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Rhysand
I was roaring before I knew why.
The tangle of fear, rage, and despair that slammed into me drove me to my feet, eyes searching, trying to identify the threat—before I realized it came from that remote, frozen corner of my heart that hadn’t been truly mine since Under the Mountain. The tenuous channel that had lain mute for weeks came rampaging to life, bringing with it a pain like almost none I had ever known.
FEYRE?! I slammed up against that glittering black wall, nearly bouncing off in my shock. Around me I could hear voices clamoring to know what was happening, but I silenced them with a sharp gesture, turning my whole focus toward tunneling through that shield. I knew she would skewer me for the invasion of privacy, but at the moment I didn’t care, couldn’t let that desperate scream go unanswered.
Feyre! I called, burrowing frantically, slicing—
He trapped me! At first I thought she could feel me, was trying to communicate her distress, but the mindless litany continued as I feverishly sifted through her thoughts, her memories.
He locked me up. I’m trapped! Trapped… trapped… can’t get out…
And then I saw his face, staring coldly, unfeeling, as she pounded against nothing, screaming his name—his name—watched him sprint to the edge of the estate and disappear.
“MOR!” I bellowed.
“I’m here—Rhys, what’s wrong?”
“That bastard,” I heaved. “That bastard—”
“Rhysand.” Amren’s cold, sharp voice cut through my panic.
I raised my head to look Mor directly in the eye. “He’s locked her up. He’ll destroy her. We have to—”
“I’ll do it,” she said quietly. I nodded haggardly. Retrieving Feyre myself would be an act of war, although if I knew where it was he’d gone, I could solve that problem easily enough.
Mor hesitated. “I don’t think I can break his shield.”
“I know. I can handle that much.”
She nodded once and vanished. I gave vent to the savage malevolence I felt as I shattered the barrier, relishing the lingering scent of him, as if it were his neck I could snap.
It’s gone, you’re free, I tried to send through the bond, but Feyre was past feeling anything beyond the terror.
“You will not escape the consequences by having Mor commit the material act,” Amren observed.
I snarled. “I can handle the consequences.”
“Verification of the mating bond…” she began.
“No,” I said hoarsely. It would be just another kind of trap.
“Rhysand, what you have done is already grounds for war.”
“He has no proof I’ve done anything,” I snapped. It was the rule I lived by. No proof.
“If she commits to the bond—”
“This conversation is over.” I could already feel Mor approaching that cursed manor, and I winnowed to the place I knew she would head for, the ancient door from Spring into Summer. I waited, pacing restlessly at the edge of Tarquin’s territory.
I could not contain my snarl as they emerged. Raw power whipped around Feyre’s body, choking, devouring her limp form.
“I did everything by the book,” Mor said solemnly, transferring Feyre to my waiting arms. I nearly sobbed with relief at being able to hold her to me, smoothing damp curls back from her beautiful, emaciated face.
I glanced back at Mor, who nodded tightly.
“Then we’re done here,” I rumbled. I winnowed swiftly, sending tender caresses and reassurances through the bond, through every point of contact I could manage, smoothing away that terrible power as I drove for home.
***
Watching over Feyre’s still form, in a room that had been hastily made up, I sensed Cassian’s presence in the doorway but didn’t look up. As always, he treated my lack of outright reproach as an invitation, sauntering to my side at the bed.
“Will you keep her here?” he asked.
I sighed. “No.” As much as I longed—ached—to have her with me in Velaris, the risks were still… unknown at best. “I have something I need to take care of first. She won’t wake.”
“By the Cauldron, how long was she locked up? Did they starve her too?”
“No,” I growled. “She was doing this to herself.” Wasting away, slowly relinquishing that spark I cherished.
“Didn’t anyone care?” Cassian asked incredulously.
I did.
“Well, damn.” He whistled, oblivious to my private thought. “I’m surprised you didn’t go barreling down the almighty prick’s door weeks ago.”
“Perhaps I should have,” I murmured.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Cassian’s frown at my unusually somber mood. He seemed about to say something, when a shadow appeared in the doorway.
“He’s coming,” Azriel said simply.
I nodded and arose, straightening my jacket. “No one in or out,” I reminded them needlessly before I winnowed off, taking care to eradicate any trace of her scent from my skin, hair, and clothes.
I just managed to settle myself on the ebony throne before the doors to the throne room burst open.
“WHERE IS SHE?”
“Where is who?” I asked mildly.
“You know who,” Tamlin growled, breathing heavily, claws extended.
“Do I?” I crooned softly.
“I KNOW YOU’VE TAKEN HER!”
“Based on what evidence, High Lord? Did one of your subjects see me skulking about your lands? Does my scent linger in your halls?” I inspected my fingernails. “Perhaps she ran away—”
“That’s impossible.”
I sighed dramatically. “It is not my fault, Tamlin, if you cannot keep track of your toys.”
His nostrils flared, and his claws twitched reflexively. I could practically see the gears grinding. Any attack at this point would be considered unprovoked, and here in the heart of my domain, he could not hope to overpower me anyway. His feral gaze flickered.
“Find her,” he begged hoarsely. I raised an eyebrow. “Through that—bond, your bargain—”
“Now why would I want to do that?” I drawled. “My week isn’t scheduled for another…” I pretended to count. “Fifteen days. I’m sure she’ll turn up by then.” I smiled tauntingly. “Tell you what. If I do happen to see Feyre darling, I shall do everything in my power to aid her, should she wish to return to the Spring Court. I,” I emphasized ever so slightly, “will not hold her against her will.”
“I will have her back,” he snarled.
“Mm,” I agreed. “But will she have you?”
He roared, and a burst of power exploded out from him, shattering several chandeliers and even buckling one of the oak tables. Resolve settled over me as I surveyed the damage minutely. His temper was dangerously out of control, and I had the unsettling feeling that I’d gotten her out just in time.
Still, I clicked my tongue. “Tedious. I was rather fond of that table.” My eyes hardened, and I let a ripple of warning enter my tone. “Get out of my court, Tamlin.”
“If I find—” Tamlin began.
“Out!” I snapped.
With one last malevolent look, he turned on his heel and stalked back the way he’d come.
I waited until all traces of him had vanished before relinquishing the choke hold on my own consuming rage, panting and shuddering as the mountain rumbled beneath me.
***
As soon as I could be sure no one from Spring Court would come sniffing around again, I moved Feyre to the old palace on top of the mountain, choosing one of the verandas so that when she awoke it would not be to an enclosed space.
Night fell as I stared out at the surrounding peaks, doing my best not to think of anything at all as I listened to her peaceful breathing. She slept dreamlessly for once, a mercy for which I was grateful.
“You should get some rest,” Mor said when she found me around midnight.
I snarled, but with less energy than I would have preferred.
She just raised an eyebrow and took a seat, gazing contemplatively at the still form beside me. “What are you going to tell her?”
“About what?” I said through clenched teeth.
Mor gave me a pointed look. “She deserves to know.”
“She deserves a moment’s peace,” I shot back.
“She would want to know,” Mor insisted.
For a moment, I couldn’t answer. All the thoughts I’d been trying to avoid came tumbling in at once. “She hates me,” I whispered brokenly. And would forever, if she were forced into another—far more binding—contract here at the despised Night Court.
Mor remained silent for so long I thought she wasn’t going to answer. Then, “She fought me, you know.”
I looked up tiredly. “What?”
“At the manor, before she knew who I was, then again as we traveled through the cave—underground. She was afraid of being… taken again. She didn’t truly relax until you held her.”
I grunted. Better than Amarantha, then. A glowing recommendation.
“What did you find?” I asked bleakly. “At the manor?” Visions of mangled corpses and splattered walls filled my head. So much power, untrained to begin with, and in that state…
But Mor’s voice was simply amused. “A whole bunch of shit-wrecked servants. Sentries shouting, trying to find the threat—beginning to suspect she was the threat.” I shuddered. “There was one servant, a female urisk, who had tried to get through the—maelstrom, who actually seemed to care…” Mor shrugged delicately. “I neutralized the sentries and left the servant with a warning.”
I pondered this. “Did she try to stop you?”
“No.” She paused. “She asked me—us—to take care of her.”
I nodded tiredly. “Assuming she’ll let me care for her at all.”
“Give her time, Rhys,” Mor said quietly, squeezing my shoulder as she rose to leave.
Time. Yes, I could give her that. Owed her that much, at least.
“I’ll be at the town house, if you need me.”
***
The moon had risen by the time Azriel came to report. He glanced meaningfully at Feyre’s sleeping form, but I gestured impatiently for him to proceed.
He frowned slightly but obliged. “The other High Lords will not move against another territory without proof of lawbreaking, and even then, not unless they have no alternative.”
I nodded. This was what I had been counting on.
“My agents have already begun to circulate… alternate rumors,” he continued. “Tamlin insists that you have stolen away his bride, but without proof, and as conflicting reports begin to surface, I am assured the other courts will continue to distance themselves from the issue.”
“What kind of rumors?” I asked.
He shrugged. “The truth. He tried to lock her up; she left. The details, as with all good rumors, are vague and will vary. Perhaps I’ll throw in one of a benevolent High Lord savior, see if it sticks.”
I snorted. “Does anyone suspect Mor?”
Azriel’s eyes tightened. “Not by name.”
I nodded. “And what of the Spring Court?”
“Tamlin is… not himself.”
Another nod. I’d seen as much with my own eyes.
Azriel continued, “It does not help that Ianthe has his ear.”
I hissed. That conniving bitch was becoming more of a thorn in my side than she’d been even within my own court. If her power and influence were indeed growing, as we’d glimpsed since my return from Under the Mountain… I snarled in frustration. “What of the other High Priestesses?”
“There has been no statement issued, although I believe Ianthe is pushing for a formal disavowal.” My spymaster frowned uneasily. “I sense she wants Feyre… contained possibly as much or even more than Tamlin himself.”
Fury filled my veins as I imagined what Ianthe might want from Feyre that would require her containment.
With my silence, Azriel’s eyes shifted again to Feyre. “Will she help us?”
I sighed. “I don’t know.”
He nodded his acceptance. There were so many unknowns in our line of work.
As he turned to leave, I said, “There’s an urisk serving in the Spring Court.” A lesser fae of Summer, not Spring. “I want to know why.” He inclined his head in acknowledgment, melting into shadow.
I resumed my vigil, settling back into the opulent chair to wait for dawn.
***
The low, even pattern of breathing I’d grown accustomed to over the course of the night cut off abruptly, and my eyes snapped to the daybed as for one horrible second I feared the worst.
Then my eyes met blue-gray, and I exhaled slowly, settling my face into what I hoped was a pleasant expression.
She looked around. In contrast to the day before, her mind was open, her thoughts utterly unguarded as she took in her surroundings, noting the angle of the pale morning sun with mild dismay.
“What happened?” she asked, her voice raspy. As if I’d been screaming.
“You were screaming.” I couldn’t help answering the unspoken thought, a fact which she, of course, interpreted as a reprimand, though she dismissed it without energy. I continued lightly, “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.”
She blanched. “Did I hurt any—”
“No,” I reassured her quickly. A testament to her extraordinary self-control, and more than I could say for some in that household. “Whatever you did, it was contained to you.”
She sifted swiftly through her memories, trying to connect my presence with how she’d gotten here. “You weren’t—”
“By law and protocol,” I explained, “things would have become very messy if I had been the one to walk into that house and take you. Smashing that shield was fine”—or close enough—“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.” And even then, the less known about it, the better. “Or else Tamlin would have free rein to march his forces into my lands to reclaim you. And as I have no interest in an internal war, we had to do everything by the book.”
My last words sparked a memory as she recalled Mor speaking those words. Then a sudden panic took hold as she thought of the finite terms of our bargain. “When I go back…” she choked out.
I hadn’t realized my fear until the relief rushed through me, knowing she would not immediately demand to be returned, as she had on other occasions. I said smoothly, “As your presence here isn’t part of our monthly requirement, you are under no obligation to go back.” I paused. “Unless you wish to.” I knew what I would do—what I would have to do—if that were the case, but…
“He locked me in that house,” she said flatly.
Her words took me back for a heartbeat to that mindless terror, that soul-wrenching shriek. “I know. I felt you. Even with your shields up—for once,” I attempted a lighthearted jab.
Her answering stare was heartbreakingly empty. “I have nowhere else to go.”
I dismissed the implied question easily, trying to sound casual. “Stay here for however long you want. Stay here forever, if you feel like it.” The plea behind my words seemed to pulse with every heartbeat. Stay. Stay. Stay.
“I—I need to go back at some point.”
Like hell. But she did need to know that the choice was hers, whatever my thoughts about the matter. I said evenly, “Say the word, and it’s done.”
She gave me an appraising stare, then looked away, contemplating her simpering, empty existence as a lady of Spring. She’d been so stifled, a gilded prisoner long before she’d realized it.
I leaned back, affecting an offhand manner. “I made you an offer when you first came here: help me, and food, shelter, clothing… All of it is yours.” She recoiled inwardly, loath to accept charity, and I clarified, “Work for me. I owe you anyway.” I barreled on, suddenly desperate for her to say yes, to accept. “And we’ll figure the rest out day by day, if need be.”
Her thoughts turned again to the Spring Court, to what leaving would truly mean, and I slid my own shield up between us, trying to give her some privacy.
“I’m not going back,” she vowed solemnly after a moment. Relief washed through me again, cleansing the fear, the anger I still felt at what had been done to her.
She swallowed against her raw throat, reminding me that she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in over a day. I summoned a mug of throat balm tea and extended it to her. “Drink it.” She obeyed, and I drank in the sight of her as she began to revive slightly.
She glanced awkwardly at me. “The darkness—is that… part of the power you gave me?”
I shrugged. “One would assume so.”
She tipped back the last of the tea, then looked at me askance. “No wings?”
I suppressed a smile. “If you inherited some of Tamlin’s shape-shifting, perhaps you can make wings of your own.”
Her answering shiver of revulsion effectively doused my amusement. She changed the subject quickly. “And the other High Lords? Ice—that’s Winter. That shield I once made of hardened wind—who did that come from? What might the others have given me? Is—is winnowing tied to any one of you in particular?”
I frowned slightly, trying to parse through which question to answer first—if indeed the answers were simple at all. I began with the most straightforward. “Wind? The Day Court, likely. And winnowing—it’s not confined to any court. It’s wholly dependent on your own reserve of power—and training. 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.”
I chuckled, pleased to see she was regaining her fire, if somewhat half-heartedly. With that settled, I stood and stretched. I’d been putting off responsibilities in order to be here, to ensure she wouldn’t wake alone in unfamiliar surroundings, and there were things I knew wouldn’t wait much longer. Besides, I wasn’t sure how welcome my presence would be to her, now that the initial shock had worn off. She no longer held the ties that had lain like a chasm between us, but that did not erase her contempt for me, if that last remark was any indication.
“Rest a day or two, Feyre,” I said gently. “Then take on the task of figuring out everything else. I have business in another part of my lands; I’ll be back by the end of the week.”
She nodded absently, and I set off toward the light curtain that Mor had erected for her privacy, thinking I ought to at least find a clean shirt to change into.
“Take me with you.”
The words stopped me cold.
Hope flared stubbornly in my chest, but my movements were measured as I turned to face her and said carefully, “You should rest.”
“I’ve rested enough,” she declared, belying her assertion as she stood a little too quickly and wobbled. A note of desperation entered her voice. “Wherever you’re going, whatever you’re doing—take me along. I’ll stay out of trouble. Just… Please.”
The brittle plea nearly broke me, but I had more at stake than she realized in this. Still.
I walked back to look her in the eye and said gravely, “If you come with me, there is no going back. You will not be allowed to speak of what you see to anyone outside my court.” I didn’t have to lock her up to fulfill that vow. “Because if you do, people will die—my people will die. So if you come, 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”—I stopped short of speaking his name—“your friends, then stay here.”
I watched her consider my words, weighing their significance, and I relaxed a fraction. If she had said yes without hesitation, I would not have agreed, no matter the cost in her opinion of me.
She seemed to come to a decision. “Take me with you. I won’t tell anyone what I see. Even—them.”
I tasted the air around her, stopping short of slipping past the shield she had finally raised at some point during our conversation, trying to ascertain the depth of her sincerity.
She still looked haggard, in a way I hadn’t seen since Under the Mountain. But I also sensed some of that steel I’d seen there. I wanted to trust her, felt perhaps I might.
“We leave in ten minutes,” I said, offering her a guarded smile. Her shoulders relaxed, and I felt a flicker of some anguish I didn’t quite understand as she released it. “If you want to freshen up, go ahead.”
“Where are we going?” she asked curiously.
I grinned, a kind of giddy excitement rising in me for the first time in longer than I could remember. “To Velaris—the City of Starlight.”