The apple had been spiked. I gasped as my heart gave a lurch. Poison flooded through my veins, locking away all of my assets, handicapping my power. I slammed against the locks furiously as I was shouldered by the darkness into the darkest recesses of my mind, past the obsidian walls I had built. Not again. I would not be stripped again. Pounding on them, I screamed Feyre's name again and again, across the bridge between us. My mate. My High Lady. Sent into enemy territory to spin a web of deceit and court the man she hated most.

The metallic tang of magic coated my tongue. I sank to the soft carpet of the townhouse hallway as the red apple rolled unevenly toward Amren, stopping with a shudder at her polished black boots. Constriction weaved its path through my lungs. I keeled over as I struggled to breathe. I jerked my head up to her, making my fury evident in every ragged breath.

"What have you done?" I rasped.

After hundreds of years, my third-in-command, one of my most trusted allies - friends - had betrayed me. Deadly power rumbled in my stomach as I reached for a dagger. Mor, Az and Cassian were in the city - getting help for his wings. It was all just a hoax. A plan suggested by Amren to get me alone and sabotage me. Again, I slammed against obsidian, channeling any strength I still had with a roar. All of my weapons were gone. Snarling, I stared into those silver, swirling eyes. Traitor. Manipulator. Liar. A shiver ran down my spine. She's working with the King of Hybern.

She laughed as the realization dawned, crouching in front of me with the smirk I had seen so many times before. I bared my teeth at her threateningly. How could I have been so stupid? I'd jeopardized my brothers, my cousin all of Velaris, again - I had jeopardized my mate. Sweat beaded on the back of my neck. Feyre, I screamed. I had to get out, to warn her - Feyre! Silence. Tamlin will protect her, I reassured myself. No - she'd take care of herself. She was the High Lady of The Night Court. My wings tensed menacingly. With each shallow breath, my power was draining. Amren pulled out one of my knives, clicking it against her long, black nails. It flashed in the evening rays streaming through the windows.

"It won't kill you, boy," she purred, lifting my chin with the point of the blade.

A trickle of blood ran down my throat as I shook with betrayal and the promise of violence. No matter what they did to me, I wouldn't tell them anything. I'd sacrifice myself again and again. As if seeing this in my eyes, Amren chuckled, flashing white fangs.

"Why?" I hissed.

Spots danced in my vision. I slid against the obsidian to the base, heaving. Sensing my defeat, Amren lowered the dagger. I slumped nauseously as I faded in and out of consciousness. Feyre, I whispered into the darkness. Feyre. I was still reciting her name as slowly, torturously, the stranger in front of me licked away the trail of blood.

This time, not even the High Lady of The Night Court could save me.

I didn't know how long i'd been out when I awoke. My lungs, wings, and arms burned with pain. I fought the urge to clench my jaw in agony, forcing myself to keep still even as the memories flooded back. Darkness and silence engulfed me in their vast embrace. I was alone, seemingly standing on cold black mist that stretched endlessly in my periphery. The pale, otherworldly light seemed to come from the mist itself. Adrenaline pounded through my head. Gritting my teeth with a silent cry, I clutched my tattooed arm. Blood came off on my pale calluses. I was naked, and weaponless. Shivering, I turned cautiously, anger beginning to seep through the sharp pain in my wings.

My blood chilled. The wall - my wall - loomed in front of me, with no beginning and no end. I didn't have to look up to know it continued infinitely. I reached out to touch it, smearing my blood across the cold, rough surface. They'd done it. They'd really done it. My gut twisted. I curled my toes, trying not to think and failing miserably. I was trapped - inside my own walls. My heart thudded violently. There was only one way out. I grasped for my power, but there was only a void. Stolen, locked away - fear weakened my knees. Amarantha's laugh seemed to echo in the darkness. I whipped around, my breathing intensifying. There was nothing but swirling mist and shadows. Silence. Then - a splash of water.

I whirled. Amarantha stood naked in front of me, the ghost of a smile still on her lips. Every muscle in my body tensed in anger and fear as memories flashed behind my eyes. Goosebumps snaked across the mountains on my knees. The woman who had terrorized me - us - for fifty years stood confidently just a few feet away, ivory skin exposed to the elements. Her long auburn hair hung in waves around her pointed ears. She was still beautiful, but I could feel nothing but a savage calm. I glanced behind us, but we were alone. My conscience told me it wouldn't last.

"Rhysand," Amarantha drawled.

I stepped forward in warning. She smiled without emotion, curling her lips into a feline snarl.

"You're dead."

She laughed harshly.

"Jurian's alive," she smirked. "Why shouldn't I be?"

For the first time I realized she wasn't wearing Jurian's finger and eye. Ice gripped my heart. No. I knew this - this version of her wasn't real, but - it was possible. My worst fear could be confirmed. The King of Hybern had the Cauldron; he'd already resurrected one person. Why not one of his strongest spies, who conveniently still had a body to spare Under the Mountain? They could win the war. Amarantha laughed loudly.

"Yes, Rhysand," she mocked. "I'm right here."

And then suddenly, she was right in front of me. I jerked back, but my body was slow and leaden; I couldn't move fast enough. She lowered her eyes in invitation. The mist seemed to wrap around her sinful legs.

"Stay the hell away from me," I ordered, my voice shaking.

I blinked, and she'd teleported back to where she'd first appeared. But this time . . .she wasn't alone. My knees buckled. I felt no relief, only fear - stark fear that cut off all thought and reverberated through every fiber of my being. I lunged for her, but she jerked the knife closer, forcing me to halt.

"Rhys," Feyre gritted out.

My mouth opened and closed of its own accord. Blood thundered in my ears. Amarantha watched me with a crazed look in her eyes as she held the knife against my mate's throat. Her other arm wrapped around Feyre's side with a blade at her abdomen. At her red Spring Court gown. Her bare left arm. A muscle in Feyre's jaw feathered. It took everything I had to keep from exploding. Don't, she mouthed. And I could feel every thought she conveyed through her expression.

"Amarantha," I growled. "You've just done me a favor."

Her superficial smile remained taut, even as her hands shook with adrenaline.

"And what would that be?"

"You brought Feyre to me."

I didn't have the luxury of witnessing Amarantha's face before Feyre snapped. The water I'd heard beyond the mist became a whip. It cracked with a vengeance that only the Night Court could harbor. The High Lady stood staring after her as Amarantha flew into the shadows, rolling over and over into the oblivion of my dark, haunted mind. My wings sagged in relief as Feyre turned to face me. All I wanted to do was hold her, remember the taste of her lips, but some instinct told me to stay where I was.

"Feyre," I managed.

She stared blankly at me, as if those weeks at the Spring Court had made her forget who I was. Her too-perfect rose petal layers rustled softly in the cold draft. My years of experience were telling me to get out, the passage was open - I'd beaten my fear. But I lingered, watching her uneasily as the silence thickened.

"Feyre?"

Her skirts whispered in the ghostly light.

"I don't want you here," she breathed.

I shook my head in disbelief. "This isn't you -"

"This is me, Rhysand," she pleaded desperately, begging me to understand.

I stepped back towards the passage, still shaking my head.

"Don't you get it?" Feyre murmured. "I'm in love with him."

I tried to speak, but found I couldn't move my mouth. Tamlin walked up behind my mate in full Spring Court attire, sliding his arm protectively around her waist. His face remained impassive, but he watched me coldly. They both stared at me with hollow, shadowed eyes. Shells of their former selves. I cursed violently, turning to run, but they were there - naked, running their hands all over each other. My mate turned to look at me as he ravished her. There was nothing human in her eyes.

"It's always been him," she said sadly.

"No," I whimpered. "No!"

I sprinted past them, the passage through the wall in sight. Tears streamed down my face as the pain intensified. My wings, obsidian rocks upon my back. I ran past Cassian and his ruined wings, my friends dismembered and rotting, Amren threatening to set fire to Velaris, the King murdering Feyre's family, my mother and sisters getting their wings sawed off. I squeezed my eyes shut as the screams tore holes in my sanity. I only felt the ground on the other side of the wall.