Chapter Text
The following day was torture. Slow, unending, hot-as-hell torture.
Feigning interest in the mainland as I walked with Tarquin, met his people, smiled at them, grew harder as the sun meandered across the sky, then finally began inching toward the sea. Liar, thief, deceiver—that’s what they’d call me soon.
I hoped they’d know—that Tarquin would know—that we’d done it for their sake.
Supreme arrogance, perhaps, to think that way, but… it was true. Given how quickly Tarquin and Cresseida had glanced at each other, guided me away from that temple… I’d bet that they wouldn’t have handed over that book. For whatever reasons of their own, they wanted it.
Maybe this new world of Tarquin’s could only be built on trust… But he wouldn’t get a chance to build it if it was all wiped away beneath the King of Hybern’s armies.
That’s what I told myself over and over as we walked through his city—as I endured the greetings of his people. Perhaps not as joyous as those in Velaris, but… a tentative hard-won warmth. People who had endured the worst and tried now to move beyond it.
As I should be moving beyond my own darkness.When the sun was at last sliding into the horizon, I confessed to Tarquin that I was tired and hungry—and, being kind and accommodating, he took me back, buying me a baked fish pie on the way home. He’d even eaten a fried fish at the docks that afternoon.
Dinner was worse.
That night I was sitting at Tarquinʼs right, Amren at his left and Rhys beside me. Food—as delicious as it was—tasted like ash in my mouth. It had nothing to do with my fire gift, but with the others gifts I would have never thought I possessed. The gift to lie through my teeth like I'd been doing it since I learned to speak.
Liar, liar, liar. It was the only thing my mind could bark at me. It drowned all of the sounds beyond my own head.
I felt Rhys' eyes slide to me when he thought I wasn't aware. He was bound to notice the silence that seemed to surround my seat. There could have been an empty chair between the two High Lord and there would have been no difference.
I tried my best to make myself part of the conversation. And failed. I didn't know what trivial topic was being discussed tonight and surely didn't care. Not when Tarquin seemed so calm. Satisfied, even. I knew that expression would turn bitter tomorrow.
Because of me.
A little bit quiet today?
And that's your business beacause?
I dared to flicker my eyes to Rhys for the first time tonight. He could barely hide the curling of his lips. Prick. And here I was, thinking we were friends again.
Who told you we were friends to begin with?
Well, Feyre darling, it brings me joy to know you still find ways to hurt my old heart.
Your ego, you mean, I huffed.
Auch.
Poor High Lord, not a friend in the world.
I found myself chuckling before I could stop it. Laughing silently with my eyes focused on my plate. My face went unbearably hot. Without needing to look up, I knew everyone was staring at me.
Varian, Cresseida and Tarquin, all of them staring at me like I had grown a second head. Or several. But it was Amren—Amren, the only one who I though would've been on my side, who said, “Something interesting in your mind, Feyre?”
Rhys almost purred.
The insufrible bastard had the nerve to look curious about my reaction. He arched his brow while mortification hit me in the head like bricks. “I was just thinking about something particularly stupid,” I managed to get out.
I didn't know if I meant Rhys or myself. Cauldron knew I was fairly ridiculous, smiling like a love-sick girl. It was disgusting.
Rhys' brows went a little bit higher and the stars in his eyes shone with wicked delight. The bond between us vibrated with laughter.
“It's lovely you resort to your most ridiculous memories to not be bored to tears by their Highnesses,” Varian told with an expresión that screamed just how much he wished to do the same. But I doubted he wanted and old gossip in his head.
“I thought no one would say it,” Cresseida agreed from Amren's left, while she took a sip of her wine.
My face still felt hot, but... I chuckled again, it was short and a little bit choked. It felt good, I supposed, dining with them. Interchanging stories and sharing laughs, as sharp as those might get. It felt like something I could get used to.
But after tomorrow, Tarquin would only see it as a pretense. He'd never think that I really wanted the friendship he offered me—as tentative as it was. I couldn't say I blamed him.
My smile faded, turning into a firm line. I was ready for this day, this trip, this lies to be over. I lowered my fork, being extra careful not to make a sound, and started weaving a lie to go to my room.
But I didn't need it as a servant boy—High Fae, of course—walked in, face pale and eyes wide. Six pair of eyes snapped at him at once. The poor guy seemed ready to collapse. He swallowed hard a couple of times while he still got close to his High Lord. Tarquin raise his eyebrows.
The servant bowed. “My Lord, your presence is required in the throne room.” His tawny eyes went to Rhys, and he flinched as he realized he hadn't bowed to him. But he went on, “Urgently.”
Tarquin pushed his chair back and stood. “Excuse me.”
He winnowed out without another word.
The servant remained where he was a second too long, trying to catch his breath. I wondered what was so urgent to demand the High Lord attention. My heart started beating fast.
Something's wrong.
Rhys agreed without saying nothing.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eyes. His face was the perfect representation of boredom. But his gaze flickered a little bit too much, as if he tried to pry answers out of walls that had ears but not mouths for us. I watched the servant again, who did bow this time for Rhys. I almost startled when his eyes met mine, and lingered. Then went to Rhys'.
Tell the Cursebreaker to run, his thoughts urged, not knowing I could hear them just as clearly.
He left.
And I knew. The only reason why I should have to flee the Summer Court. My breath came up short as I turned to Cresseida. “He's here, isn't he? You did it. You told him.”
She merely blinked at me. “Who?”
I felt like choking on his name, but still said it, “Tamlin. He's here. It was you.”
“No, no. I didn't, I swear. Tarquin made us swear we wouldn't say a word.”
I didn't want to believe her. I didn't want to keep searching for a culprit. It was easier to blame her, almost as much as tightening my too steady hands on the edge of the table. Varian thought he was being discreet, but I knew his hand went to the hilt of some hidden weapon.
I didn't need to look at my hands to see the tablecloth scorched. I didn't care. All I could think of was the quiet in the manor, a cage I couldn't be thrown in again.
I couldn't. I couldn't go back.
Feyre.
I wasn't going to go back.
I stood, back ramrod straight, chin high and iron in my eyes. Nesta would've been proud of it, if she ever bothered to be proud of something other than herself. I walked out of the dining room, to the halls and somehow ended up in our suite. Rhys and Amred were right behind me. I hadn't heard them following me, but it figured they would.
“What now?” I whispered. I wasn't able to rise my voice any higher, or I risked it breaking. Each second under the same roof as him threatened to break me.
“What do you want to do?” Rhys asked softly.
I rubbed my face, not really caring about the make-up Naula had put on me. I opened my mouth, not knowing what could come out. There weren't any words for me to say. Did I want to go back? Did I want to stay? Did I want to leave Velaris to stay locked in that golden cage again?
“Get me out of here.”
I hated that my voice sounded like I was eating glass. I hated it so much. But I needed to be time to think. There were still too many tangled feelings inside me. And being there, trapped and locked up... I couldn't do it.
Rhys seemed to be made of stone, still and silent. It brought me memories, of a High Lord at the feet of a Queen's throne. Of that one who only watched while I was being torn open from the inside. I had to remind me that Rhys wasn't him, that Rhys had fought for me, even when I couldn't do it myself. It never really registered.
“I don't want to go back,” I whispered.
“You won't, girl,” Amren said. “Not if I have something to say about it.”
I didn't know how to react to Amren's sureness. Like she was willing to fight against Tamlin. For me. I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why. Instead I looked at Rhys, if only because looking at Amren gave me more questions than answers. I felt lost enough. He held his hand for me, eyes shining with feeling as I began reaching for it but it was gone a second later. His face was set on a determinated expression. It felt safe, somehow.
Rhys took Amren's and I walked up to them. I was ready to appear in Velaris and pretend this never happened. But the door banged open and my insides turned to solid ice.
Lucien stood on the threshold, chest rising and falling in uneven patters. He could barely breathe, but he manahed to say, “You declare war against the Spring Court if you take her, Rhysand.”
It felt like he was cursing me.
Rhys whirled so fast I couldn't register the movement, Amren did the same. It took me a moment to realize they created a barrier between Lucien and me. I hated it. He was—had been my friend and I hated that I felt so stupidly relieved to have them between us. I wasn't proud enough to think there weren't creatures I still needed protection from. But Lucien... It hurt more than I wanted to admit.
“Don't mess with grown-ups business, little Lucien,” Rhys hissed.
I couldn't see his face but I felt the sharp and devious grin of the High Lord of the Night Court.
Lucien clenched his jaw, chewing the words he wanted to spit at him. “Give her back.”
“Feyre is not a toy he took away from Tamlin, boy,” Amren stepped in, shielding me further from view, despite her height. “She made her decision.”
Lucien's face lost all color befofe Amren's presence. His eyes opened wide and his fear sweeped into the suit in rising waves. He decided then to pin his attention on me, half-hidden behing the massive wall that was Rhys. A river of words flowed in my head—how could you, I'm so glad to see you, I miss you, go away, I don't want to see you ever again—but they dried on my tongue when I opened my mouth to speak them, whatever they might have been.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly, like I was some traumatized pet in need of calming.
I didn't answer, mostly because I didn't know how to. But then I felt it. Before seeing him, I sensed his hurried steps getting closer, echoing inside my skull like a war drum. My stomach tightened.
Rhys tensed, no doubt sensing the same thing I did. Swirls of darkness curled around his hands, his fingers, on his shoulders. His control was faltering and I didn't want to admit it terrified me. But he didn't react when Tamlin appeared behind Lucien, followed by Tarquin. Both a bit red in the face. He just slid his hands in his pockets as if he tried to hide the shadows around them.
Rhys chuckled darkly. “Did no one teach you it is very rude to come in unannounced, Tamlin?”
Tamlin was just as I remembered him and yet, he wasn't. The appearance was the same, those were still his green eyes and his gold hair. But the more I stared at him, the less I saw the male I fell in love with. I could only see that eternal, unbreakable prison. The lonely days and party plans I didn't care to make anymore.
“Give her back, Rhysand,” he growled. I could discern the claws trying to get out from his knuckles.
“Rhysand? I thought we were fine, Tam. You wound me”
Tamlin bared his teeth in a gesture more animal than, well, human. As human as High Fae could be. I hated myself for flinching at Tamlin's wrath. Fool. Human heart indeed. “Feyre,” he said, as if my name was an order in itself.
I didn't move. I only watched an indefinite spot on Rhys shoulder without really looking at it. A hundred things went through my head, of what awaited for me if I ended up in Spring again. I could only imagine Tamlin's unchecked anger. I pictured his destroyed studio, the walls stained red—I wondered if they'd be stained with other thing than paint.
My knees shook and my gut roiled.
“Let her go, Rhys,” Lucien said.
His tone, while it was more calm than Tamlin's, it held such... entitlement. The anger I felt then made me forget to tell him that Rhys wasn't holding me.
As if he wanted to prove my point, he showed them his hands. “Does it look like I have a leash around her neck?” he spat.
Amren growled.
Lucien stepped back. Even Tamlin, in whatever mental space he was in, seemed to realize what sort of creature Amren was. But I wondered how long that would keep him in line. And it terrified me what would happen if a fight broke out. For everything Tamlin had done to me, I didn't want to see his throat spilled on the ground. Or Lucien's. I couldn't see another corpse like that, not again.
Tarquin gave a step forwards, putting himself in the middle. “Lucien, Amren, it doesn't make sense to fight. That will take us nowhere. And I'd really appreciate if we could behave like the reasonable people we are.”
“You can't reason with monsters,” Tamlin spat.
Rhys snorted. “It's not me who's about to shift into a beast.” He put his hands in his pocket once more and tilted his head while still looking at Tamlin. “It's not me, in fact, who arrived at a foreign Court unannounced, which is punishable according to the law.”
Lucien huffed. “As it is stealing a High Lord's bride.”
Rhys bristled. And I know that wherever Lucien's words had hit, they snapped the leash on his temper. The hair on the back of my head stood on end as pure power rippled across the room. Whatever hold Rhys kept on his powers was gone.
He gave growled. “I wouldn't have to intervene if you—”
I already knew how this ended, with someone's gut hanging out their bodies. And to be honest, I didn't know which death would break me the most. I didn't want to find out.
I gripped Rhys' arm. Because I couldn't, wouldn't live knowing I was the reason for more death.
Please, I begged him. Don't.
Rhys turned his face to mine. The rage painted in his features was world-ending. But he noticed the paleness or the fear, and it somehow was enough to appease his anger. I might have let out a relieved sigh as Rhys straightened his back and went to his original spot. He raised his chin and let his shoulders loose, as collected as always.
He focused his attention on Tamlin and Lucien. I did the same to find them already staring at me and the hand still around the High Lord's arm. Even Tarquin let surprise show in his face. I realized that, had I been someone else, chances were that I wouldn't be breathing. Rhys was a High Lord—the most powerful High Lord in history, in fact—and I shouldn't be so careless as to interfere like that.
Tamlin glared at me, betrayal bright on his eyes. He—he didn't realize, did he? That I did it for him. That it probably saved his life. Something told me he wouldn't care either way. He never did.
I found myself straightening my back. “Stop,” I said firmly. “Just stop.”
Please, I almost say. But that's what I had said the day he locked me up and little did that help me. I wouldn't beg, not to him.
His gaze softened. “Come home.”
For a moment, I wanted to believe in the tenderness in his face. I was ashamed that I tried to, but a part of me, unbelievably unmoving refused it. “No.”
The room fell silent.
Tarquin fully faced Tamlin. “It seems her decision is made.” If I didn't know better, I'd thought he tried to make a barrier between the two of us.
“How do you know he doesn't have his filthy claws on her?” Lucien hissed.
“Be careful of how you talk to me, Lucien,” he snapped. “I've been gracious enough not to kill you on sight. Your brothers weren't as lucky when they did the same, were they?”
Lucien realized at the same time I did, Tarquin wouldn't let them take me. He'd fight if it came to that. “It is clear in which side you stand, then.”
“There aren't any sides, Lucien. She said no.”
Tamlin turned his face away from me and stared hard at him. “You know the law,” was everything he said.
As if I—gods. Tamlin was hell-bent on taking me with him. Even if I said no. He—He didn't care anymore. He would have me, even if he had to keep me locked up in order to do so. He would declare a war.
Tarquin frowned. “No one will support that you bind her with our rules. She said no.”
“And how many do you think will support him?”
My head emptied. There was such a crushing silence in my mind and my back broke with its weight. Because Tamlin was right. No one would side with us and why would they? Months ago I wouldn't have done that myself.
Gods.
“N-No one has to pick sides.” I hated my cracking voice. I cleared my throat in the hopes of dissipating the sensation someone was holding me by the throat. “This—this problem is no one else's business but ours.”
As much as everything inside me quaked, I refused to let my—my friends suffer if I could avoid it. Enough was enough.
I stepped around Rhys with my chin hig, until I was stood in front of Tamlin and Lucien. I felt a glimmer of pride through our bond, but I didn't glanced at Rhys, though I wanted to. Because if I did, all my determination would go to hell, and I needed every scrap of it.
I took yet another deep breath. “I will go with you.”
What?
It's the only way.
No, it isn't.
I looked at Tarquin. “No one has to get involved.” The message was not only for him.
Feyre...
The weight in his stare almost made me backtrack, but I managed to keep my feet glued to the floor. “Thank you,” I breathed. “But you don't have to intervene for me. I can fight my own battles.”
I tried to give him a reassuring smile but it felt crooked and off and wrong. He didn't smile back but I wasn't expecting him to. Tarquin only clenched his jaw and let the storm in his eyes rage. I bowed deeply to him. To my endless surprise, he bowed right back. And when his eyes found mine again, there was nothing but respect in them. It almost made me come undone and sink to my knees.
I turned to Lucien and Tamlin. Everything I saw when I beheld them was myself banging on that invisible barrier, begging and waiting for a salvation that wouldn't come. I saw myself crying in a corner, enveloped in shadows.
My throat closed up. But I swallowed the lumps threatening to choke me. Because Rhys might not be able to pull me out again, even when he went to collect the deal we made. He would try, he would get me out, but if I broke there would be nothing worth saving.
I couldn't break. I would not.
I clenched my fists and made myself take one step and then other, and other. Until I stood in front of Tamlin and Lucien and the things that awaited me. Tamlin offered me his hand but I pushed it away with more force than necessary. By the look on his face, one would think I'd personally kicked him in the balls. He stared at me like I had become a completely different creature. Maybe I had. Maybe it was time he realized I was no longer the scared human girl he once knew.
I went to stand next to Lucien. He offered his hand slowly. Had I known him I would've thought he looked insecure, but it was clear I didn't. I had thought he wouldn't turn his back on me. And yet, I took his hand, because thinking of touching Tamlin was just atrocious. It made me sick with repulsion. Maybe it made me a horrible person, maybe it was like spitting on everything good he ever did for me. But I couldn't say I minded being ungrateful or bitter in that moment.
It was better that way, I supposed. Being so angry that I couldn't afford to think of the tangled emotions I hadn't cared to unravel since I arrived at the Night Court.
Rhys kept his hands in his pocket and a stony expression on his face all the while. But I felt the relentlessness thought our bond. And Amren, well, the smoke of her eyes had never seemed so close to become fire.
You and I still have a deal, I told him silently. Don't think you can get rid of me just like this.
Mor would throw a hissy fit if you don't go back to Velaris, and I think Cassian would punch me straight in the face.
I wouldn't want them to cut your favorite part now, would I? I tried to give him a smile, but that order got lost somewhere between my brain and my face.
Right.
It was kinda amazing, how these secret conversations eased the weight of the situation. Even just a little. It was yet another thing I didn't know I'd come to love until I realized I would lose it. No, that wasn't true. I was going to go back to Velaris. Rhys—I trusted he would go for me and pull me out of that hell.
He smirked. “Feyre and I still have a bargain, Tamlin,” he reminded him. “And the month is up in three days. I guess we will be seeing each other sooner than you would want to.”
“If you set a foot in my Court again, I swear—”
“You won't lock her up forever,” Rhys snarled.
“I won't take orders from a whore.”
I felt myself go cold and hot at the same time. I let out a snarl that was pure animal.
Lucien gripped my hand tight enough to snap my bones, but not quite enough to quell the violence building under my skin. He saw how much I focused on Tamlin's neck and how little I hesitated to take that first step. I was going to—
Easy, Rhys said.
My eyes snapped to him. Then to Tamlin again. How dared him? How dared him to criticize what Rhys had done when all he did was to sit at her feet like a lapdog on a leash. Didn't he know—
He doesn't and I don't care. As long as the people who matter know.
I pressed my lips together and furrowed my brows. It wasn't fair that people threw insults his way and he only took them like it didn't matter. I wanted to scream. But Rhys didn't want that. The mask he so carefully built was the only thing that kept his Court safe, away from Amarantha's horrors. If I told the truth—that wasn't my decision to make. Even if I still wanted to rip anyone who insulted him to shreds.
I made myself swallow the ball of raging fire down my throat. It was an effort to think beyond the anger, but I managed to mute it. Enough to hear the silence in the room. Tarquin stepped back, eyes wide. But I didn't have time to ponder it as darkness surrounded me. The last thing I saw was Rhys' eyes. And then lush green hills and an overpowering rose scent greeted me.
It felt like a punch in the face.
I turned around, and finally faced Tamlin.