Fire and Ice

by lksparkle

The events of chapter 42 of A Court of Mist and Fury from Rhys's perspective. Rhys gives in to his instincts in his role as High Lord at the Court of Nightmares.

[End of chapter 41, A Court of Mist and Fury]

Rhysand

"Tell me what I need to do tomorrow."

I sighed, looking down at our joined hands, slowly running my thumb in circles over the web between her thumb and forefinger, savoring this casual, yet intimate, touch.

I'd thought through many different scenarios for tomorrow, but I knew there was only one thing that would capture that snake Keir's attention so thoroughly that he'd forget to monitor who wasn't there and wonder why.

"I need… a distraction. Like Under the Mountain."

Her hand tensed beneath mine, and I looked swiftly up into her face. "You don't have to do this. I'll find another way."

She swallowed, but then her eyes steeled, and she looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite place. "I can do it," she said quietly, firmly, holding my gaze.

It was trust, I realized, looking into her eyes. My heart twisted. I could do it. I could make this female my partner, my equal… I quickly clamped down on the thought before it could come spilling out of me. Now was not the time for fervid declarations. I closed the door to that part of me firmly and said simply, "I know."

There it was, that flicker of relief, the tension she almost didn't seem to realize she was holding as her hand relaxed once more against mine.

I withdrew my hand and rose, silently cursing Tamlin, the damage he'd done, and said briskly, "We'll fly in the morning to the base of the mountain, and Mor will meet you at the gates. She'll be able to help you… dress."

"Where will you be?"

I smiled lazily, slipping effortlessly into the High Lord's mask. "I find it's best to make an entrance."

She shivered, but not from fear, and I allowed myself to enjoy the sight of goose bumps crawling up her bare arm before I frowned, thinking of the role I was asking her to play, that I'd once forced her to play. "I… I just want you to know that… I'm sorry."

Her brow creased, as if she couldn't think of anything to be sorry for, as if what I'd done were no more significant between us than a fleeting shadow. "Sorry for what?"

I swallowed. "The Court of Nightmares has certain… expectations. Females are… owned. Tomorrow, I'll be one of them, and so will you."

Understanding dawned in her eyes, but that steely expression didn't waver. She nodded her acceptance, and I could barely contain the longing that overcame me.

"Good night, Feyre," I breathed, clamping down on that desire once more, and turned to make my way up the stairs.

I lay awake that night, wings stretched out beneath me, staring up at the ceiling. Feyre had agreed all too willingly, and I finally allowed myself to wonder what it would do to me to subject her to the Court of Nightmares. The sight of her broken body Under the Mountain, the snap of her neck, filled my senses until I thought I would vomit. I forced myself to think instead of the steel in her eyes as she faced down the Middengard Wyrm, her dazzling defiance as she threw that bone into Amarantha's face. She would face this test as well, I told myself, and I could too.

[***]

Feyre was the last to emerge as we assembled in the courtyard, dressed for flying. I took in her quilted pants and leather jerkin, her hair in a single long braid down her back, and privately marveled at how she could look so effortlessly devastating.

"Let's go," I said, nodding to my brothers.

I opened my arms, a quiet invitation, and Feyre stepped in close, unhesitatingly, linking her arms behind my neck.

I attempted a lazy smile, my mouth straining against the tightness in my throat, and winnowed smoothly before propelling us upward into the sky.

She didn't so much as gasp, I noted as we soared out over the snowcapped peaks, our breath mingling in a white cloud as the persistent chill in this part of Prythian nipped at our faces. I adjusted my shields, diverting most of the wind and chill to the slipstream on either side of us, giving me some added lift in addition to increasing Feyre's comfort. I concentrated on the terrain below us, my mood darkening as we drew closer to our destination. Cass and Az flanked us, alert for any signs of trouble. I was not loved in this part of my territory.

"Amren and Mor told me that the span of an Illyrian male's wings says a lot about the size of… other parts."

Her voice momentarily snapped me out of my focus, and I struggled not to gape at the deceptively offhand remark. She kept her face bland, but the heat of a challenge filled her eyes.

I returned my gaze to the forest, keeping my tone mild. "Is that so?"

She shrugged, her muscles tightening where they gripped my shoulders. "They also said Azriel's wings are the biggest."

I allowed myself to enjoy the idea of her fantasizing about my… part, knowing full well she was simply trying to get a rise out of me. "When we return home, let's get out the measuring stick, shall we?"

She reached back and pinched the tender muscle of my forearm. A person could get dropped, with that kind of disregard for the restraints holding her aloft. I grinned savagely and snapped my wings in close, plummeting toward the tree line, relishing her surprised shriek as her arms wrapped tight around my neck, nullifying the scant distance between our bodies.

The mountain loomed up ahead, drawing closer. I chuckled darkly. "You're willing to brave my brand of darkness and put up one of your own, willing to go to a watery grave and take on the Weaver, but a little free fall makes you scream?" I pulled out of the dive sharply, feeling her tremble slightly against me.

"I'll leave you to rot the next time you have a nightmare," she spat.

My grin widened. "No, you won't. You liked seeing me naked too much."

"Prick."

I laughed as she squirmed in my grip, readjusting her hold. A brush at the edge of my wing sent a jolt through me.

Then, to my shock, she reached out again, stroking—

A low moan escaped my throat before I could stop it, and I faltered, hurriedly righting us, fighting to regain control of my senses. "That," I choked out, "is very sensitive."

She leaned back, outside the range of my tight shield, and the wind whipped her braid as she studied me, seeming… intrigued. "Does it tickle?"

I spared a glance toward her face, contemplating. "It feels like this." I pulled her close and leaned in, blowing softly in her ear, trying not to imagine how it would feel to do this on solid ground, in bed…

Her answering shudder made the beast within me roar with approval. "Oh."

I changed the subject. "If you want an Illyrian male's attention, you'd be better off grabbing him by the balls. We're trained to protect our wings at all costs. Some males attack first, ask questions later, if their wings are touched without invitation."

I was trying to impress upon her the seriousness of the gesture, if she was inclined to go around… touching things. I didn't think Cass or Az would react particularly well, though they could probably refrain from attacking her. So her next question caught me by surprise.

"And during sex?"

I felt a thrill of satisfaction, knowing she was thinking about sex, pressed this close against me. I answered carefully, "During sex, an Illyrian male can find completion just by having someone touch his wings in the right spot."

Her face was studiedly neutral, but I felt her heart beat a little faster between us. "Have you found that to be true?"

The warmth inside me vanished, and I held her gaze somberly. "I've never allowed anyone to see or touch my wings during sex. It makes you vulnerable in a way that I'm not… comfortable with." I winced, thinking of what Amarantha might have done with that knowledge. I had never once stretched my wings Under the Mountain, in all of five decades, and with good reason.

Her response pulled me out of my dark thoughts, surprising me once again. "Too bad."

"Why?" I asked carefully.

She bit her lip in a way that made me want to growl. "Because I bet you could get into some interesting positions with those wings."

That startled a laugh out of me, helping me douse the fire that had been slowly building. I leaned in to tell her exactly what kind of positions we might explore together, wondering if I could make her blush—

A whistling sound caught my attention, and I caught sight of an arrow seconds before it could punch through my right wing. I instinctively dropped, snapping my wings closed.

Shit.

More arrows followed the first, and I snatched one as it shot past, propelling my shields outward to repel the others. Ash. I swore again and tossed it aside, barreling toward the shelter of the trees.

Me or Feyre? I thought frantically, mentally cataloguing the enemies I knew and those who might be bold enough—foolish enough… My blood ran cold as I thought of the Attor. Hybern had sent it to hunt Feyre. The thought awakened the rage inside me, and I let it roar through my veins as Cassian and Azriel touched down beside us.

"Take her to the palace, and stay there until I'm back," I snapped at Cassian. "Az, you're with me." I began to extricate myself from Feyre's arms, careful not to let the icy rage tighten my grip on her.

"No."

I froze. "What?"

"Take me with you." Her gaze was clear, unafraid. I folded my arms, trying not to scowl as she hurried on, "I've seen ash arrows. I might recognize where they were made. And if they came from the hand of another High Lord… I can detect that too. And I can track just as well on the ground as any of you." She barreled on, emboldened by my silence, "So you and Cassian take the skies, and I'll hunt on the ground with Azriel."

I suppressed the part of me that recoiled at the thought of risking her safety. We would cover more ground if Cass were not tied up, and I knew Azriel was more than capable of protecting her. Still, I turned to my general, not quite trusting myself to respond. "Cassian—I want aerial patrols on the sea borders, stationed in two-mile rings, all the way out toward Hybern. I want foot soldiers in the mountain passes along the southern border; make sure those warning fires are ready on every peak. We're not going to rely on magic." I didn't know if Hybern still had access to their nullifying materials, but I didn't want to find out the hard way.

I shifted my focus to Az. "When you're done, warn your spies that they might be compromised, and prepare to get them out." I cursed internally. We could scarcely afford to lose our eyes and ears. "And put fresh ones in."

Now, most importantly, "We keep this contained. We don't tell anyone inside that court what happened. If anyone mentions it, say it was a training exercise." I forced myself to meet Feyre's eyes. "We've got an hour until we're expected at court. Make it count."

[***]

I let the rage simmer as Cass and I took to the skies, scanning the forest for any signs of movement, let it build and shape the mask I would wear all too soon. The search yielded no result, and though I was unsurprised, I snarled wordlessly at Cassian as we touched down outside the gates. He answered me with a wry smile, his armor clinking into place as he sauntered into the Court of Nightmares.

I let the darkness settle over me like a cloak as I prowled slowly, sinuously, into the depths of the Hewn City. I liked to observe my subjects in the moments before they sensed me among them, so I stalked invisibly through the corridors and into the sweeping throne room.

I caught sight of Feyre, her glittering black stole, the paint on her lips and eyes, the crown, and my heart stopped.

She was magnificent.

During those nights Under the Mountain, the sight had left me aching, hollow, the only thing keeping me from begging her forgiveness the knowledge that hating me would ultimately protect her.

But today, here, she was my queen, my champion, plunging with me into the flame, and the sight filled me with a hunger I couldn't quite suppress as she strolled casually through the parting, murmuring crowd.

Keir stepped into her path and I hissed softly, predatorily, but he refused to even acknowledge her, snapping instead at Mor, who answered coolly, sweeping past. My eyes narrowed. He would learn to acknowledge his Lady soon enough. The beast inside me roared with approval at that thought, and for once I didn't bother to suppress it.

"Your High Lord approaches," Mor announced. "He is in a foul mood"—an understatement—"so I suggest being on your best behavior—unless you wish to be the evening entertainment." She smiled menacingly.

I retreated into formation behind my brothers and loosed my hold on the glamour, letting the power roll off me like a fog. Cassian and Azriel stepped forward as one, bristling with Illyrian armor, and the stillness radiating from inside the throne room somehow deepened. I smiled lazily, strolling casually forward into the viper's lair. Only here, I was the viper, the most dangerous creature in all of Prythian. I let that primal, feral part of me uncurl and raise its malevolent head as I surveyed the cesspit of faerie filth before me.

My eyes flicked almost unwittingly toward the dais, toward the one bright spot in all the decay. She stared back with a look of such intensity that it made my blood sing.

Above her, Mor stepped down, and the room knelt as one, including my queen. The beast snarled menacingly. She should kneel to no one.

I forced myself to look away, to survey the wretched horde prostrate before me, before the High Lord of Night. "Well, well," I taunted. "Looks like you're all on time for once."

My focus returned to the force tugging at me, pulling like a magnet, and this time I let it carry me toward the object of my obsession. I lifted her chin slowly, tenderly. "Welcome to my court, Feyre Cursebreaker." The words shivered through me like a silken caress, and the beast growled as she lowered her eyes submissively once again. No, I purred inwardly, just managing to maintain the manicured façade as I pulled her slowly up to face me. "Come with me."

The proximity of her barely covered form was intoxicating, and it took all my self-control to turn away from her, toward the dais, even as I kept a light grip on her wrist. I ascended the few steps toward the symbol I'd always loathed and settled myself casually on the seat of my power.

I smiled deviously up at my Lady, pulling her closer until she was seated on my lap, rightfully claiming the obeisance of her subjects.

I allowed my hands to wander territorially, until I felt a sharp recoil through the bond between us. The beast snarled in confusion, but I nearly laughed as the thought snapped me back to my senses. Cold!

I relaxed my grip on the power enough to warm my hands, then continued my long, slow caress, falling back into the game, the reason we'd come here. "Try not to let it go to your head," I whispered, the words carrying clearly throughout the silent room.

"What?" she breathed in a voice that set the beast roaring, but I had a leash on him now, and I kept my head as I continued, giving the lines of our sinister play.

"That every male in here is contemplating what they'd be willing to give up in order to get that pretty red mouth of yours on them." I sent a thrum of power through the room, reminding said males of the price of even thinking it.

I could feel Keir's awareness on me, on the prize settled between my legs, and I slid the hand on Feyre's thigh higher, taunting. She arched her back as if she were born to play this role, and I stifled a moan, narrowing that part of my awareness to the movement of my hands on her flesh and leashing it there.

"Rise," I murmured, forcing a bored expression onto my face.

The court rose obediently, and I didn't bother to hide my contempt as I swept my gaze over them all. "Go play," I said dismissively, then called up my odious steward.

He glared but strode forward, bowing to the proper degree and not an inch more. I resisted the urge to shove my boot in his face, forcing him to kneel with proper respect to the goddess before him.

"Report," I crooned, jerking my chin in dismissal of my Inner Circle, who nodded as they retreated to their positions within the Court, Azriel slipping into shadow as I returned my gaze to Keir.

"Greetings, milord, and greetings to your… guest."

I chose to ignore the contempt in his words, though the beast lashed violently at its restraints. I leaned back, taking in the full, glorious view of her, and said smoothly, "She is lovely, isn't she?" My gaze burned with intensity as I digested that pale, wholly insufficient word—lovely. I had to drag my attention back to Keir as he continued, still perversely unmoved by the vision before him.

"There is little to report, milord. All has been quiet since your last visit." There it was, the note of suspicion in his voice. I unfurled my mental talons, quietly directing his attention forward.

"No one for me to punish?" I breathed out the idea that I was here to show off for my new pet, that I was hoping for a display, letting it swirl through the air between us.

Keir shifted uncomfortably. "Unless you'd like for me to select someone here, no, milord."

"Pity." With his full attention now fixed on me, on the shiny new toy at my side, I leaned in to take a slow, sensuous bite.

I was not prepared for Feyre's reaction. Far from the controlled, deliberate movements I'd been expecting, she writhed under my touch, shocking me momentarily into stillness.

Keir began to babble, apparently equally affected by her performance, and I resumed my stroking, curious now to observe the effect of my fingers along her thigh. I nodded absently at appropriate intervals, not particularly listening, though still actively monitoring the direction of Keir's thoughts, even as I remained fascinated by the tremors rocking Feyre's body as I grazed higher, higher… giving myself away a bit as I leaned into her neck for another slow nibble.

Keir's eyes bulged slightly. "I had heard the rumors, and I didn't quite believe them. But it seems true: Tamlin's pet is now owned by another master."

I smiled dangerously. "You should see how I make her beg."

Keir's mouth twisted in defiance. "I assume you brought her to make a statement."

There was a challenge in his tone. I looked him in the eye and crooned, "You know everything I do is a statement."

"Of course. This one, it seems, you enjoy putting in cobwebs and crowns."

Everything in me stiffened. Keir's eyes mocked me, reminding me that he'd been there Under the Mountain, had seen this before… How dare he. How dare he.

My building rage was interrupted by Feyre's cool response. "Perhaps I'll put a leash on you."

I relaxed minutely, containing the rage once more, and silently thanked her for pulling me back from the edge, keeping me afloat in this dangerous game we were playing.

"She does enjoy playing," I murmured, burying my face in her neck, letting it cool my temper. Az was still playing his part; I needed to play mine. "Get her some wine," I snapped. Get out of my sight. I contented myself with imagining the things I would do to his miserable hide once it outlived its usefulness as he strode stiffly toward the refreshments.

Outwardly, I studied Feyre's long, slender form. My hands tightened sensually, resuming the show, but I couldn't resist planting a soft kiss on the side of her neck, something I'd never been able to risk Under the Mountain. It lessened the feeling I always got from this place, that feeling of being a monster.

I felt a nudge on my mental shield through the bond between us and opened just a crack. What?

Her mental touch was gentle, almost intimate. You are good, Rhys. You are kind. This mask does not scare me. I see you beneath it.

I shattered almost completely, clinging to her as I struggled to maintain the indifferent mask, fought to keep from tearing her away right then, away from this dark, awful place.

She widened subtly the spread of her legs, inviting me back from that brutal, blistering edge. Why'd you stop?

The game. Yes. But also… I thought I sensed the slightest hint of something more in that sultry provocation. I growled in response, loosening my hold on the beast, letting him rage, exult. The savagery of it sharpened my focus, which in this moment was wholly consumed by the feel of Feyre at my fingertips as we moved together in a dark, desperate rhythm.

The clinking of pitcher on goblet sounded across the room, pulling me back to the present. Feyre was still wholly caught up, and I could feel power rising from within her.

Easy, I drawled, even as the beast rejected the sentiment. I reined it in tighter, allowing my judgment to regain control. If you become a living candle, poor Keir will throw a hissy fit. And then you'd ruin the party for everyone.

She cooled instantly, chagrin coloring her thoughts through the bond.

No, crooned the beast inside me, and I indulged slightly, shifting so that I could hook my fingers through the belt at Feyre's hips and savoring her answering shudder. Keir stared, having stopped short about ten feet from the dais, his thoughts a mixture of disgust and resentment at the display. I smirked, drawing my tongue slowly up the side of Feyre's neck, reminding him that we were not Under the Mountain anymore, and here I was master.

Feyre's heat was rising again, so I tried a different tactic, drawing her attention back to my fuming steward. I think he's so disgusted that he might have given me the orb just to get out of here.

She swallowed. You and I put on a good show.

I smiled, drawing higher up the inside of her leg, my eyes never leaving Keir's—

Until Feyre's weight shifted, and I had to right myself again as she ground against me, sending me momentarily reeling. I searched for that pressure that meant she was getting out of control again, but she was fully in possession of herself—and me—now.

I released a fraction of my hold on the beast. A savage laugh escaped my lips as I dared to revel in the feel of her hips, her tongue, her throat. I dared delve a little higher, and the beast roared in triumph as my fingers met with her wetness—

A flicker of alarm shot through the bond, and Feyre's shields slammed up before I could determine its source. I tasted the fleeting thought that had slipped through—alarm, yes, but also… embarrassment. Shame.

It's fine, it means nothing, I lied quickly, drowning in the knowledge that of course she didn't really want this, didn't want me. It's just your body reacting—

Because you're so irresistible? Her attempt at lightening the mood was strained, the passion of only moments before extinguished. She leaned back against me, scooting her hips subtly forward.

And there, with utterly impeccable timing, was Azriel, and Mor right behind him, their tasks finished. I traded heat for ice as I slipped back into my bored court mask and beckoned Keir lazily. I lost patience after five steps and snatched the goblet with invisible claws, setting it aside. I wanted Feyre out now, as soon as possible.

Still, I made myself drawl casually, "Should I test it for poison?"

Cassian's waiting, I urged through the bond. Go.

Keir's sniveling only annoyed me further. "No, milord, I would never dare harm you." Indeed. His face twisted as Feyre passed, and I counted her steps, willing her away and out of the spotlight, safe beneath Cassian's watch.

His voice was low, but I heard every word clearly. "You'll get what's coming to you, whore."

Whore. The word seemed to echo in the sudden void inside my head before an icy rage roared through me and dark power spilled out, bathing the court in Night. I purposely kept a lighter hold on my temper whenever I visited the Court of Nightmares, allowing it to fuel the mask, and for once I was glad to unleash it, letting the rage pour out on the now cowering Keir.

"Apologize," I snarled, directing every ounce of authority afforded by my significant power into the command.

Keir's eyes blazed in defiance, even as he choked against the injunction, and my rage took on a different timbre, the ice replaced by a primal lust for blood. This piece of filth had threatened my mate, and he would know the consequences.

I repeated softly, "I said, apologize," hoping now that he would be foolish enough to refuse outright. To my disappointment, he continued to strain but said nothing.

My power reached out softly, almost tenderly, circling the bones in Keir's left arm, meticulously selecting exactly where to—

Snap! The sound rang throughout the silent hall in the moments before the scream, and I savored it. With no contrition forthcoming, I found another, more vital joint—

Crack.

Keir, half-delirious with pain by now, managed to choke out the words I sought. I snapped the other arm for good measure, or perhaps for sport—I was given wholly over to the High Lord now, and I smiled hungrily as he screamed.

"Should I kill him for it?" I asked the surrounding courtiers, who stood frozen, looking on. It was no less than he deserved and yet far too merciful an end. And besides, I reminded myself, his head was already spoken for. The thought gave me a sadistic kind of pleasure, and I allowed it to roll out of me in a low rumble of laughter before returning my attention to the cowering reptile before me.

"When you wake up, you're not to see a healer. If I hear that you do…" I snapped another finger for emphasis and savored the answering scream. "If I hear that you do, I'll carve you into pieces and bury them where no one can stand a chance of putting you together again."

Keir's whimpers filled the hall as his kin faltered, not daring to retrieve him without my permission. I slid sharp mental talons into his mind, striking him unconscious. A mercy he didn't deserve. "Dump him in his room," I said contemptuously, settling into the icy rage once more, letting it envelop me in a bitter shroud as I executed the remainder of my duties as High Lord of the Night Court.