toyed with some invisible fleck of dust on my skirts.


    ¡°You look beautiful,¡± Alis said quietly. I was fairly certain her thoughts on the dress were the same as my own, but I


    believed her.


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    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°And you sound like you¡¯re going to your funeral.¡±


    I stered a grin on my face. Alis rolled her eyes. But she nudged me toward the doors as they opened on some


    immortal wind, lilting music streaming in. ¡°It¡¯ll be over faster than you can blink,¡± she promised, and gently pushed


    me into thest of the sunlight.


    Three hundred people rose to their feet and pivoted toward me.


    Not since myst trial had so many gathered to watch me, judge me. All in finery so simr to what they¡¯d worn


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    Under the Mountain. Their faces blurred, melded.


    Alis coughed from the shadows of the house, and I remembered to start walking, to look toward the dais¡ª


    At Tamlin.


    The breath knocked from me, and it was an effort to keep going down the stairs, to keep my knees from buckling.


    He was resplendent in a tunic of green and gold, a crown of burnishedurel leaves gleaming on his head. He¡¯d


    loosened the grip on his mour, letting that immortal light and beauty shine through¡ªfor 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¡ª


    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 that hood and silver crown.


    As if I were good¡ªas if I hadn¡¯t murdered two of their kind.


    I was a murderer and a liar.


    A cluster of red petals loomed ahead¡ªjust like that Fae youth¡¯s blood had pooled at my feet.


    Ten steps from the dais, at the edge of that stter 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 aisle from the chairs nking it.


    And between my skin and bones, something thrummed and pounded, rising and pushing,shing through my


    blood¡ª


    So many eyes, too many eyes, pressed on me, witnesses to every crime I¡¯dmitted, every humiliation¡ª


    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¡ª


    Forever¡ªI would never get better, never get free of myself, of that dungeon where I¡¯d spent three months¡ª


    ¡°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 thest few steps, couldn¡¯t, couldn¡¯t, couldn¡¯t¡ª


    I was going to fall apart, right there, right then¡ªand 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¡ªplease, save me. Get


    me out. End this.


    Tamlin took a step toward me¡ªconcern shading those eyes.


    I retreated a step. No.


    Tamlin¡¯s mouth tightened. The crowd murmured. Silk streamersden 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 atst.¡±


    Good. I was not good. I was nothing, and my soul, my eternal soul, was damned¡ª


    I tried to get my traitorous lungs to draw air so I could voice the word. No¡ªno.


    But I didn¡¯t have to say it.


    Thunder cracked behind me, as if two boulders had 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 thepels of his


    ck jacket.


    ¡°Hello, Feyre darling,¡± he purred.


    CHAPTER


    5


    I


    shouldn¡¯t have been surprised. Not when Rhysand liked to make a spectacle of everything. And found pissing off


    Tamlin to be an art form.


    But there he was.


    Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, now stood beside me, darkness leaking from him like ink in water.


    He angled his head, his blue-ck hair shifting with the movement. Those violet eyes sparkled in the golden


    faelight as they fixed on Tamlin, as he held up a hand to where Tamlin and Lucien and their sentries had their


    swords half-drawn, sizing up how to get me out of the way, how to bring him down¡ª


    But at the lift of that hand, they froze.


    Ianthe, however, was backing away slowly, face drained of color.


    ¡°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. ws 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¡ªno, 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 was shaking too badly to say anything. Rhys¡¯s eyes flickered with distaste.


    The expression was gone when he faced Tamlin again. ¡°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¡ªthrough that


    bond, through whatever magic was between us, he¡¯d known I was about to say no. ¡°At least, Feyre seemed to


    think so.¡±


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    Tamlin snarled, ¡°Let us finish the ceremony¡ª¡±


    ¡°Your High Priestess,¡± Rhys said, ¡°seems to think it¡¯s over, too.¡±


    Tamlin stiffened as he looked over a shoulder to find the altar empty. When he faced us again, the ws had


    eased halfway back into his hands. ¡°Rhysand¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in no mood to bargain,¡± Rhys said, ¡°even though I could work it to my advantage, I¡¯m sure.¡± I jolted at the


    caress of his hand on my elbow. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    I didn¡¯t move.


    ¡°Tamlin,¡± I breathed.


    Tamlin took a single step toward me, his golden face turning sallow, but remained focused on Rhys. ¡°Name your


    price.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother,¡± Rhys crooned, linking elbows with me. Every spot of contact was abhorrent, unbearable.


    He¡¯d take me back to the Night Court, the ce Amarantha had supposedly modeled Under the Mountain after,


    full of depravity and torture and death¡ª


    ¡°Tamlin, please.¡±


    ¡°Such dramatics,¡± Rhysand said, tugging me closer.


    But Tamlin didn¡¯t move¡ªand those ws were wholly reced by smooth skin. He fixed his gaze on Rhys, his


    lips pulling back in a snarl. ¡°If you hurt her¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know, I know,¡± Rhysand drawled. ¡°I¡¯ll return her in a week.¡±


    No¡ªno, Tamlin couldn¡¯t be making those kinds of threats, not when they meant he was letting me go. Even


    Lucien was gaping at Tamlin, his face white with fury and shock.


    Rhys released my elbow only to slip a hand around my waist, pressing me into his side as he whispered in my


    ear, ¡°Hold on.¡±


    Then darkness roared, a wind tearing me this way and that, the ground falling away beneath me, the world gone


    around me. Only Rhys remained, and I hated him as I clung to him, I hated him with my entire heart¡ª


    Then the darkness vanished.


    I smelled jasmine first¡ªthen saw stars. A sea of stars flickering beyond glowing pirs of moonstone that framed


    the sweeping view of endless snowcapped mountains.


    ¡°Wee to the Night Court,¡± was all Rhys said.


    It was the most beautiful ce I¡¯d ever seen.


    Whatever building we were in had been perched atop one of the gray-stoned mountains. The hall around us was


    open to the elements, no windows to be found, just towering pirs and gossamer curtains, swaying in that


    jasmine-scented breeze.


    It must be some magic, to keep the air warm in the dead of winter. Not to mention the altitude, or the snow coating


    the mountains, mighty winds sending veils of it drifting off the peaks like wandering mist.


    Little seating, dining, and work areas dotted the hall, sectioned off with those curtains or lush nts or thick rugs


    scattered over the moonstone floor. A few balls of light bobbed on the breeze, along with colored-ssnterns


    dangling from the arches of the ceiling.


    Not a scream, not a shout, not a plea to be heard.


    Behind me, a wall of white marble arose, broken asionally by open doorways leading into dim stairwells. The


    rest of the Night Court had to be through there. No wonder I couldn¡¯t hear anyone screaming, if they were all


    inside.


    ¡°This is my private residence,¡± Rhys said casually. His skin was darker than I¡¯d remembered¡ªgolden now, rather


    than pale.


    Pale, from being locked Under the Mountain for fifty years. I scanned him, searching for any sign of the massive,


    membranous wings¡ªthe ones he¡¯d admitted he loved flying with. But there was none. Just the male, smirking at


    me.


    And that too-familiar expression¡ª ¡°How dare you¡ª¡±


    Rhys snorted. ¡°I certainly missed that look on your face.¡± He stalked closer, his movements feline, those violet


    eyes turning subdued¡ªlethal. ¡°You¡¯re wee, you know.¡±


    ¡°For what?¡±


    Rhys paused less than a foot away, sliding his hands into his pockets. The night didn¡¯t seem to ripple from him


    here¡ªand he appeared, despite his perfection, almost normal. ¡°For saving you when asked.¡±


    I stiffened. ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for anything.¡±


    His stare dipped to my left hand.


    Rhys gave no warning as he gripped my arm, snarling softly, and tore off the glove. His touch was like a brand,


    and I flinched, yielding a step, but he held firm until he¡¯d gotten both gloves off. ¡°I heard you begging someone,


    anyone, to rescue you, to get you out. I heard you say no.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say anything.¡±


    He turned my bare hand over, his hold tightening as he examined the eye he¡¯d tattooed. He tapped the pupil.


    Once. Twice. ¡°I heard it loud and clear.¡±


    I wrenched my hand away. ¡°Take me back. Now. I didn¡¯t want to be stolen away.¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°What better time to take you here? Maybe Tamlin didn¡¯t notice you were about to reject him in front


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    of his entire court¡ªmaybe you can now simply me it on me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a bastard. You made it clear enough that I had ¡­ reservations.¡±


    ¡°Such gratitude, as always.¡±


    I struggled to get down a single, deep breath. ¡°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 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 me 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 colors?¡±


    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 about what he meant¡ªabout the bond between us. I wouldn¡¯t give him the


    satisfaction of looking curious. ¡°As for what else I want from you ¡­ ¡± He gestured to the house behind us. ¡°I¡¯ll tell


    you tomorrow at breakfast. For now, clean yourself up. Rest.¡± That rage flickered in his eyes again at the dress,


    the hair. ¡°Take the stairs on the right, one level down. Your room is the first door.¡±


    ¡°Not a dungeon cell?¡± Perhaps it was foolish to reveal that fear, to suggest it to him.


    But Rhys half turned, brows lifting. ¡°You are not a prisoner, Feyre. You made a bargain, and I am calling it in. You


    will be my guest here, with the privileges of a member of my household. None of my subjects are going to touch


    you, hurt you, or so much as think ill of you here.¡±


    My tongue was dry and heavy as I said, ¡°And where might those subjects be?¡±


    ¡°Some dwell here¡ªin the mountain beneath us.¡± He angled his head. ¡°They¡¯re forbidden to set foot in this


    residence. They know they¡¯d be signing their death warrant.¡± His eyes met mine, stark and clear, as if he could


    sense the panic, the shadows creeping in. ¡°Amarantha wasn¡¯t very creative,¡± he said with quiet wrath. ¡°My court


    beneath this mountain has long been feared, and she chose to replicate it by viting the space of Prythian¡¯s


    sacred mountain. So, yes: there¡¯s a court beneath this mountain¡ªthe court your Tamlin now expects me to be


    subjecting you to. I preside over it every now and then, but it mostly rules itself.¡±


    ¡°When¡ªwhen are you taking me there?¡± If I had to go underground, had to see those kinds of horrors again ¡­ I¡¯d


    beg him¡ªbeg him not to take me. I didn¡¯t care how pathetic it made me. I¡¯d lost any sort of qualms about what


    lines I¡¯d cross to survive.


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡± He rolled his shoulders. ¡°This is my home, and the court beneath it is my ¡­ upation, as you mortals


    call it. I do not like for the two to ovep very often.¡±


    My brows rose slightly. ¡° ¡®You mortals¡¯?¡±


    Starlight danced along the nes of his face. ¡°Should I consider you something different?¡±


    A chal


    lenge. I shoved away my irritation at the amusement again tugging at the corners of his lips, and instead said,


    ¡°And the other denizens of your court?¡± The Night Court territory was enormous¡ªbigger than any other in


    Prythian. And all around us were those empty, snow-sted mountains. No sign of towns, cities, or anything.


    ¡°Scattered throughout, dwelling as they wish. Just as you are now free to roam where you wish.¡±


    ¡°I wish to roam home.¡±


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    Rhysughed, finally sauntering toward the other end of the hall, which ended in a veranda open to


    the stars. ¡°I¡¯m willing to ept your thanks at any time, you know,¡± he called to me without looking


    back.


    Red exploded in my vision, and I couldn¡¯t breathe fast enough, couldn¡¯t think above the roar in my


    head. One heartbeat, I was staring after him¡ªthe next, I had my shoe in a hand.


    I hurled it at him with all my strength.


    All my considerable, immortal strength.


    I barely saw my silk slipper as it flew through the air, fast as a shooting star, so fast that even a High


    Lord couldn¡¯t detect it as it neared¡ª


    And mmed into his head.


    Rhys whirled, a hand rising to the back of his head, his eyes wide.


    I already had the other shoe in my hand.


    Rhys¡¯s lip pulled back from his teeth. ¡°I dare you.¡± Temper¡ªhe had to be in some mood today to let


    his temper show this much.


    Good. That made two of us.


    I flung my other shoe right at his head, as swift and hard as the first one.


    His hand snatched up, grabbing the shoe mere inches from his face.


    Rhys hissed and lowered the shoe, his eyes meeting mine as the silk dissolved to glittering ck


    dust in his fist. His fingers unfurled, thest of the sparkling ashes blowing into oblivion, and he


    surveyed my hand, my body, my face.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± he murmured, and continued on his way.


    I debated tackling him and pummeling that face with my fists, but I wasn¡¯t stupid. I was in his home,


    on top of a mountain in the middle of absolutely nowhere, it seemed. No one would being to


    rescue me¡ªno one was even here to witness my screaming.


    So I turned toward the doorway he¡¯d indicated, heading for the dim stairwell beyond.


    I¡¯d nearly reached it, not daring to breathe too loudly, when a bright, amused female voice said


    behind me¡ªfar away, from wherever Rhys had gone to at the opposite end of the hall, ¡°So, that


    went well.¡±


    Rhys¡¯s answering snarl sent my footsteps hurrying.


    My room was ¡­ a dream.


    After scouring it for any sign of danger, after learning every exit and entrance and hiding ce, I


    paused in the center to contemte where, exactly, I¡¯d be staying for the next week.


    Like the upstairs living area, its windows were open to the brutal world beyond¡ªno ss, no


    shutters¡ªand sheer amethyst curtains fluttered in that unnatural, soft breeze. Therge bed was a


    creamy white-and-ivory concoction, with pillows and nkets and throws for days, made more


    inviting by the twin goldenmps beside it. An armoire and dressing table upied a wall, framed


    by those ss-less windows. Across the room, a chamber with a porcin sink and toilety behind


    an arched wooden door, but the bath ¡­


    The bath.


    upying the other half of the bedroom, my bathtub was actually a pool, hanging right off the


    mountain itself. A pool for soaking or enjoying myself. Its far edge seemed to disappear into


    nothing, the water flowing silently off the side and into the night beyond. A narrow ledge on the


    adjacent wall was lined with fat, guttering candles whose glow gilded the dark, ssy surface and


    wafting tendrils of steam.


    Open, airy, plush, and ¡­ calm.


    This room was fit for an empress. With the marble floors, silks, velvets, and elegant details, only an


    empress could have afforded it. I tried not to think what Rhys¡¯s chamber was like, if this was how he


    treated his guests.


    Guest¡ªnot prisoner.


    Well ¡­ the room proved it.


    I didn¡¯t bother barricading the door. Rhys could likely fly in if he felt like it. And I¡¯d seen him shatter a


    faerie¡¯s mind without so much as blinking. I doubted a bit of wood would keep out that horrible


    power.


    I again surveyed the room, my wedding gown hissing on the warm marble floors.


    I peered down at myself.


    You look ridiculous.


    Heat itched along my cheeks and neck.


    It didn¡¯t excuse what he¡¯d done. Even if he¡¯d ¡­ saved me¡ªI choked on the word¡ªfrom having to


    refuse Tamlin. Having to exin.


    Slowly, I tugged the pins and baubles from my curled hair, piling them onto the dressing table. The


    sight was enough for me to grit my teeth, and I swept them into an empty drawer instead, mming


    it shut so hard the mirror above the table rattled. I rubbed at my scalp, aching from the weight of the


    curls and prodding pins. This afternoon, I¡¯d imagined Tamlin pulling them each from my hair, a kiss


    for every pin, but now¡ª


    I swallowed against the burning in my throat.


    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 exin that there couldn¡¯t be a wedding,


    not for a while yet. Maybe I¡¯d wait until the mating bond snapped into ce, 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. Rxed his grip on things a bit. On


    me. Even if I understood his need to protect, that fear of losing me ¡­ Perhaps I should exin


    everything when I returned.


    But¡ªso many people had seen it, seen me hesitate¡ª


    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 deted souffl¨¦ on the marble


    floor, and took arge step out of it. Even my undergarments were ridiculous: frothy scraps ofce,


    intended solely for Tamlin to admire¡ªand 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.


    My tattoo was stark against the pile of white silk andce. My breath came faster and faster. I didn¡¯t


    realize I was weeping until I grabbed the first bit of fabric within the armoire I could find¡ªa set of


    turquoise nightclothes¡ªand shoved my feet into the ankle-length pants, then pulled the short-


    sleeved matching shirt over my head, the hem grazing the top of my navel. I didn¡¯t care that it had


    to be some Night Court fashion, didn¡¯t care that they were soft and warm.


    I climbed into that big, fluffy bed, the sheets smooth and weing, and could barely draw a breath


    steady enough to blow out themps on either side.


    But as soon as darkness enveloped the room, my sobs hit in full¡ªgreat, gasping pants that


    shuddered through me, flowing out the open windows, and into the starry, snow-kissed night.


    Rhys hadn¡¯t been lying when he said I was to join him for breakfast.


    My old handmaidens from Under the Mountain appeared at my door just past dawn, and I might not


    have recognized the pretty, dark-haired twins had they not acted like they knew me. I had never


    seen them as anything but shadows, their faces always concealed in imprable night. But here¡ª


    or perhaps without Amarantha¡ªthey were fully corporeal.


    Nu and Cerridwen were their names, and I wondered if they¡¯d ever told me. If I had been too far


    gone Under the Mountain to even care.


    Their gentle knock hurled me awake¡ªnot that I¡¯d slept much during the night. For a heartbeat, I


    wondered why my bed felt so much softer, why mountains flowed into the distance and not spring


    grasses and hills ¡­ and then it all poured back in. Along with a throbbing, relentless headache.


    After the second, patient knock, followed by a muffled exnation through the door of who they


    were, I scrambled out of bed to let them in. And after a miserably awkward greeting, they informed


    me that breakfast would be served in thirty minutes, and I was to bathe and dress.


    I didn¡¯t b


    other to ask if Rhys was behind thatst order, or if it was their rmendation based on how grim


    I no doubt looked, but theyid out some clothes on the bed before leaving me to wash in private.


    I was tempted to linger in the luxurious heat of the bathtub for the rest of the day, but a faint,


    N?velDrama.Org holds ? this.


    endlessly amused tug cleaved through my headache. I knew that tug¡ªhad been called by it once


    before, in those hours after Amarantha¡¯s downfall.


    I ducked to my neck in the water, scanning the clear winter sky, the fierce wind whipping the snow


    off those nearby peaks ¡­ No sign of him, no pound of beating wings. But the tug yanked again in


    my mind, my gut¡ªa summoning. Like some servant¡¯s bell.


    Cursing him soundly, I scrubbed myself down and dressed in the clothes they¡¯d left.


    And now, striding across the sunny upper level as I blindly followed the source of that insufferable


    tug, my magenta silk shoes near-silent on the moonstone floors, I wanted to shred the clothes off


    me, if only for the fact that they belonged to this ce, to him.


    My high-waisted peach pants were loose and billowing, gathered at the ankles with velvet cuffs of


    bright gold. The long sleeves of the matching top were made of gossamer, also gathered at the


    wrists, and the top itself hung just to my navel, revealing a sliver of skin as I walked.


    Comfortable, easy to move in¡ªto run. Feminine. Exotic. Thin enough that, unless Rhysand nned


    to torment me by casting me into the winter wastnd around us, I could assume I wasn¡¯t leaving


    the borders of whatever warming magic kept the pce so balmy.


    At least the tattoo, visible through the sheer sleeve, wouldn¡¯t be out of ce here. But¡ªthe clothes


    were still a part of this court.


    And no doubt part of some game he intended to y with me.


    At the very end of the upper level, a small ss table gleamed like quicksilver in the heart of a


    stone veranda, set with three chairs andden with fruits, juices, pastries, and breakfast meats. And


    in one of those chairs ¡­ Though Rhys stared out at the sweeping view, the snowy mountains near-


    blinding in the sunlight, I knew he¡¯d sensed my arrival from the moment I cleared the stairwell at the


    other side of the hall. Maybe since I¡¯d awoken, if that tug was any indication.


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 Chapter 10

    Chapter 10


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    I paused between thest two pirs, studying the High Lord lounging at the breakfast table and the


    view he surveyed.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a dog to be summoned,¡± I said by way of greeting.


    Slowly, Rhys looked over his shoulder. Those violet eyes were vibrant in the light, and I curled my


    fingers into fists as they swept from my head to my toes and back up again. He frowned at whatever


    he foundcking. ¡°I didn¡¯t want you to get lost,¡± he said ndly.


    My head throbbed, and I eyed the silver teapot steaming in the center of the table. A cup of tea ¡­ ¡°I


    thought it¡¯d always be dark here,¡± I said, if only to not look quite as desperate for that life-giving tea


    so early in the morning.


    ¡°We¡¯re one of the three Sr Courts,¡± he said, motioning for me to sit with a graceful twist of his


    wrist. ¡°Our nights are far more beautiful, and our sunsets and dawns are exquisite, but we do


    adhere to thews of nature.¡±


    I slid into the upholstered chair across from him. His tunic was unbuttoned at the neck, revealing a


    hint of the tanned chest beneath. ¡°And do the other courts choose not to?¡±


    ¡°The nature of the Seasonal Courts,¡± he said, ¡°is linked to their High Lords, whose magic and will


    keeps them in eternal spring, or winter, or fall, or summer. It has always been like that¡ªsome sort


    of strange stagnation. But the Sr Courts¡ªDay, Dawn, and Night¡ªare of a more ¡­ symbolic


    nature. We might be powerful, but even we cannot alter the sun¡¯s path or strength. Tea?¡±


    The sunlight danced along the curve of the silver teapot. I kept my eager nod to a restrained dip of


    my chin. ¡°But you will find,¡± Rhysand went on, pouring a cup for me, ¡°that our nights are more


    spectacr¡ªso spectacr that some in my territory even awaken at sunset and go to bed at


    dawn, just to live under the starlight.¡±


    I sshed some milk in the tea, watching the light and dark eddy together. ¡°Why is it so warm in


    here, when winter is in full st out there?¡±


    ¡°Magic.¡±


    ¡°Obviously.¡± I set down my teaspoon and sipped, nearly sighing at the rush of heat and smoky, rich


    vor. ¡°But why?¡±


    Rhys scanned the wind tearing through the peaks. ¡°You heat a house in the winter¡ªwhy shouldn¡¯t I


    heat this ce as well? I¡¯ll admit I don¡¯t know why my predecessors built a pce fit for the


    Summer Court in the middle of a mountain range that¡¯s mildly warm at best, but who am I to


    question?¡±


    I took a few more sips, that headache already lessening, and dared to scoop some fruit onto my


    te from a ss bowl nearby.


    He watched every movement. Then he said quietly, ¡°You¡¯ve lost weight.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re prone to digging through my head whenever you please,¡± I said, stabbing a piece of melon


    with my fork. ¡°I don¡¯t see why you¡¯re surprised by it.¡±


    His gaze didn¡¯t lighten, though that smile again yed about his sensuous mouth, no doubt his


    favorite mask. ¡°Only asionally will I do that. And I can¡¯t help it if you send things down the bond.¡±


    I contemted refusing to ask as I had donest night, but ¡­ ¡°How does it work¡ªthis bond that


    allows you to see into my head?¡±


    He sipped from his own tea. ¡°Think of the bargain¡¯s bond as a bridge between us¡ªand at either end


    is a door to our respective minds. A shield. My innate talents allow me to slip through the mental


    shields of anyone I wish, with or without that bridge¡ªunless they¡¯re very, very strong, or have


    trained extensively to keep those shields tight. As a human, the gates to your mind were flung open


    for me to stroll through. As Fae ¡­ ¡± A little shrug. ¡°Sometimes, you unwittingly have a shield up¡ª


    sometimes, when emotion seems to be running strong, that shield vanishes. And sometimes, when


    those shields are open, you might as well be standing at the gates to your mind, shouting your


    thoughts across the bridge to me. Sometimes I hear them; sometimes I don¡¯t.¡±


    I scowled, clenching my fork harder. ¡°And how often do you just rifle through my mind when my


    shields are down?¡±


    All amusement faded from his face. ¡°When I can¡¯t tell if your nightmares are real threats or


    imagined. When you¡¯re about to be married and you silently beg anyone to help you. Only when you


    drop your mental shields and unknowingly st those things down the bridge. And to answer your


    question before you ask, yes. Even with your shields up, I could get through them if I wished. You


    could train, though¡ªlearn how to shield against someone like me, even with the bond bridging our


    minds and my own abilities.¡±


    I ignored the offer. Agreeing to do anything with him felt too permanent, too epting of the bargain


    between us. ¡°What do you want with me? You said you¡¯d tell me here. So tell me.¡±


    Rhys leaned back in his chair, folding powerful arms that even the fine clothes couldn¡¯t hide. ¡°For


    this week? I want you to learn how to read.¡±


    CHAPTER


    6


    Rhysand had mocked me about it once¡ªhad asked me while we were Under the Mountain if


    forcing me to learn how to read would be my personal idea of torture.


    ¡°No, thank you,¡± I said, gripping my fork to keep from chucking it at his head.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to be a High Lord¡¯s wife,¡± Rhys said. ¡°You¡¯ll be expected to maintain your own


    correspondences, perhaps even give a speech or two. And the Cauldron knows what else he and


    Ianthe will deem appropriate for you. Make menus for dinner parties, write thank-you letters for all


    those wedding gifts, embroider sweet phrases on pillows ¡­ It¡¯s a necessary skill. And, you know


    what? Why don¡¯t we throw in shielding while we¡¯re at it. Reading and shielding¡ªfortunately, you can


    practice them together.¡±


    ¡°They are both necessary skills,¡± I said through my teeth, ¡°but you are not going to teach me.¡±


    ¡°What else are you going to do with yourself? Paint? How¡¯s that going these days, Feyre?¡±


    ¡°What the hell does it even matter to you?¡±


    ¡°It serves various purposes of mine, of course.¡±


    ¡°What. Purposes.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to agree to work with me to find out, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    Something sharp poked into my hand.


    I¡¯d folded the fork into a tangle of metal.


    When I set it down on the table, Rhys chuckled. ¡°Interesting.¡±


    ¡°You said thatst night.¡±


    ¡°Am I not allowed to say it twice?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I was implying and you know it.¡±


    His gaze raked over me again, as if he could see beneath the peach fabric, through the skin, to the


    shredded soul beneath. Then it drifted to the mangled fork. ¡°Has anyone ever told you that you¡¯re


    rather strong for a High Fae?¡±


    ¡°Am I?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a no.¡± He popped a piece of melon into his mouth. ¡°Have you tested yourself


    against anyone?¡±


    ¡°Why would I?¡± I was enough of a wreck as it was.


    ¡°Because you were resurrected and reborn by thebined powers of the seven High Lords. If I


    were you, I¡¯d be curious to see if anything else transferred to me during that process.¡±


    My blood chilled. ¡°Nothing else transferred to me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯d just be rather ¡­ interesting,¡± he smirked at the word, ¡°if it did.¡±


    ¡°It didn¡¯t, and I¡¯m not going to learn to read or shield with you.¡±


    ¡°Why? From spite? I thought you and I got past that Under the Mountain.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t get me started on what you did to me Under the Mountain.¡±


    Rhys went still.


    As still as I¡¯d ever seen him, as still as the death now beckoning in those eyes. Then his chest


    began to move, faster and faster.


    Across the pirs towering behind him, I could have sworn the shadow of great wings spread.


    He opened his mouth, leaning forward, and then stopped. Instantly, the shadows, the ragged


    breathing, the intensity were gone, thezy grin returning. ¡°We havepany. We¡¯ll discuss this


    ¡°No, we won¡¯t.¡± But quick, light footsteps sounded down the hall, and then she appeared.


    If Rhysand was the most beautiful male I¡¯d ever seen, she


    was his female equivalent.


    Her bright, golden hair was tied back in a casual braid, and the turquoise of her clothes¡ªfashioned


    like my own¡ªoffset her sun-kissed skin, making her practically glow in the morning light.


    ¡°Hello, hello,¡± she chirped, her full lips parting in a dazzling smile as her rich brown eyes fixed on


    me.


    ¡°Feyre,¡± Rhys said smoothly, ¡°meet my cousin, Morrigan. Mor, meet the lovely, charming, and open-


    minded Feyre.¡±


    I debated sshing my tea in his face, but Mor strode toward me. Each step was assured and


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    steady, graceful, and ¡­ grounded. Merry but alert. Someone who didn¡¯t need weapons¡ªor at least


    bother to sheath them at her side. ¡°I¡¯ve heard so much about you,¡± she said, and I got to my feet,


    awkwardly jutting out my hand.


    She ignored it and grabbed me into a bone-crushing hug. She smelled like citrus and cinnamon. I


    tried to rx my taut muscles as she pulled away and grinned rather fiendishly. ¡°You look like you


    were getting under Rhys¡¯s skin,¡± she said, strutting to her seat between us. ¡°Good thing I came


    along. Though I¡¯d enjoy seeing Rhys¡¯s balls nailed to the wall.¡±


    Rhys slid incredulous eyes at her, his brows lifting.


    I hid the smile that tugged on my lips. ¡°It¡¯s¡ªnice to meet you.¡±


    ¡°Liar,¡± Mor said, pouring herself some tea and loading her te. ¡°You want nothing to do with us, do


    you? And wicked Rhys is making you sit here.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re ¡­ perky today, Mor,¡± Rhys said.


    Mor¡¯s stunning eyes lifted to her cousin¡¯s face. ¡°Forgive me for being excited about havingpany


    for once.¡±


    ¡°You could be attending your own duties,¡± he said testily. I mped my lips tighter together. I¡¯d


    never seen Rhys ¡­ irked.


    ¡°I needed a break, and you told me toe here whenever I liked, so what better time than now,


    when you brought my new friend to finally meet me?¡±


    I blinked, realizing two things at once: one, she actually meant what she said; two, hers was the


    female voice I¡¯d heard speakst night, mocking Rhys for our squabble. So, that went well, she¡¯d


    teased. As if there were any other alternative, any chance of pleasantness, where he and I were


    concerned.


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 Chapter 11

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    A new fork had appeared beside my te, and I picked it up, only to spear a piece of melon. ¡°You two look


    nothing alike,¡± I said atst.


    ¡°Mor is my cousin in the loosest definition,¡± he said. She grinned at him, devouring slices of tomato and pale


    cheese. ¡°But we were raised together. She¡¯s my only surviving family.¡±


    I didn¡¯t have the nerve to ask what happened to everyone else. Or remind myself whose father was responsible


    for theck of family at my own court.


    ¡°And as my only remaining rtive,¡± Rhys went on, ¡°Mor believes she is entitled to breeze in and out of my life as


    she sees fit.¡±


    ¡°So grumpy this morning,¡± Mor said, plopping two muffins onto her te.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t see you Under the Mountain,¡± I found myself saying, hating thosest three words more than anything.


    ¡°Oh, I wasn¡¯t there,¡± she said. ¡°I was in¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enough, Mor,¡± he said, his voiceced with quiet thunder.


    It was a trial in itself not to sit up at the interruption, not to study them too closely.


    Rhysand set his napkin on the table and rose. ¡°Mor will be here for the rest of the week, but by all means, do not


    feel that you have to oblige her with your presence.¡± Mor stuck out her tongue at him. He rolled his eyes, the most


    human gesture I¡¯d ever seen him make. He examined my te. ¡°Did you eat enough?¡± I nodded. ¡°Good. Then


    let¡¯s go.¡± He inclined his head toward the pirs and swaying curtains behind him. ¡°Your first lesson awaits.¡±


    Mor sliced one of the muffins in two in a steady sweep of her knife. The angle of her fingers, her wrist, indeed


    confirmed my suspicions that weapons weren¡¯t at all foreign to her. ¡°If he pisses you off, Feyre, feel free to shove


    him over the rail of the nearest balcony.¡±


    Rhys gave her a smooth, filthy gesture as he strode down the hall.


    I eased to my feet when he was a good distance ahead. ¡°Enjoy your breakfast.¡±


    ¡°Whenever you wantpany,¡± she said as I edged around the table, ¡°give a shout.¡± She probably meant that


    literally.


    I merely nodded and trailed after the High Lord.


    I agreed to sit at the long, wooden table in a curtained-off alcove only because he had a point. Not being able to


    read had almost cost me my life Under the Mountain. I¡¯d be damned if I let it be a weakness again, his


    personal agenda or no. And as for shielding ¡­ I¡¯d be a damned fool not to take up the offer to learn from him. The


    thought of anyone, especially Rhys, sifting through the mess in my mind, taking information about the Spring


    Court, about the people I loved ¡­ I¡¯d never allow it. Not willingly.


    But it didn¡¯t make it any easier to endure Rhysand¡¯s presence at the wooden table. Or the stack of books piled


    atop it.


    ¡°I know my alphabet,¡± I said sharply as heid a piece of paper in front of me. ¡°I¡¯m not that stupid.¡± I twisted my


    fingers in myp, then pinned my restless hands under my thighs.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say you were stupid,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m just trying to determine where we should begin.¡± I leaned back in the


    cushioned seat. ¡°Since you¡¯ve refused to tell me a thing about how much you know.¡±


    My face warmed. ¡°Can¡¯t you hire a tutor?¡±


    He lifted a brow. ¡°Is it that hard for you to even try in front of me?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a High Lord¡ªdon¡¯t you have better things to do?¡±


    ¡°Of course. But none as enjoyable as seeing you squirm.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a real bastard, you know that?¡±


    Rhys huffed augh. ¡°I¡¯ve been called worse. In fact, I think you¡¯ve called me worse.¡± He tapped the paper in front


    of him. ¡°Read that.¡±


    A blur of letters. My throat tightened. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Try.¡±


    The sentence had been written in elegant, concise print. His writing, no doubt. I tried to open my mouth, but my


    spine locked up. ¡°What, exactly, is your stake in all this? You said you¡¯d tell me if I worked with you.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t specify when I¡¯d tell you.¡± I peeled back from him as my lip curled. He shrugged. ¡°Maybe I resent the idea


    of you letting those sycophants and war-mongering fools in the Spring Court make you feel inadequate. Maybe I


    indeed enjoy seeing you squirm. Or maybe¡ª¡±


    ¡°I get it.¡±


    Rhys snorted. ¡°Try to read it, Feyre.¡±


    Prick. I snatched the paper to me, nearly ripping it in half in the process. I looked at the first word, sounding it out


    in my head. ¡°Y-you ¡­ ¡± The next I figured out with abination of my silent pronunciation and logic. ¡°Look ¡­ ¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± he murmured.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask for your approval.¡±


    Rhys chuckled.


    ¡°Ab ¡­ Absolutely.¡± It took me longer than I wanted to admit to figure that out. The next word was even worse. ¡°De


    ¡­ Del ¡­ ¡±


    I deigned to nce at him, brows raised.


    ¡°Delicious,¡± he purred.


    My brows now knotted. I read the next two words, then whipped my face toward him. ¡°You look absolutely


    delicious today, Feyre?! That¡¯s what you wrote?¡±


    He leaned back in his seat. As our eyes met, sharp ws caressed my mind and his voice whispered inside my


    head: It¡¯s true, isn¡¯t it?


    I jolted back, my chair groaning. ¡°Stop that!¡±


    But those ws now dug in¡ªand my entire body, my heart, my lungs, my blood yielded to his grip, utterly at his


    I couldn¡¯t move in my seat, couldn¡¯t even blink.


    This is what happens when you leave your mental shields down. Someone with my sort of powers could slip


    inside, see what they want, and take your mind for themselves. Or they could shatter it. I¡¯m currently standing on


    the threshold of your mind ¡­ but if I were to go deeper, all it would take would be half a thought from me and who


    you are, your very self, would


    be wiped away.


    Distantly, sweat slid down my temple.


    You should be afraid. You should be afraid of this, and you should be thanking the gods-damned Cauldron that in


    the past three months, no one with my sorts of gifts has run into you. Now shove me out.


    I couldn¡¯t. Those ws were everywhere¡ªdigging into every thought, every piece of self. He pushed a little


    harder.


    Shove. Me. Out.


    I didn¡¯t know where to begin. I blindly pushed and mmed myself into him, into those ws that were


    everywhere, as if I were a top loosed in a circle of mirrors.


    Hisughter, low and soft, filled my mind, my ears. That way, Feyre.


    In answer, a little open path gleamed inside my mind. The road out.


    It¡¯d take me forever to unhook each w and shove the mass of his presence out that narrow opening. If I could


    wash it away¡ª


    A wave. A wave of self, of me, to sweep all of him out¡ª


    I didn¡¯t let him see the n take form as I rallied myself into a cresting wave and struck.


    The ws loosened¡ªreluctantly. As if letting me win this round. He merely said, ¡°Good.¡±


    My bones, my breath and blood, they were mine again. I slumped in my seat.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± he said. ¡°Shield. Block me out so I can¡¯t get back in.¡±


    I already wanted to go somewhere quiet and sleep for a while¡ª


    ws at that outeryer of my mind, stroking¡ª


    I imagined a wall of adamant snapping down, ck as night and a foot thick. The ws retracted a breath before


    the wall sliced them in two.


    Rhys was grinning. ¡°Very nice. Blunt, but nice.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help myself. I grabbed the piece of paper and shredded it in two, then four. ¡°You¡¯re a pig.¡±


    ¡°Oh, most definitely. But look at you¡ªyou read that whole sentence, kicked me out of your mind, and shielded.


    Excellent work.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t condescend to me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not. You¡¯re reading at a level far higher than I anticipated.¡±


    That burning returned to my cheeks. ¡°But mostly illiterate.¡±


    ¡°At this point, it¡¯s about practice, spelling, and more practice. You could be reading novels by Nynsar. And if you


    keep adding to those shields, you might very well keep me out entirely by then, too.¡±


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    Chapter 12


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    Nynsar. It¡¯d be the first Tamlin and his court would celebrate in nearly fifty years. Amarantha had banned it on a


    whim, along with a few other small, but beloved Fae holidays that she had deemed unnecessary. But Nynsar was


    months from now. ¡°Is it even possible¡ªto truly keep you out?¡±


    ¡°Not likely, but who knows how deep that power goes? Keep practicing and we¡¯ll see what happens.¡±


    ¡°And will I still be bound by this bargain at Nynsar, too?¡±


    Silence.


    I pushed, ¡°After¡ªafter what happened¡ª¡± I couldn¡¯t mention specifics on what had urred Under the Mountain,


    what he¡¯d done for me during that fight with Amarantha, what he¡¯d done after¡ª ¡°I think we can agree that I owe


    you nothing, and you owe me nothing.¡±


    His gaze was unflinching.


    I zed on, ¡°Isn¡¯t it enough that we¡¯re all free?¡± I syed 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 enough, 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 thatment at breakfast had gotten under his skin. ¡°I don¡¯t want to talk about anything rted to that. With


    you or them.¡±


    ¡°No, because it¡¯s so much easier to pretend it never happened and let them coddle you.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t let them coddle me¡ª¡±


    ¡°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 out heirs. I can¡¯t wait to see


    what Ianthe does when she gets her hands on them.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem to have a particrly high opinion of her.¡±


    Something cold and predatory crept into his eyes. ¡°No, I can¡¯t say that I do.¡± He pointed to a nk piece of paper.


    ¡°Start copying the alphabet. Until your letters are perfect. And every time you get through a round, lower and raise


    your shield. Until that is second nature. I¡¯ll be back in an hour.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Copy. The. Alphabet. Until¡ª¡±


    ¡°I heard what you said.¡± Prick. Prick, prick, prick.


    ¡°Then get to work.¡± Rhys uncoiled to his feet. ¡°And at least have the decency to only call me a prick when your


    shields are back up.¡±


    He vanished into a ripple of darkness before I realized that I¡¯d let the wall of adamant fade again.


    By the time Rhys returned, my mind felt like a mud puddle.


    I spent the entire hour doing as I¡¯d been ordered, though I¡¯d flinched at every sound from the nearby stairwell:


    quiet steps of servants, the pping of sheets being changed, someone humming a beautiful and winding melody.


    And beyond that, the chatter of birds that dwelled in the unnatural warmth of the mountain or in the many potted


    citrus trees. No sign of my impending torment. No sentries, even, to monitor me. I might as well have had the


    entire ce to myself.


    Which was good, as my attempts to lower and raise that mental shield often resulted in my face being twisted or


    strained or pinched.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± Rhys said, peering over my shoulder.


    He¡¯d appeared moments before, a healthy distance away, and if I hadn¡¯t known better, I might have thought it was


    because he didn¡¯t want to startle me. As if he¡¯d known about the time Tamlin had crept up behind me, and panic


    had hit me so hard I¡¯d knocked him on his ass with a punch to his stomach. I¡¯d blocked it out¡ªthe shock on Tam¡¯s


    face, how easy it had been to take him off his feet, the humiliation of having my stupid terror so out in the open ¡­


    Rhys scanned the pages I¡¯d scribbled on, sorting through them, tracking my progress.


    Then, a scrape of ws inside my mind¡ªthat only sliced against ck, glittering adamant.


    I threw my lingering will into that wall as the ws pushed, testing for weak spots ¡­


    ¡°Well, well,¡± Rhysand purred, those mental ws withdrawing. ¡°Hopefully I¡¯ll be getting a good night¡¯s rest atst,


    if you can manage to keep the wall up while you sleep.¡±


    I dropped the shield, sent a word sting down that mental bridge between us, and hauled the walls back up.


    Behind it, my mind wobbled like jelly. I needed a nap. Desperately.


    ¡°Prick I might be, but look at you. Maybe we¡¯ll get to have some fun with our lessons after all.¡±


    I was still scowling at Rhys¡¯s muscled back as I kept a healthy ten steps behind him while he led me through the


    halls of the main building, the sweeping mountains and blisteringly blue sky the only witnesses to our silent trek.


    I was too drained to demand where we were now going, and he didn¡¯t bother exining as he led me up, up¡ª


    until we entered a round chamber at the top of a tower.


    A circr table of ck stone upied the center, while thergest stretch of uninterrupted gray stone wall was


    covered in a massive map of our world. It had been marked and gged and pinned, for whatever reasons I


    couldn¡¯t tell, but my gaze drifted to the windows throughout the room¡ªso many that it felt utterly exposed,


    breathable. The perfect home, I supposed, for a High Lord blessed with wings.


    Rhys stalked to the table, where there was another map spread, figurines dotting its surface. A map of Prythian¡ª


    and Hybern.


    Every court in ournd had been marked, along with viges and cities and rivers and mountain passes. Every


    court ¡­ but the Night Court.


    The vast, northern territory was utterly nk. Not even a mountain range had been etched in. Strange, likely part


    of some strategy I didn¡¯t understand.


    I found Rhysand watching me¡ªhis raised brows enough to make me shut my mouth against the forming question.


    ¡°Nothing to ask?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    A feline smirk danced on his lips, but Rhys jerked his chin toward the map on the wall. ¡°What do you see?¡±


    ¡°Is this some sort of way of convincing me to embrace my reading lessons?¡± Indeed, I couldn¡¯t decipher any of the


    writing, only the shapes of things. Like the wall, its massive line bisecting our world.


    ¡°Tell me what you see.¡±


    ¡°A world divided in two.¡±


    ¡°And do you think it should remain that way?¡±


    I whipped my head toward him. ¡°My family¡ª¡± I halted on the word. I should have known better than to admit to


    having a family, that I cared for them¡ª


    ¡°Your human family,¡± Rhys finished, ¡°would be deeply impacted if the wall came down, wouldn¡¯t they? So close to


    its border ¡­ If they¡¯re lucky, they¡¯ll flee across the ocean before it happens.¡±


    ¡°Will it happen?¡±


    Rhysand didn¡¯t break my stare. ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because war ising, Feyre.¡±


    CHAPTER


    7


    War.


    The word nged through me, freezing my veins.


    ¡°Don¡¯t invade,¡± I breathed. I¡¯d get on my knees for this. I¡¯d crawl if I had to. ¡°Don¡¯t invade¡ªplease.¡±


    Rhys cocked his head, his mouth tightening. ¡°You truly think I¡¯m a monster, even after everything.¡±


    ¡°Please,¡± I gasped out. ¡°They¡¯re defenseless, they won¡¯t stand a chance¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to invade the mortalnds,¡± he said too quietly.


    I waited for him to go on, d for the spacious room, the bright air, as the ground started to slide out from beneath


    me.


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    ¡°Put your damn shield


    up,¡± he growled.


    I looked inward, finding that invisible wall had dropped again. But I was so tired, and if war wasing, if my


    family¡ª


    ¡°Shield. Now.¡±


    The rawmand in his voice¡ªthe voice of the High Lord of the Night Court¡ªhad me acting on instinct, my


    exhausted mind building the wall brick by brick. Only when it¡¯d ensconced my mind once more did he speak, his


    eyes softening almost imperceptibly. ¡°Did you think it would end with Amarantha?¡±


    ¡°Tamlin hasn¡¯t said ¡­ ¡± And why would he tell me? But there were so many patrols, so many meetings I wasn¡¯t


    allowed to attend, such ¡­ tension. He had to know. I needed to ask him¡ªdemand why he hadn¡¯t told me¡ª


    ¡°The King of Hybern has been nning his campaign to reim the world south of the wall for over a hundred


    years,¡± Rhys said. ¡°Amarantha was an experiment¡ªa forty-nine-year test, to see how easily and how long a


    territory might fall and be controlled by one of hismanders.¡±


    For an immortal, forty-nine years was nothing. I wouldn¡¯t have been surprised to hear he¡¯d been nning this for


    far longer than a century. ¡°Will he attack Prythian first?¡±


    ¡°Prythian,¡± Rhys said, pointing to the map of our massive ind on the table, ¡°is all that stands between the King


    of Hybern and the continent. He wants to reim the humannds there¡ªperhaps seize the faeriends, too. If


    anyone is to intercept his conquering fleet before it reaches the continent, it would be us.¡±


    I slid into one of the chairs, my knees wobbling so badly I could hardly keep upright.


    ¡°He will seek to remove Prythian from his way swiftly and thoroughly,¡± Rhys continued. ¡°And shatter the wall at


    some point in the process. There are already holes in it, though mercifully small enough to make it difficult to


    swiftly pass his armies through. He¡¯ll want to bring the whole thing down¡ªand likely use the ensuing panic to his


    advantage.¡±


    Each breath was like swallowing ss. ¡°When¡ªwhen is he going to attack?¡± The wall had held steady for five


    centuries, and even then, those damned holes had allowed the foulest, hungriest Fae beasts to sneak through


    and prey on humans. Without that wall, if Hybern was indeed tounch an assult on the human world ¡­ I wished I


    hadn¡¯t eaten such arge breakfast.


    ¡°That is the question,¡± he said. ¡°And why I brought you here.¡±


    I lifted my head to meet his stare. His face was drawn, but calm.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know when or where he ns to attack Prythian,¡± Rhys went on. ¡°I don¡¯t know who his allies here might


    be.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯d have allies here?¡±


    A slow nod. ¡°Cowards who would bow and join him, rather than fight his armies again.¡±


    I could have sworn a whisper of darkness spread along the floor behind him. ¡°Did ¡­ did you fight in the War?¡±


    For a moment, I thought he wouldn¡¯t answer. But then Rhys nodded. ¡°I was young¡ªby our standards, at least. But


    my father had sent aid to the mortal-faerie alliance on the continent, and I convinced him to let me take a legion of


    our soldiers.¡± He sat in the chair beside mine, gazing vacantly at the map. ¡°I was stationed in the south, right


    where the fighting was thickest. The ughter was ¡­ ¡± He chewed on the inside of his cheek. ¡°I have no interest


    in ever seeing full-scale ughter like that again.¡±


    He blinked, as if clearing the horrors from his mind. ¡°But I don¡¯t think the King of Hybern will strike that way¡ªnot at


    first. He¡¯s too smart to waste his forces here, to give the continent time to rally while we fight him. If he makes his


    move to destroy Prythian and the wall, it¡¯ll be through stealth and trickery. To weaken us. Amarantha was the first


    part of that n. We now have several untested High Lords, broken courts with High Priestesses angling for


    control like wolves around a carcass, and a people who have realized how powerless they might truly be.¡±


    ¡°Why are you telling me this?¡± I said, my voice thin, scratchy. It made no sense¡ªnone¡ªthat he would reveal his


    suspicions, his fears.


    And Ianthe¡ªshe might be ambitious, but she was Tamlin¡¯s friend. My friend, of sorts. Perhaps the only ally we¡¯d


    have against the other High Priestesses, Rhys¡¯s personal dislike for her or no ¡­


    ¡°I am telling you for two reasons,¡± he said, his face so cold, so calm, that it unnerved me as much as the news he


    was delivering. ¡°One, you¡¯re ¡­ close to Tamlin. He has men¡ªbut he also has long-existing ties to Hybern¡ª¡±


    ¡°He¡¯d never help the king¡ª¡±


    Rhys held up a hand. ¡°I want to know if Tamlin is willing to fight with us. If he can use those connections to our


    advantage. As he and I have strained rtions, you have the pleasure of being the go-between.¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t inform me of those things.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s time he did. Perhaps it¡¯s time you insisted.¡± He examined the map, and I followed where his gaze


    ¡°What is your other reason?¡±


    Rhys looked me up and down, assessing, weighing. ¡°You have a skill set that I need. Rumor has it you caught a


    Suriel.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t that hard.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve tried and failed. Twice. But that¡¯s a discussion for another day. I saw you trap the Middengard Wyrm like a


    rabbit.¡± His eyes twinkled. ¡°I need you to help me. To use those skills of yours to track down what I need.¡±


    ¡°What do you need? Whatever was tied to my reading and shielding, I¡¯m guessing?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll learn of thatter.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know why I¡¯d even bothered to ask. ¡°There have to be at least a dozen other hunters more experienced


    and skilled¡ª¡±


    ¡°Maybe there are. But you¡¯re the only one I trust.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°I could betray you whenever I feel like it.¡±


    ¡°You could. But you won¡¯t.¡± I gritted my teeth, and was about to say something vicious when he added, ¡°And then


    there¡¯s the matter of your powers.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any powers.¡± It came out so fast that there was no chance of it sounding like anything but denial.


    Rhys crossed his legs. ¡°Don¡¯t you? The strength, the speed ¡­ If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d say you and Tamlin were


    doing a very good job of pretending you¡¯re normal. That the powers you¡¯re disying aren¡¯t usually the first


    indications among our kind that a High Lord¡¯s son might be his Heir.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a High Lord.¡±


    ¡°No, but you were given life by all seven of us. Your very essence is tied to us, born of us. What if we gave you


    more than we expected?¡± Again, that gaze raked over me. ¡°What if you could stand against us¡ªhold your own, a


    High Lady?¡±


    ¡°There are no High Ladies.¡±


    His brows furrowed, but he shook his head. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about thatter, too. But yes, Feyre¡ªthere can be High


    Ladies. And perhaps you aren¡¯t one of them, but ¡­ what if you were something simr? What if you were able to


    wield the power of seven High Lords at once? What if you could blend into darkness, or shape-shift, or freeze over


    an entire room¡ªan entire army?¡±


    The winter wind on the nearby peaks seemed to howl in answer. That thing I¡¯d felt under my skin ¡­


    ¡°Do you understand what that might mean in an oing war? Do you understand how it might destroy you if


    you don¡¯t learn to control it?¡±


    ¡°One, stop asking so many rhetorical questions. Two, we don¡¯t know if I do have these powers¡ª¡±


    ¡°You do. But you need to start mastering them. To learn what you inherited from us.¡±


    ¡°And I suppose you¡¯re the one to teach me, too? Reading and shielding aren¡¯t enough?¡±


    ¡°While you hunt with me for what I need, yes.¡±


    I began shaking my head. ¡°Tamlin won¡¯t allow it.¡±


    ¡°Tamlin isn¡¯t your keeper, and you know it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m his subject, and he is my High Lord¡ª¡±


    ¡°You are no one¡¯s subject.¡±


    I went rigid at the sh of teeth, the smoke-like wings that red out.


    ¡°I will say this once¡ªand


    only once,¡± Rhysand purred, stalking to the map on the wall. ¡°You can be a pawn, be someone¡¯s reward, and


    spend the rest of your immortal life bowing and scraping and pretending you¡¯re less than him, than Ianthe, than


    any of us. If you want to pick that road, then fine. A shame, but it¡¯s your choice.¡± The shadow of wings rippled


    again. ¡°But I know you¡ªmore than you realize, I think¡ªand I don¡¯t believe for one damn minute that you¡¯re


    remotely fine with being a pretty trophy for someone who sat on his ass for nearly fifty years, then sat on his ass


    while you were shredded apart¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stop it¡ª¡±


    ¡°Or,¡± he plowed ahead, ¡°you¡¯ve got another choice. You can master whatever powers we gave to you, and make it


    count. You can y a role in this war. Because war ising one way or another, and do not try to delude


    yourself that any of the Fae will give a shit about your family across the wall when our whole territory is likely to


    be a charnel house.¡±


    I stared at the map¡ªat Prythian, and that sliver ofnd at its southern base.


    ¡°You want to save the mortal realm?¡± he asked. ¡°Then be someone Prythian listens to. Be vital.


    Be a weapon. Because there might be a day, Feyre, when only you stand between the King of Hybern and


    your human family. And you do not want to be unprepared.¡±


    I lifted my gaze to him, my breath tight, aching.


    As if he hadn¡¯t just knocked the world from beneath my feet, Rhysand said, ¡°Think it over. Take the week. Ask


    Tamlin, if it¡¯ll make you sleep better. See what charming Ianthe says about it. But it¡¯s your choice to make¡ªno one


    else¡¯s.¡±


    I didn¡¯t see Rhysand for the rest of the week. Or Mor.


    The only people I encountered were Nu and Cerridwen, who delivered my meals, made my bed, and


    asionally asked how I was faring.


    The only evidence I had at all that Rhys remained on the premises were the nk copies of the alphabet, along


    with several sentences I was to write every day, swapping out words, each one more obnoxious than thest:


    Rhysand is the most handsome High Lord.


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    Chapter 14


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    Rhysand is the most delightful High Lord.


    Rhysand is the most cunning High Lord.


    Every day, one miserable sentence¡ªwith one changing word of varying arrogance and vanity. And every day,


    another simple set of instructions: shield up, shield down; shield up, shield down. Over and over and over.


    How he knew if I obeyed or not, I didn¡¯t care¡ªbut I threw myself into my lessons, I raised and lowered and


    thickened those mental shields. If only because it was all I had to do.


    My nightmares left me groggy, sweaty¡ªbut the room was so open, the starlight so bright that when I¡¯d jerk awake,


    I didn¡¯t rush to the toilet. No walls pushing in around me, no inky darkness. I knew where I was. Even if I resented


    being there.


    The day before our week finally finished, I was trudging to my usual little table, already grimacing at what


    delightful sentences I¡¯d find waiting and all the mental acrobatics ahead, when Rhys¡¯s and Mor¡¯s voices floated


    toward me.


    It was a public space, so I didn¡¯t bother masking my footsteps as I neared where they spoke in one of the sitting


    areas, Rhys pacing before the open plunge off the mountain, Mor lounging in a cream-colored armchair.


    ¡°Azriel would want to know that,¡± Mor was saying.


    ¡°Azriel can go to hell,¡± Rhys sniped back. ¡°He likely already knows, anyway.¡±


    ¡°We yed games thest time,¡± Mor said with a seriousness that made me pause a healthy distance away, ¡°and


    we lost. Badly. We¡¯re not going to do that again.¡±


    ¡°You should be working,¡± was Rhysand¡¯s only response. ¡°I gave you control for a reason, you know.¡±


    Mor¡¯s jaw tightened, and she atst faced me. She gave me a smile that was more of a cringe.


    Rhys turned, frowning at me. ¡°Say what it is you came here to say, Mor,¡± he said tightly, resuming his pacing.


    Mor rolled her eyes for my benefit, but her face turned solemn as she said, ¡°There was another attack¡ªat a


    temple in Cesere. Almost every priestess in, the trove looted.¡±


    Rhys halted. And I didn¡¯t know what to process: her news, or the utter rage conveyed in one word as Rhys said,


    ¡°Who.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t know,¡± Mor said. ¡°Same tracks asst time: small group, bodies that showed signs of wounds fromrge


    des, and no trace of where they came from and how they disappeared. No survivors. The bodies weren¡¯t even


    found until a dayter, when a group of pilgrims came by.¡±


    By the Cauldron. I must have made some tiny noise, because Mor gave me a strained, but sympathetic look.


    Rhys, though ¡­ First the shadows started¡ªplumes of them from his back.


    And then, as if his rage had loosened his grip on that beast he¡¯d once told me he hated to yield to, those wings


    became flesh.


    Great, beautiful, brutal wings, membranous and wed like a bat¡¯s, dark as night and strong as hell. Even the way


    he stood seemed altered¡ªsteadier, grounded. Like some final piece of him had clicked into ce. But Rhysand¡¯s


    voice was still midnight-soft and he said, ¡°What did Azriel have to say about it?¡±


    Again, that nce from Mor, as if unsure I should be present for whatever this conversation was. ¡°He¡¯s pissed.


    Cassian even more so¡ªhe¡¯s convinced it must be one of the rogue Illyrian war-bands, intent on winning new


    territory.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s something to consider,¡± Rhys mused. ¡°Some of the Illyrian ns gleefully bowed to Amarantha during those


    years. Trying to expand their borders could be their way of seeing how far they can push me and get away with it.¡±


    I hated the sound of her name, focused on it more than the information he was allowing me to glean.


    ¡°Cassian and Az are waiting¡ª¡± She cut herself off and gave me an apologetic wince. ¡°They¡¯re waiting in the usual


    spot for your orders.¡±


    Fine¡ªthat was fine. I¡¯d seen that nk map on the wall. I was an enemy¡¯s bride. Even mentioning where his


    forces were stationed, what they were up to, might be dangerous. I had no idea where Cesere even was¡ªwhat it


    was, actually.


    Rhys studied the open air again, the howling wind that shoved dark, roiling clouds over the distant peaks. Good


    weather, I realized, for flying.


    ¡°Winnowing in would be easier,¡± Mor said, following the High Lord¡¯s gaze.


    ¡°Tell the pricks I¡¯ll be there in a few hours,¡± he merely said.


    Mor gave me a wary grin, and vanished.


    I studied the empty space where she¡¯d been, not a trace of her left behind.


    ¡°How does that ¡­ vanishing work?¡± I said softly. I¡¯d seen only a few High Fae do it¡ªand no one had ever


    exined.


    Rhys didn¡¯t look at me, but he said, ¡°Winnowing? Think of it as ¡­ two different points on a piece of cloth. One


    point is your current ce in the world. The other one across the cloth is where you want to go. Winnowing ¡­ it¡¯s


    like folding that cloth so the two spots align. The magic does the folding¡ªand all we do is take a step to get from


    one ce to another. Sometimes it¡¯s a long step, and you can feel the dark fabric of the world as you pass through


    it. A shorter step, let¡¯s say from one end of the room to the other, would barely register. It¡¯s a rare gift, and a


    helpful one. Though only the stronger Fae can do it. The more powerful you are, the farther you can jump


    between ces in one go.¡±


    I knew the exnation was as much for my benefit as it was to distract himself. But I found myself saying, ¡°I¡¯m


    sorry about the temple¡ªand the priestesses.¡±


    The wrath still glimmered in those eyes as he atst turned to me. ¡°Plenty more people are going to die soon


    enough, anyway.¡±


    Maybe that was why he¡¯d allowed me to get close, to overhear this conversation. To remind me of what might very


    well happen with Hybern.


    ¡°What are ¡­ ,¡± I tried. ¡°What are Illyrian war-bands?¡±


    ¡°Arrogant bastards, that¡¯s what,¡± he muttered.


    I crossed my arms, waiting.


    Rhys stretched his wings, the sunlight setting the leathery texture glowing with subtle color. ¡°They¡¯re a warrior-


    race within mynds. And general pains in my ass.¡±


    ¡°Some of them supported Amarantha?¡±


    Darkness danced in the hall as that distant storm grew close enough to smother the sun. ¡°Some. But me and mine


    have enjoyed ourselves hunting them down these past few months. And ending them.¡±


    Slowly was the word he didn¡¯t need to add.


    ¡°That¡¯s why you stayed away¡ªyou were busy with that?¡±


    ¡°I was busy with many things.¡±


    Not an answer. But it seemed he was done talking to me, and whoever Cassian and Azriel were, meeting with


    them was far more important.


    So Rhys didn¡¯t as much as say good-bye before he simply walked off the edge of the veranda¡ªinto thin air.


    My heart stopped dead, but before I could cry out, he swept past, swift as the wicked wind between the peaks. A


    few booming wing beats had him vanishing into the storm clouds.


    ¡°Good-bye to you, too,¡± I grumbled, giving him a vulgar gesture, and started my work for the day, with only the


    storm raging beyond the house¡¯s shield forpany.


    Even as snowshed the protective magic of the hall, even as I toiled over the sentences¡ªRhysand is interesting;


    Rhysand is gorgeous; Rhysand is wless¡ªand raised and lowered my mental shield until my mind was limping, I


    thought of what I¡¯d heard, what they¡¯d said.


    I wondered what Ianthe would know about the murders, if she knew any of the victims. Knew what Cesere was. If


    temples were being targeted, she should know. Tamlin should know.


    That final night, I could barely sleep¡ªhalf from relief, half from terror that perhaps Rhysand really did have some


    final, nasty surprise in store. But the night and the storm passed, and when dawn broke, I was dressed before the


    sun had fully risen.


    I¡¯d taken to eating in my rooms, but I swept up the stairs, heading across that massive open area, to the table at


    the far veranda.


    Sprawled in his usual chair, Rhys was in the same clothes as yesterday, the cor of his ck jacket unbuttoned,


    the shirt as rumpled as his hair. No wings, fortunately. I wond


    ered if he¡¯d just returned from wherever he¡¯d met Mor and the others. Wondered what he¡¯d learned.


    ¡°It¡¯s been a week,¡± I said by way of greeting. ¡°Take me home.¡±


    Rhys took a long sip of whatever was in his cup. It didn¡¯t look like tea. ¡°Good morning, Feyre.¡±


    ¡°Take me home.¡±


    He studied my teal and gold clothes, a variation of my daily attire. If I had to admit, I didn¡¯t mind them. ¡°That color


    suits you.¡±


    ¡°Do you want me to say please? Is that it?¡±


    ¡°I want you to talk to me like a person. Start with ¡®good morning¡¯ and let¡¯s see where it gets us.¡±


    ¡°Good morning.¡±


    A faint smile. Bastard. ¡°Are you ready to face the consequences of your departure?¡±


    I straightened. I hadn¡¯t thought about the wedding. All week, yes, but today ¡­ today I¡¯d only thought of Tamlin, of


    wanting to see him, hold him, ask him about everything Rhys had imed. During the past several days, I hadn¡¯t


    shown any signs of the power Rhysand believed I had, hadn¡¯t felt anything stirring beneath my skin¡ªand thank


    the Cauldron.


    ¡°It¡¯s none of your business.¡±


    ¡°Right. You¡¯ll probably ignore it, anyway. Sweep it under the rug, like everything else.¡±


    ¡°No one asked for your opinion, Rhysand.¡±


    ¡°Rhysand?¡± He chuckled, low and soft. ¡°I give you a week of luxury and you call me Rhysand?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask to be here, or be given that week.¡±


    ¡°And yet look at you. Your face has some color¡ªand those marks under your eyes are almost gone. Your mental


    shield is ster, by the way.¡±


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 Chapter 15

    Chapter 15


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    ¡°Please take me home.¡±


    He shrugged and rose. ¡°I¡¯ll tell Mor you said good-bye.¡±


    ¡°I barely saw her all week.¡± Just that first meeting¡ªthen that conversation yesterday. When we


    hadn¡¯t exchanged two words.


    ¡°She was waiting for an invitation¡ªshe didn¡¯t want to pester you. I wish she extended me the same


    courtesy.¡±


    ¡°No one told me.¡± I didn¡¯t particrly care. No doubt she had better things to do, anyway.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t ask. And why bother? Better to be miserable and alone.¡± He approached, each step


    smooth, graceful. His hair was definitely ruffled, as if he¡¯d been dragging his hands through it. Or


    just flying for hours to whatever secret spot. ¡°Have you thought about my offer?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you know next month.¡±


    He stopped a hand¡¯s breadth 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?¡±


    He just extended his hand. ¡°Shall we go?¡±


    I nearly lunged for it. His fingers were cool, sturdy¡ªcallused from weapons I¡¯d never seen on him.


    Darkness gobbled us up, and it was instinct to grab him as the world vanished from beneath my


    feet. Winnowing indeed. Wind tore at me, and his arm was a warm, heavy weight across my back


    while we tumbled through realms, Rhys snickering at my terror.


    But then solid ground¡ªgstones¡ªwere under me, then blinding sunshine above, greenery, little


    birds chirping¡ª


    I shoved away from him, blinking at the brightness, at the massive oak hunched over us. An oak at


    the edge of the formal gardens¡ªof home.


    I made to bolt for the manor house, but Rhys gripped my wrist. His eyes shed between me and


    the manor. ¡°Good luck,¡± he crooned.


    ¡°Get your hand off me.¡±


    He chuckled, letting go.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you next month,¡± he said, and before I could spit on him, he vanished.


    I found Tamlin in his study, Lucien and two other sentries standing around the map-covered


    worktable.


    Lucien was the first to turn to where I lurked in the doorway, falling silent mid-sentence. But then


    Tamlin¡¯s head snapped up, and he was racing across the room, so fast that I hardly had time to


    draw breath before he was crushing me against him.


    I murmured his name as my throat burned, and then¡ª


    Then he was holding me at arm¡¯s length, scanning me from head to toe. ¡°Are you all right? Are you


    hurt?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I said, noticing the exact moment when he realized the Night Court clothes I was wearing,


    the strip of bare skin exposed at my midriff. ¡°No one touched me.¡±


    But he kept scouring my face, my neck. And then he rotated me, examining my back, as if he could


    discern through the clothes. I tore out of his grip. ¡°I said no one touched me.¡±


    He was breathing hard, his eyes wild. ¡°You¡¯re all right,¡± he said. And then said it again. And again.


    My heart cracked, and I reached to cup his cheek. ¡°Tamlin,¡± I murmured. Lucien and the other


    sentries, wisely, made their exit. My friend caught my gaze as he left, giving me a relieved smile.


    Original from N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°He can harm you in other ways,¡± Tamlin croaked, closing his eyes against my touch.


    ¡°I know¡ªbut I¡¯m all right. I truly am,¡± I said as gently as I could. And then noticed the study walls¡ª


    the w marks raked down them. All over them. And the table they¡¯d been using ¡­ that was new.


    ¡°You trashed the study.¡±


    ¡°I trashed half the house,¡± he said, leaning forward to press his brow to mine. ¡°He took you away, he


    stole you¡ª¡±


    ¡°And left me alone.¡±


    Tamlin pulled back, growling. ¡°Probably to get you to drop your guard. You have no idea what


    games he ys, what he¡¯s capable of doing¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I said, even as it tasted like ash on my tongue. ¡°And the next time, I¡¯ll be careful¡ª¡±


    ¡°There won¡¯t be a next time.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°You found a way out?¡± Or perhaps Ianthe had.


    ¡°I¡¯m not letting you go.¡±


    ¡°He said there were consequences for breaking a magical bargain.¡±


    ¡°Damn the consequences.¡± But I heard it for the empty threat it was¡ªand how much it destroyed


    him. That was who he was, what he was: protector, defender. I couldn¡¯t ask him to stop being that


    way¡ªto stop worrying about me.


    I rose onto my toes and kissed him. There was so much I wanted to ask him, butter. ¡°Let¡¯s go


    upstairs,¡± I said onto his lips, and he slid his arms around me.


    ¡°I missed you,¡± he said between kisses. ¡°I went out of my mind.¡±


    That was all I needed to hear. Until¡ª


    ¡°I need to ask you some questions.¡±


    I let out a low sound of affirmation, but angled my head further. ¡°Later.¡± His body was so warm, so


    hard against mine, his scent so familiar¡ª


    Tamlin gripped my waist, pressing his brow to my own. ¡°No¡ªnow,¡± he said, but groaned softly as I


    slid my tongue against his teeth. ¡°While ¡­ ¡± He pulled back, ripping his mouth from mine. ¡°While it¡¯s


    all fresh in your mind.¡±


    I froze, one hand tangled in his hair, the other gripping the back of his tunic. ¡°What?¡±


    Tamlin stepped back, shaking his head as if to clear the desire addling his senses. We hadn¡¯t been


    apart for so long since Amarantha, and he wanted to press me for information about the Night


    Court? ¡°Tamlin.¡±


    But he held up a hand, his eyes locked on mine as he called for Lucien.


    In the moments that it took for his emissary to appear, I straightened my clothes¡ªthe top that had


    ridden up my torso¡ªand fingerbed my hair. Tamlin just strode to his desk and plopped down,


    motioning for me to take a seat in front of it. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said quietly, as Lucien¡¯s strolling


    footsteps neared again. ¡°This is for our own good. Our safety.¡±


    I took in the shredded walls, the scuffed and chipped furniture. What nightmares had he suffered,


    waking and asleep, while I was away? What had it been like, to imagine me in his enemy¡¯s hands,


    after seeing what Amarantha had done to me?


    ¡°I know,¡± I murmured atst. ¡°I


    know, Tamlin.¡± Or I was trying to know.


    I¡¯d just slid into the low-backed chair when Lucien strode in, shutting the door behind him. ¡°d to


    see you in one piece, Feyre,¡± he said, iming the seat beside me. ¡°I could do without the Night


    Court attire, though.¡±


    Tamlin gave a low growl of agreement. I said nothing. Yet I understood¡ªI really did¡ªwhy it¡¯d be an


    affront to them.


    Tamlin and Lucien exchanged nces, speaking without uttering a word in that way only people


    who had been partners for centuries could do. Lucien gave a slight nod and leaned back in his chair


    ¡ªto listen, to observe.


    ¡°We need you to tell us everything,¡± Tamlin said. ¡°Theyout of the Night Court, who you saw, what


    weapons and powers they bore, what Rhys did, who he spoke to, any and every detail you can


    recall.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t realize I was a spy.¡±


    Lucien shifted in his seat, but Tamlin said, ¡°As much as I hate your bargain, you¡¯ve been granted


    ess into the Night Court. Outsiders rarely get to go in¡ªand if they do, they rarelye out in


    one piece. And if they can function, their memories are usually ¡­ scrambled. Whatever Rhysand is


    hiding in there, he doesn¡¯t want us knowing about it.¡±


    A chill slithered down my spine. ¡°Why do you want to know? What are you going to do?¡±


    ¡°Knowing my enemy¡¯s ns, his lifestyle, is vital. As for what we¡¯re going to do ¡­ That¡¯s neither


    here nor there.¡± His green eyes pinned me. ¡°Start with theyout of the court. Is it true it¡¯s under a


    mountain?¡±


    ¡°This feels an awful lot like an interrogation.¡±


    Lucien sucked in a breath, but remained silent.


    Tamlin spread his hands on the desk. ¡°We need to know these things, Feyre. Or¡ªor can you not


    remember?¡± ws glinted at his knuckles.


    ¡°I can remember everything,¡± I said. ¡°He didn¡¯t damage my mind.¡± And before he could question me


    further, I began to speak of all that I had seen.


    Because I trust you, Rhysand had said. And maybe¡ªmaybe he had scrambled my mind, even with


    the lessons in shielding, because describing theyout of his home, his court, the mountains around


    them, felt like bathing in oil and mud. He was my enemy, he was holding me to a bargain I¡¯d made


    from pure desperation¡ª


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    I kept talking, describing that tower room. Tamlin grilled me on the figures on the maps, making me


    turn over every word Rhysand had uttered, until I mentioned what had weighed on me the most this


    past week: the powers Rhys believed I now possessed ¡­ and Hybern¡¯s ns. I told him about that


    conversation with Mor¡ªabout that temple being sacked (Cesere, Tamlin exined, was a northern


    outpost in the Night Court, and one of the few known towns), and Rhysand mentioning two people


    named Cassian and Azriel. Both of their faces had tightened at that, but they didn¡¯t mention if they


    knew them, or of them. So I told him about whatever the Illyrians were¡ªand how Rhys had hunted


    down and killed the traitors amongst them. When I finished, Tamlin was silent, Lucien practically


    buzzing with whatever repressed words he was dying to spew.


    ¡°Do you think I might have those abilities?¡± I said, willing myself to hold his gaze.


    ¡°It¡¯s possible,¡± Tamlin said with equal quiet. ¡°And if it¡¯s true ¡­ ¡±


    Lucien said atst, ¡°It¡¯s a power other High Lords might kill for.¡± It was an effort not to fidget while


    his metal eye whirred, as if detecting whatever power ran through my blood. ¡°My father, for one,


    would not be pleased to learn a drop of his power is missing¡ªor that Tamlin¡¯s bride now has it. He¡¯d


    do anything to make sure you don¡¯t possess it¡ªincluding kill you. There are other High Lords who


    would agree.¡±


    That thing beneath my skin began roiling. ¡°I¡¯d never use it against anyone¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not about using it against them; it¡¯s about having an edge when you shouldn¡¯t,¡± Tamlin said.


    ¡°And the moment word gets out about it, you will have a target on your back.¡±


    ¡°Did you know?¡± I demanded. Lucien wouldn¡¯t meet my eyes. ¡°Did you suspect?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d hoped it wasn¡¯t true,¡± Tamlin said carefully. ¡°And now that Rhys suspects, there¡¯s no telling what


    he¡¯ll do with the information¡ª¡±


    ¡°He wants me to train.¡± I wasn¡¯t stupid enough to mention the mental shield training¡ªnot right now.


    ¡°Training would draw too much attention,¡± Tamlin said. ¡°You don¡¯t need to train. I can guard you


    from whateveres our way.¡±


    For there had been a time when he could not. When he had been vulnerable, and when he had


    watched me be tortured to death. And could do nothing to stop Amarantha from¡ª


    I would not allow another Amarantha. I would not allow the King of Hybern to bring his beasts and


    minions here to hurt more people. To hurt me and mine. And bring down that wall to hurt countless


    others across it. ¡°I could use my powers against Hybern.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s out of the question,¡± Tamlin said, ¡°especially as there will be no war against Hybern.¡±


    ¡°Rhys says war is inevitable, and we¡¯ll be hit hard.¡±


    Lucien said drily, ¡°And Rhys knows everything?¡±


    ¡°No¡ªbut ¡­ He was concerned. He thinks I can make a difference in any uing conflict.¡±


    Tamlin flexed his fingers¡ªkeeping those ws contained. ¡°You have no training in battle or


    weaponry. And even if I started training you today, it¡¯d be years before you could hold your own on


    an immortal battlefield.¡± He took a tight breath. ¡°So despite what he thinks you might be able to do,


    Feyre, I¡¯m not going to have you anywhere near a battlefield. Especially if it means revealing


    whatever powers you have to our enemies. You¡¯d be fighting Hybern at your front, and have foes


    with friendly faces at your back.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care¡ª¡±


    ¡°I care,¡± Tamlin snarled. Lucien whooshed out a breath. ¡°I care if you die, if you¡¯re hurt, if you will be


    in danger every moment for the rest of our lives. So there will be no training, and we¡¯re going to


    keep this between us.¡±


    ¡°But Hybern¡ª¡±


    Lucien intervened calmly, ¡°I already have my sources looking into it.¡±


    I gave him a beseeching look.


    Lucien sighed a bit and said to Tamlin, ¡°If we perhaps trained her in secret¡ª¡±


    ¡°Too many risks, too many variables,¡± Tamlin countered. ¡°And there will be no conflict with Hybern,


    no war.¡±


    I snapped, ¡°That¡¯s wishful thinking.¡±


    Lucien muttered something that sounded like a plea to the Cauldron.


    Tamlin stiffened. ¡°Describe his map room for me again,¡± was his only response.


    End of discussion. No room for debate.


    We stared each other down for a moment, and my stomach twisted further.


    He was the High Lord¡ªmy High Lord. He was the shield and defender of his people. Of me. And if


    keeping me safe meant that his people could continue to hope, to build a new life, that he could do


    the same ¡­ I could bow to him on this one thing.


    I could do it.


    You are no one¡¯s subject.


    Maybe Rhysand had altered my mind, shields or no.


    The thought alone was enough for me to begin feeding Tamlin details once more.


    CHAPTER


    8


    A weekter, the Tithe arrived.


    I¡¯d had all of one day with Tamlin¡ªone day spent wandering the grounds, making love in the high


    grasses of a sunny field, and a quiet, private dinner¡ªbefore he was called to the border. He didn¡¯t


    tell me why or where. Only that I was to keep to the grounds, and that I¡¯d have sentries guarding me


    at all times.


    So I spent the week alone, waking in the middle of the night to hurl up my guts, to sob through the


    nightmares. Ianthe, if she¡¯d learned of her sisters¡¯ massacre in the north, said nothing about it the


    few times I saw her. And given how little I liked to be pushed into talking about the things that


    gued me, I opted not to bring it up during the hours she spent visiting, helping select my clothes,


    my hair, my jewelry, for the Tithe.


    When I¡¯d asked her to exin what to anticipate, she merely said that Tamlin would take care of


    everything. I should watch from his side, and observe.


    Easy enough¡ªand perhaps a relief, to not be expected to speak or act.


    But it had been an effort not to look at the eye tattooed into my palm¡ªto remember what Rhys had


    snarled at me.


    Tamlin had only returned the night before to oversee today¡¯s Tithe. I tried not to take it personally,


    not when he had so much on his shoulders. Even if he wouldn¡¯t tell me much about it beyond what


    Ianthe had mentioned.


    Seated beside Tamlin atop a dais in the manor¡¯s great hall of marble and gold, I endured the


    endless stream of eyes, of tears, of gratitude and blessings for what I¡¯d done.


    In her usual pale blue hooded robe, Ianthe was stationed near the doors, offering benedictions to


    those that departed,forting words to those who fell apart entirely in my presence, promises that


    the world was better now, that good had won out over evil.


    After twenty minutes, I was near fidgeting. After four hours, I stopped hearing entirely.


    They kepting, the emissaries representing every town and people in the Spring Court, bearing


    their payments in the form of gold or jewels or chickens or crops or clothes. It didn¡¯t matter what it


    was, so long as it equated to what they owed. Lucien stood at the foot of the dais, tallying every


    Original from N?velDrama.Org.


    amount, armed to the teeth like the ten other sentries stationed through the hall. The receiving


    room, Lucien had called it, but it felt a hell of a lot like a throne room to me. I wondered if he¡¯d called


    it that because the other words ¡­


    I¡¯d spent too much time in another throne room. So had Tamlin.


    And I hadn¡¯t been seated on a dais like him, but kneeling before it. Approaching it like the slender,


    gray-skinned faerie slinking from the front of the endless line full of lesser and High Fae.


    She wore no clothes. Her long, dark hair hung limp over her high, firm breasts¡ªand her massive


    eyes were wholly ck. Like a stagnant pond. And as she moved, the afternoon light shimmered on


    her iridescent skin.


    Lucien¡¯s face tightened with disapproval, but he made noment as the lesser faerie lowered her


    delicate, pointed face, and sped her spindly, webbed fingers over her breasts.


    ¡°On behalf of the water-wraiths, I greet thee, High Lord,¡± she said, her voice strange and his


    sing, her full, sensuous lips revealing teeth as sharp and jagged as a pike¡¯s. The sharp angles of


    her face entuated those coal-ck eyes.


    I¡¯d seen her kind before. In the pond just past the edge of the manor. There were five of them who


    lived amongst the reeds and lilypads. I¡¯d rarely glimpsed more than their shining heads peeking


    through the ssy surface¡ªhad never known how horrific they were up close. Thank the Cauldron


    I¡¯d never gone swimming in that pond. I had a feeling she¡¯d grab me with those webbed fingers¡ª


    those jagged nails digging in deep¡ªand drag me beneath the surface before I could scream.


    ¡°Wee,¡± Tamlin said. Five hours in, and he looked as fresh as he¡¯d been that morning.


    I supposed that with his powers returned, few things tired him now.


    The water-wraith stepped closer, her webbed, wed foot a mottled gray. Lucien took a casual step


    between us.


    That was why he¡¯d been stationed on my side of the dais.


    I gritted my teeth. Who did they think would attack us in our own home, on our ownnd, if they


    weren¡¯t convinced Hybern might beunching an assault? Even Ianthe had paused her quiet


    murmurings in the back of the hall to monitor the encounter.


    Apparently, this conversation was not the same as all the others.


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    ¡°Please, High Lord,¡± the faerie was saying, bowing so low that her inky hair grazed the marble. ¡°There are no fish


    left in theke.¡±


    Tamlin¡¯s face was like granite. ¡°Regardless, you are expected to pay.¡± The crown atop his head gleamed in the


    afternoon light. Crafted with emeralds, sapphires, and amethyst, the gold had been molded into a wreath of


    spring¡¯s first flowers. One of five crowns belonging to his bloodline.


    The faerie exposed her palms, but Tamlin interrupted her. ¡°There are no exceptions. You have three days to


    present what is owed¡ªor offer double next Tithe.¡±


    It was an effort to keep from gaping at the immovable face, and the pitiless words. In the back, Ianthe gave a nod


    of confirmation to no one in particr.


    The water-wraith had nothing to eat¡ªhow could he expect her to give him food?


    ¡°Please,¡± she whispered through her pointed teeth, her silvery, mottled skin glistening as she began trembling.


    ¡°There is nothing left in theke.¡±


    Tamlin¡¯s face didn¡¯t change. ¡°You have three days¡ª¡±


    ¡°But we have no gold!¡±


    ¡°Do not interrupt me,¡± he said. I looked away, unable to stomach that merciless face.


    She ducked her head even lower. ¡°Apologies, my lord.¡±


    ¡°You have three days to pay, or bring double next month,¡± he repeated. ¡°If you fail to do so, you know the


    consequences.¡± Tamlin waved a hand in dismissal. Conversation over.


    After a final, hopeless look at Tamlin, she walked from the chamber. As the next faerie¡ªa goat-legged fawn


    bearing what looked to be a basket of mushrooms¡ªpatiently waited to be invited to approach the dais, I twisted to


    Tamlin.


    ¡°We don¡¯t need a basket of fish,¡± I murmured. ¡°Why make her suffer like that?¡±


    He flicked his eyes to where Ianthe had stepped aside to let the creature pass, a hand on the jewels of her belt.


    As if the female would snatch them right off her to use as payment. Tamlin frowned. ¡°I cannot make exceptions.


    Once you do, everyone will demand the same treatment.¡±


    I clutched the arms of my chair, a small seat of oak beside his giant throne of carved roses. ¡°But we don¡¯t need


    these things. Why do we need a golden fleece, or a jar of jam? If she has no fish left, three days won¡¯t make a


    difference. Why make her starve? Why not help her replenish the pond?¡± I¡¯d spent enough years with an aching


    belly to not be able to drop it, to want to scream at the unfairness of it.


    His emerald eyes softened as if he read each thought on my face, but he said: ¡°Because that¡¯s the way it is. That¡¯s


    the way my father did it, and his father, and the way my son shall do it.¡± He offered a smile, and reached for my


    hand. ¡°Someday.¡±


    Someday. If we ever got married. If I ever became less of a burden, and we both escaped the shadows haunting


    us. We hadn¡¯t broached the subject at all. Ianthe, mercifully, had not said anything, either. ¡°We could still help her


    ¡ªfind some way to keep that pond stocked.¡±


    ¡°We have enough to deal with as it is. Giving handouts won¡¯t help her in the long run.¡±


    I opened my mouth, but shut it. Now wasn¡¯t the time for debate.


    So I pulled my hand from his as he motioned the goat-legged fawn to approach atst. ¡°I need some fresh air,¡± I


    said, and slid from my chair. I didn¡¯t give Tamlin a chance to object before I stalked off the dais. I tried not to notice


    the three sentries Tamlin sent after me, or the line of emissaries who gaped and whispered as I crossed the hall.


    Ianthe tried to catch me as I stormed by, but I ignored her.


    I cleared the front doors and walked as fast as I dared past the gathered line snaking down the steps and onto the


    gravel of the main drive. Through thetticework of various bodies, High Fae and lesser faeries alike, I spotted the


    retreating form of the wraith heading around the corner of our house¡ªtoward the pond beyond the grounds. She


    trudged along, wiping at her eyes.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± I called, catching up to her, the sentries on my trail keeping a respectful distance behind.


    She paused at the edge of the house, whirling with preternatural smoothness. I avoided the urge to take a step


    back as those unearthly features devoured me. Keeping only a few paces away, the guards monitored us with


    hands on their des.


    Her nose was little more than two slits, and delicate gills red beneath her ears.


    She inclined her head slightly. Not a full bow¡ªbecause I was no one, but recognition that I was the High Lord¡¯s


    ything.


    ¡°Yes?¡± she hissed, her pike¡¯s teeth gleaming.


    ¡°How much is your Tithe?¡±


    My heart beat faster as I beheld the webbed fingers and razor-sharp teeth. Tamlin had once told me that the


    water-wraiths ate anything. And if there were no fish left ¡­ ¡°How much gold does he want¡ªwhat is your fish


    worth in gold?¡±


    ¡°Far more than you have in your pocket.¡±


    ¡°Then here,¡± I said, unfastening a ruby-studded gold bracelet from my wrist, one Ianthe had told me better suited


    my coloring than the silver I¡¯d almost worn. I offered it to her. ¡°Take this.¡± Before she could grasp it, I ripped the


    gold ne from my throat, and the diamond teardrops from my ears. ¡°And these.¡± I extended my hands,


    glittering with gold and jewels. ¡°Give him what you owe, then buy yourself some food,¡± I said, swallowing as her


    eyes widened. The nearby vige had a small market every week¡ªa fledgling gathering of vendors for now, and


    one I¡¯d hoped to help thrive. Somehow.


    ¡°And what payment do you require?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. It¡¯s¡ªit¡¯s not a bargain. Just take it.¡± I extended my hands further. ¡°Please.¡±


    She frowned at the jewels draping from my hands. ¡°You desire nothing in return?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡± The faeries in the line were now staring unabashedly. ¡°Please, just take them.¡±


    With a final assessing look, her cold, mmy fingers brushed mine, gathering up the jewelry. It glimmered like


    light on water in her webbed hands.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, and bowed deeply this time. ¡°I will not forget this kindness.¡± Her voice slithered over the


    words, and I shivered again as her ck eyes threatened to swallow me whole. ¡°Nor will any of my sisters.¡±


    She stalked back toward the manor, the faces of my three sentries tight with reproach.


    I sat at the dinner table with Lucien and Tamlin. Neither of them spoke, but Lucien¡¯s gaze kept bouncing from me,


    to Tamlin, then to his te.


    After ten minutes of silence, I set down my fork and said to Tamlin, ¡°What is it?¡±


    Tamlin didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°You know what it is.¡±


    I didn¡¯t reply.


    ¡°You gave that water-wraith your jewelry. Jewelry I gave you.¡±


    ¡°We have a damned house full of gold and jewels.¡±


    Lucien took a deep breath tha


    t sounded a lot like: ¡°Here we go.¡±


    ¡°Why shouldn¡¯t I give them to her?¡± I demanded. ¡°Those things don¡¯t mean anything to me. I¡¯ve never worn the


    same piece of jewelry twice! Who cares about any of it?¡±


    Tamlin¡¯s lips thinned. ¡°Because you undermine thews of this court when you behave like that. Because this is


    how things are done here, and when you hand that gluttonous faerie the money she needs, it makes me¡ªit


    makes this entire court¡ªlook weak.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you talk to me like that,¡± I said, baring my teeth. He mmed his hand on the table, ws poking through


    his flesh, but I leaned forward, bracing my own hands on the wood. ¡°You still have no idea what it was like for me


    ¡ªto be on the verge of starvation for months at a time. And you can call her a glutton all you like, but I have


    sisters, too, and I remember what it felt like to return home without any food.¡± I calmed my heaving chest, and that


    force beneath my skin stirred, undting along my bones. ¡°So maybe she¡¯ll spend all that money on stupid things


    ¡ªmaybe she and her sisters have no self-control. But I¡¯m not going to take that chance and let them starve,


    because of some ridiculous rule that your ancestors invented.¡±


    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 rx.¡±


    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¡ªmy 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¡ª


    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¡ª


    Thoughts mmed 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¡ª


    Then I was back, blinking, no more than a heartbeat passing as I gaped at Lucien.


    This is property ? N?velDrama.Org.


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    His head. I had been inside his head, had slid through his mental walls¡ª


    I stood, chucking my napkin on the table with hands that were unnervingly steady.


    I knew who that gift hade from. My dinner rose in my throat, but I willed it down.


    ¡°We¡¯re not finished with this meal,¡± Tamlin growled.


    ¡°Oh, get over yourself,¡± I barked, and left.


    I could have sworn I beheld two burned handprints on the wood, peeking out from beneath my napkin. I prayed


    neither of them noticed.


    And that Lucien remained ignorant to the vition I¡¯d justmitted.


    CHAPTER


    9


    I paced my room for a good while. Maybe I¡¯d been mistaken when I¡¯d spotted those burns¡ªmaybe they¡¯d been


    there before. Maybe I hadn¡¯t somehow summoned heat and branded the wood. Maybe I hadn¡¯t slid into Lucien¡¯s


    mind as if I were moving from one room to another.


    Just as she always did, Alis appeared to help me change for bed. As I sat before the vanity, letting herb my


    hair, I cringed at my reflection. The purple beneath my eyes seemed permanent now¡ªmy face wan. Even my lips


    were a bit pale, and I sighed as I closed my eyes.


    ¡°You gave your jewels to a water-wraith,¡± Alis mused, and I found her reflection in the mirror. Her brown skin


    looked like crushed leather, and her dark eyes gleamed for a moment before she focused on my hair. ¡°They¡¯re a


    slippery sort.¡±


    ¡°She said they were starving¡ªthat they had no food,¡± I murmured.


    Alis gently coaxed out a tangle. ¡°Not one faerie in that line today would have given her the money. Not one would


    have dared. Too many have gone to a watery grave because of their hunger. Insatiable appetite¡ªit is their curse.


    Your jewels won¡¯tst her a week.¡±


    I tapped a foot on the floor.


    ¡°But,¡± Alis went on, setting down the brush to braid my hair into a single it. Her long, spindly fingers scratched


    against my scalp. ¡°She will never forget it. So long as she lives, no matter what you said, she is in your debt.¡± Alis


    finished the braid and patted my shoulder. ¡°Too many faeries have tasted hunger these past fifty years. Don¡¯t think


    word of this won¡¯t spread.¡±


    I was afraid of that perhaps more than anything.


    It was after midnight when I gave up waiting, walked down the dark, silent corridors, and found him in his study,


    alone for once.


    A wooden box wrapped with a fat pink bow sat on the small table between the twin armchairs. ¡°I was just about to


    should be asleep.¡±


    I shut the door behind me. I knew I wouldn¡¯t be able to sleep¡ªnot with the words we¡¯d shouted ringing in my ears.


    ¡°So should you,¡± I said, my voice as tenuous as the peace between us. ¡°You work too hard.¡± I crossed the room to


    lean against the armchair, eyeing the present as Tamlin had eyed me.


    ¡°Why do you think I had such little interest in being High Lord?¡± he said, rising from his seat to round the desk. He


    kissed my brow, the tip of my nose, my mouth. ¡°So much paperwork,¡± he grumbled onto my lips. I chuckled, but he


    pressed his mouth to the bare spot between my neck and shoulder. ¡°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.


    N?velDrama.Org holds ? this.


    ¡°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 rxed 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¡ªif he made exceptions, then other faeries would demand the same treatment. And


    what I had done could be construed as undermining. ¡°Maybe I was¡ª¡±


    ¡°No. You were right. I don¡¯t understand what it¡¯s like to be starving¡ªor any of it.¡±


    I pulled back a bit to incline my head toward the present waiting there, more than willing to let this be thest of it.


    I gave a small, wry smile. ¡°For you?¡±


    He nipped at my ear in answer. ¡°For you. From me.¡± An apology.


    Feeling lighter than I had in days, I tugged the ribbon loose, and examined the pale wood box beneath. It was


    perhaps two feet high and three feet wide, a solid iron handle anchored in the top¡ªno crest or lettering to indicate


    what might be within. Certainly not a dress, but ¡­


    Please not a crown.


    Though surely, a crown or diadem would be in something less ¡­ rudimentary.


    I utched the small brass lock and flipped open the broad lid.


    It was worse than a crown, actually.


    Built into the box werepartments and sleeves and holders, all full of brushes and paints and charcoal and


    sheets of paper. A traveling painting kit.


    Red¡ªthe red paint inside the ss vial was so bright, the blue as stunning as the eyes of that faerie woman I¡¯d


    ughtered¡ª


    ¡°I thought you might want it to take around the grounds with you. Rather than lug all those bags like you always


    do.¡±


    The brushes were fresh, gleaming¡ªthe bristles soft and clean.


    Looking at that box, at what was inside, felt like examining a crow-picked corpse.


    I tried to smile. Tried to will some brightness to my eyes.


    He said, ¡°You don¡¯t like it.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I managed to say. ¡°No¡ªit¡¯s wonderful.¡± And it was. It really was.


    ¡°I thought if you started painting again ¡­ ¡± I waited for him to finish.


    He didn¡¯t.


    My face heated.


    ¡°And what about you?¡± I asked quietly. ¡°Will the paperwork help with anything at all?¡±


    I dared meet his eyes. Temper red in them. But he said, ¡°We¡¯re not talking about me. We¡¯re talking¡ªabout you.¡±


    I studied the box and its contents again. ¡°Will I even be allowed to roam where I wish to paint? Or will there be an


    escort, too?¡±


    Silence.


    A no¡ªand a yes, then.


    I began shaking, but for me, for us, I made myself say, ¡°Tamlin¡ªTamlin, I can¡¯t ¡­ I can¡¯t live my life with guards


    around me day and night. I can¡¯t live with that ¡­ suffocation. Just let me help you¡ªlet me work with you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve given enough, Feyre.¡±


    ¡°I know. But ¡­ ¡± I faced him. Met his stare¡ªthe full power of the High Lord of the Spring Court. ¡°I¡¯m harder to kill


    now. I¡¯m faster, stronger¡ª¡±


    ¡°My family was 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 that 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¡ª


    I cried out, instinct taking over as his power sted through the room.


    The windows shattered.


    The furniture splintered.


    And that box of paints and brushes and paper ¡­


    It exploded into dust and ss and wood.


    CHAPTER


    10


    One breath, the study was intact.


    The next, it was shards of nothing, a shell of a room.


    None of it had touched me from where I had dropped to the floor, my hands over my head.


    Tamlin was panting, the ragged breaths almost like sobs.


    I was shaking¡ªshaking so hard I thought my bones would splinter as the furniture had¡ªbut I made myself lower


    my arms and look at him.


    There was devastation on that face. And pain. And fear. An


    d grief.


    Around me, no debris had fallen¡ªas if he had shielded me.


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    Tamlin took a step toward me, over that invisible demarcation.


    He recoiled as if he¡¯d hit something solid.


    ¡°Feyre,¡± he rasped.


    He stepped again¡ªand that line held.


    ¡°Feyre, please,¡± he breathed.


    And I realized that the line, that bubble of protection ¡­


    It was from me.


    A shield. Not just a mental one¡ªbut a physical one, too.


    I didn¡¯t know what High Lord it hade from, who controlled air or wind or any of that. Perhaps


    one of the Sr Courts. I didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°Feyre,¡± Tamlin groaned a third time, pushing a hand against what indeed looked like an invisible,


    curved wall of hardened air. ¡°Please. Please.¡±


    Those words cracked something in me. Cracked me open.


    Perhaps they cracked that shield of solid wind as well, for his hand shot through it.


    Then he stepped over that line between chaos and order, danger and safety.


    He dropped to his knees, taking my face in his hands. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t stop trembling.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± he breathed. ¡°I¡¯ll try to be better. I don¡¯t ¡­ I can¡¯t control it sometimes. The rage. Today was


    just ¡­ today was bad. With the Tithe, with all of it. Today¡ªlet¡¯s forget it, let¡¯s just move past it.


    Please.¡±


    I didn¡¯t fight as he slid his arms around me, tucking me in tightly enough that his warmth soaked


    through me. He buried his face in my neck and said onto my nape, as if the words would be


    absorbed by my body, as if he could only say it the way we¡¯d always been good atmunicating¡ª


    skin to skin, ¡°I couldn¡¯t save you before. I couldn¡¯t protect you from them. And when you said that,


    about ¡­ about me drowning you ¡­ Am I any better than they were?¡±


    I should have told him it wasn¡¯t true, but ¡­ I had spoken with my heart. Or what was left of it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll try to be better,¡± he said again. ¡°Please¡ªgive me more time. Let me ¡­ let me get through this.


    Please.¡±


    Get through what? I wanted to ask. But words had abandoned me. I realized I hadn¡¯t spoken yet.


    Realized he was waiting for an answer¡ªand that I didn¡¯t have one.


    So I put my arms around him, because body to body was the only way I could speak, too.


    It was answer enough. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said again. He didn¡¯t stop murmuring it for minutes.


    You¡¯ve given enough, Feyre.


    Perhaps he was right. And perhaps I didn¡¯t have anything left to give, anyway.


    I looked over his shoulder as I held him.


    The red paint had sttered on the wall behind us. And as I watched it slide down the cracked


    wood paneling, I thought it looked like blood.


    Tamlin didn¡¯t stop apologizing for days. He made love to me, morning and night. He worshipped my


    body with his hands, his tongue, his teeth. But that had never been the hard part. We just got


    tripped up with the rest.


    But he was good for his word.


    There were fewer guards as I walked the grounds. Some remained, but no one haunted my steps. I


    even went on a ride through the wood without an escort.


    Though I knew the stable hands had reported to Tamlin the moment I¡¯d left¡ªand returned.


    Tamlin never mentioned that shield of solid wind I¡¯d used against him. And things were good


    enough that I didn¡¯t dare bring it up, either.


    The days passed in a blur. Tamlin was away more often than not, and whenever he returned, he


    didn¡¯t tell me anything. I¡¯d long since stopped pestering him for answers. A protector¡ªthat¡¯s who he


    was, and would always be. What I had wanted when I was cold and hard and joyless; what I had


    needed to melt the ice of bitter years on the cusp of starvation.


    I didn¡¯t have the nerve to wonder what I wanted or needed now. Who I had be.


    So with idleness my only option, I spent my days in the library. Practicing my reading and writing.


    Adding to that mental shield, brick by brick,yer byyer. Sometimes seeing if I could summon that


    physical wall of solid air, too. Savoring the silence, even as it crept into my veins, my head.


    Some days, I didn¡¯t speak to anyone at all. Even Alis.


    I awoke each night, shaking and panting. And became d when Tamlin wasn¡¯t there to witness it.


    When I, too, didn¡¯t witness him being yanked from his dreams, cold sweat 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?


    But he returned for an extended stay about two weeks after the Tithe¡ªand I¡¯d decided to try to talk,


    to interact. I owed it to him to try. Owed it to myself.


    He seemed to have the same idea. And the first time in a while ¡­ things felt normal. Or as normal


    as they could be.


    I awoke one morning to the sound of low, deep voices in the hallway outside my bedroom. Closing


    my eyes, I nestled into the pillow and pulled the nkets higher. Despite our morning roll in the


    sheets, I¡¯d been risingter every day¡ªsometimes not bothering to get out of bed until lunch.


    A growl cut through the walls, and I opened my eyes again.


    ¡°Get out,¡± Tamlin warned.


    There was a quiet response¡ªtoo soft for me to make out beyond basic mumbling.


    ¡°I¡¯ll say it onest time¡ª¡±


    He was interrupted by that voice, and the hair on my arms rose. I studied the tattoo on my forearm


    as I did a tally. No¡ªno, today couldn¡¯t havee so quickly.


    Kicking back the covers, I rushed to the door, realizing halfway there that I was naked. Thanks to


    Tamlin, my clothes had been shredded and flung across the other side of the room, and I had no


    robe in sight. I grabbed a nket from a nearby chair and wrapped it around me before opening the


    door a crack.


    Sure enough, Tamlin and Rhysand stood in the hallway. Upon hearing the door open, Rhys turned


    toward me. The grin that had been on his face faltered.


    ¡°Feyre.¡± Rhys¡¯s eyes lingered, taking in every detail. ¡°Are you running low on food here?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Tamlin demanded.


    Those violet eyes had gone cold. Rhys extended a hand toward me. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Tamlin was in Rhysand¡¯s face in an instant, and I flinched. ¡°Get out.¡± He pointed toward the


    staircase. ¡°She¡¯lle 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 nce at me. ¡°No, you wouldn¡¯t have. As far as your memory serves me, thest time


    Tamlin¡¯s teeth were near your throat, you pped him across the face.¡± I snapped up my forgotten


    shields, scowling.


    ¡°Shut your mouth,¡± Tamlin said, stepping further between us. ¡°And get out.¡±


    The High Lord conceded a step toward the stairs and slid his hands into his pockets. ¡°You really


    should have your wards inspected. Cauldron knows what other sort of riffraff might stroll in here as


    easily as I did.¡± Again, Rhys assessed me, his gaze hard. ¡°Put some clothes on.¡±


    I bared my teeth at him as I stepped back into my room. Tamlin followed after me, mming the


    door hard enough that the chandeliers shuddered, sending shards of light shivering over the walls.


    I dropped the nket and strode for the armoire across the room, the mattress groaning behind me


    as Tamlin sank onto the bed. ¡°How did he get in here?¡± I asked, throwing open the doors and rifling


    through the clothes until I found the turquoise Night Court attire I¡¯d asked Alis to keep. I knew she¡¯d


    wanted to burn them, but I told her I¡¯d wind uping home with another set anyway.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Tamlin said. I slipped on my pants, twisting to find him running a hand through his


    hair. I felt the lie beneath his words. ¡°He just¡ªit¡¯s just part of whatever game he¡¯s ying.¡±


    I tugged the short shirt over my head. ¡°If war ising, maybe


    we¡¯d be better served trying to mend things.¡± We hadn¡¯t spoken of that subject since my first day


    back. I dug through the bottom of the armoire for the matching silk shoes, and turned to him as I slid


    them on.


    ¡°I¡¯ll start mending things the day he releases you from your bargain.¡±


    ¡°Maybe he¡¯s keeping the bargain so that you¡¯ll attempt to listen to him.¡± I strode to where he sat on


    the bed, my pants a bit looser around the waist thanst month.


    ¡°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


    rxed the number of sentries here; I¡¯ve been trying ¡­ trying to be better about it. So leave the rest


    of it¡ª¡± 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 all the words dried up and blew away. So I memorized the lines of Tamlin¡¯s


    face, and didn¡¯t fight him as he pulled me to his chest and held me tightly.


    Someone coughed from the hall, and Tamlin¡¯s body seized up around me.


    But I¡¯d had enough fighting, and snarling, and going back to that open, serene ce atop that


    mountain ¡­ It seemed better than hiding in the library.


    I pulled away, and Tamlin lingered as I walked back into the hall.


    Rhys frowned at me. I debated barking something nasty at him, but it would have required more fire


    Original from N?velDrama.Org.


    than I had¡ªand would have required caring what he thought.


    Rhys¡¯s face became unreadable as he extended a hand.


    Only for Tamlin to appear behind me, and shove that hand down. ¡°You end her bargain right here,


    right now, and I¡¯ll give you anything you want. Anything.¡±


    My heart stopped dead. ¡°Are you out of your mind?¡±


    Tamlin didn¡¯t so much as blink in my direction.


    Rhysand merely raised a brow. ¡°I already have everything I want.¡± He stepped around Tamlin as if


    he were a piece of furniture and took my hand. Before I could say good-bye, a ck wind gathered


    us up, and we were gone.


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    CHAPTER


    11


    ¡°What the hell happened to you?¡± Rhysand said before the Night Court had fully appeared around us.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you just look inside my head?¡± Even as I said it, the words had no bite. I didn¡¯t bother to shove him as I


    stepped out of his hold.


    He gave me a wink. ¡°Where¡¯s the fun in that?¡±


    I didn¡¯t smile.


    ¡°No shoe throwing this time?¡± I could almost see the other words in his eyes. Come on. y with me.


    I headed for the stairs that would take me to my room.


    ¡°Eat breakfast with me,¡± he said.


    There was a note in those words that made me pause. A note of what I could have sworn was desperation. Worry.


    I twisted, my loose clothes sliding over my shoulders, my waist. I hadn¡¯t realized how much weight I¡¯d lost. Despite


    things creeping back to normal.


    I said, ¡°Don¡¯t you have other things to deal with?¡±


    ¡°Of course I do,¡± he said, shrugging. ¡°I have so many things to deal with that I¡¯m sometimes tempted to unleash


    my power across the world and wipe the board clean. Just to buy me some damned peace.¡± He grinned, bowing


    at the waist. Even that casual mention of his power failed to chill me, awe me. ¡°But I¡¯ll always make time for you.¡±


    I was hungry¡ªI hadn¡¯t yet eaten. And that was indeed worry glimmering behind the cocky, insufferable grin.


    So I motioned him to lead the way to that familiar ss table at the end of the hall.


    We walked a casual distance apart. Tired. I was so¡ªtired.


    When we were almost to the table, Rhys said, ¡°I felt a spike of fear this month through our lovely bond. Anything


    exciting happen at the wondrous Spring Court?¡±


    ¡°It was nothing,¡± I said. Because it was. And it was none of his business.


    I nced sidelong at him¡ªand rage, not worry¡ªflickered in those eyes.


    I could have sworn the mountain beneath us trembled in response.


    ¡°If you know,¡± I said coldly, ¡°why even ask about it?¡± I dropped into my chair as he slid into his.


    He said quietly, ¡°Because these days, all I hear through that bond is nothing. Silence. Even with your shields up


    rather impressively most of the time, I should be able to feel you. And yet I don¡¯t. Sometimes I¡¯ll tug on the bond


    only to make sure you¡¯re still alive.¡± Darkness guttered. ¡°And then one day, I¡¯m in the middle of an important


    meeting when terror sts through the bond. All I get are glimpses of you and him¡ªand then nothing. Back to


    silence. I¡¯d like to know what caused such a disruption.¡±


    I served myself from the tters of food, barely caring what had beenid on the table. ¡°It was an argument, and


    the rest is none of your concern.¡±


    ¡°Is it why you look like your grief and guilt and rage are eating you alive, bit by bit?¡±


    I didn¡¯t want to talk about it. ¡°Get out of my head.¡±


    ¡°Make me. Push me out. You dropped your shield this morning¡ªanyone could have walked right in.¡±


    I held his stare. Another challenge. And I just ¡­ I didn¡¯t care. I didn¡¯t care about whatever smoldered in my body,


    about how I¡¯d slipped into Lucien¡¯s head as easily as Rhys could slip into mine, shield or no shield. ¡°Where¡¯s


    Mor?¡± I asked instead.


    He tensed, and I braced myself for him to push, to provoke, but he said, ¡°Away. She has duties to attend to.¡±


    Shadows swirled around him again and I dug into my food. ¡°Is the wedding on hold, then?¡±


    I paused eating barely long enough to mumble, ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I expected an answer more along the lines of, ¡®Don¡¯t ask stupid questions you already know the answer to,¡¯ or my


    timeless favorite, ¡®Go to hell.¡¯ ¡±


    I only reached for a tter of tartlets. His hands were t on the table¡ªand a whisper of ck smoke curled over


    his fingers. Like talons.


    He said, ¡°Did you give my offer any thought?¡±


    I didn¡¯t answer until my te was empty and I was heaping more food onto it. ¡°I¡¯m not going to work with you.¡±


    I almost felt the dark calm that settled over him. ¡°And why, Feyre, are you refusing me?¡±


    I pushed around the fruit on my te. ¡°I¡¯m not going to be a part of this war you think ising. You say I should


    be a weapon, not a pawn¡ªthey seem like the same to me. The only difference is who¡¯s wielding it.¡±


    ¡°I want your help, not to manipte you,¡± he snapped.


    His re of temper made me atst lift my head. ¡°You want my help because it¡¯ll piss off Tamlin.¡±


    Shadows danced around his shoulders¡ªas 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 in 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¡ªhelp me


    keep that from happening again. To Prythian.¡±


    Some distant part of my heart ached and bled at the words, at what he¡¯did bare.


    But Tamlin had made exceptions¡ªhe¡¯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.


    I didn¡¯t join him for dinner.


    I didn¡¯t rise in time for breakfast, either.


    But when I emerged at noon, he was waiting upstairs, that faint, amused smile on his face. He nudged me toward


    the table he¡¯d arranged with books and paper and ink.


    ¡°Copy these sentences,¡± he drawled from across the table, handing me a piece of paper.


    I looked at them and read perfectly:


    N?velDrama.Org holds ? this.


    ¡°Rhysand is a spectacr person. Rhysand is the center of my world. Rhysand is the best lover a female can ever


    dream of.¡± I set down the paper, wrote out the three sentences, and handed it to him.


    The ws mmed into my mind a momentter.


    And bounced harmlessly off a ck, glimmering shield of adamant.


    He blinked. ¡°You practiced.¡±


    I rose from the table and walked away. ¡°I had nothing better to do.¡±


    That night, he left a pile of books by my door with a note.


    I have business elsewhere. The house is yours. Send word if you need me.


    Days passed¡ªand I didn¡¯t.


    Rhys returned at the end of the week. I¡¯d taken to situating myself in one of the little lounges overlooking the


    mountains, and had almost read an entire book in the deep-cushioned armchair, going slowly as I learned new


    words. But it had filled my time¡ªgiven me quiet, steadfastpany with those characters, who did not exist and


    never would, but somehow made me feel less ¡­ alone.


    The woman who¡¯d hurled a bone-spear at Amarantha ¡­ I didn¡¯t know where she was anymore. Perhaps she¡¯d


    vanished that day her neck had snapped and faerie immortality had filled her veins.


    I was just finishing up a particrly good chapter¡ªthe second-tost in the book¡ªa shaft of buttery afternoon


    sunlight warming my feet, when Rhysand slid between two of the oversized armchairs, twin tes of food in his


    hands, and set them on the low-lying table before me. ¡°Since you seem hell-bent on a sedentary lifestyle,¡± he


    said, ¡°I thought I¡¯d go one step further and bring your food to you.¡±


    My stomach was already twisting with hunger, and I lowered the book into myp. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    A shortugh. ¡°Thank you? Not ¡®High lord and servant?¡¯ Or: ¡®Whatever it is you want, you can go shove it up your


    ass, Rhysand.¡¯?¡± He clicked his tongue. ¡°How disappointing.¡±


    I set down the book and extended a hand for the te. He could listen to himself talk all day if he wished, but I


    wanted to eat. Now.


    My fingers had almost grazed the rim of the t


    e when it just slid away.


    I reached again. Once more, a tendril of his power yanked the te further back.


    ¡°Tell me what to do,¡± he said. ¡°Tell me what to do to help you.¡±


    Rhys kept the te beyond reach. He spoke again, and as if the words tumbling out loosened his grip on his


    power, talons of smoke curled over his fingers and great wings of shadow spread from his back. ¡°Months and


    months, and you¡¯re still a ghost. Does no one there ask what the hell is happening? Does your High Lord simply


    not care?¡±


    He did care. Tamlin did care. Perhaps too much. ¡°He¡¯s giving me space to sort it out,¡± I said, with enough of a bite


    that I barely recognized my voice.


    ¡°Let me help you,¡± Rhys said. ¡°We went through enough Under the Mountain¡ª¡±


    I flinched.


    ¡°She wins,¡± Rhys breathed. ¡°That bitch wins if you let yourself fall apart.¡±


    I wondered if he¡¯d been telling himself that for months now, wondered if he, too, had moments when his own


    memories sometimes suffocated him deep in the night.


    But I lifted the book, firing two words down the bond between us before I sted my shields up again.


    Conversation over.


    ¡°Like hell it is,¡± he snarled. A thrum of power caressed my fingers, and then the book sealed shut between my


    hands. My nails dug into the leather and paper¡ªto no avail.


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    Bastard. Arrogant, presuming bastard.


    Slowly, I lifted my eyes to him. And I felt ¡­ not hot temper¡ªbut icy, glittering rage.


    I could almost feel that ice at my fingertips, kissing my palms. And I swore there was frost coating the book before


    I hurled it at his head.


    He shielded fast enough that it bounced away and slid across the marble floor behind us.


    ¡°Good,¡± he said, his breathing a bit uneven. ¡°What else do you have, Feyre?¡±


    Ice melted to me, and my fingers curled into fists.


    And the High Lord of the Night Court honestly looked relieved at the sight of it¡ªof that wrath that made me want


    to rage and burn.


    A feeling, for once. Not like that hollow cold and silence.


    And the thought of returning to that manor with the sentries and the patrols and the secrets ¡­ I sank back into my


    chair. Frozen once more.


    ¡°Any time you need someone to y with,¡± Rhys said, pushing the te toward me on a star-flecked wind,


    ¡°whether it¡¯s during our marvelous week together or otherwise, you let me know.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t muster up a response, exhausted from the bit of temper I¡¯d shown.


    And I realized I was in a free fall with no end. I had been for a while. From the moment I¡¯d stabbed that Fae youth


    in the heart.


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    I didn¡¯t look up at him again as I devoured the food.


    The next morning, Tamlin was waiting in the shade of the gnarled, mighty oak tree in the garden.


    A murderous expression twisted his face, directed solely at Rhys. Yet there was nothing amused in Rhys¡¯s smile


    as he stepped back from me¡ªonly a cold, cunning predator gazing out.


    Tamlin growled at me, ¡°Get inside.¡±


    I looked between the two High Lords. And seeing that fury in Tamlin¡¯s face ¡­ I knew there would be no more


    solitary rides or walks through the grounds.


    Rhys just said to me, ¡°Fight it.¡±


    And then he was gone.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I said to Tamlin, as his shoulders slumped, his head bowing.


    ¡°I will find a way to end this,¡± he swore.


    I wanted to believe him. I knew he¡¯d do anything to achieve it.


    He made me again walk through every detail I had learned at Rhys¡¯s home. Every conversation, however brief. I


    told him everything, each word quieter than thest.


    Protect, protect, protect¡ªI could see the word in his eyes, feel it in every thrust he made into my body that night. I


    had been taken from him once in the most permanent of ways, but never again.


    The sentries returned in full force the next morning.


    CHAPTER


    12


    During that first week back, I wasn¡¯t allowed out of sight of the house.


    Some nameless threat had broken onto thends, and Tamlin and Lucien were called away to deal with it. I asked


    my friend to tell me what it was, yet ¡­ Lucien had that look he always did when he wanted to, but his loyalty to


    Tamlin got in the way. So I didn¡¯t ask again.


    While they were gone, Ianthe returned¡ªto keep mepany, protect me, I don¡¯t know.


    She was the only one allowed in. The semi-permanent gaggle of Spring Court lords anddies at the manor had


    been dismissed, along with their personal servants. I was grateful for it, that I no longer would run into them while


    walking the halls of the manor, or the gardens, and have to dredge up a memory of their names, personal


    histories, no longer have to endure them trying not to stare at the tattoo, but ¡­ I knew Tamlin had liked having


    them around. Knew some of them were indeed old friends, knew he liked the manor being full of sound and


    masking sharp-edged insults.


    I was d for the silence¡ªeven as it became a weight on me, even as it filled my head until there was nothing


    inside of it beyond ¡­ emptiness.


    Eternity. Was this to be my eternity?


    I was burning through books every day¡ªstories about people and ces I¡¯d never heard of. They were perhaps


    the only thing that kept me from teetering into utter despair.


    Tamlin returned eight dayster, brushing a kiss over my brow and looking me over, and then headed into the


    study. Where Ianthe had news for him.


    That I was also not to hear.


    Alone in the hall, watching as the hooded priestess led him toward the double doors at its other end, a glimmer of


    red¡ª


    My body tensed, instinct roaring through me as I whirled¡ª


    Not Amarantha.


    Lucien.


    The red hair was his, not hers. I was here, not in that dungeon¡ª


    My friend¡¯s eyes¡ªboth metal and flesh¡ªwere fixed on my hands.


    Where my nails were growing, curving. Not into talons of shadow, but ws that had shredded through my


    undergarments time and again¡ª


    Stop stop stop stop stop¡ª


    It did.


    Like blowing out a candle, the ws vanished into a wisp of shadow.


    Lucien¡¯s gaze slid to Tamlin and Ianthe, unaware of what had happened, and then he silently inclined his head,


    motioning for me to follow.


    We took the sweeping stairs to the second level, the halls deserted. I didn¡¯t look at the paintings nking either


    side. Didn¡¯t look beyond the towering windows to the bright gardens.


    We passed my bedroom door, passed his own¡ªuntil we entered a small study on the second level, mostly left


    unused.


    He shut the door after I¡¯d entered the room, and leaned against the wood panel.


    ¡°How long have the ws been appearing?¡± he said softly.


    ¡°That was the first time.¡± My voice rang hollow and dull in my ears.


    Lucien surveyed me¡ªthe vibrant fuchsia gown Ianthe had selected that morning, the face I didn¡¯t bother to set


    into a pleasant expression ¡­


    ¡°There¡¯s only so much I can do,¡± he said hoarsely. ¡°But I¡¯ll ask him tonight. About the training. The powers will


    manifest whether we train you or not, no matter who is around. I¡¯ll ask him tonight,¡± he repeated.


    I already knew what the answer would be, though.


    Lucien didn¡¯t stop me as I opened the door he¡¯d been leaning against and left without another word. I slept until


    dinner, roused myself enough to eat¡ªand when I went downstairs, the raised voices of Tamlin, Lucien, and Ianthe


    sent me right back to the steps.


    They will hunt her, and kill her, Ianthe had hissed at Lucien.


    Lucien had growled back, They¡¯ll do it anyway, so what¡¯s the difference?


    The difference, Ianthe had seethed, lies in us having the advantage of this knowledge¡ªit won¡¯t be Feyre alone


    who is targeted for the gifts stole


    n from those High Lords. Your children, she then said to Tamlin, will also have such power. Other High Lords will


    know that. And if they do not kill Feyre outright, then they might realize what they stand to gain if gifted with


    offspring from her, too.


    My stomach had turned over at the implication. That I might be stolen¡ªand kept¡ªfor ¡­ breeding. Surely ¡­


    surely no High Lord would go so far.


    If they were to do that, Lucien had countered, none of the other High Lords would stand with them. They would


    face the wrath of six courts bearing down on them. No one is that stupid.


    Rhysand is that stupid, Ianthe had spat. And with that power of his, he could potentially withstand it. Imagine, she


    said, voice softening as she had no doubt turned to Tamlin, a day mighte when he does not return her. You


    hear the poisoned lies he whispers in her ear. There are other ways around it, she had added with such quiet


    venom. We might not be able to deal with him, but there are some friends that I made across the sea ¡­


    We are not assassins, Lucien had cut in. Rhys is what he is, but who would take his ce¡ª


    My blood went cold, and I could have sworn ice frosted my fingertips.


    Lucien had gone on, his tone pleading, Tamlin. Tam. Just let her train, let her master this¡ªif the other High Lords


    doe for her, let her stand a chance ¡­


    Silence fell as they let Tamlin consider.


    My feet began moving the moment I heard the first word out of his mouth, barely more than a growl. No.


    With each step up the stairs, I heard the rest.


    We give them no reason to suspect she might have any abilities, which training will surely do. Don¡¯t give me that


    look, Lucien.


    Silence again.


    Then a vicious snarl, and a shudder of magic rocked the house.


    Tamlin¡¯s voice had been low, deadly. Do not push me on this.


    I didn¡¯t want to know what was happening in that room, what he¡¯d done to Lucien, what Lucien had even looked


    like to cause that pulse of power.


    I locked the door to my bedroom and did not bother to eat dinner at all.


    Tamlin didn¡¯t seek me out that night. I wondered if he, Ianthe, and Lucien were still debating my future and the


    threats against me.


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    There were sentries outside of my bedroom the following afternoon¡ªwhen I finally dragged myself from bed.


    ording to them, Tamlin and Lucien were already holed up in his study. Without Tamlin¡¯s courtiers poking


    around, the manor was again silent as I, without anything else to do, headed to walk the garden paths I¡¯d followed


    so many times I was surprised the pale dirt wasn¡¯t permanently etched with my footprints.


    Only my steps sounded in the shining halls as I passed guard after guard, armed to the teeth and trying their best


    not to gawk at me. Not one spoke to me. Even the servants had taken to keeping to their quarters unless


    absolutely necessary.


    Maybe I¡¯d be too slothful; maybe myzing about made me more prone to these outbursts. Anyone might


    have seen me yesterday.


    And though we¡¯d never spoken of it ¡­ Ianthe knew. About the powers. How long had she been aware? The


    thought of Tamlin telling her ¡­


    My silk slippers scuffed on the marble stairs, the chiffon trail of my green gown slithering behind me.


    Such silence. Too much silence.


    I needed to get out of this house. Needed to do something. If the vigers didn¡¯t want my help, then fine. I could


    do other things. Whatever they were.


    I was about to turn down the hall that led to the study, determined to ask Tamlin if there was any task that I might


    perform, ready to beg him, when the study doors flung open and Tamlin and Lucien emerged, both heavily armed.


    No sign of Ianthe.


    ¡°You¡¯re going so soon?¡± I said, waiting for them to reach the foyer.


    Tamlin¡¯s face was a grim mask as they approached. ¡°There¡¯s activity on the western sea border. I have to go.¡± The


    one closest to Hybern.


    ¡°Can Ie with you?¡± I¡¯d never asked it outright, but¡ª


    Tamlin paused. Lucien continued past, through the open front doors of the house, barely able to hide his wince.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Tamlin said, reaching for me. I stepped out of his grip. ¡°It¡¯s too dangerous.¡±


    ¡°I know how to remain hidden. Just¡ªtake me with you.¡±


    N?velDrama.Org holds ? this.


    ¡°I won¡¯t risk our enemies getting their hands on you.¡± What enemies? Tell me¡ªtell me something.


    I stared over his shoulder, toward where Lucien lingered in the gravel beyond the house entrance. No horses. I


    supposed they weren¡¯t necessary this time, when they were faster without them. But maybe I could keep up.


    Maybe I¡¯d wait until they left and¡ª


    ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it,¡± Tamlin warned.


    My attention snapped to his face.


    He growled, ¡°Don¡¯t even try toe after us.¡±


    ¡°I can fight,¡± I tried again. A half-truth. A knack for survival wasn¡¯t the same as trained skill. ¡°Please.¡±


    I¡¯d never hated a word more.


    He shook his head, crossing the foyer to the front doors.


    I followed him, blurting, ¡°There will always be some threat. There will always be some conflict or enemy or


    something that keeps me in here.¡±


    He slowed to a stop just inside the towering oak doors, so lovingly restored after Amarantha¡¯s cronies had trashed


    them. ¡°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¡ª¡±


    ¡°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¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to go for a ride!¡± I syed my arms. ¡°I don¡¯t want to go for a ride, or a pic, or pick wildflowers. I


    want to do something. So take me with you.¡±


    That girl who had needed to be protected, who had craved stability andfort ¡­ 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 be whole again¡ªbe that protector and provider he


    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.


    Tamlin¡¯s ws punched out. ¡°Even if I risked it, your untrained abilities render your presence more of a liability


    than anything.¡±


    It was like being hit with stones¡ªso hard I could feel myself cracking. But I lifted my chin and said, ¡°I¡¯ming


    along whether you want me to or not.¡±


    ¡°No, you aren¡¯t.¡± He strode right through the door, his ws shing the air at his sides, and was halfway down


    the steps before I reached the threshold.


    Where I mmed into an invisible wall.


    I staggered back, trying to reorder my mind around the impossibility of it. It was identical to the one I¡¯d built that


    day in the study, and I searched inside the shards of my soul, my heart, for a tether to that shield, wondering if I¡¯d


    blocked myself, but¡ªthere was no power emanating from me.


    I reached a hand to the open air of the doorway. And met solid resistance.


    ¡°Tamlin,¡± I rasped.


    But he was already down the front drive, walking toward the looming iron gates. Lucien remained at the foot of the


    stairs, his face so, so pale.


    ¡°Tamlin,¡± I said again, pushing against the wall.


    He didn¡¯t turn.


    I mmed my hand into the invisible barrier. No movement¡ªnothing but hardened air. And I had not learned


    about my own powers enough to try to push through, to shatter it ¡­ I had let him convince me not to learn those


    things for his sake¡ª


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother trying,¡± Lucien said softly, as Tamlin cleared the gates and vanished¡ªwinnowed. ¡°He shielded the


    entire house around you. Others can go in and out, but you can¡¯t. Not until he lifts the shield.¡±


    He¡¯d locked me in here.


    I hit the shield again. Again.


    Nothing.


    ¡°Just¡ªbe patient, Feyre,¡± Lucien tried, wincing as he followed after Tamlin. ¡°Please. I¡¯ll see what I can do. I¡¯ll try


    again.¡±


    I barely heard him over the roar in my ears. Didn¡¯t wait to see him pass the gates and winnow, too.


    He¡¯d locked me in. He¡¯d sealed me inside this house.


    I hurtled for the nearest window in the foyer and shoved it open. A cool spring breeze rushed in¡ªand I shoved my


    hand through it¡ªonly for my fingers to bounce off an invisible wall. Smooth, hard air pushed against my skin.


    Breathing became difficult.


    I was trapped.


    I was trapped inside this house. I might as well have been Under the Mountain; I might as well have been inside


    that cell again¡ª


    I backed away, my steps too light, too fast, and mmed into the oak table in the center of the foyer. None of the


    nearby sentries came to investigate.


    He¡¯d trapped me in here; he¡¯d locked me up.


    I stopped seeing the marble floor, or the paintings on the walls, or the sweeping staircase looming behind me. I


    stopped hearing the chirping of the spring birds, or the sighing of the breeze through the curtains.


    And then crushing ck pounded down and rose up from beneath, devouring and roaring and shredding.


    It was all I could do to keep from screaming, to keep from shattering into ten thousand pieces as I sank onto the


    marble floor, bowing over my knees, and wrapped my arms around myself.


    He¡¯d trapped me; he¡¯d trapped me; he¡¯d trapped me¡ª


    I had to get out, because I¡¯d barely escaped from another prison once before, and this time, this time¡ª


    Winnowing. I could vanish into nothing but air and appear somewhere else, somewhere open and free. I fumbled


    for my power, for anything, something that might show me the way to do it, the way out. Nothing. There was


    nothing and I had be nothing, and I couldn¡¯t ever get out¡ª


    Someone was shouting my name from far away.


    Alis¡ªAlis.


    But I was ensconced in a cocoon of darkness and fire and ice and wind,


    a cocoon that melted the ring off my finger until the golden ore dripped away into the void, the emerald tumbling


    after it. I wrapped that raging force around myself as if it could keep the walls from crushing me entirely, and


    maybe, maybe buy me the tiniest sip of air¡ª


    I couldn¡¯t get out; I couldn¡¯t get out; I couldn¡¯t get out¡ª


    Slender, strong hands gripped me under the shoulders.


    I didn¡¯t have the strength to fight them off.


    One of those hands moved to my knees, the other to my back, and then I was being lifted, held against what was


    unmistakably a female body.


    I couldn¡¯t see her, didn¡¯t want to see her.


    Amarantha.


    Come to take me away again;e to kill me atst.


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    There were words being spoken around me. Two women.


    Neither of them ¡­ neither of them was Amarantha.


    ¡°Please¡ªplease take care of her.¡± Alis.


    From right by my ear, the other replied, ¡°Consider yourselves very, very lucky that your High Lord was not here


    when we arrived. Your guards will have one hell of a headache when they wake up, but they¡¯re alive. Be grateful.¡±


    Mor.


    Mor held me¡ªcarried me.


    The darkness guttered long enough that I could draw breath, that I could see the garden door she walked toward.


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    I opened my mouth, but she peered down at me and said, ¡°Did you think his shield would keep us from you? Rhys


    shattered it with half a thought.¡±


    But I didn¡¯t spy Rhys anywhere¡ªnot as the darkness swirled back in. I clung to her, trying to breathe, to think.


    ¡°You¡¯re free,¡± Mor said tightly. ¡°You¡¯re free.¡±


    Not safe. Not protected.


    Free.


    She carried me beyond the garden, into the fields, up a hill, down it, and into¡ªinto a cave¡ª


    I must have started bucking and thrashing in her arms, because she said, ¡°You¡¯re out; you¡¯re free,¡± again and


    again and again as true darkness swallowed us.


    Half a heartbeatter, she emerged into sunlight¡ªbright, strawberry-and-grass-scented sunlight. I had a thought


    that this might be Summer, then¡ª


    Then a low, vicious growl split the air before us, cleaving even my darkness.


    ¡°I did everything by the book,¡± Mor said to the owner of that growl.


    I was passed from her arms to someone else¡¯s, and I struggled to breathe, fought for any trickle of air down my


    lungs. Until Rhysand said, ¡°Then we¡¯re done here.¡±


    Wind tore at me, along with ancient darkness.


    But a sweeter, softer shade of night caressed me, stroking my nerves, my lungs, until I could atst get air inside,


    until it seduced me into sleep.


    CHAPTER


    13


    I woke to sunlight, and open space¡ªnothing but clear sky and snowcapped mountains around me.


    And Rhysand lounging in an armchair across from the couch where I was sprawled, gazing at the mountains, his


    face uncharacteristically solemn.


    I swallowed, and his head whipped toward me.


    No kindness in his eyes. Nothing but unending, icy rage.


    But he blinked, and it was gone. Reced by perhaps relief. Exhaustion.


    And the pale sunlight warming the moonstone floors ¡­ dawn. It was dawn. I didn¡¯t want to think about how long


    I¡¯d been unconscious.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I said. My voice was hoarse. As if I¡¯d been screaming.


    ¡°You were screaming,¡± he said. I didn¡¯t care if my mental shield was up or down orpletely shattered. ¡°You also


    managed to scare the shit out of every servant and sentry in Tamlin¡¯s manor when you wrapped yourself in


    darkness and they couldn¡¯t see you.¡±


    My stomach hollowed out. ¡°Did I hurt any¡ª¡±


    ¡°No. Whatever you did, it was contained to you.¡±


    ¡°You weren¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Byw and protocol,¡± he said, stretching out his long legs, ¡°things would have be veryplicated and very


    messy if I had been the one to walk into that house and take you. Smashing that shield was fine, but Mor had to


    go in on her own two feet, render the sentries unconscious through her own power, and carry you over the border


    to another court before I could bring you here. Or else Tamlin would have free rein to march his forces into my


    That¡¯s what Mor had said¡ªthat she did everything by the book.


    But¡ª ¡°When I go back ¡­¡±


    ¡°As your presence here isn¡¯t part of our monthly requirement, 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¡ªfor 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¡ªI 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 nning


    parties.


    He crossed his ankle over a knee. ¡°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¡ªnot 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¡ªmaybe Tamlin woulde 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¡ªpeppermint and ¡­ licorice and another herb or spice.


    I wasn¡¯t going back. Maybe I¡¯d never even ¡­ gotten toe back. Not from Under the Mountain.


    When the mug was half-finished, I fished for something, anything, to say to keep the crushing silence at bay. ¡°The


    darkness¡ªis that ¡­ part of the power you gave me?¡±


    ¡°One would assume so.¡±


    I drained the rest of the mug. ¡°No wings?¡±


    ¡°If you inherited some of Tamlin¡¯s shape-shifting, perhaps you can make wings of your own.¡±


    A shiver went down my spine at the thought, at the ws I¡¯d grown that day with Lucien. ¡°And the other High


    Lords? Ice¡ªthat¡¯s Winter. That shield I once made of hardened wind¡ªwho did thate from? What might the


    others have given me? Is¡ªis winnowing tied to any one of you in particr?¡±


    He considered. ¡°Wind? The Day Court, likely. And winnowing¡ªit¡¯s not confined to any court. It¡¯s wholly dependent


    on your own reserve of power¡ªand training.¡± I didn¡¯t feel like mentioni


    ng how spectacrly I¡¯d failed to even move an inch. ¡°And as for the gifts you got from everyone else ¡­ That¡¯s for


    you to find out, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°I should have known your goodwill would wear off after a minute.¡±


    Rhys let out a low chuckle and got to his feet, stretching his muscled arms over his head and rolling his neck. As if


    he¡¯d been sitting there for a long, long while. For the entirety of the night. ¡°Rest a day or two, Feyre,¡± he said.


    ¡°Then take on the task of figuring out everything else. I have business in another part of mynds; I¡¯ll be back by


    the end of the week.¡±


    Despite how long I¡¯d slept, I was so tired¡ªtired in my bones, in my crumpled heart. When I didn¡¯t reply, Rhys


    strode off between the moonstone pirs.


    And I saw how I would spend the next few days: in solitude, with nothing to do and only my own, horrible thoughts


    forpany. I began speaking before I could reconsider. ¡°Take me with you.¡±


    Rhys halted as he pushed through two purple gossamer curtains. And slowly, he turned back. ¡°You should rest.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve rested enough,¡± I said, setting down the empty mug and standing. My head spun slightly. When had Ist


    eaten? ¡°Wherever you¡¯re going, whatever you¡¯re doing¡ªtake me along. I¡¯ll stay out of trouble. Just ¡­ Please.¡± I


    hated thest word; choked on it. It hadn¡¯t done anything to sway Tamlin.


    For a long moment, Rhys said nothing. Then he prowled toward me, his long stride eating up the distance and his


    face set like stone. ¡°If youe with me, there is no going back. You will not be allowed to speak of what you see


    to anyone outside of my court. Because if you do, people will die¡ªmy people will die. So if youe, you will


    have to lie about it forever; if you return to the Spring Court, you cannot tell anyone there what you see, and who


    you meet, and what you will witness. If you would rather not have that between you and¡ªyour friends, then stay


    here.¡±


    Stay here, stay locked up in the Spring Court ¡­ My chest was a gaping, open wound. I wondered if I¡¯d bleed out


    from it¡ªif a spirit could bleed out and die. Maybe that had already happened. ¡°Take me with you,¡± I breathed. ¡°I


    won¡¯t tell anyone what I see. Even¡ªthem.¡± I couldn¡¯t bear to say his name.


    Rhys studied me for a few heartbeats. And finally he gave me a half smile. ¡°We leave in ten minutes. If you want


    to freshen up, go ahead.¡±


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    An unusually polite reminder that I probably looked like the dead. I felt like it. But I said, ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    Rhys¡¯s smile widened into a grin. ¡°To Vris¡ªthe City of Starlight.¡±


    The moment I entered my room, the hollow quiet returned, washing away with it any questions I might have had


    about¡ªabout a city.


    Everything had been destroyed by Amarantha. If there were a city in Prythian, I would no doubt be visiting a ruin.


    I jumped into the bath, scrubbing down as swiftly as I could, then hurried into the Night Court clothes that had


    been left for me. My motions were mindless, each one some feeble attempt to keep from thinking about what had


    happened, what¡ªwhat Tamlin had tried to do and had done, what I had done¡ª


    By the time I returned to the main atrium, Rhys was leaning against a moonstone pir, picking at his nails. He


    merely said, ¡°That was fifteen minutes,¡± before extending his hand.


    I had no glimmering ember to even try to look like I cared about his taunting before we were swallowed by the


    roaring darkness.


    Wind and night and stars wheeled by as he winnowed us through the world, and the calluses of his hand


    scratched against my own fading ones before¡ª


    Before sunlight, not starlight, greeted me. Squinting at the brightness, I found myself standing in what was


    unmistakably a foyer of someone¡¯s house.


    The ornate red carpet cushioned the one step I staggered away from him as I surveyed the warm, wood-paneled


    walls, the artwork, the straight, wide oak staircase ahead.


    nking us were two rooms: on my left, a sitting room with a ck marble firece, lots offortable, elegant,


    but worn furniture, and bookshelves built into every wall. On my right: a dining room with a long, cherrywood table


    big enough for ten people¡ªsmall,pared to the dining room at the manor. Down the slender hallway ahead


    were a few more doors, ending in one that I assumed would lead to a kitchen. A town house.


    I¡¯d visited one once, when I was a child and my father had brought me along to thergest town in our territory: it¡¯d


    belonged to a fantastically wealthy client, and had smelled like coffee and mothballs. A pretty ce, but stuffy¡ª


    formal.


    This house ¡­ this house was a home that had been lived in and enjoyed and cherished.


    And it was in a city.


    PART TWO


    THE HOUSE OF WIND


    CHAPTER


    14


    ¡°Wee to my home,¡± Rhysand said.


    A city¡ªa worldy out there.


    Morning sunlight streamed through the windows lining the front of the town house. The ornately carved wood door


    before me was inset with fogged ss that peeked into a small antechamber and the actual front door beyond it,


    shut and solid against whatever city lurked beyond.


    And the thought of setting foot out into it, into the leering crowds, seeing the destruction Amarantha had likely


    wreaked upon them ¡­ A heavy weight pressed into my chest.


    I hadn¡¯t dredged up the focus to ask until now, hadn¡¯t given an ounce of room to consider that this might be a


    mistake, but ¡­ ¡°What is this ce?¡±


    Rhys leaned a broad shoulder against the carved oak threshold that led into the sitting room and crossed his


    arms. ¡°This is my house. Well, I have two homes in the city. One is for more ¡­ official business, but this is only for


    me and my family.¡±


    I listened for any servants but heard none. Good¡ªmaybe that was good, rather than have people weeping and


    gawking.


    ¡°Nu and Cerridwen are here,¡± he said, reading my nce down the hall behind us. ¡°But other than that, it¡¯ll just


    be the two of us.¡±


    I tensed. It wasn¡¯t that things had been any different at the Night Court itself, but¡ªthis house was much, much


    smaller. There would be no escaping him. Save for the city outside.


    There were no cities left in our mortal territory. Though some had sprung up on the main continent, full of art and


    learning and trade. in had once wanted to go with me. I didn¡¯t suppose I¡¯d ever get that chance now.


    Rhysand opened his mouth, but then the silhouettes of two tall, powerful bodies appeared on the other side of the


    front door¡¯s fogged ss. One of them banged on it with a fist.


    ¡°Hurry up, youzy ass,¡± a deep male voice drawled from the antechamber beyond. Exhaustion drugged me so


    heavily that I didn¡¯t particrly care that there were wings peeking over their two shadowy forms.


    Rhys didn¡¯t so much as blink toward the door. ¡°Two things, Feyre darling.¡±


    The pounding continued, followed by the second male murmuring to hispanion, ¡°If you¡¯re going to pick a fight


    with him, do it after breakfast.¡± That voice¡ªlike shadows given form, dark and smooth and ¡­ cold.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t the one who hauled me out of bed just now to fly down here,¡± the first one said. Then added, ¡°Busybody.¡±


    I could have sworn a smile tugged on Rhys¡¯s lips as he went on, ¡°One, no one¡ªno one¡ªbut Mor and I are able to


    winnow directly inside this house. It is warded, shielded, and then warded some more. Only those I wish¡ªand you


    wish¡ªmay enter. You are safe here; and safe anywhere in this city, for that matter. Vris¡¯s walls are well


    protected and have not been breached in five thousand years. No one with ill intent enters this city unless I allow


    it. So go where you wish, do what you wish, and see who you wish. Those two in the antechamber,¡± he added,


    eyes sparkling, ¡°might not be on that list of people you should bother knowing, if they keep banging on the door


    like children.¡±


    Another pound, emphasized by the first male voice saying, ¡°You know we can hear you, prick.¡±


    ¡°Secondly,¡± Rhys went on, ¡°in regard to the two bastards at my door, it¡¯s up to you whether you want to meet them


    now, or head upstairs like a wise person, take a nap since you¡¯re still looking a little peaky, and then change into


    city-appropriate clothing while I beat the hell out of one of them for talking to his High Lord like that.¡±


    There was such light in his eyes. It made him look ¡­ younger, somehow. More mortal. So at odds with the icy


    rage I¡¯d seen earlier when I¡¯d awoken ¡­


    Awoken on that couch, and then decided I wasn¡¯t returning home.


    Decided that, perhaps, the Spring Court might not be my home.


    I was drowning in that old heaviness, wing my way up to a surface that might not ever exist. I¡¯d slept for the


    Mother knew how long, and yet ¡­ ¡°Juste get me when they¡¯re gone.¡±


    That joy dimmed, and Rhys looked like he might say something else, but a female voice¡ªcrisp and edged¡ªnow


    sounded behind the two males in the antechamber. ¡°You Illyrians are worse than cats yowling to be let in the back


    door.¡± The knob jangled. She sighed sharply. ¡°Really, Rhysand? You locked us out?¡±


    Fighting to keep that immense heaviness at bay a bit longer, I made for the stairs¡ªat the top of which now stood


    Nu and Cerridwen, wincing at the front door. I could have sworn Cerridwen subtly gestured me to hurry up. And


    I might have kissed both twins for that bit of normalcy.


    I might have kissed Rhys, too, for waiting to open the front door until I was halfway down the cerulean-blue


    hallway on the second level.


    All I heard was that first male voice dere, ¡°Wee home, bastard,¡± followed by the shadowy male voice


    saying, ¡°I sensed you were back. Mor filled me in, but I¡ª¡±


    That strange female voice cut him off. ¡°Send your dogs out in the yard to y, Rhysand. You and I have matters to


    discuss.¡±


    That midnight voice said with quiet cold that licked down my spine, ¡°As do I.¡±


    Then the cocky one drawled to her, ¡°We were here first. Wait your turn, Tiny Ancient One.¡±


    On either side of me, Nu and Cerridwen flinched, either from holding inughter or some vestige of fear, or


    perhaps both. Definitely both as a feminine snarl sliced through the house¡ªalbeit a bit halfheartedly.


    The upstairs hall was punctuated with chandeliers of swirled, colored ss, illuminating the few polished doors on


    either side. I wondered which belonged to Rhysand¡ªand then wondered which one belonged to Mor as I heard h


    er yawn amid the fray below:


    ¡°Why is everyone here so early? I thought we were meeting tonight at the House.¡±


    Below, Rhysand grumbled¡ªgrumbled¡ª¡°Trust me, there¡¯s no party. Only a massacre, if Cassian doesn¡¯t shut his


    mouth.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re hungry,¡± that first male¡ªCassianined. ¡°Feed us. Someone told me there¡¯d be breakfast.¡±


    ¡°Pathetic,¡± that strange female voice quipped. ¡°You idiots are pathetic.¡±


    Mor said, ¡°We know that¡¯s true. But is there food?¡±


    I heard the words¡ªheard and processed them. And then they floated into the ckness of my mind.


    Nu and Cerridwen opened a door, leading to a fire-warmed, sunlit room. It faced a walled, winter-kissed garden


    in the back of the town house, therge windows peering over the sleeping stone fountain in its center, drained for


    the season. Everything in the bedroom itself was of rich wood and soft white, with touches of subtle sage. It felt,


    strangely enough, almost human.


    And the bed¡ªmassive, plush, adorned in quilts and duvets of cream and ivory to keep out the winter chill¡ªthat


    looked the most weing of all.


    But I wasn¡¯t so far gone that I couldn¡¯t ask a few basic questions¡ªto at least give myself the illusion of caring a bit


    about my own welfare.


    ¡°Who was that?¡± I managed to say as they shut the door behind us.


    Nu headed for the small attached bathing room¡ªwhite marble, a w-foot tub, more sunny windows that


    overlooked the garden wall and the thick line of cypress trees that stood watch behind it. Cerridwen, already


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    stalking for the armoire, cringed a bit and said over a shoulder, ¡°They¡¯re Rhysand¡¯s Inner Circle.¡±


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    The ones I¡¯d heard mentioned that day at the Night Court¡ªwho Rhys kept going to meet. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware that


    High Lords kept things so casual,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°They don¡¯t,¡± Nu said, returning from the bathing room with a brush. ¡°But Rhysand does.¡±


    Apparently, my hair was a mess, because Nu brushed it as Cerridwen pulled out some ivory sleeping clothes¡ª


    a warm and softce-trimmed top and pants.


    I took in the clothes, then the room, then the winter garden and the slumbering fountain beyond, and Rhysand¡¯s


    earlier words clicked into ce.


    The walls of this city have not been breached for five thousand years.


    Meaning Amarantha ¡­


    ¡°How is this city here?¡± I met Nu¡¯s gaze in the mirror. ¡°How¡ªhow did it survive?¡±


    Nu¡¯s face tightened, and her dark eyes flicked to her twin, who slowly rose from a dresser drawer, fleece-lined


    slippers for me in hand. Cerridwen¡¯s throat bobbed as she swallowed.


    ¡°The High Lord is very powerful,¡± Cerridwen said¡ªcarefully. ¡°And was devoted to his people long before his


    father¡¯s mantle passed to him.¡±


    ¡°How did it survive?¡± I pushed. A city¡ªa lovely one, if the sounds from my window, the garden beyond it, were any


    indicationy all around me. Untouched, whole. Safe. While the rest of the world had been left to ruin.


    The twins exchanged looks again, some silentnguage they¡¯d learned in the womb passing between them. Nu


    set down the brush on the vanity. ¡°It is not for us to tell.¡±


    ¡°He asked you not to¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Cerridwen interrupted, folding back the covers of the bed. ¡°The High Lord made no such demand. But what


    he did to shield this city is his story to tell, not ours. We would be morefortable if he told you, lest we get any


    of it wrong.¡±


    I red between them. Fine. Fair enough.


    Cerridwen moved to shut the curtains, sealing the room in darkness.


    My heart stumbled, taking my anger with it, and I blurted, ¡°Leave them open.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t be sealed up and shut in darkness¡ªnot yet.


    Cerridwen nodded and left the curtains open, both of the twins telling me to send word if I needed anything before


    they departed.


    Alone, I slid into the bed, hardly feeling the softness, the smoothness of the sheets.


    Original from N?velDrama.Org.


    I listened to the crackling fire, the chirp of birds in the garden¡¯s potted evergreens¡ªso different from the spring-


    sweet melodies I was used to. That I might never hear or be able to endure again.


    Maybe Amarantha had won after all.


    And some strange, new part of me wondered if my never returning might be a fitting punishment for him. For what


    he had done to me.


    Sleep imed me, swift and brutal and deep.


    CHAPTER


    15


    I awoke four hourster.


    It took me minutes to remember where I was, what had happened. And each tick of the little clock on the


    rosewood writing desk was a shove back-back-back into that heavy dark. But at least I wasn¡¯t tired. Weary, but no


    longer on the cusp of feeling like sleeping forever.


    I¡¯d think about what happened at the Spring Courtter. Tomorrow. Never.


    Mercifully, Rhysand¡¯s Inner Circle left before I¡¯d finished dressing.


    Rhys was waiting at the front door¡ªwhich was open to the small wood-and-marble antechamber, which in turn


    was open to the street beyond. He ran an eye over me, from the suede navy shoes¡ªpractical andfortably


    made¡ªto the knee-length sky-blue overcoat, to the braid that began on one side of my head and curved around


    the back. Beneath the coat, my usual flimsy attire had been reced by thicker, warmer brown pants, and a pretty


    cream sweater that was so soft I could have slept in it. Knitted gloves that matched my shoes had already been


    stuffed into the coat¡¯s deep pockets.


    ¡°Those two certainly like to fuss,¡± Rhysand said, though something about it was strained as we headed out the


    front door.


    Each step toward that bright threshold was both an eternity and an invitation.


    For a moment, the weight in me vanished as I gobbled down the details of the emerging city:


    Buttery sunlight that softened the already mild winter day, a small, manicured frontwn¡ªits dried grass near-


    white¡ªbordered with a waist-high wrought iron fence and empty flower beds, all leading toward a clean street of


    pale cobblestones. High Fae in various forms of dress meandered by: some in coats like mine to ward against the


    crisp air, some wearing mortal fashions withyers and poofy skirts andce, some in riding leathers¡ªall


    unhurried as they breathed in the salt-and-lemon-verbena breeze that even winter couldn¡¯t chase away. Not one


    of them looked toward the house. As if they either didn¡¯t know or weren¡¯t worried that their own High Lord dwelled


    in one of the many marble town houses lining either side of the street, each capped with a green copper roof and


    pale chimneys that puffed tendrils of smoke into the brisk sky.


    In the distance, children shrieked withughter.


    I staggered to the front gate, utching it with fumbling fingers that hardly registered the ice-cold metal, and took


    all of three steps into the street before I halted at the sight at the other end.


    The street sloped down, revealing more pretty town houses and puffing chimneys, more well-fed, unconcerned


    people. And at the very bottom of the hill curved a broad, winding river, sparkling like deepest sapphire, snaking


    toward a vast expanse of water beyond.


    The sea.


    The city had been built like a crust atop the rolling, steep hills that nked the river, the buildings crafted from


    white marble or warm sandstone. Ships with sails of varying shapes loitered in the river, the white wings of birds


    shining brightly above them in the midday sun.


    No monsters. No darkness. Not a hint of fear, of despair.


    Untouched.


    The city has not been breached in five thousand years.


    Even during the height of her dominance over Prythian, whatever Rhys had done, whatever he¡¯d sold or bartered


    ¡­ Amarantha truly had not touched this ce.


    The rest of Prythian had been shredded, then left to bleed out over the course of fifty years, yet Vris ¡­ My


    fingers curled into fists.


    I sensed something looming and gazed down the other end of the street.


    There, like eternal guardians of the city, towered a wall of t-topped mountains of re


    d stone¡ªthe same stone that had been used to build some of the structures. They curved around the northern


    edge of Vris, to where the river bent toward them and flowed into their shadow. To the north, different


    mountains surrounded the city across the river¡ªa range of sharp peaks like fish¡¯s teeth cleaved the city¡¯s merry


    hills from the sea beyond. But these mountains behind me ¡­ They were sleeping giants. Somehow alive, awake.


    As if in answer, that undting, slithering power slid along my bones, like a cat brushing against my legs for


    attention. I ignored it.


    ¡°The middle peak,¡± Rhys said from behind me, and I whirled, remembering he was there. He just pointed toward


    thergest of the teaus. Holes and¡ªwindows seemed to have been built into the uppermost part of it. And


    flying toward it, borne onrge, dark wings, were two figures. ¡°That¡¯s my other home in this city. The House of


    Wind.¡±


    Sure enough, the flying figures swerved on what looked to be a wicked, fast current.


    ¡°We¡¯ll be dining there tonight,¡± he added, and I couldn¡¯t tell if he sounded irritated or resigned about it.


    And I didn¡¯t quite care. I turned toward the city again and said, ¡°How?¡±


    He understood what I meant. ¡°Luck.¡±


    ¡°Luck? Yes, how lucky for you,¡± I said quietly, but not weakly, ¡°that the rest of Prythian was ravaged while your


    people, your city, remained safe.¡±


    The wind ruffled Rhys¡¯s dark hair, his face unreadable.


    ¡°Did you even think for one moment,¡± I said, my voice like gravel, ¡°to extend that luck to anywhere else? Anyone


    else?¡±


    ¡°Other cities,¡± he said calmly, ¡°are known to the world. Vris has remained secret beyond the borders of these


    one in the other courts knows of its existence, either.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Spells and wards and my ruthless, ruthless ancestors, who were willing to do anything to preserve a piece of


    goodness in our wretched world.¡±


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    ¡°And when Amarantha came,¡± I said, nearly spitting her name, ¡°you didn¡¯t think to open this ce as a refuge?¡±


    ¡°When Amarantha came,¡± he said, his temper slipping the leash a bit as his eyes shed, ¡°I had to make some


    very hard choices, very quickly.¡±


    I rolled my eyes, twisting away to scan the rolling, steep hills, the sea far beyond. ¡°I¡¯m assuming you won¡¯t tell me


    about it.¡± But I had to know¡ªhow he¡¯d managed to save this slice of peace and beauty.


    ¡°Now¡¯s not the time for that conversation.¡±


    Fine. I¡¯d heard that sort of thing a thousand times before at the Spring Court, anyway. It wasn¡¯t worth dredging up


    the effort to push about it.


    But I wouldn¡¯t sit in my room, couldn¡¯t allow myself to mourn and mope and weep and sleep. So I would venture


    out, even if it was an agony, even if the size of this ce ¡­ Cauldron, it was enormous. I jerked my chin toward


    the city sloping down toward the river. ¡°So what is there that was worth saving at the cost of everyone else?¡±


    When I faced him, his blue eyes were as ruthless as the churning winter sea in the distance. ¡°Everything,¡± he said.


    Rhysand wasn¡¯t exaggerating.


    There was everything to see in Vris: tea shops with delicate tables and chairs scattered outside their cheery


    fronts, surely heated by some warming spell, all full of chattering,ughing High Fae¡ªand a few strange, beautiful


    faeries. There were four main market squares; Pces, they were called: two on this side¡ªthe southern side¡ªof


    the Sidra River, two on the northern.


    In the hours that we wandered, I only made it to two of them: great, white-stoned squares nked by the pirs


    supporting the carved and painted buildings that watched over them and provided a covered walkway beneath for


    the shops built into the street level.


    The first market we entered, the Pce of Thread and Jewels, sold clothes, shoes, supplies for making both, and


    jewelry¡ªendless, sparkling jeweler¡¯s shops. Yet nothing inside me stirred at the glimmer of sunlight on the


    undoubtedly rare fabrics swaying in the chill river breeze, at the clothes disyed in the broad ss windows, or


    the luster of gold and ruby and emerald and pearl nestled on velvet beds. I didn¡¯t dare nce at the now-empty


    finger on my left hand.


    Rhys entered a few of the jewelry shops, looking for a present for a friend, he said. I chose to wait outside each


    time, hiding in the shadows beneath the Pce buildings. Walking around today was enough. Introducing myself,


    enduring the gawking and tears and judgment ¡­ If I had to deal with that, I might very well climb into bed and


    never get out.


    But no one on the streets looked twice at me, even at Rhysand¡¯s side. Perhaps they had no idea who I was¡ª


    perhaps city-dwellers didn¡¯t care who was in their midst.


    The second market, the Pce of Bone and Salt, was one of the Twin Squares: one on this side of the river, the


    other one¡ªthe Pce of Hoof and Leaf¡ªacross it, both crammed with vendors selling meat, produce, prepared


    foods, livestock, confections, spices ¡­ So many spices, scents familiar and forgotten from those precious years


    when I had known thefort of an invincible father and bottomless wealth.


    Rhysand kept a few steps away, hands in his pockets as he offered bits of information every now and then. Yes,


    he told me, many stores and homes used magic to warm them, especially popr outdoor spaces. I didn¡¯t inquire


    further about it.


    No one avoided him¡ªno one whispered about him or spat on him or stroked him as they had Under the Mountain.


    Rather, the people that spotted him offered warm, broad smiles. Some approached, gripping his hand to wee


    him back. He knew each of them by name¡ªand they addressed him by his.


    But Rhys grew ever quieter as the afternoon pressed on. We paused at the edge of a brightly painted pocket of


    the city, built atop one of the hills that flowed right to the river¡¯s edge. I took one look at the first storefront and my


    bones turned brittle.


    The cheery door was cracked open to reveal art and paints and brushes and little sculptures.


    Rhys said, ¡°This is what Vris is known for: the artists¡¯ quarter. You¡¯ll find a hundred galleries, supply stores,


    potters¡¯pounds, sculpture gardens, and anything in between. They call it the Rainbow of Vris. The


    performing artists¡ªthe musicians, the dancers, the actors¡ªdwell on that hill right across the Sidra. You see the


    bit of gold glinting near the top? That¡¯s one of the main theaters. There are five notable ones in the city, but that¡¯s


    the most famous. And then there are the smaller theaters, and the amphitheater on the sea cliffs ¡­ ¡± He trailed off


    as he noticed my gaze drifting back to the assortment of bright buildings ahead.


    High Fae and various lesser faeries I¡¯d never encountered and didn¡¯t know the names of wandered the streets. It


    was thetter that I noticed more than the others: some long-limbed, hairless, and glowing as if an inner moon


    dwelled beneath their night-dark skin, some covered in opalescent scales that shifted color with each graceful


    step of their wed, webbed feet, some elegant, wild puzzles of horns and hooves and striped fur. Some were


    bundled in heavy overcoats, scarves, and mittens¡ªothers strode about in nothing but their scales and fur and


    talons and didn¡¯t seem to think twice about it. Neither did anyone else. All of them, however, were preupied


    with taking in the sights, some shopping, some sttered with y and dust and¡ªand paint.


    Artists. I¡¯d never called myself an artist, never thought that far or that grandly, but ¡­


    Where all that color and light and texture had once dwelled, there was only a filthy prison cell. ¡°I¡¯m tired,¡± I


    managed to say.


    I could feel Rhys¡¯s gaze, didn¡¯t care if my shield was up or down to ward against him reading my thoughts. But he


    only said, ¡°We cane back another day. It¡¯s almost time for dinner, anyway.¡±


    Indeed, the sun was sinking toward where the river met the sea beyond the hills, staining the city pink and gold.


    I didn¡¯t feel like painting that, either. Even as people stopped to admire the approaching sunset¡ªas if the


    residents of this ce, this court, had the freedom, the safety of enjoying the sights whenever they wished. And


    had never known otherwise.


    I wanted to scream at them, wanted to pick up a loose piece of cobblestone and shatter the nearest window,


    wanted to unleash that power again boiling beneath my skin and tell them, show them, what had been done to


    me, to the rest of the world, while they admired sunsets and painted and drank tea by the river.


    ¡°Easy,¡± Rhys murmured.


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    I whipped my head to him, my breathing a bit jagged.


    His face had again be unreadable. ¡°My people are meless.¡±


    That easily, my rage vanished, as if it had slipped a rung of thedder it had been steadily climbing inside me and


    sttered on the pale stone street.


    Yes¡ªyes, of course they were meless. But I didn¡¯t feel like thinking more on it. On anything. I said again, ¡°I¡¯m


    tired.¡±


    His throat bobbed, but he nodded, turning from the Rainbow. ¡°Tomorrow night, we¡¯ll go for a walk. Vris is lovely


    in the day, but it was built to be viewed after dark.¡±


    I¡¯d expect nothing less from the City of Starlight, but words had again be difficult.


    But¡ªdinner. With him. At that House of Wind. I mustered enough focus to say, ¡°Who, exactly, is going to be at this


    dinner?¡±


    Rhys led us up a steep street, my thighs burning with the movement. Had I be so out of shape, so


    weakened? ¡°My Inner Circle,¡± he said. ¡°I want you to meet them before you decide if this is a ce you¡¯d like to


    stay. If you¡¯d like to work with me, and thus work with them. Mor, you¡¯ve met, but the three others¡ª¡±


    ¡°The ones who came this afternoon.¡±


    A nod. ¡°Cassian, Azriel, and Amren.¡±


    ¡°Who are they?¡± He¡¯d said something about Illyrians, but Amren¡ªthe female voice I¡¯d heard¡ªhadn¡¯t possessed


    wings. At least ones I¡¯d glimpsed through the fogged ss.


    ¡°There are tiers,¡± he said neutrally, ¡°within our circle. Amren is my Second inmand.¡±


    A female?


    The surprise must have been written on my face because Rhys said, ¡°Yes. And Mor is my Third. Only a fool would


    think my Illyrian warriors were the apex predators in our circle.¡± Irreverent, cheerful Mor¡ªwas Third to the High


    Lord of the Night Court. Rhys went on, ¡°You¡¯ll see what I mean when you meet Amren. She looks High Fae, but


    something different prowls beneath her skin.¡± Rhys nodded to a passing couple, who bowed their heads in merry


    greeting. ¡°She might be older than this city, but she¡¯s vain, and likes to hoard her baubles and belongings like a


    firedrake in a cave. So ¡­ be on your guard. You both have tempers when provoked, and I don¡¯t want you to have


    any surprises tonight.¡±


    Some part of me didn¡¯t want to know what manner of creature, exactly, she was. ¡°So if we get into a brawl and I rip


    off her ne, she¡¯ll roast and eat me?¡±


    He chuckled. ¡°No¡ªAmren would do far, far worse things than that. Thest time Amren and Mor got into it, they


    left my favorite mountain retreat in cinders.¡± He lifted a brow. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I¡¯m the most powerful High Lord


    in Prythian¡¯s history, and merely interrupting Amren is something I¡¯ve only done once in the past century.¡±


    The most powerful High Lord in history.


    In the countless millennia they had existed here in Prythian, Rhys¡ªRhys with his smirking and sarcasm and


    bedroom eyes ¡­


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    And Amren was worse. And older than five thousand years.


    I waited for the fear to hit; waited for my body to shriek to find a way to get out of this dinner, but ¡­ nothing.


    Maybe it¡¯d be a mercy to be ended¡ª


    A broad hand gripped my face¡ªgently enough not to hurt, but hard enough to make me look at him. ¡°Don¡¯t you


    ever think that,¡± Rhysand hissed, his eyes livid. ¡°Not for one damned moment.¡±


    That bond between us went taut, and my lingering mental shields copsed. And for a heartbeat, just as it had


    happened Under the Mountain, I shed from my body to his¡ªfrom my eyes to his own.


    I had not realized ¡­ how I looked ¡­


    My face was gaunt, my cheekbones sharp, my blue-gray eyes dull and smudged with purple beneath. The full lips


    ¡ªmy father¡¯s mouth¡ªwere wan, and my corbones jutted above the thick wool neckline of my sweater. I looked


    as if ¡­ as if rage and grief and despair had eaten me alive, as if I was again starved. Not for food, but ¡­ but for


    joy and life¡ª


    Then I was back in my body, seething at him. ¡°Was that a trick?¡±


    His voice was hoarse as he lowered his hand from my face. ¡°No.¡± He angled his head to the side. ¡°How did you


    get through it? My shield.¡±


    I didn¡¯t know what he was talking about. I hadn¡¯t done anything. Just ¡­ slipped. And I didn¡¯t want to talk about it,


    not here, not with him. I stormed into a walk, my legs¡ªso damn thin, so useless¡ªburning with every step up the


    steep hill.


    He gripped my elbow, again with that considerate gentleness, but strong enough to make me pause. ¡°How many


    other minds have you identally slipped into?¡±


    Lucien¡ª


    ¡°Lucien?¡± A shortugh. ¡°What a miserable ce to be.¡±


    A low snarl rippled from me. ¡°Do not go into my head.¡±


    ¡°Your shield is down.¡± I hauled it back up. ¡°You might as well have been shouting his name at me.¡± Again, that


    contemtive angling of his head. ¡°Perhaps you having my power ¡­ ¡± He chewed on his bottom lip, then snorted.


    ¡°It¡¯d make sense, of course, if the power came from me¡ªif my own shield sometimes mistook you for me and let


    you slip past. Fascinating.¡±


    I debated spitting on his boots. ¡°Take your power back. I don¡¯t want it.¡±


    A sly smile. ¡°It doesn¡¯t work that way. The power is bound to your life. The only way to get it back would be to kill


    you. And since I like yourpany, I¡¯ll pass on the offer.¡± We walked a few steps before he said, ¡°You need to be


    vignt about keeping your mental wards up. Especially now that you¡¯ve seen Vris. If you ever go somewhere


    else, beyond thesends, and someone slipped into your mind and saw this ce ¡­¡± A muscle quivered in his


    jaw. ¡°We¡¯re called daemati¡ªthose of us who can walk into another person¡¯s mind as if we were going from one


    room to another. We¡¯re rare, and the trait appears as the Mother wills it, but there are enough of us scattered


    throughout the world that many¡ªmostly those in positions of influence¡ªextensively train against our skill set. If


    Original from N?velDrama.Org.


    you were to ever encounter a daemati without those shields up, Feyre, they¡¯d take whatever they wanted. A more


    powerful one could make you their unwitting ve, make you do whatever they wanted and you¡¯d never know it.


    Mynds remain mystery enough to outsiders that some would find you, among other things, a highly valuable


    source of information.¡±


    Daemati¡ªwas I now one if I, too, could do such things? Yet another damned title for people to whisper as I


    passed. ¡°I take it that in a potential war with Hybern, the king¡¯s armies wouldn¡¯t even know to strike here?¡± I waved


    a hand to the city around us. ¡°So, what¡ªyour pampered people ¡­ those who can¡¯t shield their minds¡ªthey get


    your protection and don¡¯t have to fight while the rest of us will bleed?¡±


    I didn¡¯t let him answer, and just increased my pace. A cheap shot, and childish, but ¡­ Inside, inside I had be


    like that distant sea, relentlessly churning, tossed about by squalls that tore away any sense of where the surface


    might be.


    Rhys kept a step behind for the rest of the walk to the town house.


    Some small part of me whispered that I could survive Amarantha; I could survive leaving Tamlin; I could survive


    transitioning into this new, strange body ¡­ But that empty, cold hole in my chest ¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure I could survive


    that.


    Even in the years I¡¯d been one bad week away from starvation, that part of me had been full of color, of light.


    Maybe bing a faerie had broken it. Maybe Amarantha had broken it.


    Or maybe I had broken it, when I shoved that dagger into the hearts of two innocent faeries and their blood had


    warmed my hands.


    ¡°Absolutely not,¡± I said atop the town house¡¯s small rooftop garden, my hands shoved deep into the pockets of my


    overcoat to warm them against the bite in the night air. There was room enough for a few boxed shrubs and a


    round iron table with two chairs¡ªand me and Rhysand.


    Around us, the city twinkled, the stars themselves seeming to hang lower, pulsing with ruby and amethyst and


    pearl. Above, the full moon set the marble of the buildings and bridges glowing as if they were all lit from within.


    Music yed, strings and gentle drums, and on either side of the Sidra, golden lights bobbed over riverside


    walkways dotted with caf¨¦s and shops, all open for the night, already packed.


    Life¡ªso full of life. I could nearly taste it crackling on my tongue.


    Clothed in ck ented with silver thread, Rhysand crossed his arms. And rustled his massive wings as I said,


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°The House of Wind is warded against people winnowing inside¡ªexactly like this house. Even against High


    Lords. Don¡¯t ask me why, or who did it. But the option is either walk up the ten thousand steps, which I really do


    not feel like doing, Feyre, or fly in.¡± Moonlight zed the talon at the apex of each wing. He gave me a slow grin


    that I hadn¡¯t seen all afternoon. ¡°I promise I won¡¯t drop you.¡±


    I frowned at the midnight-blue dress I¡¯d selected¡ªeven with the long sleeves and heavy, luxurious fabric, the


    plunging vee of the neckline did nothing against the cold. I¡¯d debated wearing the sweater and thicker pants, but


    had opted for finery overfort. I already regretted it, even with the coat. But if his Inner Circle was anything like


    Tamlin¡¯s court ¡­ better to wear the more formal attire. I winced at the swath of night between the roof and the


    mountain-residence. ¡°The wind will rip the gown right off.¡±


    His grin became feline.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take the stairs,¡± I seethed, the anger wee from the past few hours of numbness as I headed for the door


    at the end of the roof.


    Rhys snapped out a wing, blocking my path.


    Smooth membrane¡ªflecked with a hint of iridescence. I peeled back. ¡°Nu spent an hour on my hair.¡±


    An exaggeration, but she had fussed whil


    e I¡¯d sat there in hollow silence, letting her tease the ends into soft curls and pin a section along the top of my


    head with pretty gold barrettes. But maybe staying inside tonight, alone and quiet ¡­ maybe it¡¯d be better than


    facing these people. Than interacting.


    Rhys¡¯s wing curved around me, herding me closer to where I could nearly feel the heat of his powerful body. ¡°I


    promise I won¡¯t let the wind destroy your hair.¡± He lifted a hand as if he might tug on one of those loose curls, then


    lowered it.


    ¡°If I¡¯m to decide whether I want to work against Hybern with you¡ªwith your Inner Circle, can¡¯t we just ¡­ meet


    here?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re all up there already. And besides, the House of Wind has enough space that I won¡¯t feel like chucking


    them all off the mountain.¡±


    I swallowed. Sure enough, curving along the top of the center mountain behind us, floors of lights glinted, as if the


    mountain had been crowned in gold. And between me and that crown of light was a long, long stretch of open air.


    ¡°You mean,¡± I said, because it might have been the only weapon in my arsenal, ¡°that this town house is too small,


    and their personalities are too big, and you¡¯re worried I might lose it again.¡±


    His wing pushed me closer, a whisper of warmth on my shoulder. ¡°So what if I am?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not some broken doll.¡± Even if this afternoon, that conversation we¡¯d had, what I¡¯d glimpsed through his eyes,


    said otherwise. But I yielded another step.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re not. But that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll throw you to the wolves. If you meant what you said about wanting to


    work with me to keep Hybern from thesends, keep the wall intact, I want you to meet my friends first. Decide on


    your own if it¡¯s something you can handle. And I want this meeting to be on my terms, not whenever they decide


    to ambush this house again.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you even had friends.¡± Yes¡ªanger, sharpness ¡­ It felt good. Better than feeling nothing.


    A cold smile. ¡°You didn¡¯t ask.¡±


    Rhysand was close enough now that he slid a hand around my waist, both of his wings encircling me. My spine


    locked up. A cage¡ª


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    The wings swept back.


    But he tightened his arm. Bracing me for takeoff. Mother save me. ¡°You say the word tonight, and


    wee back here, no questions asked. And if you can¡¯t stomach working with me, with them, then


    no questions asked on that, either. We can find some other way for you to live here, be fulfilled,


    regardless of what I need. It¡¯s your choice, Feyre.¡±


    I debated pushing him on it¡ªon insisting I stay. But stay for what? To sleep? To avoid a meeting I


    should most certainly have before deciding what I wanted to do with myself? And to fly ¡­


    I studied the wings, the arm around my waist. ¡°Please don¡¯t drop me. And please don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    We shot into the sky, fast as a shooting star.


    Before my yelp finished echoing, the city had yawned wide beneath us. Rhys¡¯s hand slid under my


    knees while the other wrapped around my back and ribs, and we pped up, up, up into the star-


    freckled night, into the liquid dark and singing wind.


    The city lights dropped away until Vris was a rippling velvet nket littered with jewels, until the


    music no longer reached even our pointed ears. The air was chill, but no wind other than a gentle


    breeze brushed my face¡ªeven as we soared with magnificent precision for the House of Wind.


    Rhys¡¯s body was hard and warm against mine, a solid force of nature crafted and honed for this.


    Even the smell of him reminded me of the wind¡ªrain and salt and something citrus-y I couldn¡¯t


    name.


    We swerved into an updraft, rising so fast it was instinct to clutch his ck tunic as my stomach


    clenched. I scowled at the softugh that tickled my ear. ¡°I expected more screaming from you. I


    must not be trying hard enough.¡±


    ¡°Do not,¡± I hissed, focusing on the approaching tiara of lights in the eternal wall of the mountain.


    With the sky wheeling overhead and the lights shooting past below, up and down became mirrors¡ª


    until we were sailing through a sea of stars. Something tight in my chest eased a fraction of its grip.


    ¡°When I was a boy,¡± Rhys said in my ear, ¡°I¡¯d sneak out of the House of Wind by leaping out my


    window¡ªand I¡¯d fly and fly all night, just making loops around the city, the river, the sea. Sometimes


    I still do.¡±


    ¡°Your parents must have been thrilled.¡±


    ¡°My father never knew¡ªand my mother ¡­¡± A pause. ¡°She was Illyrian. Some nights, when she


    caught me right as I leaped out the window, she¡¯d scold me ¡­ and then jump out herself to fly with


    me until dawn.¡±


    ¡°She sounds lovely,¡± I admitted.


    ¡°She was,¡± he said. And those two words told me enough about his past that I didn¡¯t pry.


    A maneuver had us rising higher, until we were in direct line with a broad balcony, gilded by the light


    of goldennterns. At the far end, built into the red mountain itself, two ss doors were already


    open, revealing arge, but surprisingly casual dining room carved from the stone, and ented


    with rich wood. Each chair fashioned, I noted, to aodate wings.


    Rhys¡¯snding was as smooth as his takeoff, though he kept an arm beneath my shoulders as my


    knees buckled at the adjustment. I shook off his touch, and faced the city behind us.


    I¡¯d spent so much time squatting in trees that heights had lost their primal terror long ago. But the


    sprawl of the city ¡­ worse, the vast expanse of dark beyond¡ªthe sea ¡­ Maybe I remained a


    human fool to feel that way, but I had not realized the size of the world. The size of Prythian, if a city


    thisrge could remain hidden from Amarantha, from the other courts.


    Rhysand was silent beside me. Yet after a moment, he said, ¡°Out with it.¡±


    I lifted a brow.


    N?velDrama.Org holds ? this.


    ¡°You say what¡¯s on your mind¡ªone thing. And I¡¯ll say one, too.¡±


    I shook my head and turned back to the city.


    But Rhys said, ¡°I¡¯m thinking that I spent fifty years locked Under the Mountain, and I¡¯d sometimes let


    myself dream of this ce, but I never expected to see it again. I¡¯m thinking that I wish I had been


    the one who ughtered her. I¡¯m thinking that if wares, it might be a long while yet before I get


    to have a night like this.¡±


    He slid his eyes to me, expectant.


    I didn¡¯t bother asking again how he¡¯d kept this ce from her, not when he was likely to refuse to


    answer. So I said, ¡°Do you think war will be here that soon?¡±


    ¡°This was a no-questions-asked invitation. I told you ¡­ three things. Tell me one.¡±


    I stared toward the open world, the city and the restless sea and the dry winter night.


    Maybe it was some shred of courage, or recklessness, or I was so high above everything that no


    one save Rhys and the wind could hear, but I said, ¡°I¡¯m thinking that I must have been a fool in love


    to allow myself to be shown so little of the Spring Court. I¡¯m thinking there¡¯s a great deal of that


    territory I was never allowed to see or hear about and maybe I would have lived in ignorance


    forever like some pet. I¡¯m thinking ¡­ ¡± The words became choked. I shook my head as if I could


    clear the remaining ones away. But I still spoke them. ¡°I¡¯m thinking that I was a lonely, hopeless


    person, and I might have fallen in love with the first thing that showed me a hint of kindness and


    safety. And I¡¯m thinking maybe he knew that¡ªmaybe not actively, but maybe he wanted to be that


    person for someone. And maybe that worked for who I was before. Maybe it doesn¡¯t work for who¡ª


    what I am now.¡±


    There.


    The words, hateful and selfish and ungrateful. For all Tamlin had done¡ª


    The thought of his name nged through me. Only yesterday afternoon, I had been there. No¡ªno,


    I wouldn¡¯t think about it. Not yet.


    Rhysand said, ¡°That was five. Looks like I owe you two thoughts.¡± He nced behind us. ¡°Later.¡±


    Because the two winged males from earlier were standing in the doorway.


    Grinning.


    CHAPTER


    16


    Rhys sauntered toward the two males standing by the dining room doors, giving me the option to


    stay or join.


    One word, he¡¯d promised, and we could go.


    Both of them were tall, their wings tucked in tight to powerful, muscled bodies covered in ted,


    dark leather that reminded me of the worn scales of some serpentine beast. Identical long swords


    were each strapped down the column of their spines¡ªthe des beautiful in their simplicity.


    Perhaps I needn¡¯t have bothered with the fine clothes after all.


    The slightlyrger of the two, his face masked in shadow, chuckled and said, ¡°Come on, Feyre. We


    don¡¯t bite. Unless you ask us to.¡±


    Surprise sparked through me, setting my feet moving.


    Rhys slid his hands into his pockets. ¡°Thest I heard, Cassian, no one has ever taken you up on


    that offer.¡±


    The second one snorted, the faces of both males atst illuminated as they turned toward the


    golden light of the dining room, and I honestly wondered why no one hadn¡¯t: if Rhysand¡¯s mother


    had also been Illyrian, then its people were blessed with unnatural good looks.


    Like their High Lord, the males¡ªwarriors¡ªwere dark-haired, tan-skinned. But unlike Rhys, their


    eyes were hazel and fixed on me as I atst stepped close¡ªto the waiting House of Wind behind


    them.


    That was where any simrities between the three of them halted.


    Cassian surveyed Rhys from head to foot, his shoulder-length ck hair shifting with the


    movement. ¡°So fancy tonight, brother. And you made poor Feyre dress up, too.¡± He winked at me.


    There was something rough-hewn about his features¡ªlike he¡¯d been made of wind and earth and


    me and all these civilized trappings were little more than an inconvenience.


    But the second male, the more ssically beautiful of the two ¡­ Even the light shied from the


    elegant nes of his face. With good reason. Beautiful, but near-unreadable. He¡¯d be the one to


    look out for¡ªthe knife in the dark. Indeed, an obsidian-hilted hunting knife was sheathed at his


    thigh, its dark scabbard embossed with a line of silver runes I¡¯d never seen before.


    Rhys said, ¡°This is Azriel¡ªmy spymaster.¡± Not surprising. Some buried instinct had me checking


    that my mental shields were intact. J


    ust in case.


    ¡°Wee,¡± was all Azriel said, his voice low, almost t, as he extended a brutally scarred hand to


    me. The shape of it was normal¡ªbut the skin ¡­ It looked like it had been swirled and smudged and


    rippled. Burns. They must have been horrific if even their immortal blood had not been able to heal


    them.


    The leather tes of his light armor flowed over most of it, held by a loop around his middle finger.


    Not to conceal, I realized as his hand breached the chill night air between us. No, it was to hold in


    ce therge, depthless cobalt stone that graced the back of the gauntlet. A matching oney


    atop his left hand; and twin red stones adorned Cassian¡¯s gauntlets, their color like the slumbering


    heart of a me.


    I took Azriel¡¯s hand, and his rough fingers squeezed mine. His skin was as cold as his face.


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    Chapter 29


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    But the word Cassian had used a moment ago snagged my attention as I released his hand and tried not to look


    too eager to step back to Rhys¡¯s side. ¡°You¡¯re brothers?¡± The Illyrians looked simr, but only in the way that


    people who hade from the same ce did.


    Rhysand rified, ¡°Brothers in the sense that all bastards are brothers of a sort.¡±


    I¡¯d never thought of it that way. ¡°And¡ªyou?¡± I asked Cassian.


    Cassian shrugged, wings tucking in tighter. ¡°Imand Rhys¡¯s armies.¡±


    As if such a position were something that one shrugged off. And¡ªarmies. Rhys had armies. I shifted on my feet.


    Cassian¡¯s hazel eyes tracked the movement, his mouth twitching to the side, and I honestly thought he was about


    to give me his professional opinion on how doing so would make me unsteady against an opponent when Azriel


    rified, ¡°Cassian also excels at pissing everyone off. Especially amongst our friends. So, as a friend of Rhysand


    ¡­ good luck.¡±


    A friend of Rhysand¡ªnot savior of theirnd, not murderer, not human-faerie-thing. Maybe they didn¡¯t know¡ª


    But Cassian nudged his bastard-brother-whatever out of the way, Azriel¡¯s mighty wings ring slightly as he


    bnced himself. ¡°How the hell did you make that bonedder in the Middengard Wyrm¡¯sir when you look like


    your own bones can snap at any moment?¡±


    Well, that settled that. And the question of whether he¡¯d been Under the Mountain. But where he¡¯d been instead


    ¡­ Another mystery. Perhaps here¡ªwith these people. Safe and coddled.


    I met Cassian¡¯s gaze, if only because having Rhysand defend me might very well make me crumble a bit more.


    And maybe it made me as mean as an adder, maybe I relished being one, but I said, ¡°How the hell did you


    manage to survive this long without anyone killing you?¡±


    Cassian tipped back his head andughed, a full, rich sound that bounced off the ruddy stones of the House.


    Azriel¡¯s brows flicked up with approval as the shadows seemed to wrap tighter around him. As if he were the dark


    hive from which they flew and returned.


    I tried not to shudder and faced Rhys, hoping for an exnation about his spymaster¡¯s dark gifts.


    Rhys¡¯s face was nk, but his eyes were wary. Assessing. I almost demanded what the hell he was looking at,


    until Mor breezed onto the balcony with, ¡°If Cassian¡¯s howling, I hope it means Feyre told him to shut his fat


    mouth.¡±


    Both Illyrians turned toward her, Cassian bracing his feet slightly farther apart on the floor in a fighting stance I


    knew all too well.


    It was almost enough to distract me from noticing Azriel as those shadows lightened, and his gaze slid over Mor¡¯s


    body: a red, flowing gown of chiffon ented with gold cuffs, andbs fashioned like gilded leaves swept back


    the waves of her unbound hair.


    A wisp of shadow curled around Azriel¡¯s ear, and his eyes snapped to mine. I schooled my face into nd


    innocence.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why I ever forget you two are rted,¡± Cassian told Mor, jerking his chin at Rhys, who rolled his


    eyes. ¡°You two and your clothes.¡±


    Mor sketched a bow to Cassian. Indeed, I tried not to slump with relief at the sight of the fine clothes. At least I


    wouldn¡¯t look overdressed now. ¡°I wanted to impress Feyre. You could have at least bothered tob your hair.¡±


    ¡°Unlike some people,¡± Cassian said, proving my suspicions correct about that fighting stance, ¡°I have better things


    to do with my time than sit in front of the mirror for hours.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Mor said, tossing her long hair over a shoulder, ¡°since swaggering around Vris¡ª¡±


    ¡°We havepany,¡± was Azriel¡¯s soft warning, wings again spreading a bit as he herded them through the open


    balcony doors to the dining room. I could have sworn tendrils of darkness swirled in their wake.


    Mor patted Azriel on the shoulder as she dodged his outstretched wing. ¡°Rx, Az¡ªno fighting tonight. We


    promised Rhys.¡±


    The lurking shadows vanished entirely as Azriel¡¯s head dipped a bit¡ªhis night-dark hair sliding over his handsome


    face as if to shield him from that mercilessly beautiful grin.


    Mor gave no indication that she noticed and curved her fingers toward me. ¡°Come sit with me while they drink.¡± I


    had enough dignity remaining not to look to Rhys for confirmation it was safe. So I obeyed, falling into step beside


    her as the two Illyrians drifted back to walk the few steps with their High Lord. ¡°Unless you¡¯d rather drink,¡± Mor


    offered as we entered the warmth and red stone of the dining room. ¡°But I want you to myself before Amren hogs


    you¡ª¡±


    The interior dining room doors opened on a whispering wind, revealing the shadowed, crimson halls of the


    mountain beyond.


    And maybe part of me remained mortal, because even though the short, delicate woman looked like High Fae ¡­


    as Rhys had warned me, every instinct was roaring to run. To hide.


    She was several inches shorter than me, her chin-length ck hair glossy and straight, her skin tan and smooth,


    and her face¡ªpretty, bordering on in¡ªwas bored, if not mildly irritated. But Amren¡¯s eyes ¡­


    Her silver eyes were unlike anything I¡¯d ever seen; a glimpse into the creature that I knew in my bones wasn¡¯t


    High Fae. Or hadn¡¯t been born that way.


    The silver in Amren¡¯s eyes seemed to swirl like smoke under ss.


    She wore pants and a top like those I¡¯d worn at the other mountain-pce, both in shades of pewter and storm


    cloud, and pearls¡ªwhite and gray and ck¡ªadorned her ears, fingers, and wrists. Even the High Lord at my


    side felt like a wisp of shadowpared to the power thrumming from her.


    Mor groaned, slumping into a chair near the end of the table, and poured herself a ss of wine. Cassian took a


    seat across from her, wiggling his fingers for the wine bottle. But Rhysand and Azriel just stood there, watching¡ª


    maybe monitoring¡ªas the female approached me, then halted three feet away.


    ¡°Your taste remains excellent, High Lord. Thank you.¡± Her voice was soft¡ªbut honed sharper than any de I¡¯d


    encountered. Her slim, small fingers grazed a delicate silver-and-pearl brooch pinned above her right breast.


    So that¡¯s who he¡¯d bought the jewelry for. The jewelry I was to never, under any circumstances, try to steal.


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    I studied Rhys and Amren, as if I might be able to read what further bondy between them, but Rhysand waved a


    hand and bowed his head. ¡°It suits you, Amren.¡±


    ¡°Everything suits me,¡± she said, and those horrible, enchanting eyes again met my own. Like leashed lightning.


    She took a step closer, sniffing delicately, and though I stood half a foot taller, I¡¯d never felt meeker. But I held my


    chin up. I didn¡¯t know why, but I did.


    Amren said, ¡°So there are two of us now.¡±


    My brows nudged toward each other.


    Amren¡¯s lips were a sh of red. ¡°We who were born something else¡ªand found ourselves trapped in new,


    strange bodies.¡±


    I decided I really didn¡¯t want to know what she¡¯d been before.


    Amren jerked her chin at me to sit in the empty chair beside Mor, her hair shifting like molten night. She imed


    the seat across from me, Azriel on her other side as Rhys took the one across from him¡ªon my right.


    No one at the head of the table.


    ¡°Though there is a third,


    ¡± Amren said, now looking at Rhysand. ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve heard from Miryam in ¡­ centuries. Interesting.¡±


    Cassian rolled his eyes. ¡°Please just get to the point, Amren. I¡¯m hungry.¡±


    Mor choked on her wine. Amren slid her attention to the warrior to her right. Azriel, on her other side, monitored


    the two of them very, very carefully. ¡°No one warming your bed right now, Cassian? It must be so hard to be an


    Illyrian and have no thoughts in your head save for those about your favorite part.¡±


    ¡°You know I¡¯m always happy to tangle in the sheets with you, Amren,¡± Cassian said, utterly unfazed by the silver


    eyes, the power radiating from her every pore. ¡°I know how much you enjoy Illyrian¡ª¡±


    ¡°Miryam,¡± Rhysand said, as Amren¡¯s smile became serpentine, ¡°and Drakon are doing well, as far as I¡¯ve heard.


    And what, exactly, is interesting?¡±


    Amren¡¯s head tilted to the side as she studied me. I tried not to shrink from it. ¡°Only once before was a human


    Made into an immortal. Interesting that it should happen again right as all the ancient yers have returned. But


    Miryam was gifted long life¡ªnot a new body. And you, girl ¡­¡± She sniffed again, and I¡¯d never felt soid bare.


    Surprise lit Amren¡¯s eyes. Rhys just nodded. Whatever that meant. I was tired already. Tired of being assessed


    and evaluated. ¡°Your very blood, your veins, your bones were Made. A mortal soul in an immortal body.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m hungry,¡± Mor said nudging me with a thigh. She snapped a finger, and tes piled high with roast chicken,


    greens, and bread appeared. Simple, but ¡­ elegant. Not formal at all. Perhaps the sweater and pants wouldn¡¯t


    have been out of ce for such a meal. ¡°Amren and Rhys can talk all night and bore us to tears, so don¡¯t bother


    waiting for them to dig in.¡± She picked up her fork, clicking her tongue. ¡°I asked Rhys if I could take you to dinner,


    just the two of us, and he said you wouldn¡¯t want to. But honestly¡ªwould you rather spend time with those two


    ancient bores, or me?¡±


    ¡°For someone who is the same age as me,¡± Rhys drawled, ¡°you seem to forget¡ª¡±


    ¡°Everyone wants to talk-talk-talk,¡± Mor said, giving a warning re at Cassian, who had indeed opened his mouth.


    ¡°Can¡¯t we eat-eat-eat, and then talk?¡±


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    An interesting bnce between Rhys¡¯s terrifying Second and his disarmingly chipper Third. If Mor¡¯s rank was


    higher than that of the two warriors at this table, then there had to be some other reason beyond that irreverent


    charm. Some power to allow her to get into the fight with Amren that Rhys had mentioned¡ªand walk away from it.


    Azriel chuckled softly at Mor, but picked up his fork. I followed suit, waiting until he¡¯d taken a bite before doing so.


    Just in case¡ª


    Good. So good. And the wine¡ª


    I hadn¡¯t even realized Mor had poured me a ss until I finished my first sip, and she clinked her own against


    mine. ¡°Don¡¯t let these old busybodies boss you around.¡±


    Cassian said, ¡°Pot. Kettle. ck.¡± Then he frowned at Amren, who had hardly touched her te. ¡°I always forget


    how bizarre that is.¡± He unceremoniously took her te, dumping half the contents on his own before passing the


    rest to Azriel.


    Azriel said to Amren as he slid the food onto his te, ¡°I keep telling him to ask before he does that.¡±


    Amren flicked her fingers and the empty te vanished from Azriel¡¯s scarred hands. ¡°If you haven¡¯t been able to


    train him after all these centuries, boy, I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll make any progress now.¡± She straightened the silverware


    on the vacant ce setting before her.


    ¡°You don¡¯t¡ªeat?¡± I said to her. The first words I¡¯d spoken since sitting.


    Amren¡¯s teeth were unnervingly white. ¡°Not this sort of food.¡±


    ¡°Cauldron boil me,¡± Mor said, gulping from her wine. ¡°Can we not?¡±


    I decided I didn¡¯t want to know what Amren ate, either.


    Rhys chuckled from my other side. ¡°Remind me to have family dinners more often.¡±


    Family dinners¡ªnot official court gatherings. And tonight ¡­ either they didn¡¯t know that I was here to decide if I


    truly wished to work with Rhys, or they didn¡¯t feel like pretending to be anything but what they were. They¡¯d no


    doubt worn whatever they felt like¡ªI had the rising feeling that I could have shown up in my nightgown and they


    wouldn¡¯t have cared. A unique group indeed. And against Hybern ¡­ who would they be, what could they do, as


    allies or opponents?


    Across from me, a cocoon of silence seemed to pulse around Azriel, even as the others dug into their food. I


    again peered at that oval of blue stone on his gauntlet as he sipped from his ss of wine. Azriel noted the look,


    swift as it had been¡ªas I had a feeling he¡¯d been noticing and cataloging all of my movements, words, and


    breaths. He held up his hands, the backs to me so both jewels were on full disy. ¡°They¡¯re called Siphons. They


    concentrate and focus our power in battle.¡±


    Only he and Cassian wore them.


    Rhys set down his fork, and rified for me, ¡°The power of stronger Illyrians tends toward ¡®incinerate now, ask


    questionster.¡¯ They have little magical gifts beyond that¡ªthe killing power.¡±


    ¡°The gift of a violent, warmongering people,¡± Amren added. Azriel nodded, shadows wreathing his neck, his


    wrists. Cassian gave him a sharp look, face tightening, but Azriel ignored him.


    Rhys went on, though I knew he was aware of every nce between the spymaster and armymander, ¡°The


    Illyrians bred the power to give them advantage in battle, yes. The Siphons filter that raw power and allow Cassian


    and Azriel to transform it into something more subtle and varied¡ªinto shields and weapons, arrows and spears.


    Imagine the difference between hurling a bucket of paint against the wall and using a brush. The Siphons allow for


    the magic to be nimble, precise on the battlefield¡ªwhen its natural state lends itself toward something far messier


    and unrefined, and potentially dangerous when you¡¯re fighting in tight quarters.¡±


    I wondered how much of that any of them had needed to do. If those scars on Azriel¡¯s hands hade from it.


    Cassian flexed his fingers, admiring the clear red stones adorning the backs of his own broad hands. ¡°Doesn¡¯t hurt


    that they also look damn good.¡±


    Amren muttered, ¡°Illyrians.¡±


    Cassian bared his teeth in feral amusement, and took a drink of his wine.


    Get to know them, try to envision how I might work with them, rely on them, if this conflict with Hybern exploded ¡­


    I scrambled for something to ask and said to Azriel, those shadows gone again, ¡°How did you¡ªI mean, how do


    you and Lord Cassian¡ª¡±


    Cassian spewed his wine across the table, causing Mor to leap up, swearing at him as she used a napkin to mop


    her dress.


    But Cassian was howling, and Azriel had a faint, wary smile on his face as Mor waved a hand at her dress and the


    spots of wine appeared on Cassian¡¯s fighting¡ªor perhaps flying, I realized¡ªleathers. My cheeks heated. Some


    court protocol that I¡¯d unknowingly broken and¡ª


    ¡°Cassian,¡± Rhys drawled, ¡°is not a lord. Though I¡¯m sure he appreciates you thinking he is.¡± He surveyed his Inner


    Circle. ¡°While we¡¯re on the subject, neither is Azriel. Nor Amren. Mor, believe it or not, is the only pure-blooded,


    titled person in this room.¡± Not him? Rhys must have seen the question on my face because he said, ¡°I¡¯m half-


    Illyrian. As good as a bastard where the thoroughbred High Fae are concerned.¡±


    ¡°So you¡ªyou three aren¡¯t High Fae?¡± I said to him and the two males.


    Cassian finished hisughing. ¡°Illyrians are certainly not High Fae. And d of it.¡± He hooked his ck hair behind


    an ear¡ªrounded; as mine had once been. ¡°And we¡¯re not lesser faeries, though some try to call us that. We¡¯re


    just¡ªIllyrians. Considered expendible aerial cavalry for the Night Court at the best of times, mindless soldier


    grunts at the worst.¡±


    ¡°Which is most of the time,¡± Azriel rified. I didn¡¯t dare ask if those shadows were a part of being Illyrian, too.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t see you Under the Mountain,¡± I said instead. I had to know without a doubt¡ªif they were there, if they¡¯d


    seen me, if it¡¯d impact how I interacted while working with¡ª


    Silence fell. None of them, even Amren, looked at Rhysand.


    It was Mor who said, ¡°Because none of us were.¡±


    Rhys¡¯s face was a mask of cold. ¡°Amarantha didn¡¯t know they existed. And when someone tried to tell her, they


    usually found themselves without the mind to do so.¡±


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    A shudder went down my spine. Not at the cold killer, but¡ªbut ¡­ ¡°You truly kept this city, and all these people,


    hidden from her for fifty years?¡±


    Cassian was staring hard at his te, as if he might burst out of his skin.


    Amren said, ¡°We will continue to keep this city and these people hidden from our enemies for a great many more.¡±


    Not an answer.


    Rhys hadn¡¯t expected to see them again when he¡¯d been dragged Under the Mountain. Yet he had kept them


    safe, somehow.


    And it killed them¡ªthe four people at this table. It killed them all that he¡¯d done it, however he¡¯d done it. Even


    Amren.


    Perhaps not only for the fact that Rhys had endured Amarantha while they had been here. Perhaps it was also for


    those left outside of the city, too. Perhaps picking one city, one ce, to shield was better than nothing. Perhaps


    ¡­ perhaps it was aforting thing, to have a spot in Prythian that remained untouched. Unsullied.


    Mor¡¯s voice was a bit raw as she exined to me, her goldenbs glinting in the light, ¡°There is not one person


    in this city who is unaware of what went on outside these borders. Or of the cost.¡±


    I didn¡¯t want to ask what price had been demanded. The pain thatced the heavy silence told me enough.


    Yet if they might all live through their pain, might stillugh ¡­ I cleared my throat, straightening, and said to Azriel,


    who, shadows or no, seemed the safest and therefore was probably the least so, ¡°How did you meet?¡± A harmless


    question to feel them out, learn who they were. Wasn¡¯t it?


    Azriel merely turned to Cassian, who was staring at Rhys with guilt and love on his face, so deep and agonized


    that some now-splintered instinct had me almost reaching across the table to grip his hand.


    But Cassian seemed to process what I¡¯d asked and his friend¡¯s silent request that he tell the stor


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    y instead, and a grin ghosted across his face. ¡°We all hated each other at first.¡±


    Beside me, the light had winked out of Rhys¡¯s eyes. What I¡¯d asked about Amarantha, what horrors


    I¡¯d made him remember ¡­


    A confession for a confession¡ªI thought he¡¯d done it for my sake. Maybe he had things he needed


    to voice, couldn¡¯t voice to these people, not without causing them more pain and guilt.


    Cassian went on, drawing my attention from the silent High Lord at my right, ¡°We are bastards, you


    know. Az and I. The Illyrians ¡­ We love our people, and our traditions, but they dwell in ns and


    camps deep in the mountains of the North, and do not like outsiders. Especially High Fae who try to


    tell them what to do. But they¡¯re just as obsessed with lineage, and have their own princes and lords


    among them. Az,¡± he said, pointing a thumb in his direction, his red Siphon catching the light, ¡°was


    the bastard of one of the local lords. And if you think the bastard son of a lord is hated, then you


    can¡¯t imagine how hated the bastard is of a war-campundress and a warrior she couldn¡¯t or


    wouldn¡¯t remember.¡± His casual shrug didn¡¯t match the vicious glint in his hazel eyes. ¡°Az¡¯s father


    sent him to our camp for training once he and his charming wife realized he was a shadowsinger.¡±


    Shadowsinger. Yes¡ªthe title, whatever it meant, seemed to fit.


    ¡°Like the daemati,¡± Rhys said to me, ¡°shadowsingers are rare¡ªcoveted by courts and territories


    across the world for their stealth and predisposition to hear and feel things others can¡¯t.¡±


    Perhaps those shadows were indeed whispering to him, then. Azriel¡¯s cold face yielded nothing.


    Cassian said, ¡°The camp lord practically shit himself with excitement the day Az was dumped in our


    camp. But me ¡­ once my mother weaned me and I was able to walk, they flew me to a distant


    camp, and chucked me into the mud to see if I would live or die.¡±


    ¡°They would have been smarter throwing you off a cliff,¡± Mor said, snorting.


    ¡°Oh, definitely,¡± Cassian said, that grin going razor-sharp. ¡°Especially because when I was old and


    strong enough to go back to the camp I¡¯d been born in, I learned those pricks worked my mother


    until she died.¡±


    Again that silence fell¡ªdifferent this time. The tension and simmering anger of a unit who had


    endured so much, survived so much ¡­ and felt each other¡¯s pain keenly.


    ¡°The Illyrians,¡± Rhys smoothly cut in, that light finally returning to his gaze, ¡°are unparalleled


    warriors, and are rich with stories and traditions. But they are also brutal and backward, particrly


    in regard to how they treat their females.¡±


    Azriel¡¯s eyes had gone near-vacant as he stared at the wall of windows behind me.


    ¡°They¡¯re barbarians,¡± Amren said, and neither Illyrian male objected. Mor nodded emphatically,


    even as she noted Azriel¡¯s posture and bit her lip. ¡°They cripple their females so they can keep


    them for breeding more wless warriors.¡±


    Rhys cringed. ¡°My mother was low-born,¡± he told me, ¡°and worked as a seamstress in one of their


    many mountain war-camps. When femalese of age in the camps¡ªwhen they have their first


    bleeding¡ªtheir wings are ¡­ clipped. Just an incision in the right ce, left to improperly heal, can


    cripple you forever. And my mother¡ªshe was gentle and wild and loved to fly. So she did


    everything in her power to keep herself from maturing. She starved herself, gathered illegal herbs¡ª


    anything to halt the natural course of her body. She turned eighteen and hadn¡¯t yet bled, to the


    mortification of her parents. But her bleeding finally arrived, and all it took was for her to be in the


    wrong ce, at the wrong time, before a male scented it on her and told the camp¡¯s lord. She tried


    to flee¡ªtook right to the skies. But she was young, and the warriors were faster, and they dragged


    her back. They were about to tie her to the posts in the center of camp when my father winnowed in


    for a meeting with the camp¡¯s lord about readying for the War. He saw my mother thrashing and


    fighting like a wildcat, and ¡­¡± He swallowed. ¡°The mating bond between them clicked into ce.


    One look at her, and he knew what she was. He misted the guards holding her.¡±


    My brows narrowed. ¡°Misted?¡±


    Cassian let out a wicked chuckle as Rhys floated a lemon wedge that had been garnishing his


    chicken into the air above the table. With a flick of his finger, it turned to citrus-scented mist.


    ¡°Through the blood-rain,¡± Rhys went on as I shut out the image of what it¡¯d do to a body, what he


    could do, ¡°my mother looked at him. And the bond fell into ce for her. My father took her back to


    the Night Court that evening and made her his bride. She loved her people, and missed them, but


    never forgot what they had tried to do to her¡ªwhat they did to the females among them. She tried


    for decades to get my father to ban it, but the War wasing, and he wouldn¡¯t risk isting the


    Illyrians when he needed them to lead his armies. And to die for him.¡±


    ¡°A real prize, your father,¡± Mor grumbled.


    ¡°At least he liked you,¡± Rhys countered, then rified for me, ¡°my father and mother, despite being


    mates, were wrong for each other. My father was cold and calcting, and could be vicious, as he


    had been trained to be since birth. My mother was soft and fiery and beloved by everyone she met.


    She hated him after a time¡ªbut never stopped being grateful that he had saved her wings, that he


    allowed her to fly whenever and wherever she wished. And when I was born, and could summon


    the Illyrian wings as I pleased ¡­ She wanted me to know her people¡¯s culture.¡±


    ¡°She wanted to keep you out of your father¡¯s ws,¡± Mor said, swirling her wine, her shoulders


    loosening as Azriel atst blinked, and seemed to shake off whatever memory had frozen him.


    ¡°That, too,¡± Rhys added drily. ¡°When I turned eight, my mother brought me to one of the Illyrian war-


    camps. To be trained, as all Illyrian males were trained. And like all Illyrian mothers, she shoved me


    toward the sparring ring on the first day, and walked away without looking back.¡±


    ¡°She abandoned you?¡± I found myself saying.


    ¡°No¡ªnever,¡± Rhys said with a ferocity I¡¯d heard only a few times, one of them being this afternoon.


    ¡°She was staying at the camp as well. But it is considered an embarrassment for a mother to coddle


    her son when he goes to train.¡±


    My brows lifted and Cassianughed. ¡°Backward, like he said,¡± the warrior told me.


    ¡°I was scared out of my mind,¡± Rhys admitted, not a shade of shame to be found. ¡°I¡¯d been learning


    to wield my powers, but Illyrian magic was a mere fraction of it. And it¡¯s rare amongst them¡ªusually


    possessed only by the most powerful, pure-bred warriors.¡± Again, I looked at the slumbering


    Siphons atop the warriors¡¯ hands. ¡°I tried to use a Siphon during those years,¡± Rhys said. ¡°And


    shattered about a dozen before I realized it wasn¡¯tpatible¡ªthe stones couldn¡¯t hold it. My


    power flows and is honed in other ways.¡±


    ¡°So difficult, being such a powerful High Lord,¡± Mor teased.


    Rhys rolled his eyes. ¡°The camp-lord banned me from using my magic. For all our sakes. But I had


    no idea how to fight when I set foot into that training ring that day. The other boys in my age group


    knew it, too. Especially one in particr, who took a look at me, and beat me into a bloody mess.¡±


    ¡°You were so clean,¡± Cassian said, shaking his head. ¡°The pretty half-breed son of the High Lord¡ª


    how fancy you were in your new training clothes.¡±


    ¡°Cassian,¡± Azriel told me with that voice like darkness given sound, ¡°resorted to getting new clothes


    over the years by challenging other boys to fights, with the prize being the clothes off their backs.¡±


    There was no pride in the words¡ªnot for his people¡¯s brutality. I didn¡¯t me the shadowsinger,


    though. To treat anyone that way ¡­


    Cassian, however, chuckled. But I was now taking in the broad, strong shoulders, the light in his


    eyes.


    I¡¯d never met anyone else in Prythian who had ever been hungry, desperate¡ªnot like I¡¯d been.


    Cassian blinked, and the way he looked at me shifted¡ªmore assessing, more ¡­ sincere. I could


    have sworn I saw the words in his eyes: You know what it is like. You know the mar


    k it leaves.


    ¡°I¡¯d beaten every boy in our age group twice over already,¡± Cassian went on. ¡°But then Rhys


    arrived, in his clean clothes, and he smelled ¡­ different. Like a true opponent. So I attacked. We


    both got threeshings apiece for the fight.¡±


    I flinched. Hitting children¡ª


    ¡°They do worse, girl,¡± Amren cut in, ¡°in those camps. Threeshings is practically an


    encouragement to fight again. When they do something truly bad, bones are broken. Repeatedly.


    Over weeks.¡±


    I said to Rhys, ¡°Your mother willingly sent you into that?¡± Soft fire indeed.


    ¡°My mother didn¡¯t want me to rely on my power,¡± Rhysand said. ¡°She knew from the moment she


    conceived me that I¡¯d be hunted my entire life. Where one strength failed, she wanted others to


    save me.


    ¡°My education was another weapon¡ªwhich was why she went with me: to tutor me after lessons


    were done for the day. And when she took me home that first night to our new house at the edge of


    the camp, she made me read by the window. It was there that I saw Cassian trudging through the


    mud¡ªtoward the few ramshackle tents outside of the camp. I asked her where he was going, and


    she told me that bastards are given nothing: they find their own shelter, own food. If they survive


    and get picked to be in a war-band, they¡¯ll be bottom-ranking forever, but receive their own tents


    and supplies. But until then, he¡¯d stay in the cold.¡±


    ¡°Those mountains,¡± Azriel added, his face hard as ice, ¡°offer some of the harshest conditions you


    can imagine.¡±


    I¡¯d spent enough time in frozen woods to get it.


    ¡°After my lessons,¡± Rhys went on, ¡°my mother cleaned myshings, and as she did, I realized for


    the first time what it was to be warm, and safe, and cared for. And it didn¡¯t sit well.¡±


    ¡°Apparently not,¡± Cassian said. ¡°Because in the dead of night, that little prick woke me up in my


    piss-poor tent and told me to keep my mouth shut ande with him. And maybe the cold made


    me stupid, but I did. His mother was livid. But I¡¯ll never forget the look on her beautiful face when


    she saw me and said, ¡®There is a bathtub with hot running water. Get in it or you can go back into


    the cold.¡¯ Being a smartd, I obeyed. When I got out, she had clean nightclothes and ordered me


    into bed. I¡¯d spent my life sleeping on the ground¡ªand when I balked, she said she understood


    because she had felt the same once, and that it would feel as if I was being swallowed up, but the


    bed was mine for as long as I wanted it.¡±


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    ¡°And you were friends after that?¡±


    ¡°No¡ªCauldron no,¡± Rhysand said. ¡°We hated each other, and only behaved because if one of us


    got into trouble or provoked the other, then neither of us ate that night. My mother started tutoring


    Cassian, but it wasn¡¯t until Azriel arrived a yearter that we decided to be allies.¡±


    Cassian¡¯s grin grew as he reached around Amren to p his friend on the shoulder. Azriel sighed¡ª


    the sound of the long-suffering. The warmest expression I¡¯d seen him make. ¡°A new bastard in the


    camp¡ªand an untrained shadowsinger to boot. Not to mention he couldn¡¯t even fly thanks to¡ª¡±


    Mor cut inzily, ¡°Stay on track, Cassian.¡±


    Indeed, any warmth had vanished from Azriel¡¯s face. But I quieted my own curiosity as Cassian


    again shrugged, not even bothering to take note of the silence that seemed to leak from the


    shadowsinger. Mor saw, though¡ªeven if Azriel didn¡¯t bother to acknowledge her concerned stare,


    the hand that she kept looking at as if she¡¯d touch, but thought better of it.


    Cassian went on, ¡°Rhys and I made his life a living hell, shadowsinger or no. But Rhys¡¯s mother had


    known Az¡¯s mother, and took him in. As we grew older, and the other males around us did, too, we


    realized everyone else hated us enough that we had better odds of survival sticking together.¡±


    ¡°Do you have any gifts?¡± I asked him. ¡°Like¡ªthem?¡± I jerked my chin to Azriel and Rhys.


    ¡°A vtile temper doesn¡¯t count,¡± Mor said as Cassian opened his mouth.


    He gave her that grin I realized likely meant trouble wasing, but said to me, ¡°No. I don¡¯t¡ªnot


    beyond a heaping pile of the killing power. Bastard-born nobody, through and through.¡± Rhys sat


    forward like he¡¯d object, but Cassian forged ahead, ¡°Even so, the other males knew that we were


    different. And not because we were two bastards and a half-breed. We were stronger, faster¡ªlike


    the Cauldron knew we¡¯d been set apart and wanted us to find each other. Rhys¡¯s mother saw it, too.


    Especially as we reached the age of maturity, and all we wanted to do was fuck and fight.¡±


    ¡°Males are horrible creatures, aren¡¯t they?¡± Amren said.


    ¡°Repulsive,¡± Mor said, clicking her tongue.


    Some surviving, small part of my heart wanted to ¡­ugh at that.


    Cassian shrugged. ¡°Rhys¡¯s power grew every day¡ªand everyone, even the camp-lords, knew he


    could mist everyone if he felt like it. And the two of us ¡­ we weren¡¯t far behind.¡± He tapped his


    crimson Siphon with a finger. ¡°A bastard Illyrian had never received one of these. Ever. For Az and


    me to both be appointed them, albeit begrudgingly, had every warrior in every camp across those


    Original from N?velDrama.Org.


    mountains sizing us up. Only pure-blood pricks get Siphons¡ªborn and bred for the killing power. It


    still keeps them up at night, puzzling over where the hell we got it from.¡±


    ¡°Then the War came,¡± Azriel took over. Just the way he said the words made me sit up. Listen. ¡°And


    Rhys¡¯s father visited our camp to see how his son had fared after twenty years.¡±


    ¡°My father,¡± Rhys said, swirling his wine once¡ªtwice, ¡°saw that his son had not only started to rival


    him for power, but had allied himself with perhaps the two deadliest Illyrians in history. He got it into


    his head that if we were given a legion in the War, we might very well turn it against him when we


    returned.¡±


    Cassian snickered. ¡°So the prick separated us. He gave Rhysmand of a legion of Illyrians who


    hated him for being a half-breed, and threw me into a different legion to be amon foot soldier,


    even when my power outranked any of the war-leaders. Az, he kept for himself as his personal


    shadowsinger¡ªmostly for spying and his dirty work. We only saw each other on battlefields for the


    seven years the War raged. They¡¯d send around casualty lists amongst the Illyrians, and I read


    each one, wondering if I¡¯d see their names on it. But then Rhys was captured¡ª¡±


    ¡°That is a story for another time,¡± Rhys said, sharply enough that Cassian lifted his brows, but


    nodded. Rhys¡¯s violet eyes met mine, and I wondered if it was true starlight that flickered so


    intensely in them as he spoke. ¡°Once I became High Lord, I appointed these four to my Inner Circle,


    and told the rest of my father¡¯s old court that if they had a problem with my friends, they could leave.


    They all did. Turns out, having a half-breed High Lord was made worse by his appointment of two


    females and two Illyrian bastards.¡±


    As bad as humans, in some ways. ¡°What¡ªwhat happened to them, then?¡±


    Rhys shrugged, those great wings shifting with the movement. ¡°The nobility of the Night Court fall


    into one of three categories: those who hated me enough that when Amarantha took over, they


    joined her court andter found themselves dead; those who hated me enough to try to overthrow


    me and faced the consequences; and those who hated me, but not enough to be stupid and have


    since tolerated a half-breed¡¯s rule, especially when it so rarely interferes with their miserable lives.¡±


    ¡°Are they¡ªare they the ones who live beneath the mountain?¡±


    A nod. ¡°In the Hewn City, yes. I gave it to them, for not being fools. They¡¯re happy to stay there,


    rarely leaving, ruling themselves and being as wicked as they please, for all eternity.¡±


    That was the court he must have shown Amarantha when she first arrived¡ªand its wickedness


    must have pleased her enough that she modeled her own after it.


    ¡°The Court of Nightmares,¡± Mor said, sucking on a tooth.


    ¡°And what is this court?¡± I asked, gesturing to them. The most important question.


    It was Cassian, eyes clear and bright as his Siphon, who said, ¡°The Court of Dreams.¡±


    The Court of Dreams¡ªthe dreams of a half-breed High Lord, two bastard warriors, and ¡­ the two


    females. ¡°And you?¡± I said to Mor and Amren.


    Amren merely said, ¡°Rhys offered to make me his Second. No one had ever asked me before, so I


    said yes, to see what it might be like. I found I enjoyed it.¡±


    Mor leaned back in her seat, Azriel now watching every movement she made with subtle, relentless


    focus.


    ¡°I was a dreamer born into the Court of Nightmares,¡± Mor said. She twirled a curl around a finger,


    and I wondered if her story might be the worst of all of them as she said simply, ¡°So I got out.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your story, then?¡± Cassian said to me with a jerk of his chin.


    I¡¯d assumed Rhysand had told them everything. Rhys merely shrugged at me.


    So I straightened. ¡°I was born to a wealthy merchant family, with two older sisters and parents who


    only cared about their money and social standing. My mother died when I was eight; my father lost


    his fortune three yearster. He sold everything to pay off his debts, moved us into a hovel, and


    didn¡¯t bother to find work while he let us slowly starve for years. I was fourteen when thest of the


    money ran out, along with the food. He wouldn¡¯t work¡ªcouldn¡¯t, because the debtors came and


    shattered his leg in front of us. So I went into the forest and taught myself to hunt. And I kept us all


    alive, if not near starvation at times, for five years. Until ¡­ everything happened.¡±


    They fell quiet again, Azriel¡¯s gaze now considering. He hadn¡¯t told his story. Did it evere up?


    Or did they never discuss those burns on his hands? And what did the shadows whisper to him¡ª


    did they speak in anguage at all?


    But Cassian said, ¡°You taught yourself to hunt. What about to fight?¡± I shook my head. Cassian


    braced his arms on the table. ¡°Lucky for you, you¡¯ve just found yourself a teacher.¡±


    I opened my mouth, protesting, but¡ª Rhysand¡¯s mother had given him an arsenal of weapons to


    use if the other failed. What did I have in my own beyond a good shot with a bow and brute


    stubbornness? And if I had this new power¡ªthese other powers ¡­


    I would not be weak again. I would not be dependent on anyone else. I would never have to endure


    the touch of the Attor as it dragged me because I was too helpless to know where and how to hit.


    Never again.


    But what Ianthe and Tamlin had said ¡­ ¡°You don¡¯t think it sends a bad message if people see me


    learning to fight¡ªusing weapons?¡±


    The moment the words were out, I realized the st


    upidity of them. The stupidity of¡ªof what had been shoved down my throat these past few months.


    Silence. Then Mor said with a soft venom that made me understand the High Lord¡¯s Third had


    received training of her own in that Court of Nightmares, ¡°Let me tell you two things. As someone


    who has perhaps been in your shoes before.¡± Again, that shared bond of anger, of pain throbbed


    between them all, save for Amren, who was giving me a look dripping with distaste. ¡°One,¡± Mor


    said, ¡°you have left the Spring Court.¡± I tried not to let the full weight of those words sink in. ¡°If that


    does not send a message, for good or bad, then your training will not, either. Two,¡± she continued,


    suffocated me, nearly broke me. So you¡¯ll understand me, Feyre, when I say that I know what you


    feel, and I know what they tried to do to you, and that with enough courage, you can say to hell with


    a reputation.¡± Her voice gentled, and the tension between them all faded with it. ¡°You do what you


    love, what you need.¡±


    Mor would not tell me what to wear or not wear. She would not allow me to step aside while she


    spoke for me. She would not ¡­ would not do any of the things that I had so willingly, desperately,


    allowed Ianthe to do.


    I had never had a female friend before. Ianthe ¡­ she had not been one. Not in the way that


    mattered, I realized. And Nesta and in, in those few weeks I¡¯d been at home before Amarantha,


    had started to fill that role, but ¡­ but looking at Mor, I couldn¡¯t exin it, couldn¡¯t understand it, but


    ¡­ I felt it. Like I could indeed go to dinner with her. Talk to her.


    Not that I had much of anything to offer her in return.


    But what she¡¯d said ¡­ what they¡¯d all said ¡­ Yes, Rhys had been wise to bring me here. To let me


    decide if I could handle them¡ªthe teasing and intensity and power. If I wanted to be a part of a


    group who would likely push me, and overwhelm me, and maybe frighten me, but ¡­ If they were


    willing to stand against Hybern, after already fighting them five hundred years ago ¡­


    I met Cassian¡¯s gaze. And though his eyes danced, there was nothing amused in them. ¡°I¡¯ll think


    about it.¡±


    Through the bond in my hand, I could have sworn I felt a glimmer of pleased surprise. I checked my


    mental shields¡ªbut they were intact. And Rhysand¡¯s calm face revealed no hint of its origin.


    So I said clearly, steadily to him, ¡°I ept your offer¡ªto work with you. To earn my keep. And help


    with Hybern in whatever way I can.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Rhys merely replied. Even as the others raised their brows. Yes, they¡¯d obviously not been


    told this was an interview of sorts. ¡°Because we start tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Where? And what?¡± I sputtered.


    Rhys inteced his fingers and rested them on the table, and I realized there was another point to


    this dinner beyond my decision as he announced to all of us, ¡°Because the King of Hybern is indeed


    about tounch a war, and he wants to resurrect Jurian to do it.¡±


    Jurian¡ªthe ancient warrior whose soul Amarantha had imprisoned within that hideous ring as


    punishment for killing her sister. The ring that contained his eye ¡­


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    ¡°Bullshit,¡± Cassian spat. ¡°There¡¯s no way to do that.¡±


    Amren had gone still, and it was she whom Azriel was observing, marking.


    Amarantha was just the beginning, Rhys had once told me. Had he known this even then? Had


    those months Under the Mountain merely been a prelude to whatever hell was about to be


    unleashed? Resurrecting the dead. What sort of unholy power¡ª


    Mor groaned, ¡°Why would the king want to resurrect Jurian? He was so odious. All he liked to do


    was talk about himself.¡±


    The age of these people hit me like a brick, despite all they¡¯d told me minutes earlier. The War¡ª


    they had all ¡­ they had all fought in the War five hundred years ago.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I want to find out,¡± Rhysand said. ¡°And how the king ns to do it.¡±


    Amren atst said, ¡°Word will have reached him about Feyre¡¯s Making. He knows it¡¯s possible for


    the dead to be remade.¡±


    I shifted in my seat. I¡¯d expected brute armies, pure bloodshed. But this¡ª


    ¡°All seven High Lords would have to agree to that,¡± Mor countered. ¡°There¡¯s not a chance it


    happens. He¡¯ll take another route.¡± Her eyes narrowed to slits as she faced Rhys. ¡°All the


    ughtering¡ªthe massacres at temples. You think it¡¯s tied to this?¡±


    ¡°I know it¡¯s tied to this. I didn¡¯t want to tell you until I knew for certain. But Azriel confirmed that


    they¡¯d raided the memorial in Sangravah three days ago. They¡¯re looking for something¡ªor found


    it.¡± Azriel nodded in confirmation, even as Mor cast a surprised look in his direction. Azriel gave her


    an apologetic shrug back.


    I breathed, ¡°That¡ªthat¡¯s why the ring and the finger bone vanished after Amarantha died. For this.


    But who ¡­¡± My mouth went dry. ¡°They never caught the Attor, did they?¡±


    Rhys said too quietly, ¡°No. No, they didn¡¯t.¡± The food in my stomach turned leaden. He said to


    Amren, ¡°How does one take an eye and a finger bone and make it into a man again? And how do


    we stop it?¡±


    Amren frowned at her untouched wine. ¡°You already know how to find the answer. Go to the Prison.


    Talk to the Bone Carver.¡±


    ¡°Shit,¡± Mor and Cassian both said.


    Rhys said calmly, ¡°Perhaps you would be more effective, Amren.¡±


    I was grateful for the table separating us as Amren hissed, ¡°I will not set foot in the Prison, Rhysand,


    and you know it. So go yourself, or send one of these dogs to do it for you.¡±


    Cassian grinned, showing his white, straight teeth¡ªperfect for biting. Amren snapped hers once in


    N?velDrama.Org holds ? this.


    return.


    Azriel just shook his head. ¡°I¡¯ll go. The Prison sentries know me¡ªwhat I am.¡±


    I wondered if the shadowsinger was usually the first to throw himself into danger. Mor¡¯s fingers


    stilled on the stem of her winess, her eyes narrowing on Amren. The jewels, the red gown¡ªall


    perhaps a way to downy whatever dark power roiled in her veins¡ª


    ¡°If anyone¡¯s going to the Prison,¡± Rhys said before Mor opened her mouth, ¡°it¡¯s me. And Feyre.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Mor demanded, palms now t on the table.


    ¡°He won¡¯t talk to Rhys,¡± Amren said to the others, ¡°or to Azriel. Or to any of us. We¡¯ve got nothing to


    offer him. But an immortal with a mortal soul ¡­¡± She stared at my chest as if she could see the


    heart pounding beneath ¡­ And I contemted yet again what she ate. ¡°The Bone Carver might be


    willing indeed to talk to her.¡±


    They stared at me. As if waiting for me to beg not to go, to curl up and cower. Their quick, brutal


    interview to see if they wanted to work with me, I supposed.


    But the Bone Carver, the naga, the Attor, the Suriel, the Bogge, the Middengard Wyrm ¡­ Maybe


    they¡¯d broken whatever part of me truly feared. Or maybe fear was only something I now felt in my


    dreams.


    ¡°Your choice, Feyre,¡± Rhys said casually.


    To shirk and mourn or face some unknown horror¡ªthe choice was easy. ¡°How bad can it be?¡± was


    my response.


    ¡°Bad,¡± Cassian said. None of them bothered to contradict him.


    CHAPTER


    17


    Jurian.


    The name nged through me, even after we finished dinner, even after Mor and Cassian and


    Azriel and Amren had stopped debating and snarling about who would do what and be where while


    Rhys and I went to the Prison¡ªwhatever that was¡ªtomorrow.


    Rhys flew me back over the city, plunging into the lights and darkness. I quickly found I much


    preferred ascending, and couldn¡¯t bring myself to watch for too long without feeling my dinner rise


    up. Not fear¡ªjust some reaction of my body.


    We flew in silence, the whistling winter wind the only sound, despite his cocoon of warmth blocking


    it from freezing me entirely. Only when the music of the streets weed us did I peer into his face,


    his features unreadable as he focused on flying. ¡°Tonight¡ªI felt you again. Through the bond. Did I


    get past your shields?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he said, scanning the cobblestone streets


    below. ¡°This bond is ¡­ a living thing. An open channel between us, shaped by my powers, shaped


    ¡­ by what you needed when we made the bargain.¡±


    ¡°I needed not to be dead when I agreed.¡±


    ¡°You needed not to be alone.¡±


    Our eyes met. It was too dark to read whatever was in his gaze. I was the one who looked away


    first.


    ¡°I¡¯m still learning how and why we can sometimes feel things the other doesn¡¯t want known,¡± he


    admitted. ¡°So I don¡¯t have an exnation for what you felt tonight.¡±


    You needed not to be alone¡­ .


    But what about him? Fifty years he¡¯d been separated from his friends, his family ¡­


    I said, ¡°You let Amarantha and the entire world think you rule and delight in a Court of Nightmares.


    It¡¯s all a front¡ªto keep what matters most safe.¡±


    The city lights gilded his face. ¡°I love my people, and my family. Do not think I wouldn¡¯t be a


    monster to keep them protected.¡±


    ¡°You already did that Under the Mountain.¡± The words were out before I could stop them.


    The wind rustled his hair. ¡°And I suspect I¡¯ll have to do it again soon enough.¡±


    ¡°What was the cost?¡± I dared ask. ¡°Of keeping this ce secret and free?¡±


    He shot straight down, wings beating to keep us smooth as wended on the roof of the town


    house. I made to step away, but he gripped my chin. ¡°You know the cost already.¡±


    Amarantha¡¯s whore.


    He nodded, and I think I might have said the two vile words aloud.


    ¡°When she tricked me out of my powers and left the scraps, it was still more than the others. And I


    decided to use it to tap into the mind of every Night Court citizen she captured, and anyone who


    might know the truth. I made a web between all of them, actively controlling their minds every


    second of every day, every decade, to forget about Vris, to forget about Mor, and Amren, and


    Cassian, and Azriel. Amarantha wanted to know who was close to me¡ªwho to kill and torture. But


    my true court was here, ruling this city and the others. And I used the remainder of my power to


    shield them all from sight and sound. I had only enough for one city¡ªone ce. I chose the one


    that had been hidden from history already. I chose, and now must live with the consequences of


    knowing there were more left outside who suffered. But for those here ¡­ anyone flying or traveling


    near Vris would see nothing but barren rock, and if they tried to walk through it, they¡¯d find


    themselves suddenly deciding otherwise. Sea travel and merchant trading were halted¡ªsailors


    became farmers, working the earth around Vris instead. And because my powers were focused


    on shielding them all, Feyre, I had very little to use against Amarantha. So I decided that to keep


    her from asking questions about the people who mattered, I would be her whore.¡±


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    He¡¯d done all of that, had done such horrible things ¡­ done everything for his people, his friends. And the only


    piece of himself that he¡¯d hidden and managed to keep her from tainting, destroying, even if it meant fifty years


    trapped in a cage of rock ¡­


    Those wings now red wide. How many knew about those wings outside of Vris or the Illyrian war-camps? Or


    had he wiped all memory of them from Prythian long before Amarantha?


    Rhys released my chin. But as he lowered his hand, I gripped his wrist, feeling the solid strength. ¡°It¡¯s a shame,¡± I


    said, the words nearly gobbled up by the sound of the city music. ¡°That others in Prythian don¡¯t know. A shame


    that you let them think the worst.¡±


    He took a step back, his wings beating the air like mighty drums. ¡°As long as the people who matter most know


    the truth, I don¡¯t care about the rest. Get some sleep.¡±


    Then he shot into the sky, and was swallowed by the darkness between the stars.


    I tumbled into a sleep so heavy my dreams were an undertow that dragged me down, down, down until I couldn¡¯t


    escape them.


    Iy naked and prone on a familiar red marble floor while Amarantha slid a knife along my bare ribs, the steel


    scraping softly against my skin. ¡°Lying, traitorous human,¡± she purred, ¡°with your filthy, lying heart.¡±


    The knife scratched, a cool caress. I struggled to get up, but my body wouldn¡¯t work.


    She pressed a kiss to the hollow of my throat. ¡°You¡¯re as much a monster as me.¡± She curved the knife over my


    breast, angling it toward my peaked nipple, as if she could see the heart beating beneath. I started sobbing. ¡°Don¡¯t


    waste your tears.¡±


    Someone far away was roaring my name; begging for me.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to make eternity a hell for you,¡± she promised, the tip of the dagger piercing the sensitive flesh beneath


    my breast, her lips hovering a breath above mine as she pushed¡ª


    Hands¡ªthere were hands on my shoulders, shaking me, squeezing me. I thrashed against them, screaming,


    screaming¡ª


    ¡°FEYRE.¡±


    The voice was at once the night and the dawn and the stars and the earth, and every inch of my body calmed at


    the primal dominance in it.


    ¡°Open your eyes,¡± the voice ordered.


    I did.


    My throat was raw, my mouth full of ash, my face soaked and sticky, and Rhysand¡ªRhysand was hovering above


    me, his eyes wide.


    ¡°It was a dream,¡± he said, his breathing as hard as mine.


    The moonlight trickling through the windows illuminated the dark lines of swirling tattoos down his arm, his


    shoulders, across his sculpted chest. Like the ones I bore on my arm. He scanned my face. ¡°A dream,¡± he said


    again.


    Vris. I was in Vris, at his house. And I had¡ªmy dream¡ª


    The sheets, the nkets were ripped. Shredded. But not with a knife. And that ashy, smoky taste coating my


    mouth ¡­


    My hand was unnervingly steady as I lifted it to find my fingers ending in simmering embers. Living ws of me


    that had sliced through my bed linens like they were cauterizing wounds¡ª


    I shoved him off with a hard shoulder, falling out of bed and mming into a small chest before I hurtled into the


    bathing room, fell to my knees before the toilet, and was sick to my stomach. Again. Again. My fingertips hissed


    against the cool porcin.


    Large, warm hands pulled my hair back a momentter.


    ¡°Breathe,¡± Rhys said. ¡°Imagine them winking out like candles, one by one.¡±


    I heaved into the toilet again, shuddering as light and heat crested and rushed out of me, and savored the empty,


    cool dark that pooled in their wake.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s one way to do it,¡± he said.


    When I dared to look at my hands, braced on the bowl, the embers had been extinguished. Even that power in my


    veins, along my bones, slumbered once more.


    ¡°I have this dream,¡± Rhys said as I retched again, holding my hair. ¡°Where it¡¯s not me stuck under her, but Cassian


    or Azriel. And she¡¯s pinned their wings to the bed with spikes, and there¡¯s nothing I can do to stop it. She¡¯s


    I clung to the toilet, spitting once, and reached up to flush. I watched the water swirl away entirely before I twisted


    my head to look at him.


    His fingers were gentle, but firm where he¡¯d fisted them in my hair. ¡°You never failed them,¡± I rasped.


    ¡°I did ¡­ horrible things to ensure that.¡± Those violet eyes near-glowed in the dim light.


    ¡°So did I.¡± My sweat clung like blood¡ªthe blood of those two faeries¡ª


    I pivoted, barely turning in time. His other hand stroked long, soothing lines down the curve of my back, as over


    and over I yielded my dinner. When thetest wave had ebbed, I breathed, ¡°The mes?¡±


    ¡°Autumn Court.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t muster a response. At some point, I leaned against the coolness of the nearby bathtub and closed my


    eyes.


    When I awoke, sun streamed through the windows, and I was in my bed¡ªtucked in tightly to the fresh, clean


    sheets.


    I stared up at the sharp grassy slope of the small mountain, shivering at the veils of mist that wafted past. Behind


    us, thend swept away to brutal cliffs and a violent pewter sea. Ahead, nothing but a wide, t-topped mountain


    of gray stone and moss.


    Rhys stood at my side, a double-edged sword sheathed down his spine, knives strapped to his legs, clothed in


    what I could only assume were Illyrian fighting leathers, based on what Cassian and Azriel had worn the night


    before. The dark pants were tight, the scale-like tes of leather worn and scarred, and sculpted to legs I hadn¡¯t


    noticed were quite that muscled. His close-fitting jacket had been built around the wings that were now fully out,


    bits of dark, scratched armor added at the shoulders and forearms.


    If his attire hadn¡¯t told me enough about what we might be facing today¡ªif my own, simr attire hadn¡¯t told me


    enough¡ªall I needed was to take one look at the rock before us and know it wouldn¡¯t be pleasant. I¡¯d been so


    distracted in the study an hour ago by what Rhys had been writing as he drafted a careful request to visit the


    Summer Court that I hadn¡¯t thought to ask what to expect here. Not that Rhys had really bothered exining why


    he wanted to visit the Summer Court beyond ¡°improving diplomatic rtions.¡±


    ¡°Where are we?¡± I said, our first words since winnowing in a moment ago. Vris had been brisk, sunny. This


    ce, wherever it was, was freezing, deserted, barren. Only rock and grass and mist and sea.


    ¡°On an ind in the heart of the Western Isles,¡± Rhysand said, staring up at the mammoth mountain. ¡°And that,¡±


    he said, pointing to it, ¡°is the Prison.¡±


    Original from N?velDrama.Org.


    There was nothing¡ªno one around.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see anything.¡±


    ¡°The rock is the Prison. And inside it are the foulest, most dangerous creatures and criminals you can imagine.¡±


    Go inside¡ªinside the stone, under another mountain¡ª


    ¡°This ce,¡± he said, ¡°was made before High Lords existed. Before Prythian was Prythian. Some of the inmates


    remember those days. Remember a time when it was Mor¡¯s family, not mine, that ruled the North.¡±


    ¡°Why won¡¯t Amren go in here?¡±


    ¡°Because she was once a prisoner.¡±


    ¡°Not in that body, I take it.¡±


    A cruel smile. ¡°No. Not at all.¡±


    I shivered.


    ¡°The hike will get your blood warming,¡± Rhys said. ¡°Since we can¡¯t winnow inside or fly to the entrance¡ªthe wards


    demand that visitors walk in. The long way.¡±


    I didn¡¯t move. ¡°I¡ª¡± The word lodged in my throat. Go under another mountain¡ª


    ¡°It helps the panic,¡± he said quietly, ¡°to remind myself that I got out. That we all got out.¡±


    ¡°Barely.¡± I tried to breathe. I couldn¡¯t, I couldn¡¯t¡ª


    ¡°We got out. And it might happen again if we don¡¯t go inside.¡±


    The chill mist bit at my face. And I tried¡ªI did¡ªto take a step toward it.


    My body refused to obey.


    I tried to take a step again; I tried for in and Nesta and the human world that might be wrecked, but ¡­ I


    couldn¡¯t.


    ¡°Please,¡± I whispered. I didn¡¯t care if it meant that I¡¯d failed my first day of work.


    Rhysand, as promised, didn¡¯t ask any questions as he gripped my hand and brought us back to the winter sun


    and rich colors of Vris.


    I didn¡¯t get out of bed for the rest of the day.


    CHAPTER


    18


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    Amren was standing at the foot of my bed.


    I jolted back, mming into the headboard, blinded by the morning light zing in, fumbling for a


    weapon, anything to use¡ª


    ¡°No wonder you¡¯re so thin if you vomit up your guts every night.¡± She sniffed, her lip curling. ¡°You


    reek of it.¡±


    The bedroom door was shut. Rhys had said no one entered without his permission, but¡ª


    She chucked something onto the bed. A little gold amulet of pearl and cloudy blue stone. ¡°This got


    me out of the Prison. Wear it in, and they can never keep you.¡±


    I didn¡¯t touch the amulet.


    ¡°Allow me to make one thing clear,¡± Amren said, bracing both hands on the carved wooden


    footboard. ¡°I do not give that amulet lightly. But you may borrow it, while you do what needs to be


    done, and return it to me when you are finished. If you keep it, I will find you, and the results won¡¯t


    be pleasant. But it is yours to use in the Prison.¡±


    By the time my fingers brushed the cool metal and stone, she¡¯d walked out the door.


    Rhys hadn¡¯t been wrong about the firedrakeparison.


    Rhys kept frowning at the amulet as we hiked the slope of the Prison, so steep that at times we had


    to crawl on our hands and knees. Higher and higher we climbed, and I drank from the countless


    little streams that gurgled through the bumps and hollows in the moss-and-grass slopes. All around


    the mist drifted by, whipped by the wind, whose hollow moaning drowned out our crunching


    footsteps.


    When I caught Rhys looking at the ne for the tenth time, I said, ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°She gave you that.¡±


    Not a question.


    ¡°It must be serious, then,¡± I said. ¡°The risk with¡ª¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say anything you don¡¯t want others hearing.¡± He pointed to the stone beneath us. ¡°The


    inmates have nothing better to do than to listen through the earth and rock for gossip. They¡¯ll sell


    any bit of information for food, sex, maybe a breath of air.¡±


    I could do this; I could master this fear.


    Amren had gotten out. And stayed out. And the amulet¡ªit¡¯d keep me free, too.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said. ¡°About yesterday.¡± I¡¯d stayed in bed for hours, unable to move or think.


    Rhys held out a hand to help me climb a particrly steep rock, easily hauling me up to where he


    perched at its top. It had been so long¡ªtoo long¡ªsince I¡¯d been outdoors, using my body, relying


    on it. My breathing was ragged, even with my new immortality. ¡°You¡¯ve got nothing to be sorry for,¡±


    he said. ¡°You¡¯re here now.¡± But enough of a coward that I never would have gone without that


    amulet. He added with a wink, ¡°I won¡¯t dock your pay.¡±


    I was too winded to even scowl. We climbed until the upper face of the mountain became a wall


    before us, nothing but grassy slopes sweeping behind, far below, to where they flowed to the


    restless gray sea. Rhys drew the sword from his back in a swift movement.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look so surprised,¡± he said.


    ¡°I¡¯ve¡ªnever seen you with a weapon.¡± Aside from the dagger he¡¯d grabbed to slit Amarantha¡¯s


    throat at the end¡ªto spare me from agony.


    ¡°Cassian wouldugh himself hoarse hearing that. And then make me go into the sparring ring with


    him.¡±


    ¡°Can he beat you?¡±


    ¡°Hand-to-handbat? Yes. He¡¯d have to earn it for a change, but he¡¯d win.¡± No arrogance, no


    pride. ¡°Cassian is the best warrior I¡¯ve encountered in any court, anynd. He leads my armies


    because of it.¡±


    I didn¡¯t doubt his im. And the other Illyrian ¡­ ¡°Azriel¡ªhis hands. The scars, I mean,¡± I said.


    Original from N?velDrama.Org.


    ¡°Where did theye from?¡±


    Rhys was quiet a moment. Then he said too softly, ¡°His father had two legitimate sons, both older


    than Azriel. Both cruel and spoiled. They learned it from their mother, the lord¡¯s wife. For the eleven


    years that Azriel lived in his father¡¯s keep, she saw to it he was kept in a cell with no window, no


    light. They let him out for an hour every day¡ªlet him see his mother for an hour once a week. He


    wasn¡¯t permitted to train, or fly, or any of the things his Illyrian instincts roared at him to do. When he


    was eight, his brothers decided it¡¯d be fun to see what happened when you mixed an Illyrian¡¯s quick


    healing gifts with oil¡ªand fire. The warriors heard Azriel¡¯s screaming. But not quick enough to save


    his hands.¡±


    Nausea swamped me. But that still left him with three more years living with them. What other


    horrors had he endured before he was sent to that mountain-camp? ¡°Were¡ªwere his brothers


    punished?¡±


    Rhys¡¯s face was as unfeeling as the rock and wind and sea around us as he said with lethal quiet,


    ¡°Eventually.¡±


    There was enough rawness in the words that I instead asked, ¡°And Mor¡ªwhat does she do for


    you?¡±


    ¡°Mor is who I¡¯ll call in when the armies fail and Cassian and Azriel are both dead.¡±


    My blood chilled. ¡°So she¡¯s supposed to wait until then?¡±


    ¡°No. As my Third, Mor is my ¡­ court overseer. She looks after the dynamics between the Court of


    Nightmares and the Court of Dreams, and runs both Vris and the Hewn City. I suppose in the


    mortal realm, she might be considered a queen.¡±


    ¡°And Amren?¡±


    ¡°Her duties as my Second make her my political adviser, walking library, and doer of my dirty work. I


    appointed her upon gaining my throne. But she was my ally, maybe my friend, long before that.¡±


    ¡°I mean¡ªin that war where your armies fail and Cassian and Azriel are dead, and even Mor is


    gone.¡± Each word was like ice on my tongue.


    Rhys paused his reach for the bald rock face before us. ¡°If that dayes, I¡¯ll find a way to break


    the spell on Amren and unleash her on the world. And ask her to end me first.¡±


    By the Mother. ¡°What is she?¡± After our chat this morning, perhaps it was stupid to ask.


    ¡°Something else. Something worse than us. And if she ever finds a way to shed her prison of flesh


    and bone ¡­ Cauldron save us all.¡±


    I shivered again and stared up at the sheer stone wall. ¡°I can¡¯t climb bare rock like that.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to,¡± Rhys said,ying a hand t on the stone. Like a mirage, it vanished in a ripple


    of light.


    Pale, carved gates stood in its ce, so high their tops were lost to the mist.


    Gates of bone.


    The bone-gates swung open silently, revealing a cavern of ck so inky I had never seen its like,


    even Under the Mountain.


    I gripped the amulet at my throat, the metal warm under my palm. Amren got out. I would walk out,


    too.


    Rhys put a warm hand on my back and guided me inside, three balls of moonlight bobbing before


    us.


    No¡ªno, no, no, no¡ª


    ¡°Breathe,¡± he said in my ear. ¡°One breath.¡±


    ¡°Where are the guards?¡± I managed to get out past the tightness in my lungs.


    ¡°They dwell within the rock of the mountain,¡± he murmured, his hand finding mine and wrapping


    around it as he tugged me into the immortal gloom. ¡°They only emerge at feeding time, or to deal


    with restless prisoners. They are nothing but shadows of thought and an ancient spell.¡±


    With the small lights floating ahead, I tried not to look too long at the gray walls. Especially when


    they were so rough-hewn that the jagged bits could have been a nose, or a craggy brow, or a set of


    sneering lips.


    The dry ground was clear of anything but pebbles. And there was silence. Utter silence as we


    rounded a bend, and thest of the light from the misty world faded into inky ck.


    I focused on my breathing. I couldn¡¯t be trapped here; I couldn¡¯t be locked in this hor


    rible, dead ce.


    The path plunged deep into the belly of the mountain, and I clutched Rhys¡¯s fingers to keep from


    losing my footing. He still had his sword gripped in his other hand.


    ¡°Do all the High Lords have ess?¡± My words were so soft they were devoured by the dark. Even


    that thrumming power in my veins had vanished, burrowing somewhere in my bones.


    ¡°No. The Prison isw unto itself; the ind may be even an eighth court. But it falls under my


    jurisdiction, and my blood is keyed to the gates.¡±


    ¡°Could you free the inmates?¡±


    ¡°No. Once the sentence is given and a prisoner passes those gates ¡­ They belong to the Prison. It


    will never let them out. I take sentencing people here very, very seriously.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes. And now is not the time to speak of it.¡± He squeezed my hand in emphasis.


    We wound down through the gloom.


    There were no doors. No lights.


    No sounds. Not even a trickle of water.


    But I could feel them.


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    I could feel them sleeping, pacing, running hands and ws over the other side of the walls.


    They were ancient, and cruel in a way I had never known, not even with Amarantha. They were


    infinite, and patient, and had learned thenguage of darkness, of stone.


    ¡°How long,¡± I breathed. ¡°How long was she in here?¡± I didn¡¯t dare say her name.


    ¡°Azriel looked once. Into archives in our oldest temples and libraries. All he found was a vague


    mention that she went in before Prythian was split into the courts¡ªand emerged once they had


    been established. Her imprisonment predates our written word. I don¡¯t know how long she was in


    here¡ªa few millennia seems like a fair guess.¡±


    Horror roiled in my gut. ¡°You never asked?¡±


    ¡°Why bother? She¡¯ll tell me when it¡¯s necessary.¡±


    ¡°Where did shee from?¡± The brooch he¡¯d given her¡ªsuch a small gift, for a monster who had


    once dwelled here.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Though there are legends that im when the world was born, there were ¡­ rips in


    the fabric of the realms. That in the chaos of Forming, creatures from other worlds could walk


    through one of those rips and enter another world. But the rips closed at will, and the creatures


    could be trapped, with no way home.¡±


    It was more horrifying than I could fathom¡ªboth that monsters had walked between worlds, and the


    terror of being trapped in another realm. ¡°You think she was one of them?¡±


    ¡°I think that she is the only one of her kind, and there is no record of others ever having existed.


    Even the Suriel have numbers, however small. But she¡ªand some of those in the Prison ¡­ I think


    they came from somewhere else. And they have been looking for a way home for a long, long time.¡±


    I was shivering beneath the fur-lined leather, my breath clouding in front of me.


    Down and down we went, and time lost its grip. It could have been hours or days, and we paused


    only when my useless, wasted body demanded water. Even while I drank, he didn¡¯t let go of my


    hand. As if the rock would swallow me up forever. I made sure those breaks were swift and rare.


    And still we went onward, deeper. Only the lights and his hand kept me from feeling as if I were


    about to free-fall into darkness. For a heartbeat, the reek of my own dungeon cell cloyed in my


    nose, and the crunch of moldy hay tickled my cheek¡ª


    Rhys¡¯s hand tightened on my own. ¡°Just a bit farther.¡±


    ¡°We must be near the bottom by now.¡±


    ¡°Past it. The Bone Carver is caged beneath the roots of the mountain.¡±


    ¡°Who is he? What is he?¡± I¡¯d only been briefed in what I was to say¡ªnothing of what to expect. No


    doubt to keep me from panicking too thoroughly.


    ¡°No one knows. He¡¯ll appear as he wants to appear.¡±


    ¡°Shape-shifter?¡±


    ¡°Yes and no. He¡¯ll appear to you as one thing, and I might be standing right beside you and see


    another.¡±


    I tried not to start bleating like cattle. ¡°And the bone carving?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll see.¡± Rhys stopped before a smooth b of stone. The hall continued down¡ªdown into the


    ageless dark. The air here was tight,pact. Even my puffs of breath on the chill air seemed


    short-lived.


    Rhysand atst released my hand, only toy his once more on the bare stone. It rippled beneath


    his palm, forming¡ªa door.


    Like the gates above, it was of ivory¡ªbone. And in its surface were etched countless images: flora


    and fauna, seas and clouds, stars and moons, infants and skeletons, creatures fair and foul¡ª


    It swung away. The cell was pitch-ck, hardly distinguishable from the hall¡ª


    ¡°I have carved the doors for every prisoner in this ce,¡± said a small voice within, ¡°but my own


    remains my favorite.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d have to agree,¡± Rhysand said. He stepped inside, the light bobbing ahead to illuminate a dark-


    haired boy sitting against the far wall, eyes of crushing blue taking in Rhysand, then sliding to where


    I lurked in the doorway.


    Rhys reached into a bag I hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d been carrying¡ªno, one he¡¯d summoned from


    whatever pocket between realms he used for storage. He chucked an object toward the boy, who


    looked no more than eight. White gleamed as it cked on the rough stone floor. Another bone,


    long and sturdy¡ªand jagged on one end.


    ¡°The calf-bone that made the final kill when Feyre slew the Middengard Wyrm,¡± Rhys said.


    My very blood stilled. There had been many bones that I¡¯did in my trap¡ªI hadn¡¯t noticed which


    had ended the Wyrm. Or thought anyone would.


    ¡°Come inside,¡± was all the Bone Carver said, and there was no innocence, no kindness in that


    child¡¯s voice.


    I took one step in and no more.


    ¡°It has been an age,¡± the boy said, gobbling down the sight of me, ¡°since something new came into


    this world.¡±


    ¡°Hello,¡± I breathed.


    The boy¡¯s smile was a mockery of innocence. ¡°Are you frightened?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said. Never lie¡ªthat had been Rhys¡¯s firstmand.


    The boy stood, but kept to the other side of the cell. ¡°Feyre,¡± he murmured, cocking his head. The


    orb of faelight zed the inky hair in silver. ¡°Fay-ruh,¡± he said again, drawing out the sybles as if


    he could taste them. Atst, he straightened his head. ¡°Where did you go when you died?¡±


    ¡°A question for a question,¡± I replied, as I¡¯d been instructed over breakfast.


    The Bone Carver inclined his head to Rhysand. ¡°You were always smarter than your forefathers.¡±


    But those eyes alighted on me. ¡°Tell me where you went, what you saw¡ªand I will answer your


    question.¡±


    Rhys gave me a subtle nod, but his eyes were wary. Because what the boy had asked ¡­


    I had to calm my breathing to think¡ªto remember.


    But there was blood and death and pain and screaming¡ªand she was breaking me, killing me so


    slowly, and Rhys was there, roaring in fury as I died, Tamlin begging for my life on his knees before


    her throne ¡­ But there was so much agony, and I wanted it to be over, wanted it all to stop¡ª


    Rhys had gone rigid while he monitored the Bone Carver, as if those memories were freely flowing


    past the mental shields I¡¯d made sure were intact this morning. And I wondered if he thought I¡¯d give


    up then and there.


    I bunched my hands into fists.


    I had lived; I had gotten out. I would get out today.


    ¡°I heard the crack,¡± I said. Rhys¡¯s head whipped toward me. ¡°I heard the crack when she broke my


    neck. It was in my ears, but also inside my skull. I was gone before I felt anything more than the first


    The Bone Carver¡¯s violet eyes seemed to glow brighter.


    ¡°And then it was dark. A different sort of dark than this ce. But there was a ¡­ thread,¡± I said. ¡°A


    tether. And I yanked on it¡ªand suddenly I could see. Not through my eyes, but¡ªbut his,¡± I said,


    inclining my head toward Rhys. I uncurled the fingers of my tattooed hand. ¡°And I knew I was dead,


    and this tiny scrap of spirit was all that was left of me, clinging to the thread of our bargain.¡±


    ¡°But was there anyone there¡ªwere you seeing anything beyond?¡±


    ¡°There was only that bond in the darkness.¡±


    Rhysand¡¯s face had gone pale, his mouth a tight line. ¡°And when I was Made anew,¡± I said, ¡°I


    followed that bond back¡ªto me. I knew that home was on the other end of it. There was light then.


    Like swimming up through sparkling wine¡ª¡±


    ¡°Were you afraid?¡±


    ¡°All I wanted was to return to¡ªto the people around me. I wanted it badly enough I didn¡¯t have room


    for fear. The worst had happened, and the darkness was calm and quiet. It did not seem like a bad


    thing to fade into. But I wanted to go home. So I followed the bond home.¡±


    ¡°There was no other world,¡± the Bone Carver pushed.


    ¡°If there was or is, I did not see it.¡±


    ¡°No light, no portal?¡±


    Where is it that you want to go? The question almost leaped off my tongue. ¡°It was only peace and


    darkness.¡±


    ¡°Did you have a body?¡±


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    I could feel them sleeping, pacing, running hands and ws over the other side of the walls.


    They were ancient, and cruel in a way I had never known, not even with Amarantha. They were infinite, and


    patient, and had learned thenguage of darkness, of stone.


    ¡°How long,¡± I breathed. ¡°How long was she in here?¡± I didn¡¯t dare say her name.


    ¡°Azriel looked once. Into archives in our oldest temples and libraries. All he found was a vague mention that she


    went in before Prythian was split into the courts¡ªand emerged once they had been established. Her


    imprisonment predates our written word. I don¡¯t know how long she was in here¡ªa few millennia seems like a fair


    guess.¡±


    Horror roiled in my gut. ¡°You never asked?¡±


    ¡°Why bother? She¡¯ll tell me when it¡¯s necessary.¡±


    ¡°Where did shee from?¡± The brooch he¡¯d given her¡ªsuch a small gift, for a monster who had once dwelled


    here.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Though there are legends that im when the world was born, there were ¡­ rips in the fabric of the


    realms. That in the chaos of Forming, creatures from other worlds could walk through one of those rips and enter


    another world. But the rips closed at will, and the creatures could be trapped, with no way home.¡±


    It was more horrifying than I could fathom¡ªboth that monsters had walked between worlds, and the terror of


    being trapped in another realm. ¡°You think she was one of them?¡±


    ¡°I think that she is the only one of her kind, and there is no record of others ever having existed. Even the Suriel


    have numbers, however small. But she¡ªand some of those in the Prison ¡­ I think they came from somewhere


    else. And they have been looking for a way home for a long, long time.¡±


    I was shivering beneath the fur-lined leather, my breath clouding in front of me.


    Down and down we went, and time lost its grip. It could have been hours or days, and we paused only when my


    useless, wasted body demanded water. Even while I drank, he didn¡¯t let go of my hand. As if the rock would


    swallow me up forever. I made sure those breaks were swift and rare.


    And still we went onward, deeper. Only the lights and his hand kept me from feeling as if I were about to free-fall


    into darkness. For a heartbeat, the reek of my own dungeon cell cloyed in my nose, and the crunch of moldy hay


    tickled my cheek¡ª


    Rhys¡¯s hand tightened on my own. ¡°Just a bit farther.¡±


    ¡°We must be near the bottom by now.¡±


    ¡°Past it. The Bone Carver is caged beneath the roots of the mountain.¡±


    ¡°Who is he? What is he?¡± I¡¯d only been briefed in what I was to say¡ªnothing of what to expect. No doubt to keep


    me from panicking too thoroughly.


    ¡°No one knows. He¡¯ll appear as he wants to appear.¡±


    ¡°Shape-shifter?¡±


    ¡°Yes and no. He¡¯ll appear to you as one thing, and I might be standing right beside you and see another.¡±


    I tried not to start bleating like cattle. ¡°And the bone carving?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll see.¡± Rhys stopped before a smooth b of stone. The hall continued down¡ªdown into the ageless dark.


    The air here was tight,pact. Even my puffs of breath on the chill air seemed short-lived.


    Rhysand atst released my hand, only toy his once more on the bare stone. It rippled beneath his palm,


    forming¡ªa door.


    Like the gates above, it was of ivory¡ªbone. And in its surface were etched countless images: flora and fauna,


    seas and clouds, stars and moons, infants and skeletons, creatures fair and foul¡ª


    It swung away. The cell was pitch-ck, hardly distinguishable from the hall¡ª


    ¡°I have carved the doors for every prisoner in this ce,¡± said a small voice within, ¡°but my own remains my


    favorite.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d have to agree,¡± Rhysand said. He stepped inside, the light bobbing ahead to illuminate a dark-haired boy


    sitting against the far wall, eyes of crushing blue taking in Rhysand, then sliding to where I lurked in the doorway.


    Rhys reached into a bag I hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d been carrying¡ªno, one he¡¯d summoned from whatever pocket


    between realms he used for storage. He chucked an object toward the boy, who looked no more than eight. White


    gleamed as it cked on the rough stone floor. Another bone, long and sturdy¡ªand jagged on one end.


    ¡°The calf-bone that made the final kill when Feyre slew the Middengard Wyrm,¡± Rhys said.


    My very blood stilled. There had been many bones that I¡¯did in my trap¡ªI hadn¡¯t noticed which had ended the


    Wyrm. Or thought anyone would.


    ¡°Come inside,¡± was all the Bone Carver said, and there was no innocence, no kindness in that child¡¯s voice.


    I took one step in and no more.


    ¡°It has been an age,¡± the boy said, gobbling down the sight of me, ¡°since something new came into this world.¡±


    ¡°Hello,¡± I breathed.


    The boy¡¯s smile was a mockery of innocence. ¡°Are you frightened?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said. Never lie¡ªthat had been Rhys¡¯s firstmand.


    The boy stood, but kept to the other side of the cell. ¡°Feyre,¡± he murmured, cocking his head. The orb of faelight


    zed the inky hair in silver. ¡°Fay-ruh,¡± he said again, drawing out the sybles as if he could taste them. Atst,


    he straightened his head. ¡°Where did you go when you died?¡±


    ¡°A question for a question,¡± I replied, as I¡¯d been instructed over breakfast.


    The Bone Carver inclined his head to Rhysand. ¡°You were always smarter than your forefathers.¡± But those eyes


    alighted on me. ¡°Tell me where you went, what you saw¡ªand I will answer your question.¡±


    Rhys gave me a subtle nod, but his eyes were wary. Because what the boy had asked ¡­


    I had to calm my breathing to think¡ªto remember.


    But there was blood and death and pain and screaming¡ªand she was breaking me, killing me so slowly, and


    Rhys was there, roaring in fury as I died, Tamlin begging for my life on his knees before her throne ¡­ But there


    was so much agony, and I wanted it to be over, wanted it all to stop¡ª


    Rhys had gone rigid while he monitored the Bone Carver, as if those memories were freely flowing past the


    mental shields I¡¯d made sure were intact this morning. And I wondered if he thought I¡¯d give up then and there.


    I bunched my hands into fists.


    I had lived; I had gotten out. I would get out today.


    ¡°I heard the crack,¡± I said. Rhys¡¯s head whipped toward me. ¡°I heard the crack when she broke my neck. It was in


    my ears, but also inside my skull. I was gone before I felt anything more than the firstsh of pain.¡±


    The Bone Carver¡¯s violet eyes seemed to glow brighter.


    ¡°And then it was dark. A different sort of dark than this ce. But there was a ¡­ thread,¡± I said. ¡°A tether. And I


    yanked on it¡ªand suddenly I could see. Not through my eyes, but¡ªbut his,¡± I said, inclining my head toward


    Rhys. I uncurled the fingers of my tattooed hand. ¡°And I knew I was dead, and this tiny scrap of spirit was all that


    was left of me, clinging to the thread of our bargain.¡±


    ¡°But was there anyone there¡ªwere you seeing anything beyond?¡±


    ¡°There was only that bond in the darkness.¡±


    Rhysand¡¯s face had gone pale, his mouth a tight line. ¡°And when I was Made anew,¡± I said, ¡°I followed that bond


    back¡ªto me. I knew that home was on the other end of it. There was light then. Like swimming up through


    sparkling wine¡ª¡±


    ¡°Were you afraid?¡±


    ¡°All I wanted was to return to¡ªto the people around me. I wanted it badly enough I didn¡¯t have room for fear. The


    worst had happened, and the darkness was calm and quiet. It did not seem like a bad thing to fade into. But I


    wanted to go home. So I followed the bond home.¡±


    ¡°There was no other world,¡± the Bone Carver pushed.


    ¡°If there was or is, I did not see it.¡±


    ¡°No light, no portal?¡±


    Where is it that you want to go? The question almost leaped off my tongue. ¡°It was only peace and darkness.¡±


    ¡°Did you have a body?¡±


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    Chapter 38


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    ¡°The Bone Carver,¡± Rhys said, ¡°is a busybody gossip who likes to pry into other people¡¯s business far too much.¡±


    ¡°But?¡± Cassian demanded, bracing his arms on his knees, wings tucked in tight.


    ¡°But,¡± Rhys said, ¡°he can also be helpful, when he chooses. And it seems we need to start doing what we do


    best.¡±


    I flexed my numbed fingers, content to let them discuss, needing a moment to reel myself back in, to shut out


    what I¡¯d revealed to the Bone Carver.


    And what the Bone Carver suggested I might actually be asked to do with that book. The abilities I might have.


    So Rhys told them of the Cauldron, and the reason behind the temple pigings, to no shortage of swearing and


    questions¡ªand revealed nothing of what I had admitted in exchange for the information. Azriel emerged from his


    wreathing shadows to ask the most questions; his face and voice remained unreadable. Cassian, surprisingly,


    kept quiet¡ªas if the general understood that the shadowsinger would know what information was necessary, and


    was busy assessing it for his own forces.


    When Rhys was done, his spymaster said, ¡°I¡¯ll contact my sources in the Summer Court about where the half of


    the Book of Breathings is hidden. I can fly into the human world myself to figure out where they¡¯re keeping their


    part of the Book before we ask them for it.¡±


    ¡°No need,¡± Rhys said. ¡°And I don¡¯t trust this information, even with your sources, with anyone outside of this room.


    Save for Amren.¡±


    ¡°They can be trusted,¡± Azriel said with quiet steel, his scarred hands clenching at his leather-d sides.


    ¡°We¡¯re not taking risks where this is concerned,¡± Rhys merely said. He held Azriel¡¯s stare, and I could almost hear


    the silent words Rhys added, It is no judgment or reflection on you, Az. Not at all.


    But Azriel yielded no tinge of emotion as he nodded, his hands unfurling.


    ¡°So what do you have nned?¡± Mor cut in¡ªperhaps for Az¡¯s sake.


    Rhys picked an invisible piece of dirt off his fighting leathers. When he lifted his head, those violet eyes were


    cial. ¡°The King of Hybern sacked one of our temples to get a missing piece of the Cauldron. As far as I¡¯m


    concerned, it¡¯s an act of war¡ªan indication that His Majesty has no interest in wooing me.¡±


    ¡°He likely remembers our allegiance to the humans in the War, anyway,¡± Cassian said. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t jeopardize


    revealing his ns while trying to sway you, and I bet some of Amarantha¡¯s cronies reported to him about Under


    the Mountain. About how it all ended, I mean.¡± Cassian¡¯s throat bobbed.


    When Rhys had tried to kill her. I lowered my hands from the fire.


    Rhys said, ¡°Indeed. But this means Hybern¡¯s forces have already sessfully infiltrated ournds¡ªwithout


    detection. I n to return the favor.¡±


    Mother above. Cassian and Mor just grinned with feral delight. ¡°How?¡± Mor asked.


    Rhys crossed his arms. ¡°It will require careful nning. But if the Cauldron is in Hybern, then to Hybern we must


    go. Either to take it back ¡­ or use the Book to nullify it.¡±


    Some cowardly, pathetic part of me was already trembling.


    ¡°Hybern likely has as many wards and shields around it as we have here,¡± Azriel countered. ¡°We¡¯d need to find a


    way to get through them undetected first.¡±


    A slight nod. ¡°Which is why we start now. While we hunt for the Book. So when we get both halves, we can move


    swiftly¡ªbefore word can spread that we even possess it.¡±


    Cassian nodded, but asked, ¡°How are you going to retrieve the Book, then?¡±


    I braced myself as Rhys said, ¡°Since these objects are spelled to the individual High Lords, and can only be found


    by them¡ªthrough their power ¡­ Then, in addition to her uses regarding the handling of the Book of Breathings


    itself, it seems we possibly have our own detector.¡±


    Now they all looked at me.


    I cringed. ¡°Perhaps was what the Bone Carver said in regard to me being able to track things. You don¡¯t know ¡­ ¡±


    My words faded as Rhys smirked.


    ¡°You have a kernel of all our power¡ªlike having seven thumbprints. If we¡¯ve hidden something, if we¡¯ve made or


    protected it with our power, no matter where it has been concealed, you will be able to track it through that very


    magic.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t know that for sure,¡± I tried again.


    ¡°No¡ªbut there is a way to test it.¡± Rhys was still smiling.


    ¡°Here we go,¡± Cassian grumbled. Mor gave Azriel a warning re to tell him not to volunteer this time. The


    spymaster just gave her an incredulous look in return.


    I might have lounged in my chair to watch their battle of wills had Rhys not said, ¡°With your abilities, Feyre, you


    might be able to find the half of the Book at the Summer Court¡ªand break the wards around it. But I¡¯m not going


    to take the carver¡¯s word for it, or bring you there without testing you first. To make sure that when it counts, when


    we need to get that book, you¡ªwe do not fail. So we¡¯re going on another little trip. To see if you can find a


    valuable object of mine that I¡¯ve been missing for a considerably long time.¡±


    ¡°Shit,¡± Mor said, plunging her hands into the thick folds of her sweater.


    ¡°Where?¡± I managed to say.


    It was Azriel who answered. ¡°To the Weaver.¡±


    Rhys held up a hand as Cassian opened his mouth. ¡°The test,¡± he said, ¡°will be to see if Feyre can identify the


    object of mine in the Weaver¡¯s trove. When we get to the Summer Court, Tarquin might have spelled his half of


    the Book to look different, feel different.¡±


    ¡°By the Cauldron, Rhys,¡± Mor snapped, setting both feet on the carpet. ¡°Are you out of your¡ª¡±


    ¡°Who is the Weaver?¡± I pushed.


    ¡°An ancient, wicked creature,¡± Azriel said, and I surveyed the faint scars on his wings, his neck, and wondered


    how many such things he¡¯d encountered in his immortal life. If they were any worse than the people who shared


    blood ties with him. ¡°Who should remain unbothered,¡± he added in Rhys¡¯s direction. ¡°Find another way to test her


    abilities.¡±


    Rhys merely shrugged and looked to me. To let me choose. Always¡ªit was always my choice with him these


    days. Yet he hadn¡¯t let me go back to the Spring Court during those two visits¡ªbecause he knew how badly I


    needed to get away from it?


    I gnawed on my lower lip, weighing the risks, waiting to feel any kernel of fear, of emotion. But this afternoon had


    drained any reserve of such things. ¡°The Bone Carver, the Weaver ¡­ Can¡¯t you ever just call someone by a given


    name?¡±


    Cassian chuckled, and Mor settled back in the sofa cushions.


    Only Rhys, it seemed, understood that it hadn¡¯t entirely been a joke. His face was tight. Like he knew precisely


    how tired I was¡ªhow I knew I should be quaking at the thought of this Weaver, but after the Bone Carver, what I¡¯d


    revealed to it ¡­ I could feel nothing at all.


    Rhys said to me, ¡°What about adding one more name to that list?¡±


    I didn¡¯t particrly like the sound of that. Mor said as much.


    ¡°Emissary,¡± Rhysand said, ignoring his cousin. ¡°Emissary to the Night Court¡ªfor the human realm.¡±


    Azriel said, ¡°There hasn¡¯t been one for five hundred years, Rhys.¡±


    ¡°There also hasn¡¯t been a human-turned-immortal since then, either.¡± Rhys met my gaze. ¡°The human world must


    be as prepared as we are¡ªespecially if the King of Hybern ns to shatter the wall and unleash his forces upon


    them. We need the other half of the Book from those mortal queens¡ªand if we can¡¯t use magic to influence them,


    then they¡¯re going to have to bring it to us.¡±


    More silence. On the street beyond the bay of windows, wisps of snow brushed past, dusting the cobblestones.


    Rhys jerked his chin at me. ¡°You are an immortal faerie¡ªwith a human heart. Even as such, you might very well


    set foot on the continent and be ¡­ hunted for it. So we set up a base in neutral territory. In a ce where humans


    trust us¡ªtrust you, Feyre. And where other humans might risk going to meet with you. To hear the voice of


    Prythian after five centuries.¡±


    ?


    ?My family¡¯s estate,¡± I said.


    ¡°Mother¡¯s tits, Rhys,¡± Cassian cut in, wings ring wide enough to nearly knock over the ceramic vase on the side


    table next to him. ¡°You think we can just take over her family¡¯s house, demand that of them?¡±


    Nesta hadn¡¯t wanted any dealings with the Fae, and in was so gentle, so sweet ¡­ how could I bring them into


    this?


    ¡°Thend,¡± Mor said, reaching over to return the vase to its ce, ¡°will run red with blood, Cassian, regardless of


    what we do with her family. It is now a matter of where that blood will$flow¡ªand how much will spill. How much


    human blood we can save.¡±


    And maybe it made me a cowardly fool, but I said, ¡°The Spring Court borders the wall¡ª¡±


    ¡°The wall stretches across the sea. We¡¯ll fly in offshore,¡± Rhys said without so much as a blink. ¡°I won¡¯t risk


    discovery from any court, though word might spread quickly enough once we¡¯re there. I know it won¡¯t be easy,


    Feyre, but if there¡¯s any way you could convince those queens¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡± I said. re Beddor¡¯s broken and nailed body shed in my vision. Amarantha had been one of his


    these people got their hands on my sisters ¡­ ¡°They might not be happy about it, but I¡¯ll make in and Nesta do


    it.¡±


    I didn¡¯t have the nerve to ask Rhys if he could simply force my family to agree to help us if they refused. I


    wondered if his powers would work on Nesta when even Tamlin¡¯s mour had failed against her steel mind.


    ¡°Then it¡¯s settled,¡± Rhys said. None of them looked particrly happy. ¡°Once Feyre darling returns from the


    Weaver, we¡¯ll bring Hybern to its knees.¡±


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    Rhys and the others were gone that night¡ªwhere, no one told me. But after the events of the day, I barely


    finished devouring the food Nu and Cerridwen brought to my room before I tumbled into sleep.


    I dreamed of a long, white bone, carved with horrifying uracy: my face, twisted in agony and despair; the ash


    knife in my hand; a pool of blood leaking away from two corpses¡ª


    But I awoke to the watery light of winter dawn¡ªmy stomach full from the night before.


    A mere minute after I¡¯d risen to consciousness, Rhys knocked on my door. I¡¯d barely granted him permission to


    enter before he stalked inside like a midnight wind, and chucked a belt hung with knives onto the foot of the bed.


    ¡°Hurry,¡± he said, flinging open the doors of the armoire and yanking out my fighting leathers. He tossed them onto


    the bed, too. ¡°I want to be gone before the sun is fully up.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I said, pushing back the covers. No wings today.


    ¡°Because time is of the essence.¡± He dug out my socks and boots. ¡°Once the King of Hybern realizes that


    someone is searching for the Book of Breathings to nullify the powers of the Cauldron, then his agents will begin


    hunting for it, too.¡±


    ¡°You suspected this for a while, though.¡± I hadn¡¯t had the chance to discuss it with himst night. ¡°The Cauldron,


    the king, the Book ¡­ You wanted it confirmed, but you were waiting for me.¡±


    ¡°Had you agreed to work with me two months ago, I would have taken you right to the Bone Carver to see if he


    confirmed my suspicions about your talents. But things didn¡¯t go as nned.¡±


    No, they most certainly hadn¡¯t.


    ¡°The reading,¡± I said, sliding my feet into fleece-lined, thick-soled slippers. ¡°That¡¯s why you insisted on the lessons.


    So if your suspicions were true and I could harness the Book ¡­ I could actually read it¡ªor any trantion of


    whatever is inside.¡± A book that old might very well be written in an entirely differentnguage. A different


    alphabet.


    ¡°Again,¡± he said, now striding for the dresser, ¡°had you started to work with me, I would have told you why. I


    couldn¡¯t risk discovery otherwise.¡± He paused with a hand on the knob. ¡°You should have learned to read no


    matter what. But yes, when I told you it served my own purposes¡ªit was because of this. Do you me me for


    it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I said, and meant it. ¡°But I¡¯d prefer to be notified of any future schemes.¡±


    ¡°Duly noted.¡± Rhys yanked open the drawers and pulled out my undergarments. He dangled the bits of midnight


    I stalked to him, snatching thece away. ¡°You¡¯re drooling on the carpet.¡± I mmed the bathing room door before


    he could respond.


    He was waiting as I emerged, already warm within the fur-lined leather. He held up the belt of knives, and I


    studied the loops and straps. ¡°No swords, no bow or arrows,¡± he said. He¡¯d worn his own Illyrian fighting leathers


    ¡ªthat simple, brutal sword strapped down his spine.


    ¡°But knives are fine?¡±


    Rhys knelt and spread wide the web of leather and steel, beckoning for me to stick a leg through one loop.


    I did as instructed, ignoring the brush of his steady hands on my thighs as I stepped through the other loop, and


    he began tightening and buckling things. ¡°She will not notice a knife, as she has knives in her cottage for eating


    and her work. But things that are out of ce¡ªobjects that have not been there ¡­ A sword, a bow and arrow ¡­


    She might sense those things.¡±


    ¡°What about me?¡±


    He tightened a strap. Strong, capable hands¡ªso at odds with the finery he usually wore to dazzle the rest of the


    world into thinking he was something else entirely. ¡°Do not make a sound, do not touch anything but the object


    she took from me.¡±


    Rhys looked up, hands braced on my thighs.


    Bow, he¡¯d once ordered Tamlin. And now here he was, on his knees before me. His eyes glinted as if he


    remembered it, too. Had that been a part of his game¡ªthat fa?ade? Or had it been vengeance for the horrible


    blood feud between them?


    ¡°If we¡¯re correct about your powers,¡± he said, ¡°if the Bone Carver wasn¡¯t lying to us, then you and the object will


    have the same ¡­ imprint, thanks to the preserving spells I ced on it long ago. You are one and the same. She


    will not notice your presence so long as you touch only it. You will be invisible to her.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s blind?¡±


    A nod. ¡°But her other senses are lethal. So be quick, and quiet. Find the object and run out, Feyre.¡± His hands


    lingered on my legs, wrapping around the back of them.


    ¡°And if she notices me?¡±


    His hands tightened slightly. ¡°Then we¡¯ll learn precisely how skilled you are.¡±


    Cruel, conniving bastard. I red at him.


    Rhys shrugged. ¡°Would you rather I locked you in the House of Wind and stuffed you with food and made you


    wear fine clothes and n my parties?¡±


    ¡°Go to hell. Why not get this object yourself, if it¡¯s so important?¡±


    ¡°Because the Weaver knows me¡ªand if I am caught, there would be a steep price. High Lords are not to interfere


    with her, no matter the direness of the situation. There are many treasures in her hoard, some she has kept for


    millennia. Most will never be retrieved¡ªbecause the High Lords do not dare be caught, thanks to thews that


    protect her, thanks to her wrath. Any thieves on their behalf ¡­ Either they do not return, or they are never sent, for


    fear of it leading back to their High Lord. But you ¡­ She does not know you. You belong to every court.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯m your huntress and thief?¡±


    His hands slid down to cup the backs of my knees as he said with a roguish grin, ¡°You are my salvation, Feyre.¡±


    CHAPTER


    20


    Rhysand winnowed us into a wood that was older, more aware, than any ce I¡¯d been.


    The gnarled beech trees were tightly woven together, sttered and draped so thoroughly with moss and lichen


    that it was nearly impossible to see the bark beneath.


    ¡°Where are we?¡± I breathed, hardly daring to whisper.


    Rhys kept his hands within casual reach of his weapons. ¡°In the heart of Prythian, there is arge, empty territory


    that divides the North and South. At the center of it is our sacred mountain.¡±


    My


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    heart stumbled, and I focused on my steps through the ferns and moss and roots. ¡°This forest,¡± Rhys went on, ¡°is


    on the eastern edge of that neutral territory. Here, there is no High Lord. Here, thew is made by who is


    strongest, meanest, most cunning. And the Weaver of the Wood is at the top of their food chain.¡±


    The trees groaned¡ªthough there was no breeze to shift them. No, the air here was tight and stale. ¡°Amarantha


    didn¡¯t wipe them out?¡±


    ¡°Amarantha was no fool,¡± Rhys said, his face dark. ¡°She did not touch these creatures or disturb the wood. For


    years, I tried to find ways to manipte her to make that foolish mistake, but she never bought it.¡±


    ¡°And now we¡¯re disturbing her¡ªfor a mere test.¡±


    He chuckled, the sound bouncing off the gray stones strewn across the forest floor like scattered marbles.


    ¡°Cassian tried to convince mest night not to take you. I thought he might even punch me.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I barely knew him.


    ¡°Who knows? With Cassian, he¡¯s probably more interested in fucking you than protecting you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a pig.¡±


    ¡°You could, you know,¡± Rhys said, holding up the branch of a scrawny beech for me to slip under. ¡°If you needed


    to move on in a physical sense, I¡¯m sure Cassian would be more than happy to oblige.¡±


    It felt like a test in itself. And it pissed me off enough that I crooned, ¡°Then tell him toe to my room tonight.¡±


    ¡°If you survive this test.¡±


    I paused atop a little lichen-crusted rock. ¡°You seem pleased by the idea that I won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Quite the opposite, Feyre.¡± He prowled to where I stood on the stone. I was almost eye level with him. The forest


    went even quieter¡ªthe trees seeming to lean closer, as if to catch every word. ¡°I¡¯ll let Cassian know you¡¯re ¡­


    open to his advances.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I said. A bit of hollowed-out air pushed against me, like a flicker of night. That power along my bones and


    blood stirred in answer.


    I made to jump off the stone, but he gripped my chin, the movement too fast to detect. His words were a lethal


    caress as he said, ¡°Did you enjoy the sight of me kneeling before you?¡±


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    I knew he could hear my heart as it ratcheted into a thunderous beat. I gave him a hateful little


    smirk, anyway, yanking my chin out of his touch and leaping off the stone. I might have aimed for


    his feet. And he might have shifted out of the way just enough to avoid it. ¡°Isn¡¯t that all you males


    are good for, anyway?¡± But the words were tight, near-breathless.


    His answering smile evoked silken sheets and jasmine-scented breezes at midnight.


    A dangerous line¡ªone Rhys was forcing me to walk to keep me from thinking about what I was


    about to face, about what a wreck I was inside.


    Anger, this ¡­ flirtation, annoyance ¡­ He knew those were my crutches.


    What I was about to encounter, then, must be truly harrowing if he wanted me going in there mad¡ª


    thinking about sex, about anything but the Weaver of the Wood.


    N?velDrama.Org holds ? this.


    ¡°Nice try,¡± I said hoarsely. Rhysand just shrugged and swaggered off into the trees ahead.


    Bastard. Yes, it had been to distract me, but¡ª


    I stormed after him as silently as I could, intent on tackling him and mming my fist into his spine,


    but he held up a hand as he stopped before a clearing.


    A small, whitewashed cottage with a thatched roof and half-crumbling chimney sat in the center.


    Ordinary¡ªalmost mortal. There was even a well, its bucket perched on the stone lip, and a wood


    pile beneath one of the round windows of the cottage. No sound or light within¡ªnot even smoke


    puffed from the chimney.


    The few birds in the forest fell quiet. Not entirely, but to keep their chatter to a minimum. And¡ª


    there.


    Faint,ing from inside the cottage, was a pretty, steady humming.


    It might have been the sort of ce I would have stopped if I were thirsty, or hungry, or in need of


    shelter for the night.


    Maybe that was the trap.


    The trees around the clearing, so close that their branches nearly wed at the thatched roof, might


    very well have been the bars of a cage.


    Rhys inclined his head toward the cottage, bowing with dramatic grace.


    In, out¡ªdon¡¯t make a sound. Find whatever object it was and snatch it from beneath a blind


    person¡¯s nose.


    And then run like hell.


    Mossy earth paved the way to the front door, already cracked slightly. A bit of cheese. And I was the


    foolish mouse about to fall for it.


    Eyes twinkling, Rhys mouthed, Good luck.


    I gave him a vulgar gesture and slowly, silently made my way toward the front door.


    The woods seemed to monitor each of my steps. When I nced behind, Rhys was gone.


    He hadn¡¯t said if he¡¯d interfere if I were in mortal peril. I probably should have asked.


    I avoided any leaves and stones, falling into a pattern of movement that some part of my body¡ª


    some part that was not born of the High Lords¡ªremembered.


    Like waking up. That¡¯s what it felt like.


    I passed the well. Not a speck of dirt, not a stone out of ce. A perfect, pretty trap, that mortal part


    of me warned. A trap designed from a time when humans were prey; nowid for a smarter,


    immortal sort of game.


    I was not prey any longer, I decided as I eased up to that door.


    And I was not a mouse.


    I was a wolf.


    I listened on the threshold, the rock worn as if many, many boots had passed through¡ªand perhaps


    never passed back over again. The words of her song became clear now, her voice sweet and


    beautiful, like sunlight on a stream:


    ¡°There were two sisters, they went ying,


    To see their father¡¯s shipse sailing ¡­


    And when they came unto the sea-brim


    The elder did push the younger in.¡±


    A honeyed voice, for an ancient, horrible song. I¡¯d heard it before¡ªslightly different, but sung by


    humans who had no idea that it hade from faerie throats.


    I listened for another moment, trying to hear anyone else. But there was only a tter and thrum of


    some sort of device, and the Weaver¡¯s song.


    ¡°Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam,


    ¡¯Til her corpse came to the miller¡¯s dam.¡±


    My breath was tight in my chest, but I kept it even¡ªdirecting it through my mouth in silent breaths. I


    eased open the front door, just an inch.


    No squeak¡ªno whine of rusty hinges. Another piece of the pretty trap: practically inviting thieves in.


    I peered inside when the door had opened wide enough.


    Arge main room, with a small, shut door in the back. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls,


    crammed with bric-a-brac: books, shells, dolls, herbs, pottery, shoes, crystals, more books, jewels


    ¡­ From the ceiling and wood rafters hung all manner of chains, dead birds, dresses, ribbons,


    gnarled bits of wood, strands of pearls ¡­


    A junk shop¡ªof some immortal hoarder.


    And that hoarder ¡­


    In the gloom of the cottage, there sat arge spinning wheel, cracked and dulled with age.


    And before that ancient spinning wheel, her back to me, sat the Weaver.


    Her thick hair was of richest onyx, tumbling down to her slender waist as she worked the wheel,


    snow-white hands feeding and pulling the thread around a thorn-sharp spindle.


    She looked young¡ªher gray gown simple but elegant, sparkling faintly in the dim forest light


    through the windows as she sang in a voice of glittering gold:


    ¡°But what did he do with her breastbone?


    He made him a viol to y on.


    What¡¯d he do with her fingers so small?


    He made pegs to his viol withall.¡±


    The fiber she fed into the wheel was white¡ªsoft. Like wool, but ¡­ I knew, in that lingering human


    part of me, it was not wool. I knew that I did not want to learn what creature it hade from, who


    she was spinning into thread.


    Because on the shelf directly beyond her were cones upon cones of threads¡ªof every color and


    texture. And on the shelf adjacent to her were swaths and yards of that woven thread¡ªwoven, I


    realized, on the massive loom nearly hidden in the darkness near the hearth. The Weaver¡¯s loom.


    I hade on spinning day¡ªwould she have been singing if I hade on weaving day instead?


    From the strange, fear-drenched scent that came from those bolts of fabric, I already knew the


    answer.


    A wolf. I was a wolf.


    I stepped into the cottage, careful of the scattered debris on the earthen floor. She kept working, the


    wheel ttering so merrily, so at odds with her horrible song:


    ¡°And what did he do with her nose-ridge?


    Unto his viol he made a bridge.


    What did he do with her veins so blue?


    He made strings to his viol thereto.¡±


    I scanned the room, trying not to listen to the lyrics.


    Nothing. I felt ¡­ nothing that might pull me toward one object in particr. Perhaps it would be a


    blessing if I were indeed not the one to track the Book¡ªif today was not the start of what was sure


    to be a slew of miseries.


    The Weaver perched there, working.


    I scanned the shelves, the ceiling. Borrowed time. I was on borrowed time, and I was almost out of


    it.


    Had Rhys sent me on a fool¡¯s errand? Maybe there was nothing here. Maybe this object had been


    taken. It would be just like him to do that. To tease me in the woods, to see what sort of things might


    make my body react.


    And maybe I resented Tamlin enough in that moment to enjoy that deadly bit of flirtation. Maybe I


    was as much a monster as the female spinning before me.


    But if I was a monster, then I supposed Rhys was as well.


    Rhys and I were one in the same¡ªbeyond the power that he¡¯d given me. It¡¯d be fitting if Tamlin


    hated me, too, once he realized I¡¯d truly left.


    I felt it, then¡ªlike a tap on my shoulder.


    I pivoted, keeping one eye on the Weaver and the other on the room as I wove through the maze of


    tables and junk. Like a beacon, a bit of lightced with his half smile, it tugged me.


    Hello, it seemed to say. Have youe to im me atst?


    Yes¡ªyes, I wanted to say. Even as part of me wishe


    d it were otherwise.


    The Weaver sang behind me,


    ¡°What did he do with her eyes so bright?


    On his viol he set at first light.


    What did he do with her tongue so rough?


    ¡¯Twas the new till and it spoke enough.¡±


    I followed that pulse¡ªtoward the shelf lining the wall beside the hearth. Nothing. And nothing on the


    second. But the third, right above my eyeline ¡­ There.


    I could almost smell his salt-and-citrus scent. The Bone Carver had been correct.


    I rose on my toes to examine the shelf. An old letter knife, books in leather that I did not want to


    touch or smell; a handful of acorns, a tarnished crown of ruby and jasper, and¡ª


    A ring.


    A ring of twisted strands of gold and silver, flecked with pearl, and set with a stone of deepest, solid


    blue. Sapphire¡ªbut different. I¡¯d never seen a sapphire like that, even at my father¡¯s offices. This


    one ¡­ I could have sworn that in the pale light, the lines of a six-pointed star radiated across the


    round, opaque surface.


    Rhys¡ªthis had Rhys written all over it.


    He¡¯d sent me here for a ring?


    The Weaver sang,


    ¡°Then bespake the treble string,


    ¡®O yonder is my father the king.¡¯¡±


    I watched her for another heartbeat, gauging the distance between the shelf and the open door.


    Grab the ring, and I could be gone in a heartbeat. Quick, quiet, calm.


    ¡°Then bespake the second string,


    ¡®O yonder sits my mother the queen.¡¯ ¡±


    I dropped a hand toward one of the knives strapped to my thighs. When I got back to Rhys, maybe


    I¡¯d stab him in the gut.


    That fast, the memory of phantom blood covered my hands. I knew how it¡¯d feel to slide my dagger


    through his skin and bones and flesh. Knew how the blood would dribble out, how he¡¯d groan in


    pain¡ª


    I shut out the thought, even as I could feel the blood of those faeries soaking that human part of me


    that hadn¡¯t died and belonged to no one but my miserable self.


    ¡°Then bespake the strings all three,


    ¡®Yonder is my sister that drowned me.¡¯ ¡±


    My hand was quiet as a final, dying breath as I plucked the ring from the shelf.


    The Weaver stopped singing.


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