Really long chapter (making up for the last one.), feel free to take breaks, but please return :)
"Shit, Shit, Shit, Shit," Feyre muttered under her breath, furiously stalking down the hallways. Her hands pressed to her ears, trying to block out the world so she could just think.
'Feyre.' her mate's voice sounded in her heart, firm and strong. Feyre didn't respond, she had to figure this out on her own. No matter how much Rhys begged she wouldn't leave until her job was done.
'Feyre, please, are you okay?' She lowered her hands from her ears, and breathed in and out, her heart slowing from its rapid pace. It seemed Rhysand hadn't remembered either.
'I'm fine Rhysand.' she said, trying to sound as convincing as possible.
'It didn't feel like that.' he replied, his voice laced with intensity that promised to destroy anyone who hurt her.
Something in her squirmed at lying to him like this, but Feyre knew if he realized what she was so panicked about he would come immediately to take her home. 'I'm fine, really, I just got surprised.' she insisted, checking her mental shields, then blocking him out completely.
20 Minutes Earlier
Feyre returned to her room, her heart still rapid from the anxiety her spying caused her. For the last hours she had sat by the window in the hallway, violating the minds of anyone who passed, searching through their thoughts and memories for a solution- a warning. She tried not to invade their thoughts too much, and she would only brush against the consciousness of the servants. Not only was she drained, she felt filthy, she would stumble upon the most private of thoughts and memories, things she knew, if she desired, she could destroy them with. Feyre never realized how obscene the mind was, until she went sneaking around in others, she tried not to judge people for the things they had thought. In the end, she just wanted to take a bath and sleep.
Feyre clicked the door shut behind her, afraid if she was loud someone would come and disturb her peace. She sat on her bed, trying to untie and pull off her boots as quickly as possible. She pulled her foot from her shoe, finally feeling relaxed, and very optimistic about the upcoming hours. She reached down to start on the tie of the next boot, there was a knock on the door and she jolted up. Feyre knew whose knock it was, more of a pound really, it was the last sound she wanted to hear now.
Tamlin didn't wait for her to reply before swinging the door open, she ground her teeth at this, but put on a fake smile.
"Hello Feyre." he said sweetly, something in her stomach churned.
Feyre looked into his eyes, trying to mimic his ignorant sweetness. She was still determined to have her night of relaxation, "Tam, can we talk later? I'm tired and I want to take a bath."
Tam's smile grew broad enough to show his fangs, he took two delicate steps forward grabbing her hand from the sheets. "Maybe I can join you?" he suggested, lifting her hand to his lips. She wanted to snatch it away, but she swallowed the bile that stung her throat and allowed him to plant a kiss on her knuckles.
"What did you come here for, Tam?" Feyre said avoiding the question completely. He lowered her hand from his mouth
Tamlin's pale eyebrows scrunched together, "Am I not allowed to visit you?"
He needs to think you still love him, she reminded herself, she didn't want Celaena to have to come rescue her again. She raised his hand to her lips, lightly brushing her lips on his fingers, Feyre tried the immerse herself in the mind of human her, the one who had been blindly in love with him, the man who had pulled her from poverty's prison just to throw her into another.
Surrendering fully to the role, she stood from the bed still wearing only one boot, and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in him. Feyre held her breath, but after five seconds she couldn't stand it anymore. She pulled away, falling back onto the bed, "I'm sorry Tam, I'm really tired, and I'm sure you have work to do."
His smile faded and he looked at her, then the ground, then back at her, "That's fine, and you're right I have work to attend to."
"And" he whispered, bracing his arms around her, leaning close. His lips brushed against her cheekbone and she shuddered, "You'll need your strength for tomorrow."
All thoughts left her mind, all repulse of his lips on her skin and his scent on her body vanished.
"What's tomorrow?" she asked blandly, forgetting her role. He pulled away, standing to his full height, his eyebrows knitted together and his lips pursed.
"Oh, you probably don't remember what time of year it is," Feyre gave him a puzzled expression, crossing her legs, "on account of being trapped in that hell hole." he helpfully clarified.
"Tam-"
He smiled sadly at her, it slowly stretched into an excited grin, "It's Fire Night tomorrow," Her heart stopped, "Calanmai."
Feyre's mouth fell open slightly, she said nothing, she just stared at the air, at the darkness that hung in the room.
"Feyre?" he asked, a hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face.
She rolled over in the bed, pulling to covers over her head, biting down on her hand to keep from screaming, not letting the fact that it would be Calanmai in only a few hours sink in. "Good Night, Tam." she said, her voice hoarse. She waited for him to walk away, closing her door behind him, and listened to his footsteps fade down the hallway. Feyre abruptly stood from the bed, clutching her hands to her head, she needed to think, she needed to pace. She stormed from the room not knowing where she was going, but every time she smelled Tamlin's scent, she went the opposite way.
Before Feyre knew it she was in front of Celaena's door, she reached for the handle. Celaena was the only person who Feyre thought she could talk to, she was neutral enough that she wouldn't murder Tamlin or insist that Feyre return home, but hated Tamlin enough that she would sympathize with Feyre- and not rat her out. Feyre pulled her hand away, it was weak to have to rely on Celaena, and even though she trusted her, she had no reason to be loyal to Feyre. Plus, the girl- woman had obviously been through hell, even if she would not tell Feyre much about it, and it would be selfish to weigh her down with Feyre's own problems. She turned to walk the other way, but the door swung open, revealing Celaena in a light blue robe, her golden hair damp, she wasn't wearing her bandages and her wounds were visible. Feyre had forgotten how horrific they were, jagged, some of them just patches of missing or torn skin. Even though she had been here for a week or so they were still bleeding.
"What are you doing out here?"Celaena asked pulling the robe closer around her feeble frame, she had gained some fat but was still underweight, her knees and elbows sharp points. Feyre didn't answer her, "It sounded like you were hyperventilating."
Feyre looked into Celaena's eyes, and for the first time noticed the golden ring that surrounded her pupil. Celaena ran her eyes over Feyre, the golden ring flaring- flaring like fire, fire, fire night- Calanmai. Calanmai was tomorrow. Her breath once again became rapid, she brought her hands to her mouth, trying to stop herself from panicking.
Celaena took a step towards her, "Are you okay, Feyre?" Feyre looked at the ground immersing herself in all the things that could happen tomorrow, for the second time that night bile stung her throat. It felt like she was trapped in here again, but this time she had trapped herself.
"No" she croaked.
Celaena look at her for a second before stepping aside, "Come in."
Feyre nodded gratefully and stepped into the room, Celaena closing the door behind them. She guided Feyre to the bed, sitting down beside her, "What happened?"
Feyre opened her mouth but closed it again, pursing her lips. Then she began slowly and as calmly as possible, "I don't suppose you have Fire Night in your world?"
"No," she said matter of factly "sounds fun though." Feyre had a clear flashback to the day Celaena had shown her her fire, of course it would sound fun to her.
"What is it?" Celaena inquired.
"It's to celebrate the coming of spring, you know, to help the crops grow and stuff." she explained, holding off before dropping the bomb.
"Oh!" Celaena exclaimed, her head snapping to Feyre, "We do have something like that, it's called Beltane. It's pretty fun, giant fires, dancing... music." she said dreamily.
Something about Celaena's casual optimism broke the dam in Feyre, "Yes, well, does your 'Beltane' include a possessed Highlord who runs around, grabs what ever maiden he pleases and fucks her" she waved her hands mysteriously, "to release the magic that will help the crops grow?" she asked aggressively.
There was a stunned silence, where Feyre turned to look at Celaena, regretting her harsh tone.
"Damn," Celaena said, her mouth ajar, "no, we do not have that."
Feyre mumbled under her breath, "Well, lucky you."
"That's barbaric." she whispered, staring out the window.
"Aren't Fae in your world barbaric?" Feyre questioned dully.
Celaena thought a moment before answering, "To some extent, biting, making big deals about scent, and just being possessive and territorial but.." she paused, "As far as I know the don't have massive orgies to help crops grow."
Feyre said nothing, not even acknowledging her answer. Celaena returned her sympathetic gaze to her, "When is this 'Fire Night'?"
She sighed, "It's also called Calanmai, and it's tomorrow."
Celaena nodded and watched her, probably waiting for her to explode again, "You're worried that Tamlin will choose you?"
Feyre chuckled darkly, "There is a 90% chance that he will choose me, it's not random, it's whoever he is drawn to the most," she turned to look at Celaena, "and if you haven't noticed, he kind of likes me."
Celaena's face turned darker, less sympathetic and pitying and more business like, "So, what are you going to do about it?"
She met Celaena's cold eyes, "I'll deal with it."
Celaena raised an eyebrow, "Are you going to tell me how?"
"No." Feyre stated, looking away.
She saw Celaena grin, her eyes becoming unfocused, like she was remembering something, "Well, tell me if you need my help."
Feyre nodded. Already thinking through her plan, she would get dressed up, she would go to the fires, put on an air of enjoyment, she would wait for sex crazed Tamlin to approach her, and them she would infiltrate his mind directing him to the nearest doe eyed maiden who was just dying for him to choose them. She had never dared go into Tam's mind before, having brushed up against it a few times she knew it to be expertly protected. Feyre may be able to brutally brake in, but slipping in without being noticed was an impossible task. She prayed with him being possessed by the spirits he would be more vulnerable.
"I need to get dressed," Celaena said, then she looked at the blood that had dripped from her wounds, now staining the crisp white sheets, "and reapply my bandages." she sighed.
Feyre examined the blood and her open wounds, then stood up, "I'll send a servant to help you with that on my way to the room."
She smiled gratefully at Feyre, who turned and left.
Aelin woke up with a pounding headache, she had developed the habit of drowning herself in wine before going to sleep, she still woke up covered in sweat, screaming, and having to run to the bathroom to throw up (from the nightmares or the excessive alcohol, she did not know.), but it helped a little. There was a knock on the door, and a male's voice called in, laced with something that bordered on embarrassment, "Um, may I come in, please?"
"Yeah, sure." she groaned into her pillow.
The door opened, and Aelin rolled over onto her elbows to see who it was, Lucien stood there, his non mechanical eye slightly wide, "I can come back later if you want."
Aelin chuckled under breath, "Do I look that shit?"
Lucien's mouth twitched upwards, "Yes."
She sighed in mock hurt and looked away defiantly, "What do you want?"
"Just to tell you that you will be expected to stay in your room tonight, we are having a celebration for spring. And it can get dangerous, especially for a mortal woman."
"Fine." she said blandly, she had no desire to attend their orgy anyway.
Feyre looked out the window, the sun was already setting, and in the fields below she could see servants throwing wood into giant piles. The manor was hectic, everyone had a job to do, except her. She was expected to stay out of the way, until the celebration came, where she would have to look pretty so Tamlin could take her into a cave and fuck her- well, not if she could help it. There was already a dress laid out on the bed, along with matching jewelry and shoes. All the servants were occupied, so she would have to get ready alone, not that she minded. The dress was frilly and very unpractical. Pastel green with yellow accents, Tamlin's favorite colors and perfect for spring Ianthe had said. She dried off her hair, that was freshly wet from her bath, and pulled on the dress. She put on one necklace, discarding the other pieces. For what seemed like an eternity she tried to do something with her hair, but in the end gave up and left it loose. She sat on the bed, going over her plan, trying to think of different tactics she could use to get into Tamlin's heavily guarded mind.
The sun had disappeared behind the hills, glowing rays still shooting into the sky, when the knock sounded at the door. Feyre stood up quickly, looking away from the fae who were already gathering around the lit fires, trying to look as content as possible. Ianthe appeared in the doorway, she gave her a sweep of the eyes, "You look good." she decided, stepping in.
Feyre tried and failed to smile, Ianthe pursed her lips and dragged her out by the eyebrow.
"You won't see Tamlin until later, he's busy with... preparations." she said as they walked down the hall. Feyre only nodded in response. She was led out the doors into the green fields where she was instantly bombarded with fae who wished nothing more than her to recount her time with the Night Court, or 'the monsters' as they liked to call them. Feyre let Ianthe do the talking, she was too preoccupied with keeping her fist from their faces.
Feyre had pushed around the sweaty crowds for hours by now, all she wanted to think of was Rhysand, and how they had first met here, but thoughts of Tamlin kept intruding. She hadn't seen him, or even scented him the whole night, this should have been relieving but it only made her more anxious. She dare not hope that he had found some other poor soul to perform the great rite with.
Aelin sat staring at the fires from her room, discarded book in hand. Her window was open, letting the faint smell of smoke in. Watching the dancing flames was peaceful, comforting even. It reminded her their was one thing she could control, well unless she was encased and chained in iron. The temptation to reassure was so strong she had risked shifting into her fae form, and making the flames dance to the soft music that floated through the window. Not only that, it reminded her of the time everything had drastically changed with Rowan, before Beltane Rowan's and her relationship had consisted of four things: Snarling, name calling, kicking, and punching. And in the space of several painful hours they had gone from that to them sharing a bed, him fussing over her and insisting she drink stew, her telling him her tragic life story, and him even buying her a birthday present. She smiled sadly at the memories, fiddling with the bandages on her hands. Suddenly she wasn't so afraid of the nightmares sleep would bring her, Aelin glanced at the still full bottle of wine on her bedside table. She had asked a servant to bring it up earlier, planning to drink until she passed out on the bed.
Aelin was tired, and wanted to go to bed, she stared blandly at the bottle and decided she would not use it tonight, a decision, that her conscious helpfully reminded her, she would undoubtedly regret later on.
The air around Aelin sucked up all the light in the world and all the light in her, she was back in her own customized hell. There was the familiar creak of hinges, filling her with dread, she wanted to move, to run, to fight, but could not find the strength. A glowing square of mocking firelight emerged as the door was opened, a figure stood there, tall and broad shouldered. Her eyes adjusted to light, and her breath caught as she shuddered. A harsh face, with a glint in the eyes that was what nightmares were made of, blue eyes, brown hair- Cairn.
Aelin didn't dare breathe, it's a dream, she told herself, just a dream, get up and walk away. She tried to move her legs but she couldn't, Cairn slowly smiled, he could smell her terror. He stepped forward savoring each step. His finger gently trailed up her arm which was splayed out on the freezing iron.
A dream, A dream.
She screwed her eyes shut, begging for mercy.
A dream, only a dream, wake up.
And then all at once, it changed, the hard iron turned to soft sheets, and she could hear the distant sound of music and laughter. Utter bliss rushed through her veins, she had survived, she had conquered-
Then it all drained from her when she felt the hot breath whisper into her ear. Aelin swallowed, refusing to open her eyes, she knew this was no dream.
The mattress shifted under the full weight of the newcomer and all remaining hope that the presence would vanish left her. A calloused hand brushed the exposed skin on her hip, Aelin tried to move, but she could not, she just lied there, useless.
A hand braced by her head, and one that held tightly to her waist, though she hadn't opened her eyes she could sense as the figure moved their head down. Their scent attacking and invading hers, cut grass and spring flowers.
Fight. Fight. Fight. A voice chanted in her mind, Aelin reached in the depths of herself for her flame but found none of it, found no trace. She had to shift, she needed to shift. A shudder racked her broken frame as a pair of hot lips were pressed to her neck. Shift. Rowan's voice commanded in her head. But she couldn't she was trapped in her useless mortal body. Fangs pricked her skin and she hurled all her panic at anything and everything inside her, nothing came from it. Nothing was there to help her, as the fangs sank further into her flesh, or when they slid out, the soft lips returning, kissing the puncture holes and making their way to her quivering lips.
Once again Aelin was alone.
So she had to do what she always did, save herself.
Aelin gathered all her remaining courage, and opened her eyes, it was not Cairn's muddy brown hair that stuck to her sweat drenched skin, it was strands of blond.
"Get off me!" she snarled, attempting to yank her hand away. Strong fingers wrapped around her wrist pushing it back to the bed. The figure, who lied half on her, raised their head, and she stared right into the unfocused leaf green eyes of her attacker- Tamlin.
All the fear in Aelin's body was replaced by rage, she tore her arm from his grasp, and swung, aiming to hit in the cheek. But with his fae speed and strength he had a considerable advantage, he moved out of the way, Aelin's fist barely brushing his jaw. Remembering the bottle of unopened wine she blindly reached to her dresser, fumbling briefly before grabbing it by the top, and bringing it down directly on Tamlin's head. Wine and glass went everywhere, it covered Aelin, looking like she had freshly killed ten people and mopped the mess up with her night shirt. She scrambled off the bed leaving Tamlin doubled over in pain, gripping his head with both hands- hands that began to grow thick brown hair, claws that sprouted from his fingertips. He growled ferociously twisting towards her, his now lupine eyes shining in the firelight.
"You are mine." He snarled, at Aelin as she backed away, half broken bottle clutched in her white knuckled hands.
"And," Beast-Tamlin began standing from the bed, slowly staking over to her,"You will perform the great rite with me."
Aelin looked in his eyes, held them, bearing the jagged glass bottle in front of her. He glanced down at it, and she jutted it out, grazing his abdominal, before hurtling herself at the dresser. He spun on his heels towards her, the scrape on his stomach had only aggravated the beast more. Aelin stood on her tiptoes, and with a defiant smile reached behind her with both hands, grabbing the decorative swords that hung there, they were dull, heavy, and uncomfortable to hold, but they would do. She held one to his neck, and one to his chest, debating whether or not to kill him. Aelin wanted to, but these types of things had a way of stabbing her in the back. Sometimes literally. She didn't have much time to consider before Tamlin lunged at her, and out of instinct she stabbed and swung. Stabbed him right in the shoulder, and sliced him across the leg. He fell to the ground, growling and snarling like the beast he was. Aelin stepped around his thrashing form like a piece of furniture, and ran from the room.
AHHH, I'm pretty happy with this. I hope it wasn't too long and that people just couldn't be bothered to read it...
The problem is with you guys giving suggestions is that some people know whats going to happen, but your guys' suggestions were just so great! AHHHHH!