I was lying on the straw pallet that had been my bed for those long, torturous months. I pushed myself up onto my elbows—and almost passed out again. The pain hit me instantly, sharp enough to bring tears to my eyes. I let out a low hissing breath through teeth that hurt to clench. Cauldron, had being human always felt so awful? Every part of my body ached.
Slowly and gingerly, I swung my feet to the floor, my hands on my knees as I slumped forward and fought off waves of agony and weakness. This couldn't possibly be right. Was this the magic's price, to make me feel so much more awful than I remembered? Unless—
I lifted my left arm, fearing to see the ruptured bone and swelling infection that I had experienced after my first trial, but the skin was smooth and unblemished. If I wasn't suffering from that injury, then what the hells was wrong with me?
The realization that I was truly human and once again mortal slowly began to sink in. I held both my arms up side by side and could only stare. The sight of my bare skin without a tattoo in sight shook me more than any physical pain. I swallowed and realized my hands were trembling. I gripped my knees tightly. It was real. I was really here. Again.
The lack of tattoos meant I hadn't been Under the Mountain very long. I had maybe as much as three months to seduce my mate. Good. That was good.
I looked down at my arms again and at my knuckles turning white on my knees.
I was human. I had no special powers. I hurt everywhere and I was half-starved. I had to face Amarantha and all three of her trials again, to prove my love for a male that I despised, all while convincing another male that when not servicing Amarantha against his will he should service me instead.
I shot up and barely made it to the far corner before I vomited.
What had I done? I wiped my mouth and made my shaky way back to the pallet.
No, I could do this. I knew Rhys. And he knew me, even now. I would have to go slowly, as slowly as time allowed, but I could do this. My hands curled over my abdomen. For us, I could do this.
I rested my head against the cold stone of the wall and tried to think. No powers, no magic, no faerie strength, no wings. But I still had my mind, and even without my daemati powers, my thoughts could be a weapon.
I tried to build those walls that had become second nature after so many years. My efforts felt sluggish, as if my mind knew what it should do but hadn't ever exercised those muscles. I sighed. Of course not. Much like how after years of training with Cassian my instincts might protect me in a fight, but my human body would struggle to respond the way I expected it to.
Still, shielding would be important. I knew that with his magic limited, Rhys hadn't bothered to delve deeply into my mind very often, so my best advantage would be to stop broadcasting every stray thought at him and only project what I wanted him to hear.
I spent the next few days going back to those beginner exercises: building my shields, raising them and lowering them. I let myself daydream of those early days in the Night Court, writing ridiculous sentences. Rhysand is the most handsome High Lord. Rhysand is the most delightful High Lord. Rhysand is the most cunning High Lord.
Even in the solitary darkness, trapped in the past, I couldn't help but smile at the memory.
By my best guess, a few days had passed before the guards came for me. The bruises on my body didn't seem to heal—or I'd forgotten how slowly a human body healed. I had forced down the stale bread that was left for me, but that was almost as difficult as ignoring the pain. I was determined to walk bravely, as a defiant champion-to-be, but my human body felt stupid and clumsy. The light was dimmer than I remembered and every one of my senses felt dulled.
As the guards dragged me forward, I tried to focus on my shields but my heart was racing and I could feel panic waiting to claim me.
It was exactly as horrible as I remembered. The throne room. The leering faerie onlookers. Poor Clare's body, rotting on the wall. At least now I knew that she hadn't suffered.
And then—Amarantha. She was sitting on her throne with that familiar sly smile on her cruel lips. And yet, she looked somehow less. I had had nightmares about her for years. Still did sometimes. But after facing Hybern and all of the other terrors of the war, she looked almost—ordinary.
"You look positively dreadful," she told me, clicking her tongue. "Wouldn't you say she's taken a turn for the worse?" she asked her companion. Tamlin.
I stared at the male I was supposed to still be madly, desperately in love with. He didn't look at me, didn't look at anything. He may as well have been a living doll, a perfect statue installed at Amarantha's side.
"You know," she drawled, turning her attention back to me, chin propped on her hand, "I couldn't sleep last night, and I realized why this morning. I don't know your name. If you and I are going to be such close friends for the next three months, I should know your name, shouldn't I?"
Last time, I had refused. And the Tail had warned me not to change anything. But was I really changing anything if I gave her the name she would wring from me in a few moments anyway? I opened my mouth.
No, wait. If I spoke now, then Lucien wouldn't be threatened, and if I didn't give up my name to save Lucien then the Lady of Autumn wouldn't come to my rescue later. I snapped my mouth shut, sweat beading my forehead at the near miss.
No wonder I wasn't supposed to change anything. Even such a seemingly small thing could have had dire consequences.
Amarantha frowned. "Come, now, pet. You know my name—isn't it fair that I know yours?" The Attor appeared next to me suddenly and I stiffened, resisting the urge to snarl at it. "After all," Amarantha continued, "you've already learned the consequences of giving false names." Her words didn't phase me. I would forever regret my part in Clare's death, but for me it was ancient history.
"Rhysand," she called, and I stopped breathing. I heard him approaching, his steps casual and unhurried. Even without turning I could picture how he would look, that cocky smirk on his face and his shadows swirling lazily around him. But I couldn't make myself face him. I checked my mental shields again and prayed that they would be enough.
Amarantha eyed him. "Is this the girl you saw at Tamlin's estate?"
He brushed invisible dust from his tunic and in spite of everything my heart lifted at the familiar nonchalant gesture. He was looking at me now. I refused to meet his gaze. "I suppose," he drawled, sounding bored.
"But did you or did you not tell me that girl was the one you saw?" She gestured at Clare's body, a bite entering her tone.
"Humans all look alike to me," was his only answer. I resisted the urge to smirk.
"And what about faeries?" Amarantha asked sweetly.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him bow. "Among a sea of mundane faces, yours is a work of art," he answered smoothly.
My lips twitched but Amarantha's attention was fully focused on Rhys. "What's her name?" she demanded.
"How would I know? She lied to me." He sounded bored and slightly irritated. He was so good at this game, my mate. I reined in the swell of pride that I felt, finally remembering that I was supposed to be terrified, and checked my shields again.
Amarantha pursed her lips. "If you're inclined to play games, girl, then I suppose we can do this the fun way." She snapped her fingers and my confidence vanished that easily, replaced with the racing of my heart as the Attor dragged Lucien forward.
Amarantha gestured at Rhys. "Hold his mind."
I knew I could save him. I knew it. And it still meant nothing in that moment. Fear held me paralyzed.
I stared at Lucien as he knelt stiffly, sweating, and he and Rhys locked gazes.
"Her name, Emissary?" Amarantha asked Lucien. Dear Lucien, his resolve was exactly as I remembered. He refused to voice an answer, visibly steeled himself, and closed his eyes to do whatever little he could to resist my mate's claws in his mind.
I held my tongue, waiting while Amarantha continued to question Lucien, Tamlin, even Lucien's brothers. But she quickly grew tired of the game and gestured to Rhys. Lucien groaned.
Now. I had to speak now. I took a half step forward, opened my mouth, and—nothing happened.
I shook my head, coughing, and struggled to make the muscles of my throat respond, but I couldn't manage to spit out a single word.
The magic will demand its own price. The Tail's words echoed in my head.
I gripped my throat in rising horror. Panicked, I spun toward Rhys, who was already watching me curiously, distracted from Lucien by my strange antics. FEYRE, I screamed at him with my untrained human mind. I'm Feyre Feyre Feyre tell her tell her please no Lucien I'm Feyre tell her Feyre!
"Interesting," Rhys murmured, turning to face me more fully. Forgotten, Lucien slumped to the ground. "She can't say it."
"Can't or won't?" Amarantha snapped.
I opened my mouth again and tried to say something, anything, but the words died in my throat and I was left gaping like a fish. Rhys cocked his head to the side, studying me. "Can't, it seems. Somebody's picked up a nasty curse," he purred. I glared at him. "Oh, it's Feyre, by the way. Her name. Poor thing is so terrified for dear, sweet Lucien that she's practically screaming it inside her head. It seems she feels quite strongly about him." He shot a sly smirk at Tamlin before stepping back with a bow to the queen.
Amarantha tapped two fingers against her blood red lips thoughtfully. "Feyre," she repeated, drawing out the syllables. "An old name—from one of our earlier dialects. But you spoke before—forcefully." Her gaze swept the assembled faeries. "Which of you managed to steal my new pet's voice, hmm?"
Whispers and mumbles swept through the crowd as everyone glanced suspiciously at their neighbors but no one spoke up. Lucien was staring at me and I could only clutch my throat and stare back, panic still beating at me.
"Well, no matter," Amarantha said dismissively, turning her attention to me again. Her eyes shone with malice. "I promised you a riddle, Feyre, but I suppose now you won't be able to answer even if you do manage to figure it out."
Something sparked inside me and I dropped my hands, clenching them into fists at my sides as I drew myself up and lifted my chin to glare a challenge at her.
"Very well," Amarantha chuckled darkly. "Solve this, Feyre, and you and your High Lord, and all his court, may immediately leave with my blessing. Let's see if you are indeed clever enough to deserve one of our kind."
She recited it once, then again, and I let my face go blank with confusion. Laughter echoed around me, but I ignored it and kept my mask carefully in place. Amarantha gave me a patronizing smile. "Think on it," she said. "When it comes to you I'll be waiting."
I very deliberately did not think on it. Not with Rhys so close and his attention already on me. I couldn't look at him, or Tamlin, or Lucien, not with my heart still racing.
My voice. The magic had taken my voice. I swallowed and it sounded loud in my ears.
Thankfully, that was the end of my audience and the guards dragged me back to my cell.
They had barely locked the door behind them when the darkness exploded, pinning me against the wall with a dark, taloned hand at my throat. "Someone's been making bargains," a voice purred against my ear.
My body went hot and cold all at once. "Rhys," I mouthed his name but no sound came out. Deep within the shadows, his eyes glowed like violet gems. He was studying my neck, clawed fingers stroking it with deadly gentleness. I shivered in spite of myself as those sharp claws slid down, slicing open the collar of my tunic and parting the fabric.
"Who have you been making bargains with, Fey-re?" He drew my name out in a mocking imitation of Amarantha as he traced a shape along my collarbone and I inhaled sharply. Of course, the Tail would have left a mark on me. I mouthed words at him, then shook my head in frustration. Thank goodness Amarantha hadn't seen that mark, whatever it was.
His eyes flicked to mine. "Indeed, or we'd both be in trouble. Amarantha knows the marks of my court even if I had nothing to do with this." I paled as I realized he'd picked up on my thoughts and tucked myself carefully behind my flimsy human shields.
Rhys's shadows withdrew as he studied me. I tried to squirm away but he caught my chin in his hand, holding me in place and forcing me to meet his gaze. "You've had some training. I'm surprised Tamlin bothered."
I barely kept the surprise from my face. He thought Tamlin had taught me how to shield.
And then I felt those invisible claws, tracing along my mind. I could still tear through this with barely a thought, if I wanted to, he crooned directly into my head.
I jerked my chin out of his hand, banging my head on the stone wall behind me. Through the pain, I glared at him. Prick.
He chuckled. "Too bad you can't speak. I have a feeling you would say absolutely delightful things to Amarantha. She might even have killed you on the spot and spared you whatever tortures she has involved with these trials."
I snarled at him silently. Save the threats. You don't scare me and Amarantha's days are numbered. I tried to think the words at him, but it didn't work very well. I knew what I wanted to say, but it all just became a jumble in my head.
I guess he got the gist of it though, because he chuckled again and traced his fingers, now without talons, along the marks on my skin. "I don't imagine you'll be walking around topless," he murmured, and heat suffused my face as I thought of the paint and thin strips of sheer fabric that I'd be wearing soon enough, "but it's probably best to be sure."
My skin tingled and I realized he must be placing a glamour over the tattoo. As he dropped his hold on me and stepped back, my own fingers probed my neck, even though I doubted I'd be able to feel anything, glamour or no.
I nodded a cautious thanks to him and took the opportunity to study him. I had forgotten how pale he was Under the Mountain. After so many years, it was strange to see him without his wings. He grinned at my appraisal and purred, "Like what you see? Since you're so fond of bargains, perhaps we could—"
My snarl was silent but I thought some choice words at him as loudly as I could.
His eyes sparkled. "You do owe me for the glamour," he pointed out. "Tell me who from my court you bargained with and I'll call it even."
Except that he'd glamoured me as much to protect himself from Amarantha's questions as anything else. And if he expected payment, he should have made his bargain in advance.
He tilted his head to one side, listening to my thoughts, then gave an easy shrug, sliding his hands into his pockets. "You've learned our ways, I see. Fine, keep your secrets—for now. That's some powerful magic that you've tangled yourself up in."
He paused, then gave me his cruelest smirk. "But remember, Feyre darling, what was given can just as easily be taken away." I had a sudden vision of myself standing before Amarantha, Tamlin at her side, as my shirt was ripped away to reveal a ribbon of ocean waves curling like a dark necklace around my shoulders—so that's what it looked like—declaring to all that I was not cursed but had made a dark bargain. I saw horror and disgust rippling across Tamlin's face.
I blinked and the vision faded into darkness. Rhys's arrogant leer was the last thing that I saw.
I was alone in my cell. He had vanished in that moment, leaving me with the threat that he could expose my secrets at any time.
My legs were trembling as I dropped down onto my pallet. No voice. I had no voice. Change nothing, the Tail had said. I tried to frantically remember every time Under the Mountain when I had spoken. Could I still complete the trials without speaking? I thought I could. But could I seduce Rhys without words? I realized my hands were clutching my throat protectively.
It was no use. I would just have to continue. The advantages of knowing the future still outweighed not being able to speak. The worst that would happen is that I would fail to gain Rhys's trust and this would all be for nothing, but as long as I behaved the same and events played out as they had before, I would still be sent back to the future in the end.
But I wouldn't fail. My poor High Lord had no idea who he was dealing with. He thought I was a puny, stubborn, half-starved human girl who was terrified of the Lord of Nightmares, and even if he'd been having dreams about me, he wasn't sure what they meant yet. But I knew him in ways that no one else did, and even in this mortal form I would not let him escape me.
Alone in my cell, my lips stretched into a predatory smile. Rhys had once named me his huntress. He didn't know it yet, but he had just become my prey.
