Amarantha had revealed the reason for her army.
It was not the King of Hybern she feared, who had reacted with cautious optimism to her continued takeover the faerie lands, had sent an emissary to ask for diplomatic discussions to begin in a neutral space, an island in the midst of the great sea. There were rumors, at court, that Amarantha's takeover was part of a Hybernian plot in the first place, rather than the official tale of her undermining his authority with her plan to take Prythian for her own. That those 'diplomatic discussions' were simply to meet to discuss the next stage of their already-decided plan.
It was not the High Lords themselves, either, who were no threat to her, neutered of power and depleted in number, with three young and untested by war and two more now her personal playthings. It was definitely not the Mortal Queens, who were largely a source of laughter when they were discussed.
Amarantha did not intend to defend a damn thing.
She intended to invade.
"We will breach the Wall," She announced to a court that was silent in response. Some of them, no doubt, actually would have approved of the plan if anyone but Amarantha had announced it. "Those mortals make fools of us. We will build a new court in their lands, truly unite Prythian under a single banner - my banner - and rule as their rightful masters once more. To that end, I have begun to look for allies throughout all the lands, even those across the sea."
The King of Hybern, she said smoothly, had approved of the plan, with the caveat that she would need to send mortal slaves periodically as tribute.
Tamlin stood, staring at the floor below the dais. His back had largely healed by now, and as long as he did not think too much on it, he did not remember what Rhysand had done to his mind. He had tried to recall before, only to run up against a black wall built of fear, a creeping sense that opening that particular door would let very terrible things free. He'd left it alone. He no longer spoke of escape, or freedom in the future. He couldn't, even if he tried.
He had nightmares, though. More than before. And they were getting worse.
He had been in more of Rhysand's nightmares, too. It had never occurred to him, in those fifty years Rhysand had been trapped here (nearly fifty-one, now), how afraid he had been that the delicate balance he'd maintained by going to her bed would be undone. That there had been people even Rhysand loved, hiding in the Hewn City or somewhere in the Night Court's lands.
He read his books, working his way through them. He'd had a few sent back to the Spring Court as he finished them, and Lucien had sent more. They never came with any notes. It was as if Lucien were simply following orders by rote these days. No letters. No communications of a personal nature. However close their friendship, he thought, Lucien had gone largely silent now.
Perhaps he's never forgiven me for choosing not to say goodbye to him, Tamlin thought, uneasily. It occurred to him, occasionally, that he hadn't exactly been someone who gave devotion back to those who gave it to him.
"Will my people no longer be subject to your camps, when the invasion is finished?" That was Kallias, a quiet and deadly blizzard in the back, the sort of snow that seemed like nothing to worry about at first, only to build and build until it buried whole towns in heavy white.
"Will you act with loyalty to me, Kallias?" Amarantha asked, eyebrow raised.
"I am not loyal to you," Kallias said firmly. "Consider it a sign of respect to your power that I choose not to lie about it. But I am in your thrall. I want to know if I choose to go along with this without being forced to, if there would be any reward in it for me… for my people. The Winter Court has been… hurt, by past actions with regards to you. I want to position myself more effectively."
"When Prythian is mine, I will set every subject of the Winter Court free who is currently detained," Amarantha said, enunciating each word. "All I ask is that you will not act against me. I must have courts who understand their place."
Kallias nodded, slowly. Tamlin wondered, briefly, about the plot Rhysand had found in that courtier's mind - and an immediate cold grip on his heart made him remember that he was no longer able to even think about a plan to escape. "I will consider my lady's offer. It is a generous one."
"I know," Amarantha replied, smugly. "And it goes for all of you, for every court in my kingdom. Work with me willingly to retake the mortal lands, and those of your people I have detained will be set free to return to their homes. Those whose courts are known for great deeds in battle may… discover their High Lords able to do more than simply maintain their lands."
There was a sudden rush of whispers throughout the assembled court. Amarantha had just offered to give some of the High Lords an element of their powers back.
She dismissed the conversation then, letting the courtiers discuss amongst themselves. After a moment, she stood up, stepping up next to Tamlin, trailing her fingertips up his arm, over his shoulder, around behind his neck, down the other side. She kept her hand up, hovering slightly in the air.
Tamlin turned toward her and, without looking up, took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. "My Queen," He whispered, with an empty voice. "You are radiant tonight."
"I usually am. Learned your lesson these days, have you? Looking to give the Spring Lands back some of the awe-inspiring power they once had? Or do you simply miss being in my bed?"
"I think we both know I don't," He whispered. Bend, don't beak. Rhysand's advice, and he had finally learned to take it. To not look too closely at the scars left behind by the punishments she'd ordered Rhysand to give him, those on his back, or those in his head.
She raised an eyebrow. Then she leaned up in his ear. "Your desire for him will torment you until it is sated."
He felt the stir immediately and nearly lost his balance, taking in a deep breath. "With you?" He asked, softly.
"Later, with me. I want you both tonight. I so enjoy when you are both in my bed. There is absolutely no feeling on Prythian like two High Lords burying themselves in you... Tell you what, my darling, you can buy time with him, though. Or perhaps you'd rather things move a bit faster, although in that case I'll need to see you begging me to take you right there before my throne." A little shiver went up his back at the thought, even as her smile grew wider. "Oooh, wouldn't that be lovely? You, on your knees, hard as rock, begging for me right in front of all these people you wanted so badly to impress, your entire life?"
"Why?" He'd have to move, soon. When she touched his neck again his nerves lit up with fire. "Why right now, Amarantha? Why him? Why not take me back to your rooms right now? We could leave Rhysand behind this time." His lips barely moved as he spoke. Give him a rest. Just don't hurt him for one night. He was afraid if he did more than whisper that more sound than he intended might escape.
"Oh no, my darling, it's definitely going to be both of you. Just wanted to remind you that you belong to me. You rise at my command, love. As does he. Don't think what you get up to in your room is lost on me. I am well aware. I don't mind a dalliance, Tamlin my love. What you do with each other will only make you better with me… but your manhood is mine. And it will go where I please. As will his. "
Rhysand was in his usual place, leaning against the wall behind her throne, wreathed in shadow. He could not quite hear them, but Tamlin could see him watching them with the empty smile he was so perfectly experienced at utilizing as a mask.
Her hand slid down his back and his eyes widened. "So go please him."
Then she walked away, and a small crowd of hangers-on went to follow where she led. Tamlin stood, breathing in harsh gasps, almost panting, trying to control himself. He managed to keep his face an empty, disinterested mask, but it took more effort than it should. Whenever he had nearly managed to push it down entirely, he felt the slow beginnings of the pain he felt every time he fought back against a direct command. If he didn't, though, he was worried that his body's betrayal might become… visibly obvious through the loose, flat black pants he wore.
That meant exactly one option.
He turned around to catch Rhysand's eye, and jerked his head slightly to the side. No one was looking at them - they were discussing Amarantha's announcement of an upcoming invasion, her uncharacteristic offer trying to gain favor from the High Lords, or they were simply following her. No one looked at him. He thought.
He walked away, incredibly uncomfortable. His shirt and pants had become maddening, sliding across his skin, lighting up every nerve ending. He felt like a mortal drunk on faerie wine. He couldn't stop himself from wishing they were in her rooms, so he was less obvious, less visible, so that Rhysand could close those shackles on his wrists-
"What's wrong?" He heard from behind him. He spun around to see Rhysand, looking genuinely concerned. Tamlin's gaze bounced around, a little desperately, before he found the door to a closet, some small storage space but…
Tamlin let a harsh breath out through his nose.
"Spring?" Rhysand asked, softly. "You told me to follow you."
Tamlin jerked the door to the closet open, grabbed Rhysand by one arm, and shoved him inside.
"What in nine hells..." Rhysand blinked, spinning back around to face him, hands up. "Tam, what the fuck are you-"
He was on him in an instant, hands on his face, forcing a desperate, savage kiss on him that nearly hurt them both, tearing at his clothing. Rhysand mumbled a protest but soon enough melted himself into Tamlin's mouth, shivered under his tearing hands. This was a version of Tamlin he had not seen; Rhysand had never been present for the part of Tamlin that had felt more free to desire someone, when it had been less twisted up in shame, when it was only a physical feeling, the beast.
The way he'd slept with Feyre, he thought, as he shoved Rhysand's back against a wall and dropped to his knees.
"Tamlin, talk to me," Rhysand growled down at him, pushing him away. "What is going on?"
Tamlin breathed in and out, trying to focus, to force himself to stop. His fingers were still out, wanting so badly to do as he'd been ordered. "Rhys, she-... I want you - I want to- she wants me in her bed later but told me I could… buy time… with you. Or I'll… I'll beg her. I'm so- I need to touch-"
"Sssshhh," Rhysand said, with understanding dawning in his eyes. "Sssshhh."
"I need you to touch you," Tamlin murmured. "I need to touch you. I need to-"
"Sssshh."
Tamlin's fingers untied the laces and undid the buttons on Rhysand's pants, freeing him, panting as he took Rhysand in his hands. The Lord of the Night Court leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes, swallowing with an audible 'click' in his throat.
For a while, neither of them said a word. Tamlin could feel Rhys's slow arousal, hardening as he ran his tongue from base to tip. Rhysand groaned, only the slightest sound, but Tamlin could see his hands curl into fists, his eyes open and staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. He had no idea what he was doing, with hand or mouth, but desire more than made up for it. He licked, a little more, trying to stop the pounding of his heart, and then took Rhys in as far as he could, into his mouth. With his hands curved around Rhysand's hips, the only sound was Tamlin's movements and Rhysand's gasping breath, his tiny whispered moans. His hand twisted through Tamlin's hair, grabbing tightly, holding it still when he thrust forward, beginning to help him with where to move and when.
"Deeper," Rhysand whispered.
"Can't," Tamlin replied, pulling back slightly, kissing the flat space just inside his hipbone, trailing his tongue along his pelvis.
"Yes you can," Rhysand said, in a low voice. "Try again. Take more. Deeper."
They were silent for a while again, after that. Tamlin wanted to keep doing this forever. He wanted Rhysand to do the same to him. He wanted Rhysand in him, on him, forever. His body was nothing but nerve endings, every one of them determined to make it last longer, this feeling, this pleasure. Eventually, as Rhysand began to move faster and faster in his mouth and his own body felt close enough that he could hardly stand it, Tamlin pulled back, sitting back on his heels, breathing in deeply. He could still taste Rhysand. He wanted to taste him forever.
She told you to want that. Not your choice.
"I'm not done yet," Rhysand murmured.
"Now you know how I feel," Tamlin replied, smiling slightly as he heard the other man laugh.
"Get up here." Rhysand trailed his fingers down as Tamlin slowly stood, playing his fingers over his collarbone, down the center of his chest, trailing to his navel. "You can buy time, can you? How much time? Before we go with her?"
"I don't know how much. I don't know. I don't-"
"Ssssshhhh," Rhysand said again. "It doesn't matter. Let's buy time. Our bodies are our own, Spring."
"And hers," Tamlin murmured.
"For now," Rhysand said softly, and took Tamlin into his hand. Tamlin gasped and fell forward against him, his face buried in the side of Rhysand's neck. "For now. We are High Fae, Tam - we can wait a long time."
Tamlin looked up and kissed him, pressing his lips softly to Rhysand's. When his tongue found its way into the other man's mouth, only then did Rhysand move his hand as well.
"What I do right now is going to depend heavily on how well you kiss," Rhysand said, softly into his mouth.
"Sounds like a challenge," Tamlin growled. "Good thing I've been paying attention."
Their mouths met, again, and Tamlin slid his free hand behind Rhysand's neck. After a moment, he felt his fingers brush the soft membrane of one of Rhysand's wings, pulling back to look with wonder as he realized Rhys had let them show on purpose. He smiled, a little wickedly, and ran all five fingers down that warm, leathery thin skin. The other man shivered, moaning, muffled by the kiss. "Can you, just from touching your wings?" Tamlin whispered.
Rhysand grinned, that same smirk but with every ounce of feeling in it real. "I dare you to find out."
Later that night, long after they'd returned to court and tried to ignore Amarantha's smug expression as she greeted them loudly, bringing attention to the fact that they had left together even if she did not actively suggest why, long after they'd spent the rest of their time in court catching themselves making each other laugh, acting more like friends than enemies, than Amarantha's playthings…
Later, when he was deep in Amarantha and she, laying on her stomach, groaned and writhed, as he worked to give her so much pleasure she would not think to hurt him, he did not look at her. Tamlin kept his eyes on Rhysand, who was the one chained to the wall tonight. Amarantha had taken him into her mouth and Tamlin had a hard time not watching, trying to focus on the way the tattoos seemed almost to move. It had been him with Rhysand in his mouth, earlier, he thought.
Rhysand's gaze met his, and he knew the other man was thinking the same thing.
With Amarantha between them, commanding them on what to do and what to touch and when, they had eyes only for each other.
Exactly how she wanted it.