I jerk awake, a scream lodged in my throat.

I look around the room, trying to remember where I am.

The Night Court. Not Under the Mountain. Amarantha's gone. I'm safe.

Breathe, Feyre. Breathe.

I sit up in my bed and try to calm my breathing. I can still feel my spine being snapped in two. I can still hear Amarantha's screeching laughter as I bleed out onto the floor. I can still picture Rhysand's face as he's thrown across the room, blood dripping from his nose. I can still feel him looking at me and knowing my pain.

I look at my left hand and at the eye tattoo spiraling over my skin-a consequence of making a deal with Rhysand. But he had saved my life. He understands me. He's the only one who saw me and kept me sane while Under the Mountain.

I get up from the bed, my nightgown swirling above my knees. I walk to the door in order to go find Rhys.

As I open the door, I'm met with darkness all around me. But that's no surprise in the Night Court. I've grown used to its shadows and secrets. I'm comfortable here, hidden away from the blinding and accusing light of the Spring Court. I felt trapped and suffocated at the Spring Court, but here I feel a sense of freedom and peace.

I make my way through the corridor and end up outside the library doors. Something inside me knew that this is where I needed to be-that I would find who I was looking for.

I push open the heavy mahogany doors and find Rhysand sitting in the far corner of the library. He's sprawled across a dark settee, his feet perched on top of a table stacked with books. A small desk lamp sits at the end of the sofa, providing just enough light for him to read.

I stand in the doorway, afraid to disturb him at such a late hour. He seems engrossed in the book he's holding, so he hasn't noticed me yet.

"Feyre darling, what are you doing up?"

Or so I thought.

I look across the room and find Rhys watching me. His violet eyes roam over my body, and I remember that I stupidly came down here in only my nightgown. I glance down at myself and scowl at my undress.

"Is something bothering you?" He asks.

"Just a nightmare," I mutter, suddenly feeling foolish for coming to find him over such a petty thing.

He looks at me. "And what was your nightmare about?"

I take a breath, trying to hold back my tears. "I was Under the Mountain again. Amarantha was torturing me. I died. And those Fae I killed-"

Rhysand's eyes soften as he motions for me to walk over to him. I make my way to the sofa and sit down next to him.

"You are safe here, Feyre. Amarantha is gone. Everything is over. You will still grieve for the lives you took, but soon you will heal. It will all get better, Feyre, I promise." His violet eyes search my face and seem to reach my soul-my bitter, damned soul.

Rhys appears to understand my thoughts as he lifts a hand to my cheek. His calloused thumb swipes at a tear that escaped. "You're safe, Feyre," he whispers.

I surrender to my sorrow and guilt and lean into him. I rest my head on his shoulder and he soothingly runs a hand down my back. Rhys continues to hold me and tell me that I'm all right, that my human heart just needs to grieve. I turn my face into his neck and breathe in his cool, dark scent. He smells of starlight and spice, and I am instantly calmed and relax into him.

That is when I realize that I truly am safe, here in Rhysand's Night Court, in his arms.

I'm home.