The reaction was instantaneous.

Tamlin let out a roar, shifting into his beast form with a flash of golden light. Lucien's sword was drawn and raised to protect me, a shield of power snapping into place around us.

There had been a mandatory truce during the meeting, but everyone seemed to forget it as my High Lord lunged for Beron, and flames shot out as he defended himself.

I was pressed against my chair, heart pounding, eyes wide. And at all this chaos, this power…

Something stirred inside me, a rising, thrashing darkness, begging to be unleashed.

Kill them, it hissed. Kill them all for trying to own you.

Lost in a trance, I began to stand from my seat, that writhing thing slipping out—

A boom echoed from beyond the hall, lost among the sound of pounding swords against shields.

The chaos stilled. Tamlin froze, shifting half into his High Fae form out of pure surprise as the doors creaked open by themselves.

The entourages of all the High Lords shifted into defensive positions, their swords unsheathed and shields locked into place.

You would have to be a fool to attack us here, with all the most powerful beings in Prythian gathered in one place.

But…

That rush of power faded, retreating and leaving me suddenly cold as the doors swung open and Morrigan, Third in command to the High Lord of the Night Court, stepped in.

vVv

The one thing that I could see in common between Rhysand and his cousin was their beauty. Their eyes, hair and faces were completely different, yet you could tell they shared blood.

The hall was utterly silent as she entered, her blood-red dress sweeping the polished floors. Her stunning face was cold, and she was flanked by a smirking winged male with dark hair and eyes. The tattoos and scars winding around his arms and peeking out from underneath his leathers only contributed to his warrior-image.

Morrigan took in the chaos with a raised brow, then turned to the High Lords.

"Well, I see that this meeting was going splendidly."

Tamlin snarled.

Tarquin stepped up, his Captain keeping pace at his side, sword out. "Lady Morrigan. We had thought the Night Court would not show."

She offered him an icy smile. "You thought wrong." Her eyes landed on me, still pressed against my chair, Lucien standing protectively in front of me, and something flared in her eyes, but it was gone so quickly I might have imagined it.

The warrior just crossed his arms and smirked at everyone.

Kallias said, "We are glad, then. We need all the Courts here to begin this new age."

Tamlin's jaw clenched and his power flared at the allusion to my impending trial or death.

"Where is Rhysand, so we may begin?" he asked.

Morrigan stiffened so slightly, I thought I might be the only one who caught it, but she said calmly, "He was detained. I will be taking his place in this meeting."

As she swept forward, she looked so much like a queen none of the High Lords dared refute her.

All but one.

"We need Rhysand here," Tamlin said.

I gaped, and the other High Fae looked similarly shocked.

Lucien shifted. "Tam…"

Tamlin glared. "I will not continue this meeting without him. We need all the High Lords here in order to decide on a course of action."

Oh. Oh. Besides Tamlin, Rhys was the only High Lord who seemed to care about me. Together, they might change the others minds.

It was still bizarre.

But Morrigan, her face like ice, snapped, "He's not here, High Lord. I will take his place."

Her path took her directly in front of me, and she slowed as she glanced between Lucien, sword still drawn and acting as a physical shield, and me, sitting rigidly in my seat, Tamlin's hand a bruising grip on my arm. An arm covered in a silken glove, hiding the tattooed marks.

Her eyes flickered, almost like a grimace, but then her face smoothed over and she went on.

She settled in the chair that had been left open for Rhysand, between Kallias's Lady, who beamed at her, and Helion, who gave her a provocative smirk.

That winged warrior settled in beside her, and I felt…like I knew him. Like something called to me.

"Well, where is Rhysand, if he cannot be bothered to join us for this meeting?" Tarquin asked, still the calmest out of everyone.

"Busy." It was clear that was the most we'd be getting out of her.

Morrigan offered us all a cool smile and propped her chin up on her hand, her resemblance to her cousin uncanny. "So, carry on." She waved her hand.

None of the High Lords seemed to appreciate being told what to do, except for the Lady of Winter, who looked rather delighted.

Beron, whose eyes had been on the Night Court delegation with something like burning hatred and rage shining out of him, refocused on Tam and I with difficulty.

"As I was saying," he said with a serpentine smile, slipping into his mask. "Feyre Cursebreaker was able to bring down Hybern—and who knows if she will be content with that power alone. What if her next move is to declare herself High Queen of all Prythian? We already had one—I am not alone in sharing our aversion to another. And Tamlin—will you sit beside her, our High King?" he sneered. "I think not."

Tamlin was practically trembling with rage and restraint, but he kept it on a tight hold. The Night Court's arrival had been a wake-up call to the consequences he could have tested by attacking the other High Lords. "I have no desire to seek dominion over Prythian," he hissed. "And my wife is none of your concern."

"Is it wife or wife-to-be?" Morrigan cut in casually, smirking. She examined her nails and peered up at us with a charming expression. "It's ever so hard to keep track."

Her warrior huffed a laugh.

My blood boiled, and I curled my fingers into fists. I saw the family resemblance now. Insufferable arrogance ran deep within that line. I wondered if those two had come for any other purpose other than stirring up trouble.

Tamlin's eyes glowed, but it was Lucien who snarled, "Watch your tongue."

The warrior growled, wings flaring out and the deep red stones engraved in his armor bursting with light and a deep, clanging echo of power.

Lucien had the good sense to look slightly unnerved, but Tamlin said, "Call off your dog, Morrigan."

"The 'dog' has a name, as you well know," Morrigan said sweetly. "Cassian. Try using it. It's not that hard. Just three syllables. Say it with me. Cass-ee-an."

I think Tamlin stopped breathing then, such was his disbelief, and even the other High Lords looked torn between hilarity and outrage at her mockery.

But enough was enough, and I didn't want to carry Tamlin home in a body bag. No matter how slight or feminine she looked, I had a feeling Morrigan of the Night Court could match my High Lord in wits, power and strength.

I stood up, and everyone's eyes flew to me.

My heart pounded and I felt sweaty and ill and unsure, but I swallowed all those emotions and looked at them all.

"I know you think I'm a threat to your world," I began, my voice far too loud in the echoing space, "but…I love Prythian. I love its people," I glanced at Tamlin, whose face was stone. That didn't really help, so I quickly looked away. "I love the traditions. And maybe you'd like to forget it, maybe I would like to forget it, but I was U-Under the Mountain too," I stumbled over those words, old panic and fear overtaking me. I breathed in deep and reminded myself to keep going. "I saw what her tyranny did to your—our home," I couldn't quite bring myself to say her name, "and I would not do that to you. And I will be the first to admit that I'm not even sure I know how. I will not challenge you, or your order, but…I think that after everything we've all been through, one more death on our hands would be too much to bear."

I swallowed, suddenly feeling too hot, too tight at all the faces looking up at me, blank, stone cold masks.

My head swam, but…that warrior from the Night Court—Cassian—his face was more open. Softer. His customary smirk still graced his features, but his eyes shone.

Somehow, despite not even knowing him, I knew that look, knew that when he got it, it was because of something important, something he cherished.

Pride.

It was so unsettling I had to look away, unnerved by both his approval and the familiarity I felt with him.

This knowing.

Tarquin shifted and said quietly, "We have not forgotten, Cursebreaker, what you did for us." He glanced around at the gathered High Fae. "I suggest we all take a small break and get our bearings. We…must remember that we are a broken, healing people. We must show strength, humility, and forgiveness. To everyone."

It ended.

vVv

I escaped the hall as quickly as I could manage, blending into the chaos.

Tamlin had let go of my arm sometime during my impromptu speech, and I knew he would have something to say about it, but I wasn't in the mood to be chewed out, so I thought avoiding him was the best course of action.

He would have killed me for the risk I was taking, going out alone, but enough of that smoldering power lingered in my veins to rise to the surface and defend. Whether I could actually control it once it burst out was another matter.

Of course, I didn't count on the fact that I knew absolutely nothing about my surroundings, and I had no map or helpful guide to get me back to the council chambers.

So I ended up somewhere far away, in a spired tower looking out over all of Prythian.

The sun warmed my face, my uncomfortable dress and the gloves that constrained my movement.

Dead.

The word clanged through me like a lightning strike.

Five of the most powerful High Lords in existence wanted me dead.

I did not think even Tamlin could protect me from them.

And Rhysand…

My fingers brushed my right arm, the silk caressing the pad of my thumb.

A wild card.

He'd always been a wild card.

Mindlessly, almost as though I was simply clipping a flower, I pulled off my glove, baring the skin where smooth, swirling Night Court marks used to lay.

Now there was only ruin.

Smears and broken traces of ink ran across my too-pale skin, looking like I'd made a mess of my painting and left it to dry in the sun.

Tamlin didn't like looking at my tattoo, at the memory of my foolish bargain with the Lord of Night, so he didn't notice when the marks shifted over night a week ago, turning into this.

I hadn't dared ask for word of him, to see what this meant. Rhysand's attention was never a good thing, even when he wore a mask of kindness.

Or at least one of a non-enemy.

vVv

It was over.

It was finally over.

The King of Hybern was dead.

I sat in the meadows of the Day Court, watching the sun set, my heart, my head, my mind blank.

I'd killed again.

Five deaths on my hands.

Two nameless faeries, slaughtered for a demon queen.

A Hybern sentry guarding the tent. A Commander. A King.

And the blood—

Mine.

My hands were clean. Too clean. The tattoo from Rhysand was stark in the light, a reminder of the darkness shrouding my festering soul. He'd never called it in, not in the three months after Under the Mountain, not in the two the war raged. And now…

"When you're thinking too hard you get this wonderful wrinkle in your forehead, Feyre darling. Perhaps you should be a philosopher."

My spine automatically straightened, a half-hearted scowl forming on my face as I looked up at Rhys, my back pressed into a tree trunk.

"I'm not in the mood, Rhysand." My voice was flat.

He gave me a little half smile, sauntering over, his hands in his pockets and his wings nowhere in sight.

"Is that any way to greet the man who saved your life?" he crooned.

Now my glare was real. But I still had no retort. He had saved my life, in that tent with Hybern. If it weren't for him I'd be dead.

Rhysand smirked smugly. "I thought so."

He leaned against the tree opposite me, violet eyes gleaming. "What? No poisonous retort? No 'Fuck off, Rhysand', or 'Go to hell' or even my timeless favorite, 'Prick'?"

"Do you want me to offer you another week of my life? A month? A year? How about my servitude for all eternity. That should please you."

His smile faded. "That's not what I—"

"Do you want me to thank you?" I ranted on, suddenly filled with rage, at this frustrating, dark male, at the war, at everything. "Thank you, oh glorious High Lord of the Night Court, for stooping to save lowly me—"

"Enough." Rhys's voice was sharp. He stepped forward, and his voice turned gentler. "You've given enough."

I bit my lip, suddenly feeling small and sad and…forgotten.

"What do you want, Rhys?" I asked again, my exhaustion weighing me down.

An emotion passed over the High Lord's face, one I couldn't identify, and he said quietly, "I want you to remember." He took a step back. "I want you to let go."

Then, with a last, searching look, no sign of his customary smirk on his face, he turned again walked away.

The next day, I received word that he and his court had left during the night.

I couldn't help but feel…like I meant to do something. Respond in some way.

Now he was gone, I was home, to Tam and Lucien and Alis and Spring, and it was too late.

Too late.

vVv

"Are you alright?"

I let out a yelp, jerking away from the railing and hitting my head against the low hanging ceiling.

Eyes watering and plethora of curses bubbling up, I squinted at my would-be assailant—and all thought drained right out of my head.

Morrigan smiled amusedly, stepping forward and raising her eyebrows.

"Beautiful view, isn't it?" she asked.

I found my voice. "Yes, it is." It was the sort of view—stretching green forests, high, shining sun, blue skies and birds and life—that would have once made me want to paint, to live, to dream.

"An interesting meeting, wasn't it?" she went on, tracing the railing with a manicured hand. She gave me a wry smile. "Those busybodies like to argue amongst themselves all the time. After a few centuries you'll get used to it."

I flinched, at the allusion to my newfound immortality, at the fact that I would be alive in a few centuries. And far beyond that.

But…

"Not to offend you or anything," I said carefully, tucking my arms against my sides, "but what exactly are you doing here?"

Morrigan looked at me, really looked at me, and her smile faded, that chipper personality sinking into gloom like a wave upon the sand. Her eyes dipped down, landing on the running streaks of ink tattooed into my arm, the ones I hadn't remembered to cover.

But there was no surprise on her face, nothing but acceptance. Her eyes rose to meet mine.

"Because it's not over," she said quietly. "We both know it—we can feel it. And if those idiots in there don't know it too soon, then we're all damned." Her soft fingers grazed my stained hand and I held very, very still. She gave me a bitter smile. "It's only just begun."

vVv

Morrigan disappeared soon after that, drifting away with barely a word, and something about her presence shook me so much that I didn't even look where I was walking—and by some stroke of luck, I managed to make it back to the council room.

The other High Lords were gathered, and Tamlin's face was seething as I slipped into my seat beside his, and I knew that I would be getting the chewing out of a lifetime when we were alone.

I made sure to avoid his gaze.

Once we were all gathered Thesan said, "Now, we should—"

It happened so suddenly. One second the High Lord of Dawn was speaking, we were all sitting quietly and listening, and the next chaos exploded.

The windows surrounding us shattered, glass spraying in like water, and a tremor shook the council chamber.

I was knocked backwards onto the floor with the force of the blast, and I hit my head hard on the stone.

Smarting and swimming, I dazedly looked up at the carnage.

I had to be imagining things. I'd hit my head too hard—

A great, writhing darkness had entered through the windows, wrapping around chairs and squeezing them into rubble. Lights flared and swords clanged as they fought back—

This was not Rhysand's darkness, nor was it of the Night Court legions who'd laid waste to the battlefields. This was solid and tangible and thrumming with power.

A roar split the air from the opposite side of the room and my heart seized.

Tamlin.

I stumbled to my feet, the darkness slashing past me and slicing deep into my shoulder.

I bit down on my lip to contain my scream.

It burned. Oh fuck, it burned. Like fire and acid and pure, raw, grief—

A spear of darkness went hurtling straight for me and I couldn't do anything to stop it—

A body intercepted the strike, taking the hit with a muffled gasp, before red light flared and the darkness recoiled, before speeding onto someone else.

Cassian hunched over before me, his chest in bloody ribbons and I felt like vomiting at the sight.

Taken it. He'd taken that hit for me—

And he looked confused, as he looked up at me. Confused and panicked, as though he didn't fully know why he'd intercepted it either.

But there was no time for talking or demanding explanations as Lucien suddenly appeared at my side, eye whirring, as he tugged me away from the destruction, trying to—

A voice boomed out, male and female, young and old.

This is a warning, it hissed.Despite the clangor, I knew we could all hear it. This will come again—to your courts, your families, your homes. The Lord of Night is taken by one of your own.

"What?" Helion barked.

The darkness swirled, no longer attacking as bloodied, limping High Fae halted, panting and wide-eyed.

You know of what I speak, Truth-bringer. The darkness has chosen a new queen now. Protect her—or watch it all fall to pieces.

The darkness turned to smoke, fleeing through the broken windows and beyond, leaving only silence in its wake.

Cassian slowly, painfully hauled himself to his feet, and Morrigan was there in an instant, supporting his broad form. Her dress was ripped and she had a cut above her eyebrow.

I didn't know how the Night Court warrior was still conscious, my arm was burning so badly I could barely stand, barely think.

Tamlin was beside me now, panting and back in his human form.

Quickly, I scanned him. Alright, he was alright—

"What was that?" the Lady of Winter breathed, her voice a solitary sound in the gasping silence.

Helion's hands glowed amidst the carnage, scanning the wards. Spell-Cleaver—that was his other title.

His face was grim and cold when he'd finished. "I have no idea. But," he focused on Morrigan and Cassian. "I think you do. What did it mean when it said 'the Lord of Night has been taken'? Is that why Rhysand isn't here?"

She didn't say anything. She didn't need to. For once, the answer was written right there on her face.

Tarquin's Captain (Varian, I remembered hazily) stepped forward. "And who took him? Who could be powerful enough to…?"

He didn't finish. We all knew.

Rhysand was the most powerful of the High Lords. Who could have subdued him?

But for the first time Morrigan's face showed true emotion. Grief. It was buried deep beneath ice and masks and darkness, but I saw it.

And I saw the bright, brutal anger lining her words, her very soul when she slowly straightened, every inch a queen, and said, her voice a low growl, "Why don't you tell me, High Lords? Or perhaps explain why my cousin was kidnapped last week, and his would-be assassins left only a note and a lingering trace of all your powers combined." Her eyes were slits and her voice was a low hiss. "So tell me, Lords of Prythian, what you were thinking when you declared war on the Night Court."

A/N: So who enjoyed the sight of Mor fucking with Tamlin?
Anybody?
Ah, I guess it's just me...

A BIT OF BAD NEWS:

I'm currently SWAMPED with end of the year homework, (in fact, swamped doesn't even cover it. I'm drowning. DROWNING) which means that updates will be much more spaced out and sporadic for the next couple of weeks. I get off on July 6th, so after that I should be back to a more regular/quicker schedule.

Please accept my humblest apologies.

Thanks for reading!

xx
Kate