Rhysand couldn't remember the last time he had stepped foot in the Mortal Lands – Amarantha had kept him Under the Mountain for a good half a century.
Now, with the curse finally broken, some poor fool having fallen for Tamlin and destroyed Amarantha's reign over them (and what a fool she was, just one they would forever be indebted to), he was free to go wherever he pleased for once.
It was an unfamiliar feeling – freedom. And one that had definitely been short lived.
Freedom… Independence… The words prickled the edges of his mind. A dark laugh escaped him as he shook his head. What he wouldn't have given to have been able to stay in Velaris longer. Instead, it was imperative he attend the Summit against the forces of Hybern. With all other High Lords in attendance at the six Mortal Queens' behest, he, who had the most to prove, the most to protect, could not be the one to decline their invite.
He needed to make his mark.
And he felt there was something more he needed to accomplish. An inexplicable pull he felt the moment his lungs were met with fresh mountain air, rays of sun dancing across his skin for the first time in forty-nine years, a feeling of rightness filling his lungs.
Having winnowed into the city of Meriant, Rhysand now made his way through the streets, walking from one of the only remaining temples in the Mortal Lands towards the Palace, situated in the city centre.
Not many places could hold a candle to Velaris, especially in the Mortal Lands, with the inconsequential life spans of its inhabitants, but if there ever was one to come close, Meriant would be it. There wasn't a corner of the city that wasn't adorned with some kind of carving. The buildings, tall and sculpted out of dark stone, loomed over anyone who just took the time to realise the shadows they cast upon this world, keeping the city in a perpetual state of chilling dusk. Some may have found it ominous and imposing, but there was beauty in this caliginosity – in knowing one was just a few wingbeats or a few flights of stairs away from a sight as breathtaking as the Velarian sky on Starfall.
And in knowing one could step out of the gloom and reach it at any time.
The meeting with the Queens wouldn't be till the next day, yet Rhysand had felt it necessary to arrive in the city early. It wasn't that he couldn't winnow in at any time. But there was a pull in the very back of his mind, as if tethered to his very consciousness, that was urging him on to make the trip today. As if coming any later would be too late.
Now that he was here, he wasn't sure what to do with himself. He cursed himself for allowing his senses to fool him. Too much time he had spent bound to a woman who knew nothing but her own gratification. It would take some time for him to regain his trust in his surroundings and calm the voices in his head urging him to act first - ask later, as if his new-found freedom depended on it.
His instincts kept him alive in Under the Mountain. Now, they seemed more prone to driving him out of his mind.
Having roamed the streets aimlessly for the better part of an hour, simply watching humans, most of them unaware of the impending threat, go about their days, he was about to give up on the madness that was listening to his thoughts and winnow back to Velaris, when an unusually warm breeze picked up and the same feeling that had seized him when he left Under the Mountain shot through his body again, leaving him almost immobilised.
His eyes darted along the walls of the closest buildings, trying to identify the source of the feeling awakening every flight instinct in his body, dread coating his every thought.
He couldn't winnow away if his life depended on it. And it sure felt as if it did as he tried to squeeze his fists together, trying to regain some semblance of control – to no avail.
This should not be happening.
Where is she?
The thought shot through his mind before he knew what was happening.
Amarantha is dead. I saw it with my own two eyes. This can't be-
His legs suddenly took on a life of their own as they started moving in the direction of one of the city's more run down taverns. He was in a haze, every thought in his body concentrated on not letting his body be overpowered, and yet he was losing the fight.
He was the most powerful High Lord in history. He had managed to withstand some of Amarantha's bidding… and here he found himself defenceless to a force he couldn't identify. Beckoning him.
As soon as he opened the door, he felt it. Felt her. She was situated in a corner, her head bowed, umber curls concealing her features, her cloak disguising the rest. A cup of musky red liquid in front of her.
He took a step towards her, carried on a wind that wasn't there, palpable only to him, so strong he couldn't thwart it if he tried.
The human girl lifted her head and her startled eyes met his as he pulled out the chair across from her. An image of the Velarian sky flashed across his mind, a smile mingled in with the shimmering orbs adorning the view. A memory.
No. Not a smile.
Her smile.
She cleared her throat. "Wine?"
Too beguiled by the sound of her voice, it took Rhysand a moment to understand the offer, before he nodded. The girl motioned for the waitress, and, for the first time, Rhysand noticed the pouch in her hands.
His eyes lingered on her calloused fingers, too thin for someone her size, wrapped tightly around the small pouch, squeezing it, as if her life depended on it.
He was trying to make sense of the situation. Of how someone as utterly human and sickeningly thin as the girl sitting in front of him could exert such a pull. She looked no stronger than a branch of a fallen tree towards the end of winter, the cold having taken its toll on it, nature having reclaimed and drained away any semblance of life once given. One push and it would break. Yet her pale livid eyes held in them the light and strength her body seemed to lack.
He carefully opened up his mind to hers, trying to read her motives, understand who she was, but instead he was met with the same intoxicating pull as before. Yet the girl was conclusively human, nothing but bewilderment at the thought of a handsome stranger taking the seat in front of her in an otherwise empty tavern crowding her mind, and a burning anger – at what, he didn't know.
Noticing his prolonged attention, the girl's eyes narrowed, her fingers clenching around the little worn thing in her fist, as she slowly placed it in a pocket beneath her cloak. Her own eyes were racking up and down his features, having probably felt him prodding in her mind.
He sensed a lingering fear in her, an anxiety unrelated to his intrusion, and wanted to keep sifting through the various images in her mind, when the waitress brought over the wine, setting it down with a thud in front of him. Carefully, he pulled back from her mind. Humans were apprehensive at best, fearful and blinded by abhorrence at worst, when it came to his kind. He had glamoured his features enough, but he didn't want to risk getting recognised as something more. Not when he needed to know more about her.
The girl crossed her arms in front of her and leaned back in her chair. Her eyes were strained on his, though despite the brave facade she was putting on, apprehension still marred her features after his intrusion. He had seen as much.
Rhysand picked up his cup. Slowly, he lifted it to his nose, smelling its contents. He wouldn't let his guard down again. Not even in the presence of mere humans.
"Someone feeling the need to sniff his drink, probably shouldn't be sitting down with strangers." She was far more perceptive than most. "Don't worry, it's not poisoned," she added after a moment, when he didn't respond.
The girl looked unsure of her words for a moment, his prolonged silence putting her on edge. He noticed her taking in the whole of him, her eyes resting a little longer at the Illyrian blades he had fastened at his side. He saw her expression harden – at what, he didn't know.
Rhysand was still at a loss of words, and it wasn't like him. He could be cruel. He could be charming. He could be anything he wanted at a moment's notice. He had had forty-nine years to master the art of deceit. And yet this girl unraveled him wholly.
He was about to open his mouth when silent resolve shaded her features, akin to an avalanche enshrouding a winter forrest in deadly silver. Letting out a breath, she levelled her gaze with his, her roguish smile engulfing him. She downed her drink in one go, giving him a pointed glance. Taking a last whiff, he followed suit.
The girl got up from her seat and pulled at his hand. He quickly left some coins on the table before he followed, as if in a trance. He did not want to let her leave. With a glance over her shoulder, the girl nodded at someone behind them, before guiding him to the door.
He stopped short when the cold air hit them again, the harsh smell of moss perforating his heightened senses. The girl seemed undisturbed.
"Where are we going?"
For a moment the girl froze, the creaking of the tavern door and foreign footsteps the only noises around them at this hour. Then, without turning, she spoke to the sky, her breaths visible in the night air. "Ah, so he speaks."
"I never alluded to the opposite." A smile played along Rhysand's lips.
"No, you did not."
Silence engulfed them again.
He wasn't sure what he was doing there. Why he was staying there, rooted to the spot… But he found the girl intriguing. It had been eons since he had last spoken to a human, and he did not remember them that… captivating. Whilst he had fought on their side in the war, he was doing it because he found their treatment undignified. He was doing the right thing. Then he was aiding Miryam and Drakon in their fight. He, himself, had never shared any particular bonds with humans. Yet this girl, whose name even evaded him, in all of her fragile beauty, was the most enthralling thing he had seen in a long while, if not ever. The thought of not understanding her almost made his chest constrict.
He took a step towards her, and stopping next to her, gazing up at the star filled sky, he whispered, "It's beautiful, isn't it?"
"It's one of the few things worthwhile in this city." She almost sounded resigned, her voice no more than a whisper, yet hardened by a resolve he did not expect.
"Is this what you wanted to show me?"
She turned her head, fixating him with her clear eyes as a smile spread on her lips again. "Were you awaiting something grander? Something more magical than the starry night sky?" It almost sounded like a challenge.
"There is but a handful of things I cherish more."
The girl scoffed before turning away from him again. After another moment she pulled at his hand. "Come on then. I need to show you there is more to cherish in life than a few twinkling lights somewhere far off in the distance."
She didn't give him much of a choice as she started walking in the opposite direction of where he had come from, going uphill, navigating through the narrow passages of the town centre. Not that he would have stayed behind.
For a moment, he even contemplated slipping back into her mind, figuring out who this girl was, what she wanted. But he had been careful and on guard for a long time, and as elusive as the girl guiding him was, he did not feel threatened by her. Having experienced the wrenching feeling of having Amarantha shred through his own thoughts, trying to grasp at the last essence of his being to fortify the embankment around the things he held most dear, violating the girl's privacy like that, when he could feel she was no threat, made even the foulest parts of his being feel filthy.
Maybe he felt the need to repent for some of his actions. Maybe he just wanted not to care for once. But he decided to leave her be, letting his guard down.
No, it would most certainly have been foolish to think him capable of being harmed by a mere human. He was tired of looking out. So when she asked him to wait outside a door whilst she retrieved something from the inside, he did as asked. And when she led him further up the roads until they had the city laid out before their feet, he followed.
They barely spoke as they walked up the roads. And when she stopped at a lodge overseeing the city and sat on a stone close to the scarp, he sat next to her.
Not looking at him, she took a gulp, her face scrunching together, then handed him the bottle she had retrieved from the house. Rhysand mirrored her action, the bottle rough and cold beneath his fingers. The drink was much stronger than he anticipated, and he couldn't help it as he let out a cough, the burn worse than what he was accustomed to.
Some things were bound to change in all the time he had been locked away. Even human liquids.
"This is what I wanted to show you."
Rhysand looked at Meriant, the mist cloaking it – aglow. He looked at what was probably this girl's whole world laid bare at his feet.
He took another sip. The girl smiled.
"What makes you think I haven't seen this before."
"You don't look like someone from around here." No, that he did not.
He didn't reply as he took another gulp from the beverage, the unsubsiding burning in the girl's presence making him feel alive in a way he hadn't had in all the years Under the Mountain. He went to hand her the bottle, but she just shook her head, looking back out at the city sprawled beneath her feet, an inexplicable sadness suddenly marring her hollow features.
"Sometimes I wonder," she began, then paused, forlorn. "I wonder what it would be like being able to fly across this city. To be one with the sky. Feel the wind rip at my skin and let it tear away my pro–." Her voice broke. "My responsibilities." Her expression darkened.
The air was knocked out of Rhysand's lungs. He felt the sudden urge to shed his glamour, press her body against his, and lift her into the air. He knew too well the need to spread his wings, feel the air pushing against them, a wall of resistance of the most joyous kind, as he claimed the skies. He had been denied it too long.
But Rhysand was selfish. He had been with Velaris, and he would be now, too. He wouldn't do that to her. Not if he didn't want to have her running from him. He enjoyed her company too much, his loneliness mirrored in her pained eyes. He relished the silence between them, the reprieve it gave him from his own thoughts and responsibilities drowning him alive, the ruthless persona he had to portray. He wondered what could make a girl from a world so unlike his feel such burden.
So instead, he gazed at her as he said, "I imagine the view would be even more beautiful."
She had a bitter smile to spare for him.
"What is it you wish to escape?"
Instead of answering, she turned on her spot, her body facing his wholly. Slowly, she moved closer to him, her eyes tracing his features. He held his breath, the pull from before tearing at his skin. Her hand reached out to his, but instead of touching him, she snatched the bottle out of his hands, and tipped her head back as she took a long swig. She coughed a few times, before throwing it back at him. Rhysand almost laughed.
Not leaving her out of his sight, he did the same. The unnatural burn a welcome distraction from his own thoughts, of the things he was trying to escape, of the feelings stirred by the girl's intoxicating proximity, of the burdens he had to carry.
He was caught off guard when he suddenly felt her crawl onto his lap. It took all his strength to not push her off immediately, his darkness rippling, pulsing, throbbing at his reins, sharper than a glowing knife, ready to defend him, as fresh memories flashed in his mind of Amarantha atop him, of being left to her mercy. And he almost did let the darkness suppurating inside him break free, but the girl's eyes widened in horror at what she must have seen in front of her.
She is no threat.
He allowed his rigid muscles to relax, as he looked back out to the expanse in front of them, allowing the cold breeze to wash over him and calm his raging mind, cleansing it of what was. Taking in the vast sea glistening behind the glowing city, he slowly placed a hand on the girl's lower back, almost summoning the heat from her body to add to the incessant burn in his chest and abdomen, and loosed a breath as he tried to ground himself in her human presence.
The girl looked like she had made the gravest mistake of her life. For a moment, he thought she was going to bolt. But then resolve coated her features again and this time it was her that lifted the bottle to his lips. Her eyes remained strained on him, as she watched every sip he took, his throat moving with it, and when she lowered the bottle, her gaze slowly travelled to his lips.
"Rhysand." He breathed his name. She didn't even move.
"Rhysand." He repeated. His head had started to feel heavy, the burning pounding not having subsided.
"If you are going to kiss me, you could at least bestow upon me the honour of knowing your name."
"Who said I was going to –" but her breath caught in her throat. She raised a trembling hand and traced the path left by the drop that had run down his chin just a moment before, leaving his skin ablaze.
"I wasn't –" before she could finish, he silenced her lips with his. Now it was the girl's turn to go rigid, her spine straight in his lap. It only lasted a moment, before she brought her own hands behind his shoulders and pressed herself closer to him, an almost silent moan escaping her.
Her lips upon his were scolding, boiling him alive, molten metal poured over the icy abyss of his soul. His hands engulfed her, the abeyant pull roaring to new heights. It took all his control to not crush her to him, to remember her body was no more but a fallen autumn leaf, carefully tucked between the pages of a book to keep from crumbling apart.
They broke away for only a moment, both heaving, but it was enough. As she started working on his belt, trying to free him from his weapons, he knew. He knew.
His chest constricted with the weight of a thousand suns exploding. Horror marred his features.
It can't be.
His blades fell away and she pulled at his shirt, freeing him from its confinement.
One second she was crushed against him again, her mouth on his, their breaths – one, the flames in his veins roaring. The next she was standing up, pulling him with her to his feet. He was still beside himself. He almost cried out at the loss of her heat, a low hiss escaping his chest. The heat running through his veins was boiling him alive, the loss of contact rendering it unbearable.
He stumbled a step in her direction.
His vision blurred. The pounding in his head was getting stronger. He reached out for her again, his hand barely reaching her as he tried to take another step towards her. Instead, he grasped at air.
He was burning from the inside out.
Rhysand fell to his knees. He clutched at his throat and chest, his glamour was failing him. His darkness uncontainable.
His eyes shot to the girl again. To the innocent human whose pain seemed to mirror his own. He expected to be met with shock, bewilderment, confusion, horror at what was unfolding.
Instead, he was met with icy resolve, a slight panic to her features, as her chest rose and fell rapidly. Disgust was prevalent on her face.
"Feyre," the girl spat, grinding her teeth. "My name is Feyre."
He could only watch her sidestep him hastily, bend down to lift his blades off the ground where they had been discarded, and run as if her life depended on it, as the ash in his system ripped its way through his body.
Rhysand let out a growl loud enough to make the ground clutched in his hands tremble.
The human girl had just poisoned and robbed him.
The human girl that was his mate.
It took all of his strength to winnow himself into safety, her name scorching him just as strongly as the ash slowly tearing him asunder.
A/N: Thank you, everyone, for reading! You can find teasers and updates regarding Calla Lilies and Hydrangeas on my Tumblr. The link is on my profile page. New chapters get posted to AO3 first.
I will be happy to hear from you! Reviews and criticism are greatly appreciated, as they help me understand what I can improve and what you expect of this story.
Hope to see you stick around!
Karolina