Hey, my avid readers. Ugh I'm sorry, you all. I know I haven't really been writing well or anything. I'll try to do better. I really hope you enjoy, please review! Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated.

-TheLastBookBender

Rhys's POV:

As to be expected, Cassian threw a fit when ordered to stay behind. His wings still hadn't full healed, and I wasn't about tempt fate, when he had already been extremely fortunate to still have them attached firmly to his back.

We had been a hairs-breath away from amputating them. They were almost healed fully, with thin membrane stretching over the previous shreds in his wings. That thin membrane needed rest, or it would tear in the first few strenuous flight, and never reform.

We couldn't risk that; Cassian, the inner circle, and the whole of Prythian couldn't risk that. We would desperately need Cassian at full strength for the upcoming war, so we left him grumbling in Velaris, as we spiraled into the air.

I held Amren in my arms, Azriel grasping Mor. I would rather hold- if it could even be called that-a spitting dragon then Amren in my arms ever again. The expression on her face was murderous, and I held her as far away from my body as I could, the complete opposite of how I would have clutched Feyre close.

My heart gave a painful twist as I called to mind her stubborn smile, her pealing laugh-when she did laugh, rarely-and that glint in her eyes whenever she faced opposition. I tamped the thoughts down before it drove me mad with want and fury. Fury at Tamlin for taking her from me.

We broke free of the surrounding wards, their power a slight ripple along my skin. We had decided, Amren, Mor, Azriel and I, to fly a safe distance away from Velaris before winnowing, in case of any residual tracking magic from the King.

I eyed Azriel peripherally. His face was stoic, emotionless even, as he clasped Mor tight, near to his body, their legs entwined. My cousin's mouth was puckered into a straight line, as she stared at his chest, a yearning in her eyes. I fought the urge to chuckle, despite the lack of humor in this depressing, silent flight.

I would wait patiently until those two finally cleared their tumultuous past and accepted that they were both in love with each other. Azriel, at least. He really had to get over that he was bastard; he should have known by now that Mor didn't care about his lineage in the slightest.

A snicker slipped past my lips and Amren narrowed her eerie silver eyes at me. We seemed far enough, at least to be partially safe, so I loosened my grip on Amren, and she dropped, our unspoken signal. She winnowed in a flash, followed by Azriel and Mor, still entangled.

I was the last to winnow. It was a longer than normal journey, and I could feel the inky darkness pressing around me on all sides, the lack of air- and I was out, landing feet first onto a moist field of green.

The blanket of grass yielded under my boots, uncannily soft and pliant. Something felt off about this visibly peaceful place- as if it wasn't peaceful at all…more like a slumbering, ancient creature, waiting to burst from sleep and spread its destruction.

I shivered, extremely out of character, when I noticed what was so unbearably wrong about this place; there was none of the ordinary noises accompanying such a place. No birds singing, no critters scampering underfoot. No yells of joy.

My friends looked as unnerved as I felt, excluding Amren, as expressionless as always. A fire sparked in her eyes, as she growled, "What are you all standing there for?"

Azriel snapped into motion, leading us quietly down the meadow, to where a stream wound through the grass. There was no fish in this water.

Azriel was still holding Mor's hand; he seemed to have noticed it the moment I did, and quickly dropped it as if it was scaling. Mor glared at his muscled back, but didn't say a word.

For about ten minutes, we trekked alongside the stream, our footsteps making no noise, when Azriel halted and dropped to the ground. I followed his lead, as did the females.

Past a small copse of trees, down a steep slope, stood the Manor.

A sickeningly sweet stench drifted towards me on the wind, and I fought the urge to gaga as it brought back memories centuries before: of gore and blood, and pain. Darkness.

Hybern was here.

I almost flew from my hiding spot, almost called my power down upon this manor and the soldiers I could not see.

Feyre. Feyre was here. Alone, in the midst of these soldiers, who had arrived much too early in accordance to their plans.

Or what we had thought were their plans. By the cauldron.

"Glamour yourselves," I hissed, feeling it slink over my skin, like an itch that I was unable to scratch. The feeling abided almost instantly, and I spread my power out over to Amren. She could glamour, but it took too much of her energy, more than it should have, so I just glamoured her whenever I could.

The grass tickled my elbow, but I ignored it.

We had planned this all beforehand. I would winnow into the Manor with Amren, with Mor and Azriel to stay behind and scout, and they would winnow to us if we had need of it, but I doubted it. I was the High Lord of Night, after all.

I allowed myself a little smirk, my power roiling under my skin, waiting to be realised.

Soon, I silently crooned to it, and raked a mental hand down the darkness. It purred in response, almost arching, alive, its own being.

Soon.

I winnowed into that inky dark, and in a flash was inside the Manor, Amren appearing beside me.

Paintings adorned the cream walls, a plush carpet beneath my feet. Being back in this place brought back memories of when I had become a High Lord. Of when my father had been killed.

Tamlin's sword pierced his chest, the tip protruding from my father's back. He choked, blood dribbling from his lips before his pain-filled eyes turned blank, and the former High Lord of Night slumped to the floor, dead. My father. He was never a good man, but I loved him the same, and he had gone here for vengeance. I respected him for that.

His body stared up at me from the floor, an expression of shock and surprise still frozen upon his face.

I vomited. My whole family, wiped out in a matter of weeks.

The power abruptly cracked through me, and my knees buckled, sending me crashing to the floor. Tamlin seemed to be in a similar state; prostrate on the floor, groaning. I could kill him. Take that sword and use it to lop off his worthless head, for betraying me. Betraying my family.

But I couldn't, for some bothersome memories of comradery, along with the feeling that this was enough bloodshed for one night.

We both stumbled to our feet, and without a word, I shambled past him. My hand twitched.

No.

I squished those memories down to most rotten part of my thoughts, centuries of hate and anger and pain. Buried them beneath concern for my mate. I could not allow the long-gone past to overtake me now.

Amren was peering at me with what looked strangely like a mix of disgust and pity. I chuckled darkly, letting the sound fill the air.

If Amren was pitying me, what had I come to?

I straightened, fixing the lapels of my jacket, and I let a few tendrils of night leak from me like droplets from a tap. Merely skimming the ocean of my power, but it was enough to intimidate.

Amren at my side, I strode through the Manor, seemingly without a care. I could smell him here, the High Lord of Spring, and I followed his scent through the off-white halls, which turned to a hunter's green as I neared what seemed to be a thick oaken door. Every minute or so, I spotted a servant, most of whom who blanched and sped on their way silently.

I snorted. Some loyalty, to not even alert their High Lord of my presence. Voices drifted towards me as we neared the door, and my ears pricked.

"I can't believe you let her go!" Lucien, that was. I would recognize his voice anywhere, rough and low, so similar to Beron.

A snarl, Tamlin I presumed.

"What else could I do? She will be back soon."

"And if she isn't?"

"Then we will-" He never finished the sentence. In one, swift movement, I blasted the door open and strode into their midst, Amren right behind me, her flashing eyes promising violence. No one moved for a tenth of a second, and then Tamlin leaped at me, claws out, already transforming into his beast-and slammed face-first into a thick, invisible wall.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. So predictable," I sighed, snapping my fingers. Vines of darkness spooled around Tamlin's ankles and wrists, chaining him to the floor, Lucien joining him.

I stroked my hand over his reddish hair, and he snarled, snapping at me with his teeth. "Now now, little Lucien," I crooned. "You had better be a good boy, if you want to see your mate again." Lucien grew still, mouth pressed shut.

Elain and Nesta were currently, safely in the cabin where Feyre and I had mated. Every couple days or so Mor would visit them and keep them up to date, as well as deliver food and provide them with a few lessons for their newfound skills. Nesta, of course, had refused for both herself and Elain. I would have focused on them a little bit more, but we had bigger things to worry about. They were safe and fed, which was all that really mattered.

I smiled indulgently at him, smug and filled with what I knew would irritate him further. Surprisingly, he kept silent, no small feat for the so-called traitorous son of Autumn. Tamlin, however, kept snarling, spitting foul oaths. His eyes blazed.

I spun to face him, Amren stationed at the door. The vines clasped his long hair in their grip, yanking his head backwards which bared his throat to me. I ran a finger down the tanned, warm skin, my finger barking in disgust.

"I'm debating whether to rip your throat out sooner or later," I told him matter-of-factly, and honest statement. I would have loved to tear into his neck with my teeth, some primal part of me wanting to feel the blood run down my chin, but I would leave that to Feyre. She, after all, had earned it.

"Whore," he roared. I bared my teeth, my lip curling, and slugged him across the face which snapped his head backwards even more.

"Where is she." A cold question, unyielding. I found that I liked it that way. Tamlin simply growled.

I breathed in deeply, the air sweet and thick. "I'll ask you once more." I snapped forward, my teeth bared in his face. To his credit, he did not flinch, his eyes trained on mine. "And if you do not deign to answer, I will make you."

Silence. I grinned. Exactly what I had wanted. I would make him pay for separating my mate and I.

A single talon appeared, curving from my pointed talon. I would start with physical pain first, and if that did not work, I would simply break his mind. Although, breaking his mind was simply more than he deserved; being able to vent my rage on his face would be much more…worthwhile.

I leaned forward. "One more chance, High Lord. Where is my mate?" Tamlin's expression morphed into a mix between horror and fury.

"She is not your anything," he vented, mimicking the exact words Nesta had yelled at Lucien a mere three months ago.

I sighed, and slashed my talon from right corner of his forehead to his chin. Tamlin's lip wobbled.

It felt good, to inflict pain on this beast, this arrogant, misguided, selfish fool. This fool was destructive in his blind path, ruining everything he got his dirty paws on. I snarled, and ripped an identical gash in his face, forming an X.

Tamlin flinched, as Lucien yapped behind him, things about whores and traitors and filth. A wave of my hand, and he hastily shut up as a shadow caressed his mouth then wrapped itself around his neck.

I knew he wouldn't tell me anything, just on principle. But I was enjoying myself immensely. That this boy, who was still in his swaddling clothes while I was slaughtering foes on a battlefield, would think to challenge me, was outrageous. Taking the one person that I was an equal to, who understood me completely…it was a grave mistake on his part.

"Hurry up," Amren snapped from the door. She had warded the room beforehand so that no noise would bleed from the room. "We haven't all the time in Prythian."

I gave a curt not and with one fluid movement, wrenched off Tamlin's ear with my bare hand. This time he did groan, jerking at his bonds as if to hold the right side of his skull. The blood dripped down the side of his cheek and onto his tunic, soaking his green lapels. I dropped the amputated ear in his lap.

"I am not in a patient mood. Tell me where my darling Feyre is, right now." I grabbed his chin, forcing his face to mirror mine, but his eyes dropped to the floor.

"It is never a good thing to keep the High Lord of Night waiting," I murmured, but still he kept quiet. I sighed. Breaking the mind it was, although I never quite took as much pleasure in that form of extracting information. Also, I wanted him alive and fully sane for when Feyre decided to end him.

His shields were embarrassingly easy to crumble as I forced my way through his minds and grasped the very core of him, shifting through memories. I avoided the ones about his family. I had no wish to fully immerse myself in Tamlin's innermost thoughts. Suddenly, his mind slipped from my hold like a fish, slimy and wiggling so that is was extremely difficult to hold on to.

I snarled... when a voice cut the air, clear and sharp as a knife splitting flesh.

"I know where she is." Lucien had braved the shadows threatening to choke him and had spoken up. Maybe not so much of a spineless prick.

I glanced intently at his direction, allowing the shadow around his neck to loosen a fraction. Lucien swallowed and muttered, "Hybern has her. Jurian took-" He sputtered off at what must have been my face, distorted with fury. Amren was glaring at them also, her lip curled to show pointed teeth.

They had let MY mate go to Hybern. My Feyre, alone in the one place where she had limited power, and a host of awful memories. They had let Feyre willingly back into the lion's den, the vipers nest, presumably against her will. And he claimed to care for her.

"And…how long exactly was that?" I droned, soft as purple velvet.

I would tear their hearts out. Followed by every other vital organ.

Lucien swallowed.

"Al-almost a day ago," he sputtered. Around the time Feyre had been completely cut off from me.

Something had gone terribly wrong.

The wisps of darkness slammed Tamlin's head onto the floor, hard enough to crack it, the sound trailed by Lucien's skull doing the same. They went limp, unconscious.

Amren smile gleamed in the sunlight streaming from the windows.

I frowned as I noticed a lone gardener, staring at us with an expression of terror. His body was like a tree, covered with bark, with protruding emerald wings, flimsy and light. Had he watched the whole exchange? I laughed quietly to myself and snapped my fingers. The two Fae disappeared to where Moir and Azriel would be waiting. They would take of them.

It was time to rescue my mate.

This time, I wouldn't be the villain coming to snatch the princess away. No, this time I would be the prince to save her.