I had two more days to practice my shielding and work on my plan before my first trial arrived.
I thought I'd have longer. Some of my memories from Under the Mountain were crystal clear, but others blurred together. I had remembered that each of my tasks took place at the full moon, but not that there was so little time between my arrival and the first such occurrence. I didn't have three months to get to Rhys—I had two.
As I was dragged into the arena, feet sliding in the muck and the jeers of the crowd threatening to drown me, a strange thing happened—I was not afraid. The guards threw me into the cold mud before Amarantha's platform and I stared down into the labyrinth where I would momentarily be once again facing the Middengard Wyrm. And I was not afraid.
The noise of the crowd died away and I looked up. "Well, Feyre," Amarantha said, "Your first task is here. Let us see how deep that human affection of yours runs." Her hand was resting casually on Tamlin's knee, but I barely spared him a glance.
Around the base of the platform stood the six other High Lords, each with an expression as cold and distant as Tamlin's. Except for Rhys, but even his usual smirk was half hidden in shadow. I could care less what Amarantha thought of me, but the lords—for them, I struggled to my feet and gave them a respectful bow in all of my muddy glory. None of them reacted, but that was fine. The important thing was that they had seen it, and every faerie in that room had just seen me dismiss Amarantha in favor of honoring the High Lords. A change? Maybe, but only a tiny one.
The Faerie Queen's nails clacked on the arm of her throne, drawing the attention back to herself. If she was bothered by my small act of defiance, it didn't show. "I took the liberty of learning a few things about you," she drawled. "It was only fair, you know. I think you'll like this task. Go ahead. Look."
I knew what was coming next and it took everything I had not to just jump into the trench under my own power, to wait there at the edge when I knew the Attor was behind me, coming for me. The curse probably made me look braver than I was, since it swallowed my shriek when the abhorrent creature grabbed me. Then I was down there in the stinking, slimy mud. Again.
"Rhysand tells me you're a huntress," I heard Amarantha say somewhere above me. "Hunt this. Release it!"
I didn't wait for it to come for me. I ran.
Everything devolved into chaos. I had no idea which turns I'd taken the first time around, so as before, I ran blindly. I tried to keep an eye out for the small gap in the wall that had given me precious minutes last time. The odds of me taking the same random turns that would lead me to that gap—I didn't have time to worry about it. All I could do was run.
But maybe I didn't need to find it. Now that I knew the worm was blind, all I had to do was get out of its path long enough for it to lose my scent. I spied an opportunity after the next turn. A long straight corridor that forked in two directions at the end, but before that—a branch midway down that led off to the right.
I sprinted down the corridor and made a sliding lunge for the side branch, bouncing off the corner and landing on all fours in the muck. Scrambling, I pressed myself flat against the opposite wall, like a child playing a hiding game. The worm barrelled by without turning to check the corridor. Somewhere overhead, I heard a roar of dismay and delight from the watching audience. I ground my teeth at the thought of providing them any sort of macabre entertainment, but there was nothing I could do but try to ignore them.
As soon as the worm was past, I threw myself down in the mud again, rolling in it until I was completely concealed. The stench was—actually not as bad as I remembered. For the first time since arriving in the past, I blessed my weak human senses.
At the fork, the worm barely paused before choosing the left path. Away from me.
I took a moment to scan the upper ledges of the maze. The sea of faces was a blur above me but a splash of red stood out. Amarantha smirked when she saw me watching. "You look lovely, Feyre," she taunted. "It suits you!" Around her, faeries tittered and I scowled.
I took off further down the branch, still hurrying but taking the time to slide awkwardly around corners instead of slamming into the walls, and checking each intersection as I went to avoid a surprise confrontation with the worm.
Only incredible luck had me finding the worm's den before I found the worm itself. I didn't fall into it face first this time, but making myself jump deliberately into that foulest of pits was almost worse. Gagging, I stumbled through the ankle-deep muck, collecting bones and placing the rows of spikes as I had before. I barely noticed the crowd circling around the top of the maze, watching me and calling taunts. Not until—
"She's building a trap." Rhys, sounding vaguely impressed. I glanced up at him as I heard him explaining how I had become effectively invisible to the worm and now was plotting to snare it. He was smiling at me, violet eyes shining. I hesitated for a moment, trying to remember how I had reacted the first time this had happened, but the entire trial was a blur of panic and mud and adrenaline. I settled for a glare and an obscene, mud-covered gesture, before I took off to hunt the worm.
That feeling of fearless determination settled over me again. I was almost done. My trap was set. I was ready to draw my prey into it. I had done this before. I could do it again.
Change nothing. The Tail's words echoed in my head again. But maybe, maybe just little things—if I didn't lose track of the worm at the crucial moment, Lucien wouldn't have to warn me. If I could spare him from that punishment, would it really hurt anything?
As if the thought had triggered something in the magic, the decision was taken out of my hands. I was slithering closer to a bend where I thought I might find the worm, if the faeries gathered on the rim above were any indication, when something happened—something different.
A roar rose from the crowd and I slid to a stop in confusion.
And over the cacophony of cheers, Lucien's voice rose. "IT'S COMING!"
I stumbled back from the corner, sliding and clawing at the mud as I turned to run, just as the worm slammed into view behind me. I mouthed silent curses as I shot back up the corridor. I'd expected to have a moment to catch my breath and review the path back to the den before luring the worm to me. Instead, it had been waiting for me. That wasn't what should have happened at all, but it didn't matter. The worm was following me. I only prayed that I remembered the turns correctly.
Thankfully, my memory didn't fail me. I found my bone-rails embedded exactly where I expected them, swinging around the turns with ease until I reached the final passage.
If I thought leaping into the pit the first time was hard, it was nothing compared to that second jump. The jump that I knew, I knew, would shatter my arm. When I'd been placing my bone spikes, I'd hesitated a moment over the last row. But without my injured arm, Rhys wouldn't have needed to bargain with me to save my life. And I needed that bond to happen.
I didn't make a sound as I tumbled through the air, hit the muddy bottom of the pit, and rolled, but pain exploded through me, drowning out all other thoughts as I felt that bone spear drive through my arm. It was all I could do to scramble out of the way before the worm came crashing down behind me to its death.
I panted, clutching my arm. Done. It was done.
I still had to climb out of that damned pit and find my way out of the maze. Pain rippled through me with each step and I barely remembered to bring one of the broken bones with me. I gritted my teeth as I stumbled through the corridors. It was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other without them slipping out from under me. My arm pulsed steadily, sending waves of agony through me with each beat of my heart. I could only assume that shock and adrenaline had kept me from noticing the pain so quickly last time.
But the moment I saw Amarantha, smugly pristine and smirking at the filthy little human, my pain was drowned out by rage. "Well," she drawled. "I suppose anyone could have done that."
She'd barely uttered the words before I launched my bone spear at her. I'd foolishly hoped I might actually hit her this time. I knew a lot more about throwing spears than I had before—but my weak mortal body failed me. The spear landed at her feet, exactly as it had before, and the only thing that hit her was a shower of mud.
I barely heard shocked gasps of the faeries around me. In that moment, I didn't care about any of the Tail's rules. I just wanted her dead, again. Right here, right now.
Amarantha was oblivious to my rage. She tsked at the mud on her white gown. "Naughty," was all she said, before picking up a piece of parchment. "I suppose you'll be happy to learn most of my court lost a good deal of money tonight." She scanned the paper. "Let's see. Yes, I'd say almost my entire court bet on you dying with the first minute; some said you'd last five, and—" A pause as she flipped the paper over. "—and just one person said you would win."
My eyes flicked to Rhys. He had a smirk on his face, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets, and he gave me the smallest nod of acknowledgement.
Then the Attor was lifting me ungently out of the trenches and my guards were dragging me back to my cell and it was all I could do not to pass out in front of the court I'd just defied.
The days that followed were worse than anything in my memory.
I was more and more certain that my time as High Fae had made me forget what it truly felt like to be mortal, to be human. It was almost unbearable. I couldn't move my arm, could barely even touch it. I couldn't eat. I couldn't get warm, and then suddenly I was too hot. For the first time I was glad for my lack of speech, because I often woke from a muddled sleep to find myself mouthing my mate's name, begging him to come and heal me. How long had it been? I couldn't tell. I had lost all track of time. Surely it had been too long.
Change nothing. My breath came in short gasps. He was suspicious of me and of my bargain with the Tail, this so-called curse that had stolen my voice, which was something different from what had gone before. What if he didn't come? If my throat could produce the sounds, I would have whimpered.
I don't know how much longer I waited, drifting in a haze of heat and pain.
And then, a cool hand cupped my cheek.
I pried open heavy, burning eyes. Rhys was crouched before me, his eyes glowing in the dim light. "What a sorry state for Tamlin's champion," he said with a slow smile.
I was so glad to see him I could have sobbed, if I had the strength to shed tears.
I remembered that I was supposed to hate him and argue with him, but right then I didn't care. "Help me," I mouthed.
He raised an eyebrow. "What would your precious High Lord say if he knew his beloved was rotting away down here, burning up with fever and begging his worst enemy for help?"
I tried to glare at him, but the act of narrowing my eyes somehow led to them sliding shut entirely. My head lolled back against the wall. "Help me," I mouthed again, or tried to. I was so, so tired.
I heard Rhys sigh. "Let me see your arm." I made an effort to lift it, I really did. But I was just so damn tired. "Let me see it," he growled, and then piercing pain jolted me back to wakefulness as he grabbed my elbow, shifting my arm so he could see it in the dim light. I looked away, gasping and struggling not to vomit.
"Oh, that's wonderfully gruesome."
I could hear his smile, but I just glared silently at him. Are you going to help me or not? I don't know if he could hear the words or if he just read them in my expression, but either way he chuckled.
"I'll make a trade with you," he said casually. "I'll heal your arm in exchange for you. For two weeks every month, two weeks of my choosing, you'll live with me at the Night Court. Starting after this messy three-trials business."
Cauldron, I wished I could just agree to that. To have that much more time with him instead of Tamlin. But no—I remembered the Wyrm, charging at me out of nowhere, just after I'd determined I could alter the past. I had learned my lesson. Change nothing.
I shook my head and held up one finger on my right hand. One week.
He blinked at me, and then laughed. "You're going to bargain? Ten days."
I shook my head again, and then swayed where I sat as a wave of dizziness swept through me. I held up my hand again. One week.
"I don't think you understand how bargaining works, Feyre darling," Rhys purred. I let my hand drop and just stared at him. He was studying me with a small frown. I wondered if he'd expected me to resist the idea more, but I just wanted the pain to stop.
"A week it is," he said at last, holding out his hand. "Since you can't speak your agreement, we'll have to make do with a handshake." I started to reach for him with my right arm but he tutted. "Ah ah, not that one. The one you want healed." I stared at him in disbelief but he only offered me that cruel smirk.
I looked at his hand. It was only a few inches from my left arm. Just a short motion, and then it would be done with. My arm twitched, generating a new wave of agony, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn't lift it.
I panted, bracing myself against the wall and taking the deepest breath I could manage, then lunged forward with my left shoulder. It wasn't a controlled movement at all and I caught a glimpse of Rhys's startled expression before agony hit me and my vision swam. But the fingers of my left hand clumsily brushed his and it was enough.
A different kind of pain swept through me and I blacked out entirely.
I don't know how long I was out. I suspect only moments, or he would have had time to move me from where I had awkwardly sprawled into his lap.
When I first came back to myself, I couldn't remember what was happening. I was wrapped in warmth and darkness and a beloved scent, my head resting on a familiar chest. I nuzzled closer but the arm wrapped around me tensed, bringing me to full wakefulness.
My senses had been correct that I was in Rhys's arms, but he held me awkwardly, as if he had merely stopped me from falling on him and now wasn't sure what to do with me. I remembered my clumsy lunge at him to get my useless arm within his grasp. Oh. Oh.
I threw myself back, scrambling across the dingy floor of the cell until my back hit the opposite wall. He stared at me incredulously before his arrogant mask dropped back into place. "What, did you think I was going to ravage you?" He snorted. "You threw yourself at me."
I shook my head, both in denial and to try to clear it. After spending days in a haze of agony, everything around me seemed unnaturally sharp. I took control of my breathing, noted that I was free of even the smallest aches and blessedly clean, and checked my shields. That sent me reeling again.
It was back. The bond. It was fragile, only a thread, but there it was, filling a hole I hadn't realized had been empty. I could have sobbed, but Rhys was still watching me, head cocked as he observed the reactions that were playing out on my face. "You look completely flummoxed," he commented, sounding amused.
"How are you not?" I tried to ask, and winced as I merely mouthed the words soundlessly. Focusing on that slender shining thread between us, I tried again, sending the words down the bond. How are you not? This can't be normal.
Rhys stopped breathing for a heartbeat. Then his eyes narrowed. It's normal when you bargain with me.
Liar. The word danced inside my head, safely behind my shields. There was no way anyone who had ever made any sort of bargain before would think this was something normal. It was the beginning of the mating bond right then and there, or perhaps as much of a mating bond as a human could handle. Liar.
I looked away from those penetrating eyes before he could read it right across my face.
My gaze landed on my arm and I held it up so that my pale skin glowed in the dim light, highlighting the tattoos that now decorated it. That, too, felt like regaining a piece of what was fundamentally mine, even if it was on the wrong arm.
"No hiding that one from a certain High Lord," Rhys purred.
He'll get over it. I stared at my tattooed fingers, flexing them and watching the swirling ink stretch under my movements. Sometimes we have to do terrible things to protect the ones we love.
I kept my attention focused on my hand but from the corner of my vision I could sense Rhys's stillness, how he stared at me as he processed my words. I wasn't talking about myself, though I didn't expect him to realize it. Not yet.
Sure enough, a moment later he brushed the words aside to focus on the other part of my statement. "I wouldn't have thought Tamlin was the understanding, forgiving type," he said at last, taunting.
I sighed and let my head thunk back against the wall. Fine, then he won't get over it.
Rhys eyed me. "Is this really how humans go about proving their love?"
You think Tamlin is the only person in Prythian that I love? I did meet his gaze then. Something trembled across the bond and was gone, and darkness suddenly swirled around him, half concealing his face except for the terrible smirk that stretched across it. "Oh, Feyre," he purred, rising to his feet. "Does dear Tamlin know?"
I blinked up at him stupidly.
"About you and Lucien?"
I scowled at him and threw a clump of mud, the closest thing I could grab, at his head. Prick. He dodged effortlessly, chuckling, and vanished into nothing.
I counted ten heartbeats before I realized he was really gone. Then—
Thank you, I sent down the bond. There was no reply.
