When I am with her, my once stone heart races, my hands sweat, and my mouth goes dry. My beautiful Feyre, she is like no other. She is the light of my life, but she has been tainted by darkness and death.
During our love-making, I look upon her arm, and remember the choices she made. The bonds she formed. She cannot turn back, cannot escape from reality, and neither can I.
While I kiss the perfect skin of her navel, my thoughts wander. What will she think of his court? What will she feel for him? Will she forget her love for me?
That monster. How dare he ruin her chasteness with his wickedness!
A ring of the purest gold remains hidden away, and I know I must make my move. For if I do not, I fear my butterfly will fly away from me, never to be found again.
One thing is certain; Rhysand will not win, for I will not let him. I, Tamlin, will rise victorious, with Feyre on my right, my court on my left, and all my enemies behind me.
Though I live in a world of eternal spring, I feel as though I endure the harshest of winters.