"I don't understand," Feyre said quietly, feeling somewhat lost. It suddenly slammed home, however, that Tamlin truly didn't love her the way she thought he had. He just loved the idea of her, the human girl she had been until almost four months before. He didn't love her as the Fae female she had become. And that she no longer loved him the way she used all those months ago. Not the way you needed to love someone if you were to marry them.
Which was why he so continuously refused to share information with her made no sense whatsoever. If he truly didn't love her anymore, then he had no reason to either lie or to keep secrets from her. No reason to force the entirety of his Court to lie and keep secrets from her.
"Why can't I just go with you for once? I'm getting tired of being left behind," Feyre continued relentlessly.
"I'm sorry, Feyre," Tamlin said, no affection or love in his voice. "But it'll be far too dangerous for you where we're going. Especially when we still don't know what our enemies are doing."
"What enemies?" Feyre snapped, growing impatient. "Come on, tell me. Tell me something. You have no idea whatsoever how hard it is for me to be so left out of the loop. If you loved me, Tamlin, if you truly loved me, you would tell me."
Tamlin's rage only grew as Feyre continued to speak. How dare she accuse him of not loving her? Everything he did was for her. How could she not see that? As his fiancé, she should be following his every command, not question his integrity like this. How dare she question him, demand things of him? Who did she think she was? He was High Lord of the Spring Court, she was just a mere female. A female of no value or importance until she was married to him.
"Just let me come with you for once," Feyre insisted. "Just tell me what is going on for once. If you want me to be your wife one day, I need to know what's going on."
Tamlin considered. What she said had value, as his bride she would need to give the impression that she knew what happened in his Court. But on the other hand, why did Feyre even want to know about the politics of his Court? The Spring Court was his Court, after all. His, not hers. He was the one who had to rule. Females had no business bothering their heads about matters of politics. No, Tamlin decided, he would not be telling Feyre anything. And he would not be taking her with himself and Lucien on this excursion today. It was far too dangerous for a woman.
For the first time, Tamlin noticed the attention that Feyre's unexpectedly argumentative attitude had gained. While many of his servants looked mildly disapproving as they watched the scene unfold, there were just as many who looked as though they would take Feyre's side in this argument. Feyre's own maid was among those who looked the most approving of this most unlady-like behaviour.
In that moment Tamlin decided that he would have to look into replacing the maid with a harsher servant. It seemed that Feyre still needed to learn that her place was below him. And if she had not yet learned that fact in the months since Amarantha had fallen, it would seem that a stricter, much more severe lesson was needed.
Was Feyre's maid the reason why Feyre was suddenly demanding things of him that she had no right to demand? Was the idiotic maid the reason why she was suddenly demanding that he owed her things, that she had rights? Or had Lucien instead been the one to fill her head with such nonsense? His supposedly loyal friend had been rather vocal on Feyre's behalf lately. If only Lucien would remember that Feyre owed him her unquestioning loyalty as his fiancée. She owed him for the chance to be his bride, and in return he would keep her safe from all threats.
Taking her with them today would not keep her safe in any sense of the word. Why could she not see that?
"How many times do I have to tell you, Feyre?" Tamlin snarled, temper balancing on a cliff's edge. "It is not safe for you to come today. It will be much safer for you to remain here where you will be protected from harm. You have to realise that your wellbeing means everything to me. I would not be able to live with myself if something happened to you."
Something sparked in Feyre's eyes as she stalked toward him. "I don't care what you think, Tamlin. I have to know what is happening around here. I need to get out of this house and do something useful. Why is that so hard for you to understand, Tamlin?"
Tamlin looked stunned at Feyre's words, why did she have to make this harder than it had to be? "Why do you think you need to know things that you have no right knowing? Why is it not enough for you to recover in peace and comfort? After Amarantha, you earned it for yourself." Tamlin shook his head in irritation. "This isn't the time for this conversation. We will be discussing your argumentative nature when upon my return."
"That's exactly your problem, Tamlin," Feyre retorted furiously. "According to you, it's never the time for this or that conversation. You don't understand what I've been going through. The girl I used to be died at Amarantha's hand, and there was no one to protect me from the horrors I endured. There will always be some threat that keeps me locked up in here. And what I cannot endure is a life of being locked away for my own good." Feyre paused briefly, glancing at the tattoo on her left arm. "You might be ashamed of the decisions I made to save you and your Court, but I most certainly am not."
Tamlin whirled around to face his old friend. Surely his Emissary, his right hand, would be able to see why Feyre had to stay close to the manor for her safety. Would tell her that he, Tamlin, was simply acting with her wellbeing in mind.
"I think Feyre has a point," Lucien said slowly. "How do you expect to be able build a good marriage with her if you continue to shut her out is beyond me. Neither of us knows what those months in Amarantha's dungeons were like for her. You might be content to sit back and watch Feyre starve and wither away, but I am not. You have to actually listen to her once in a while."
Tamlin was outraged. How dare they question him, a High Lord? How dare they question his integrity? How dare they? They had no right, no right to do so at all. And on that note, Tamlin's temper snapped.
"How dare you question your High Lord? You have no idea, either of you, of what I have had to do these past few months, to keep you all safe and protected. You have to remember as well, that when it comes to your safety, my wishes will always outweigh your own. The moment you agreed to marry me, Feyre, you became my personal property, forfeiting any right to your own opinions. Now, if you will excuse me, you've made me exceptionally late for my very dangerous mission."
On that note, Tamlin swept for the massive front doors, completely ignoring both Feyre and Lucien as they stomped after him, arguing violently. Why did neither of them understand that Feyre's safety was his only concern? If Tamlin had wanted a complicated life, he would have asked one of his more… volatile… mistresses to be his bride instead.
Why couldn't Feyre see how lucky she was? Why wasn't Lucien obeying him the way he used to? What the hell was wrong with the both of them? Why weren't they acting the way they should be? Why were they so insistent that Feyre had a right to do as she wished? How could they have forgotten that he owned her? Such disobedience demanded harsh consequences.
As Tamlin exited the doors, his claws slashed the air at his sides. He was halfway down the steps when he heard his fiancée and his formerly loyal emissary slam into the shield he'd erected around the manor, swearing loudly.
Lucien, Tamlin decided, he would let out when he admitted that he had been wrong to back a female over his High Lord. Feyre, on the other hand… She would never see the outside of the manor again. It was long past time that she learned her place. Tamlin smirked to himself, he was looking forward to putting Feyre in her place. After this, she would never disobey him again. His future was looking very bright at the moment. Very bright indeed.
Feyre's panic threatened to overwhelm her as she slammed into the magical barrier again and again. Breathing became difficult as she attempted to force her way through the barrier. She was barely able to comprehend anything other than the fact that she was locked up again – the way Amarantha had once locked her up.
Tamlin knew that she had spent three months locked up in Amarantha's dungeons. How on earth had he thought it was okay to lock her up as well after that? She might as well be back in those dungeons already…
"There's no point trying," Lucien said, an edge of anxiety and dread coating his voice. "He's shielded the entire manor against us. Others can come and go, but not us. Not until he lifts the shield."
"And when the bloody hell do you think that will be?" Feyre retorted, her panic and fear only continuing to grow. "The way that damned fuckwit has been behaving, it could be days or weeks. I can't stay locked up here that long. I have to get out. I have to get out."
Due to his own panic and fear, Lucien wasn't able to sooth and comfort his friend the way she needed it. Feyre was almost wild panic, and he wasn't far off it himself. He'd known Tamlin had grown cold and distant since Amarantha had fallen, but until now he had not even known how far Tamlin's suspicion and paranoia had gone… To believe that he truly owned those he was meant to consider family… For him to go so far as to lock both Feyre and himself in the manor, especially after everything Feyre had endured… How could the bastard live with himself?
Why had Tamlin locked him up as well as Feyre? Was it just because that he had defended his friend? Not that he had been a very good friend to her so far. And for that, Lucien was ashamed of himself.
They were trapped. That bastard had trapped them there. He'd locked them up in the house. The pair of them might as well have been Under the Mountain again.
As Lucien's panicked gaze lingered on Feyre, a strange, eerie darkness seemed to come flowing from the shadows, knocking them both. The screams of the servants rang in his ears.
Lucien came round first, before Feyre. He didn't know how long he had been out for, but he thought that it had only been a few minutes, if that. As his gaze darted around the foyer, taking in the suddenly panicking servants. He thought it was about time they caught a taste of the fear that Tamlin suddenly seemed to be so fond of dishing out.
With an abrupt start, Lucien realized that the shields Tamlin had erected around the manor had shattered. He was only vaguely surprised to realise that Tamlin was not the one who had broken the shield. Not that he had expected him to. Lucien realised with a jolt of surprise that it was a different High Lord who had shattered the shield that held the pair of them captive.
Even though Lucien was well aware that it would not be long before someone from Rhysand's court came for Feyre. And he was glad of that, glad that she had people in the world that cared for her, who would look after her the way she deserved to be looked after. But there was one last thing that he had to do for her first.
He had been a rather bad friend to Feyre in the past, he knew that, but perhaps in this way he could make it up to her. Slowly he rose to his feet, and walked over to where Feyre lay on the floor, curled up in a ball.
Lucien crouched beside his friend before speaking to her. He just had to hope that she understood his words, as well as the more symbolic meaning of his gesture. "It's going to be alright, Feyre," he said softly. "It's over. You're free now."
To his surprise, she seemed to instinctively understand. She picked her head up slightly and leaned in toward him. "Free?" she mumbled quietly, voice barely audible.
"Yes, free," Lucien repeated, as he picked up Feyre's left. Looking momentarily at the emerald and gold ring adorning her finger. With a tender smile, Lucien pulled the ring of her finger. Yes, Feyre's torment was certainly over now. "Not safe, not protected. But free. Go, Feyre. Go and live your life the way you want to."
Feyre slowly pulled herself into a sitting position. As she looked at him wide-eyed, he showed her the ring in his hand before pocketing it. "It's all over now. You're free."
Lucien glanced over at the blonde woman who had just appeared in the doorway. Morrigan. "Please just look after her," he all but begged her. He was so relieved at the sight of her brief nod that he thought he was going to be sick. "Look after her the way I haven't been allowed to."
"Aren't you going to come with us?" Feyre asked. "With me? I don't to lose a friend."
"And you won't," Lucien assured her. "In case you hadn't noticed, Feyre, there's a whole world out there. A world that both you and I have barely seen. What Tamlin has been too self-absorbed to realise, is that we are allowed to make our own choices. It would seem that he has been unable to realise we are not his slaves. You'll hear from me again, I promise. It's time I found my place in the world."
Feyre nodded to herself. In that moment, she realised that her engagement to Tamlin truly was over. She no longer cared what Tamlin thought. He was history. Rhysand was her future. She'd known that for a while, but had been too scared to admit it, even to herself. And as she walked out of Tamlin's manor for the last time, she realised that freedom never tasted so good.