The next day the chores started.
As I set about scrubbing the floor with the increasingly filthy water, I tried not to jump at every little sound that echoed through the long marble hallway. Would the Lady of the Autumn Court still come to my aid? I had still saved her son's life, but not in exactly the same way as before. Would it be enough?
The Tail's magic had me constantly on edge, wondering if each little change would be deemed necessary for my purpose here, or if it would have unintended consequences that the magic would punish me for. I scrubbed feverishly with my dirty brush to distract myself, though it didn't help much.
Thankfully, after what felt like far longer than it had in my memories, I heard the click of a door opening and I whirled to see her. Lucien's mother. I swayed with relief, barely remembering to bow respectfully to her.
"For giving her your name in place of my son's life," she said smoothly, pointing at my bucket. "My debt is paid." And then she was gone.
I cleaned my hands and face as best I could, then watched the magicked water clear the rest of the room before I slumped against one wall to wait.
One more thing done without changing the past. Still, my legs were shaky as I followed the baffled guards back to my cell.
That night, I stared at my left arm, twisting my palm to see the shape of the tattooed eye. I traced my fingers along the delicate lines and swirls that ran up to my elbow. I had to try harder to reach Rhys, but our time together—or at least, the amount of time when we could hold a conversation—was so limited. I would have to use this tenuous link between us. I could share so much more than just words, and he would assume that I was doing it all unwittingly because I was a human with barely any idea how to deal with a mental connection.
I closed my eyes and tried to order my thoughts, so that those at the front of my mind could filter down the bond without me having to fully lower my shields and leave myself completely bare.
I decided to start at the beginning. I thought of my family, as they had looked when Tamlin first came for me. Elain, cowering by the hearth, as far from the raging beast as she could get, pale and delicate and trembling. Nesta, her proud face no less terrified as she nonetheless placed herself between the snarling creature and Elain. Even our father, trying in his own inadequate way to defend me. I thought of our little cottage, the humble furnishings that made up our lives, the bed I shared with my sisters, the dresser—
I thought about painting. All of those little touches I had added everywhere I could think of. But especially the dresser. Flowers for Elain. Fire for Nesta. And for myself—the stars that I wished upon. In the deepest part of my mind, I remembered Rhys telling me how he'd sent that starry image to a girl who at the time he'd thought might only be a vision. But I was real and I had heard him, even if I hadn't realized it at the time.
I thought about my first sight of Tamlin, of his beast. He had been terrifying, but it hadn't been his monstrous form that frightened me. I was a hunter. I knew about beasts. I knew it wasn't the shape of a thing that made it good or evil but its intent. No matter how large it was or how long its fangs were or how deadly sharp its claws were, by itself a beast was only powerful or not. It took more than power to make it evil.
I drifted to sleep at some point while I was remembering that final fateful hunt, when I had slain the wolf that turned out to be a faerie. I don't know if I managed to convey my regret at needlessly ending a life and my determination to make sure my family survived at any cost, but that night I dreamed of stars.
The next day the guards locked me in what I now knew to be Rhys's room, spewing the same nonsense about lentils and ashes. I walked to the fireplace and stared into its dark alcove. It wasn't even worth bothering, I decided. Turning to the massive bed, I flopped down across it, staring up at the ceiling. I nudged at our bond, still that thin sliver, but I couldn't feel anything through it.
I didn't mean to fall asleep but the lure of a comfortable bed was too much. One minute I was trying to work out the next steps of my plan and the next I was jolting awake as the bed moved beside me.
Heart racing, I stared at where Rhys was stretched out on his side, only an arm's length away, head propped up on one hand as he watched me. "As wonderful as it is to see you, Feyre darling," he drawled, "do I want to know what you're doing in my bed? One might get—ideas." He grinned and his eyes trailed over me suggestively.
I swallowed. Even when I knew he was merely taunting me, I could feel my body tightening in reaction. If only it could be so easy.
I struggled to focus my thoughts. They said I had to clean out lentils from the ashes, or you'd rip my skin off.
Whatever he'd thought I might say, it wasn't that. He blinked, then pushed himself up to stare at the fireplace bemusedly. "Did they now." He tilted his head at me curiously. "And instead you—decided to warm my bed?"
I blushed in spite of myself and sat up, sliding to sit on the side of the bed. I tried to remember how this conversation had gone last time.
Maybe she's testing you, I came up with at last.
"And what could Amarantha possibly have to test me about?"
You bet on me during my first task. And before that, you lied to her. About Clare. You knew very well what I looked like.
He gave a graceful, fluid shrug of his shoulders. "Amarantha plays her games and I play mine. It gets rather boring down here, day after day." He was deep in the role of the corrupt High Lord. Arrogant. Bored. Cruel. But I knew better.
I fell back on the bed again. Has everyone really been down here for 49 years? Not even a window. I sighed. I already miss the stars.
He shifted to look at me. "You think about the stars a lot." My breath hitched. So he had heard my thoughts last night.
Stay out of my head, I parroted, because I felt like I should. He snorted. I suppose I've always felt drawn to the night, I added more slowly. Elain and Nesta, my sisters, both got to ignore things, in their own ways, but I—I was the one who had to go out and face the darkness. Someone had to save them, so I became what I needed to be. Stars are like—lights in the darkness. Hope when I had none.
I waited for the smart retort from Rhys, but he remained silent. Watching me. Listening.
You're the High Lord of the Night Court, I continued. Everyone seems to think that makes you a monster. But—you keep saving me.
He didn't move. I knew he didn't want anyone to see through his facade, but I had to find a way to make him let me in.
Even that first time I saw you, at Calanmai, you saved me.
He leaned over me, giving me a feral grin. "And I'm sure you remember our second meeting."
When he had terrified Tamlin into sending me away. I remembered, but I knew he was trying to distract me. He was worried I'd seen beneath his mask and he didn't dare let anyone believe he wasn't fully a villain.
I looked up into his eyes. Why were you at Calanmai? I let suspicion color my thoughts. You said you'd been looking for me.
I stared into those deep violet eyes. I knew him well enough to recognize the turmoil within them. For a long moment, I thought he might give in to me then and there, but—
His lips curled up in a feline smile. You thought I was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen. I scowled and smacked him on the arm.
He chuckled and rolled to his feet. "Such liberties with a High Lord."
Very quietly, as if it wasn't something I meant for him to hear, I thought, I think I was looking for you too.
I pushed myself up onto my elbows. He was standing with his back to me, but I knew he had heard. Time to try a different angle.
How is it that you have such power still? He turned, one eyebrow raised, and I tapped the side of my head. I know there's more to this than the bargain. I thought she robbed all of you of your abilities.
"Oh, she took my powers. This …" Talons caressed my shields, reminding me how flimsy they were. "This is just the remnant. The scraps I get to play with. Your Tamlin has brute strength and shape-shifting; my arsenal is a far deadlier assortment."
So you can't shape-shift?
"Oh, all of the High Lords can. Each of us has a beast roaming beneath our skin, roaring to get out." He paused, dark tendrils suddenly licking around him. "Would you like to see?" he purred.
An involuntary shiver went down my spine. He was still trying to frighten me.
He didn't wait for my answer. As I watched, the darkness enveloped him and then—he stood before me, all dark talons and beautiful Illyrian wings. I let my eyes go wide as I stared.
"Not a full shift, you see. I don't particularly like yielding wholly to my baser side." He might have said more but I was off the bed and standing before him without fully knowing what I was going to do. Something must have shown on my face, something other than the fear and disgust he was expecting, because he fell silent, watching me.
My eyes traced the shape of his wings behind him, the candlelight illuminating the delicate veins threading through the membranes. It didn't matter that we had been mates for years. Those wings could still take my breath away.
Unexpectedly, they flared slightly and I caught the twinkle in Rhys's eye at the little gasp I made. Fine, two could play that game.
I took another step closer, reaching my hands over his shoulders to run my fingers over the hard ridges of his wings. I was close enough that I could actually feel it when his body went tense, but I continued my oh-so-innocent explorations, almost caressing that silky skin. I rested my forearms on his shoulders and it was almost an embrace. A shudder went through him and I met his gaze. His eyes were blazing, stars dancing through them. His nostrils flared subtly and I knew he could smell my arousal.
Any moment now he would shut me out, break away, and probably make some cruel comment about my flagging devotion to Tamlin. Before he could do that, I inhaled deeply, almost choking when I realized how much I had missed the familiar mixture of citrus and the sea, with just a hint of jasmine. I leaned in until I was only a breath away from him and saw his eyes widen. I wish I could paint you, I whispered into his mind.
And then I pulled back, both mentally and physically, wrapping my arms around myself even as I wrapped my shields around my mind as tightly as I could. I lowered my head and bit my lip, looking away as if embarrassed. Was that enough flattery to save my skin?
He huffed a disbelieving laugh and just like that the wings and talons vanished. "I can't decide whether I should consider you admirable or very stupid for being so bold with a High Lord.
Clearly I'm a complete idiot, I scoffed. After all, I walked into Amarantha's trap with both eyes open.
"For love." His voice was full of scorn and I glared up at him, lifting my chin defiantly.
Because I couldn't bear to live with myself, knowing what would happen to everyone if I didn't try.
He frowned at me, as if I was a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out. Then, abruptly, he snapped his fingers.
My eyes shot to the clean fireplace and the bucket now filled with lentils. The door swung open, revealing the guards. "She accomplished her task. Take her back." As they reached for me, he crooned, "No more household chores, no more tasks. Tell the others, too. Stay out of her cell, and don't touch her. If you do, you're to take your own daggers and gut yourselves. Understood?" The guards' faces went slack as his orders sunk into their minds.
His gaze slid to me. "You're welcome," he purred, and I trembled. I saw his satisfaction as he observed my reaction and I knew he thought he had at last cowed me. I couldn't very well explain to him how erotic his voice had sounded just then.
The next morning I had my first hot meal since embarking on this ridiculous time-traveling quest. I let gratitude flow down the bond without adding any assumption that I knew the meals came from Rhys.
Days passed and I was left alone in my cell. I focused on my tattoo. I stared at the eye on my palm, opening and closing my fingers around it, tracing the familiar, comforting lines of ink. Since I couldn't talk to Rhys, I resumed talking to the tattoo.
I've been dreaming about flying, I told it, mouthing the words as if I could truly speak them. Through the night sky, over a city like none I've ever seen or imagined could possibly exist. A city filled with light and laughter and music and art. And people of all sorts, faeries of more types than I knew there could be. I closed my eyes, picturing it. Velaris as seen from the sky. The feeling of soaring, of the wind across my wings.
Sometimes there's a—a strange palace, high in the mountains. I pictured the towering moonstone pillars and gossamer curtains that billowed gently. The breeze smells like jasmine, and all around are jagged snowy mountains reaching up into an endless sea of stars. But it's not cold. Just—peaceful. I sighed. Someday I would like to know peace like that.
The screaming that constantly echoed throughout the dungeon was easier to tune out this time. I had so many happier memories to lose myself in.
I talked about the mansion that my family was currently living in, courtesy of the Spring Court, but quickly moved on to the home I would like for myself. If I ever could afford such a thing, I made sure to add, for poor human Feyre's sake.
Wood paneling, thick carpets, furniture that was made for comfort instead of elegance, a dining table just big enough for my family and a few friends. I thought of that long, empty table and those uncomfortable meals with Tamlin and Lucien. A place that's a home, not just a house. Where people can live and love and cherish their time together. I was picturing the home we lived in now, the estate along the river. It wouldn't be familiar to the present-day Rhys, but I wondered if he might still like the image of it.
Those memories were harder to let go of. When I came back to myself, in my cold, dark cell, growing hungrier and filthier each day, it was hard to believe that I was a High Lady—or would be—or had become—time travel was the worst. Regardless, the Feyre that was the High Lady of the Night Court felt impossibly far away. I was homesick for a place I had never been, for people I hadn't yet met.
I've started dreaming about people, I told the tattoo. It started with eyes, mostly. That's what made me remember them after I woke up. Two men and two women. I thought of Cassian and Azriel's hazel eyes, similar enough that they could be brothers in truth. Mor's eyes, that cheerful brown so often filled with warmth or laughter or stubbornness. But the ones that stood out the most—
Swirling silver, like smoke trapped within flashing orbs. It had been years since Amren's eyes had looked like that, but the memory came back to me as easily as if she were standing before me. I've never seen anyone else with eyes like that, I thought truthfully.
When Nuala and Cerridwen at last appeared in my cell, I had to hide my relief. I was certain that Rhys had to be receiving at least some of the thoughts I was directing down the bond, but I couldn't be sure how much of it was getting through. The link between us was still so fragile, and I'd felt nothing back from it in response.
It was easy enough to let them bathe and paint and dress me. I made myself sit stiffly, as if mortally offended by what was being done to me. Internally, I was tying myself in knots waiting for Rhys to appear.
When at last they finished, I studied my reflection in the mirror. Underneath all the makeup and paint, it was unnerving to see myself as a human again. Somehow, I still hadn't expected how different I would look. Even with all of the fierce, regal makeup, my face just looked—fragile. I scowled at my reflection.
"Don't like what you see?" a voice drawled from the doorway. Rhys was leaning against the wall, blatantly ogling my body. I blushed. I reached out to say something to him, mind to mind, but he struck first.
I froze as he punched through my poor excuse for shields and slipped into my mind so easily that I felt foolish for even trying to hide from him. I squeezed my eyes shut as if it would make any difference against the intrusion, but though he was firm, he was also gentle. He didn't probe deeply, only sifting through the surface thoughts.
And I had been ready for him.
If he had heard any of my musings the past few days, I knew he would be worried about what I might know about him, about Velaris, and about his family. He would have to check, he would want to be sure …
So I filled my mind with muddled, cloudy visions that were a mishmash of the things I'd already told him. The feeling of flying over a city at night, the view from the mountain palace, faces that were almost recognizable but not quite, Amren's haunting eyes standing out due to their peculiarity. I added a few more things for good measure, things that only he would know but would make little sense to anyone else. Glimpses of the town house, of the Rainbow, even the sound of Mor's laughter. I felt his confusion and utter shock as he pulled back.
I opened my eyes and didn't have to fake the tears that prickled to the surface in reaction to his assault. Why do you keep showing me these things? I tried to snap at him, but it took more of an effort than usual, and my mental voice quivered.
He was frowning at me, but then it melted into a dark smirk. "Whyever would I give you dreams when my specialty is taking them away?" And just like that all of the hazy images I'd conjured for him vanished into smoke.
I blinked rapidly and swayed, hastily sifting through my thoughts and reassuring myself that my true memories were still intact.
I didn't have to fake the blank look on my face as I gaped at him in shock. I knew he'd wiped the memory of Velaris from everyone Under the Mountain, but I never thought he'd do it to me. He'd shared some of my memories over the years, so wouldn't it make sense that I'd begin to share some of his? I'd thought it would remind him of what he was fighting for, that there was a world outside of Amarantha's court, that good people existed. That he was more than just the monster she had made him into.
I'd thought wrong.
"Let's start over," he said coolly, as if he hadn't just violated my mind. He tucked his hands into his pockets as he approached me. "I need an escort for the party," he purred, his eyes tracing over my exposed skin. "And you look just as I hoped you would."
I was supposed to say something. Protest, maybe. Demand an explanation. But I couldn't get past that emptiness in my head. I managed to close my mouth and blinked stupidly a few times, as if that might make everything clear again. But there was nothing wrong with my vision.
Rhys was studying me, the smallest frown on his face. He almost looked—concerned. Did he think he'd broken me? I felt his thoughts brush against mine again and I flinched before I could stop myself. His face went blank.
No, he thought he'd made me afraid. Since that's what he'd been trying to do all along, I was a little surprised that he wasn't more pleased with my reaction.
For once, I didn't really care how Rhys felt. It didn't matter that he would be my mate in the future, it didn't matter that he didn't even know me now. Cold anger settled in my stomach and I hardened my expression.
I held up my tattooed arm between us. This makes us allies. I think you want Amarantha gone as much as I do.
He cocked his head at me. "Maybe I want to take her place."
Maybe you're a prick, I snarled back silently. I know who the true villain is here, Rhys, and it's never going to be you. But if you touch my thoughts again, you'll regret it. Maybe not now, but one day in the future. You. Will. Regret it.
I don't know that my words had any weight to them. They probably sounded like an empty threat from a poor mortal who didn't actually have the power to stop him.
But I saw something like relief flash through his eyes before his mask of arrogant amusement returned. He really had been worried that he'd broken me.
I stalked past him, heading for the door. Let's get this over with.
He raised a brow, pivoting to follow me. "Do you even know what this is?"
Is it a party where you get to claim me in front of everyone Under the Mountain and simultaneously piss off both Amarantha and Tamlin? I asked sweetly.
His grin turned feral. "As much as I would enjoy claiming you—" My face turned red and I scowled. "I'd rather not share that lovely experience with anyone else. Besides," he added offhandedly, "I want Tamlin pointed at Amarantha when he gets free, not at me."
When. He'd said when. Not if. In spite of what he'd just done, he still believed in me.
He shoved his hands into his pockets and breezed past me out the door, nodding for me to follow him. "Now come, we're already late."
