I didn't hear from him again until the next night, when he appeared at the usual time. Nuala and Cerridwen hastily put the finishing touches on my hair and makeup and then faded away.
I spun to face Rhys anxiously, reading the tension in his features that probably no one else but me—and maybe the wraiths—would notice. Tell me.
"Someone noticed your little performance the other night," he said without preamble.
I stiffened. Amarantha. So what?
He prowled toward me, carefully watching my reaction, for what I didn't know. "She's convinced we've become lovers."
I met his gaze, tilting my chin up. So?
He eyed me. Have you really forgotten Tamlin so quickly? I flinched, and he apparently took it as confirmation of whatever he'd been looking for. "She considers it a victory," he said, turning away and clasping his hands behind his back as he paced. "And she's jealous."
I snorted, and he raised an eyebrow at me over his shoulder. I couldn't even put into words what I meant. We weren't lovers, though I wished we were. But I also wouldn't want Amarantha to know if we truly were, since my tasks hinged on proving my love to Tamlin. And whether we were or not, the idea of a High Fae like Amarantha being jealous of a puny human was ridiculous. I sent Rhys a burst of the tangled, conflicting feelings of frustration and was rewarded with a hint of laughter in his eyes.
Then his expression dimmed again. "The point is, she's going to be keeping me very busy for a while."
I felt as if a hand had seized my heart and squeezed. I'm sorry.
Rhys shook his head dismissively. "A jealous Amarantha is an unstable Amarantha. That's how we want her, in the end." He stopped and turned to face me fully. "Things are going to get messy very quickly after your third task." I froze, not even daring to think. "I don't suppose you've figured out her riddle? She's forbidden everyone from helping you, even with the slightest hint."
I kept my face still and shook my head slowly. He eyed me and I wasn't sure if he bought my answer. "Too bad. We could all walk out of here right now. But with the tasks—" He cut off suddenly, and I wondered if Amarantha had also ordered everyone not to give away the flaw in our bargain.
I bowed my head. I know.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "In the end I suppose it just means a lot of early nights for you and a lot of long ones for me."
I stepped forward and twined my arms around his waist. If you need me, for anything at all, you know where to find me. Something in his gaze shuttered and I narrowed my eyes at him in return. I mean that as your friend, Rhys. If you wanted my body, I'd give it to you, gladly. But also if you just need someone to talk to, or someone who will lie beside you without making demands.
I tugged him down to my level and pressed a kiss to his forehead. There isn't much time left, but you don't have to spend it alone.
His arms came around me and he buried his face in my neck, breathing deeply. Thank you, he said, very, very quietly through the bond. So quietly that I wasn't sure he really intended me to hear it.
When he stepped back a moment later, his mask of bored arrogance was firmly in place. "Come, we'll be late," he said, gesturing to me with a snap of his fingers.
I fell into step beside him, shaping my face into my own mask as I pretended not to notice the exhaustion and sorrow that had rippled through the bond in those moments, even as my eyes burned with unshed tears in response.
I felt a shift in our relationship in the days that followed. We were still silently propping each other up, but even more carefully now that we'd attracted Amarantha's attention. In spite of what Rhys had said about wanting her unstable, neither of us dared push too far. Some days it was only a mental caress or a tug on the bond for reassurance, but it was enough. Barely.
It might have been merely my own heightened anxiety as the third task drew closer, but I felt like everyone, not just Amarantha, was watching us more closely.
There were no more incidents with drunken males, for all that Rhys took to leaving me on my own more often. Sometimes he would linger at Amarantha's side at the start of the night, sending me to wait against the far wall. Sometimes he would send me to dance through the crowd instead of solely for his own entertainment. Sometimes he would merely send me back to my cell earlier. The delicate balance of trying to keep Amarantha jealous without sending her completely over the edge made my head spin as much as any faerie wine.
As for Rhys, he had always been unnaturally pale Under the Mountain, but now—his mask was a only thin veneer, concealing shadowed features that had nothing to do with his own darkness. We were so close to the end and I prayed to anyone listening that he could hold on just a little longer.
And I cursed Amarantha's jealous eyes, because at the time when I needed to be closest to my mate, she was forcing him to send me away. Though I doubted his attempts to show less interest in me were succeeding.
For my part, I knew my days were numbered. I wasn't sure exactly when the third task would be, but it had to be close. Barring any surprises, the only chance I would have with Rhys would be right near the end of my time here. The night before the task, when he'd shown up in my cell, worn down and vulnerable. We were close enough now that I thought it could work, if that witch didn't break him before then. If she didn't leave him completely repulsed by the thought of being touched by anyone.
I was heading for Rhys's chambers with my wraith escorts, lost in my worries for him, when abruptly the shadows veiling us darkened dramatically, jolting me back to reality as I was pulled into a hidden alcove. A hand was clapped over my mouth but before I could panic, the scent of jasmine washed over me and the tension leached from my body. Home, the wraiths smelled like home.
Reassured that I was being protected and not attacked, I became aware of a conversation happening on the other side of the tapestry that concealed us.
I listened to the Attor promising the High Lords' armies to Hybern and fear momentarily paralyzed me. That was what would happen if I didn't succeed here.
I tried to imagine a future where Hybern arrived to find the combined Prythian armies waiting not to fight against him but to serve him, however unwillingly, under Amarantha's rule. The mortal lands wouldn't stand a chance. They wouldn't even know it was coming.
The conversation continued, but I didn't hear it. I had to succeed. I had to. If I had to tell Rhys everything, that risk was better than failure. I vowed to do exactly that, if worse came to worst.
We waited in hiding until long after the hall was empty before the wraiths' shadows relaxed into their normal darkness and the tapestry vanished. I didn't speak, just gestured for them to continue, and they proceeded with the evening's preparations in unflappable silence.
But when Rhys arrived, I turned to face him even though my makeup wasn't quite finished. We're running out of time, I told him, and nodded at the wraiths.
He glanced between Nuala and Cerridwen and I knew they were sharing the earlier conversation with him, possibly even letting him experience it through their eyes. It took only seconds, and then they spoke, one after the other.
"She was afraid."
"But then she was resolved."
Rhys raised his brows. I don't think he'd expected them to vouch for me. That they did it out loud, so I would know what they said, was practically a public declaration of loyalty. Without another word, they quickly finished my make-up and left.
"It seems you've made more unlikely allies," he murmured, studying me with interest. "Most people find them—unsettling."
I bared my teeth at him. Us monsters have to stick together.
He gave me a small, tired smile that I found more alarming than reassuring. Once he would have responded to my taunt in kind. Save that enthusiasm for the war, he said at last, and I felt the weight behind his words. Rhys was spreading himself thin, not just to survive Amarantha, but in preparation for what came next.
One battle at a time, love, I whispered gently down the bond, hastily strangling off the last word. An echo of it may have gotten through, because his eyes widened. I slid off my stool and headed smoothly for the door, keeping my breathing slow and even, and willing my heart not to race.
He still reached the door first holding it open for me. I didn't look at him as I swept through and began the icy trek to the throne room. He said nothing as he fell into step beside me and for once I was grateful for his exhaustion, if it kept him from pushing the matter.
But as we walked those silent empty halls, his right hand slid around the tattooed fingers of my left, warming them with a gentle squeeze.
A few uneventful days later, as Nuala and Cerridwen were preparing me for another endless night, I was deep in thought and didn't hear Rhys slip in behind me.
"A thought for a thought?" Velvet and midnight words brushed against my ear and a shudder rippled down my back. My head lolled back on my shoulders before I snapped my spine straight and twisted around to glare daggers at Rhys. Starlight danced in his eyes and I knew he could sense every bit of the reaction that had rocked my body.
You. Are. The worst.
"Ah, so you were thinking about me," he said with a smirk, sprawling nonchalantly in the chair across from me. I eyed him. He looked more rested than he had in a while. Perhaps his attempts to assuage Amarantha's jealousy were working.
I huffed. I was thinking about the future. I started to fold my arms across my chest and then realized the obscene things that did to the flimsy strips of fabric that made up the front of my dress. I settled for twisting my fingers together in my lap.
"Ah yes, the future you'll spend with dear Tamlin." He paused, flicking a piece of invisible dirt from his sleeve. "And myself, of course. Oh my, what will people think?" He leered at me.
I pursed my lips. He was trying to rile me with his insinuations, but I knew the game we were playing as well as he did. You know what they're going to think. You're Amarantha's Whore. I saw his expression shutter, even though my tone hadn't been accusatory. And you've made me into your harlot. You know exactly what they're going to think.
Cauldron, I hadn't meant to snap at him. We were both being pushed to our limits. I stood and faced him, placing my hands gently on his shoulders and waiting until he looked up at me. Let them think what they want. The only people that matter know the truth. He was still beneath my touch. They were his own words, words he hadn't given me yet.
After a moment, I tilted my head inquiringly. A thought for a thought?
He exhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. The bond rippled between us. I felt the moment he opened to me, at last admitting the truth to himself.
He stood, cupping my chin in his hands. I felt like I was drowning in the depths of his violet eyes. I was thinking that you're wasted on Tamlin. Were you High Fae, you would be the best of us.
My breath caught in my throat and I struggled to remember that I was human Feyre and not High Lady Feyre. You hardly know me.
I know enough. I felt his dark claws caressing the walls of my mind. Not a threat, but a reminder nonetheless of how easily he could find out anything he wanted.
I broke free of his grip, both physical and mental. Dancing back a few steps, a wicked grin curled my lips as I drew an invisible line in the air. Mark this day. The High Lord of the Night Court said I, a mere human, was better than him.
He laughed, a quiet laugh but real, and I was lost again, watching the candlelight flicker over the lines of his neck, his lips, the corners of his eyes that were wrinkled in mirth.
His joyful expression faded too soon. "Your third task is tomorrow," he said casually, watching me.
I hadn't been worried about the second task. I wasn't worried, per se, about the third one. But I fumbled for my chair before my knees could buckle beneath me.
No, I wasn't worried. What I was feeling was dread. The faces of the two fairies I had killed—would kill—flashed before my eyes and I dismissed the images hastily, lest Rhys pick up on them.
He slid forward to kneel before me, gathering my trembling hands in his. You can do this, his voice whispered to me. One last task, and it's done.
I lifted my chin and met his eyes evenly. I know I can. And I'll finish it if it's the last thing I do. I tried to make my mental voice strong and determined, but it still wobbled a bit.
Sparks flashed in Rhys's dark violet gaze. "Don't say that," he growled. "Humans have such short lives, but you're going to live out every last decade of yours. If I have to come up with ridiculous bargains for every other week of your life, you're going to live."
I blinked, my heart skipping a beat. He'd been thinking about it, I realized. About what it might be like to have a life after this, to once again spend time with friends and loved ones. To spend time with me. Rhys …
He pulled me close, leaned his forehead against mine. One more day. His mental voice washed over me, warming me. Tomorrow at this time, we'll be celebrating.
I breathed deeply, inhaling citrus and the sea. I wanted to hold that familiar aroma inside forever, but I forced my breathing to remain slow and steady, and focused on bringing any scraps of hope and stubbornness and reassurance that I had left to the forefront of my mind. First we have to get through tonight. Inside, I was quaking, but I couldn't let him see that.
He nodded and stood, drawing me to my feet along with him. "One last dance," he purred, offering me his arm.
I blushed at the insinuation and then narrowed my eyes at him. Promise? I asked with saccharine sweetness. Amusement, muted but still there, danced in his eyes.
Then I steeled myself for what was to come. Rhys didn't know it, but tonight was going to be awful in its own way.
As we entered the throne room, he dismissed me to wait for him as usual, as if tonight was no different from any other night and not the last time we'd ever be playing this game. I went to stand in my usual place along the wall. No one looked at me. Not many looked at Rhys, though they edged away subtly as he passed. I lost sight of him through the crowd. My eyes darted to Amarantha's throne. She was also off somewhere mingling. I focused on my breathing, on keeping my heart from racing and giving me away.
I hated this part most, I decided. The waiting. When I knew what was coming, but could only wait for it to happen. Wondering if it would happen or if I had managed to mess everything up. I realized I was nibbling on my lower lip and stopped, smoothing my features into a blank mask.
Then I sensed him. A presence sidling up next to me, with a silence as intense as an approaching storm. I couldn't move. The smell of rain and earth washed over me and I swallowed thickly.
Tamlin's fingers touched mine.
I felt as if I was made of stone. Move, I begged my body. Move.
My fingers twitched against his.
It was enough. He strolled away through the crowd, subtly glancing over his shoulder to see if I followed. I took half a step forward and that was all the indication he needed. He continued on his way, not looking back again. My eyes jumped ahead to the tapestry and the small door mostly out of sight behind it.
I began to make my way around the room. I didn't have to keep an eye on Tamlin since I already knew where he was heading. I scooped up a goblet of wine as I passed the banquet table, pretending to sip it as I wandered around the edges of the room.
The tapestry loomed before me, the door behind it opening silently, just enough for me to slip through.
Inside—darkness. I had long grown comfortable with the dark. It was as much a part of me as all the other abilities I had inherited from the High Lords. I had learned how to wield it and how to read it. This darkness was fraught with secrets. Heavy with expectation. Oppressively waiting.
Then Tamlin was on me. His lips devoured mine, his hands were everywhere. I flung my arms around his neck as the momentum of his lunge left us staggering drunkenly around the little alcove and was surprised to find the goblet still clutched in one of my hands. He bit my neck and I gasped, then ground my teeth as he squeezed one of my breasts, hard.
Play the role, I told myself. If Rhys can do this every night for years, you can do it one time. I reached for his belt buckle and tugged. He slid forward, pressing me against the wall and grinding against me. Lightning shot through me and I writhed in his grip.
No.
No, I didn't want this.
Someone coughed and Tamlin froze. Rhys. I slumped in relief, glad that in the dark it would look enough like disappointment that no one would notice.
"Shameful," Rhys purred, prowling toward us out of the darkness. "Just shameful. Look at what you've done to my pet," he tutted, his eyes trailing over me. I squirmed against Tamlin's grip, aware of the mess of paint and disheveled fabric that was all that remained of my flimsy outfit.
Then he looked at Tamlin, and his eyes were chips of cold, cruel crystal. "Amarantha would be greatly aggrieved if she knew her little warrior was dallying with the human help," he continued, his voice soft and deadly. "I wonder how she'd punish you. Or perhaps she'd stay true to habit and punish Lucien. He still has one eye to lose, after all. Maybe she'll put it in a ring, too."
Tamlin released me with agonizing slowness, but I stayed pressed against the wall, trying to keep my knees from buckling. I watched as Tamlin straightened his clothes and I silently reached for the comfort of my bond with Rhys. It was—dim.
My eyes shot to Rhys, but he wasn't looking at me, still marking Tamlin with that punishing glare. "Enjoy the party," he crooned, and I glanced back to see Tamlin looking completely unruffled, as if he hadn't been about to ravish me moments before. Even the smears of paint had vanished, courtesy of Rhys.
Tamlin met my eyes as he turned to leave. "I love you," he said, to my horror. I could only stare at him, until the light from the door briefly blinded me and I had to look away. At Rhys.
His expression hadn't changed, and a chill rippled down my back to have that deadly gaze turned upon me. I plucked at the bond, but he had withdrawn, walled himself off from me completely.
He chuckled darkly. "You almost had me fooled, Feyre darling." I froze as he sauntered closer, his hands tucked into his pockets. "I knew there was something off in your pretty little head tonight. You didn't have to pretend, you know. I would have helped you even if you really wanted—that." He gestured after Tamlin, disgust dripping from his words.
I felt like he was driving a spike into my heart with every word, but an instant later rage enveloped me.
I pushed off the wall and in the same motion I swung my arm and slapped him as hard as I could. I used my left arm, my less dominant arm, slightly weaker but I wanted to hit him with those tattoos he was so proud of. And I might have been a weak human, but I had still learned to punch from Cassian. He actually staggered back a step, shock twisting his expression.
I took a long drink from my goblet, swirling the wine in my mouth to clear the taste of Tamlin from my tongue. Then I spat on the ground and tossed the goblet aside so that it clattered into the darkness. Rhys had watched my actions with increasing confusion and before he could recover I threw myself at him.
My arms banded around his waist and I buried my face in his chest, breathing him in until the scent of spring was completely drowned out. His hands went to my shoulders as he steadied the both of us and I looked up at him. His eyes were wide and startled and I at last felt a tentative touch tremble along the bond.
Kiss me, I begged, pushing myself up on my toes in an effort to reach him. His hands flexed on my shoulders and then he swiftly closed the gap between us.
It wasn't a gentle kiss. I could feel his anger, his sense of betrayal, as his tongue plunged into my mouth possessively. My hands fisted in his silky hair as I arched against him, forgetting everything in that moment except my need to be close to him, closer—
More, I begged silently, and he froze.
I drew back in confusion, only then realizing the room had been flooded with light. My head whipped to the side to see Amarantha and Tamlin, a crowd of High Fae peeking around behind them.
I had known what was coming, but I had still managed to completely lose myself in that one moment with Rhys. My face flushed and I realized I was still wrapped around him. It was very obvious that I had been a willing participant in what we had been doing.
I tried to pull away, to straighten the bits of fabric that I could, but Rhys had an iron grip on my arm before I could get very far. He was watching Amarantha with a self-satisfied smirk.
"Well, well," she drawled. "We all suspected, but how long has this been going on, Rhysand?" He merely gave her a lazy shrug, but she had already turned away, patting Tamlin's arm as she glared at me. "Typical human trash with their inconsistent, dull hearts."
She led her entourage away from the door and Rhys followed, dragging me by the arm.
In the brilliant light of the throne room, I looked—exactly like the harlot they expected me to be. My paint was a smeared mess and my dress was twisted until it concealed next to nothing. Rhys's hands were covered in paint as well, even some on his neck from when I had clung to him. If he hadn't been wearing his signature black suit, he would have been as much of a mess as I was.
Rhys thrust me away and I stumbled, trying to cover myself. "I'm tired of you for tonight," he said boredly, already turning away to follow Amarantha. "Go back to your cell." I bowed my head and hurried from the room as if broken with shame.
Once safely in my cell, I curled into a ball on my thin pallet and waited. The memory of Tamlin's hands on me made me feel dirty, but it was Rhys's rage-filled kiss that bothered me more. How could he possibly believe I had betrayed him?
But there was no more time for plotting and planning and second-guessing. All I could do was wait for him to come to me.
