A hearty laugh bellowed from the kitchen catching my attention, the savory smells of bacon and eggs igniting my senses as a breeze carried the culinary spices through the open rustic archway of the kitchenette and down the hallway. I was back home in my room, dressed in my favorite winter clothes. Knee-high black boots fit snugly around the black leather pants that adorned my tone curvy thighs. A strapless obsidian tunic covered my torso, decorated with leather binds that sheathed my favorite knives. Finally, my favorite black hooded cloak rested gently across my shoulders, lined with the softest dark gray fur. My boots softly tapped against the walnut floor as I quietly made my way to the kitchen, stopping at the entrance. I leaned against the wooden doorframe, watching as Aleksander finished up breakfast, hunched over the stove wearing his usual navy blue apron, his hair pulled back revealing his pointed ears. The outside breeze gently blew through the open french doors wafting smells of pine and wood throughout the house.

A smile danced across my lips, "Good Morning, Aleks."

He looked back over his shoulder, his perfect smile brightening the room, "You're up early! I didn't wake you, did I? Mom and Dad are outside on the deck already if you're looking for them."

There was a purity that sparkled in his luminous virid eyes as he looked at me. He had always been the gentle one out of the two of us, finding a way to love all people and things around him. Just outside the patio doors I could see our parent's silhouettes nestled up with one another beside a fire. My mother's head rested on my father's shoulder as they watched the sun ascend over the scintillating plateau, painting the snowy scapes a lavender hue. Their hair was as icy as the frosted canvas that shimmered before them. I looked back at Aleksander who had finished plating our meals, a bead of sweat falling from his brow, gliding down his perfectly porcelain skin as he approached me. Just as I reached for a dish, he dropped it, letting it cascade down before it shattered across the wooden floor. A painfully familiar yelp ripped through the air as he fell to his knees. His pleading eyes full of fear, their warm glow fading right before me as I stood helplessly looking back at him. I tried to reach for him but a chasm ripped through the ground between us, pulling me away into a familiar darkened abyss as shadows swallowed the room, leaving only Aleks' muted green eyes.

My body jerked awake, springing me up from the cold, hard bed beneath me as my joints ached. I scanned the room for anything out of place, paying no mind to the sweat that dampened the bloodstained clothes clinging to my skin. The empty room felt lonelier than usual…void of any hope that I'd see my family again… any purpose to carry on. Amarantha got what she wanted… I could feel the pieces breaking apart inside of me, collapsing down upon one another as my will faded.

Faint movement in the corner of the room caught my eye, a stygian shade that made even the demons of the night flee in fear. I shifted on the bed, positioning myself in a way that I could defend against an attack from whatever loomed closer, aware of the lack of chains holding me at bay as the unwanted guest emerged from the shadows. The figure let out a low growl, "Now, let's not do something you'll regret."

My face contorted into a scowl as a pair of violet eyes glistened amidst the dimly lit room. Rhysand. He stepped out into the center of my cell, dressed in a sleek obsidian outfit that lacked color outside of the embroidered golden silk that danced along his neckline, the material accentuating his broad muscular frame. It was impossible not to notice that the black threads of his clothes were unique, a deeper color than most… like a starless sky… The Night Court. I sighed, "Why are you here?"

The darkness that had shrouded my vision in the throne room… tainted my dreams… It was him. He nodded seemingly in response to my train of thought. His smugness triggered me, causing me to close off my mind, throwing out whatever laid dormant within. I spat, "Get out."

I waited for a reaction and was met with silence. Rhysand's eyes dimmed, leaving no sign of empathy or pain for what I'd been through… what he'd witnessed. I scoffed, "So did you come here to just stare at me? Do you enjoy seeing me covered in my own brother's blood? I suppose this is what you wanted, wasn't it?"

His eyes narrowed on me, taken back by my anger, "You think I chose-"

"You sat aside and watched as she did. You and everyone else in that room. For years, you've listened to her…. Following her every order, prying at the depths of my mind with no remorse. I was as much of a toy for your entertainment as hers."

The shadows swirled around the room, rising like the tide as I continued, "You enjoyed making me miserable, didn't you? I'm disappointed. At least Amarantha knows what she is… but you? You probably write off your misdeeds as her own, which makes you worse. Blind to your own faults."

The hall light casted shadows along his sharp features, highlighting the muscles in his jaw as they feathered beneath his skin, "I'm sorry."

Annoyance flared up inside of me as I hissed, "That's all the mighty Highlord of the Night Court has to say? Are those even your own words or just another ploy from your mistress to get on my good side? Let's not pretend we don't know what they say about you."

His body went rigid as his fists clenched, wicked rage brewing in his eyes, "Remind me… what might that be?"

"That you're nothing but Amarantha's whore."

The final word cracked through the air like a lightning bolt, stunning him as he stood in silence. The shadows began enveloping him as he took a deep breath before a sigh escaped his lips, "You're right… Maybe Aleksander should be the one still alive."

I winced at his name, not remembering what it sounded like to hear it spoken outside of my own mind… he knows. Without another word he disappeared from sight, leaving me alone with my grief. I may have lost Aleksander, but with his death a new fire ignited inside of me… one day they'd pay. One day I'd hunt down every fae that stood aside while Amarantha took the life of an innocent man.

I shivered as a water-soaked cloth scraped against my sensitive skin. The rag further irritated my wounds as it dabbed and dragged across the raw patches. A timid frail fae with peach skin and lilac hair spun up in braids that draped down her shoulders kneeled beside the tub, sullenly watching as I flinched beneath her delicate touch. Once a week Amarantha would graciously reward me with a bath and clean clothes, although it was obvious that the glacier cold ice bath was just another form of her twisted torture.

The two of us sat quietly inside a small room that had two guards stationed outside of a thick black iron door. The walls were decorated with what was left of a royal red wallpaper torn apart by the occupants that had been kept in cages similar to mine. The tub I'd sat in was a faded bronze, scuffed by the thrashing claws of the creatures that fought to escape their icy punishment.

Since I'd been brought Under the Mountain, they had always assigned the same girl to tend to me but she'd never said a word. She'd always pause when she'd clean my face, her somber eyes were pools of honey that carefully scanned my body, searching for every inch of dirt or blood that needed to be washed away. Today she looked at me differently… more apologetically. My brow raised, silently questioning her pity. After a moment she spoke, her voice soothing me like an angelic hymn, "I heard about what happened…"

Her gaze dropped to my hands that waded in the water, bound by the silver shackles that stripped me of my strength, "I didn't believe what they said until I saw your eyes… they lost their depth of blue…leaving only a pale gray…"

I leaned my back against the cool tub, tilting my gaze up to the jagged stone roof, "I've wondered what they looked like. I don't remember the last time I saw myself… My family." My voice caught in my throat, jarred by the honesty and unfiltered thoughts that had escaped my lips. This was the first time I'd mentioned them since the King of Hybern showed up on our doorstep that night. Swallowing my nerves I continued, "Our eyes change relative to our strength…our will."

She looked at me directly for the first time, eyes full of sorrow, "They're beautiful."

It was impossible to hide the smile that tugged at the corner of my lips, she had been the first person to look at me… to see me as more than a prisoner. She showed me empathy despite being just as helpless as I was, a slave to her captors. I smiled softly, "Thank you… You should have seen my brother's… they were a beautiful green that gleamed like an iridescent emerald basking in the sunlight."

She reached over and unplugged the tub drain, draping a frayed towel over the stool next to her. She looked back at me with a smile, "I can tell you loved him… would you mind telling me more?"

I weakly emerged from the bath feeling the weight of the pain that slowed my joints as my frozen limbs groaned, awkwardly bending over to grab the weathered towel. I continued, "He was bright… Full of happiness and hope. He and I were both so different. He liked cooking, while I preferred hunting… He'd listen, while I argued. There wasn't a soul alive that loved as deeply as he did."

Her eyes glimmered as she listened to my story until suddenly her tender face went pale, slowly creeping backwards toward the exit. The room grew oddly suffocating and my grip tightened around the towel that encircled me. Swallowing the lump in my throat I pivoted on my heel. My eyes were met with a chilling stare that hung too close for comfort. Standing within arm's reach I could see that he was about a head taller than me, the smell of citrus with a hint of sea salt overpowering my senses, intoxicating me as my thoughts drifted to the groves of orange trees that spanned across our vast gardens. Him again. It was the first time I'd seen him since our quarrel.

He glanced at the towel I had clutched between my fingers, my knuckles white with tension. A slight grin formed across his curved lips, his voice low and rough as he spoke, "It seems I may have interrupted."

Taking a step back, I scoffed, "So personal space is off the table, too?"

It was hard not to notice the shift in his demeanor since the last time we spoke. He stood with his shoulders relaxed and hands in his pockets, a devilish grin reflected in his eyes as he replied, "Now where's the fun in that? Besides, you'll be spending your days with me from now on, so we might as well get comfortable with each other."

My stomach turned at the thought of spending even a moment alone with him, undoubtedly a deliberate plan to give him a chance to delve deeper into my unconscious. This was my new torture… Amarantha had won and all she needed to do was wait until Rhysand found another opportunity to get the information she wanted. Had he already told her my brother's name? Or was he withholding that until he found out more? Maybe it'd be best not to push him too far on the small chance he hadn't told her yet. Taking a step back I responded through gritted teeth, "Great… What do you have planned for today, High Lord?"

The annoyance in my voice must have been rather apparent as he let out a soft chuckle, "We're leaving the mountain, so get dressed," he glanced pointedly at the stool behind me, "I've left you a new change of clothes. Oh, and call me Rhys."

He vanished and my eyes rolled, letting the tension release from my still frigid joints. The new clothes seemed like a grand gesture on the surface, but I knew it was because they couldn't get the stains of my brother out, a permanent reminder of that haunting day. A week ago the idea of leaving this hellscape would have sounded great, but being assigned to Rhysand as his pet after everything that happened sounded like yet another twisted form of punishment. Pushing aside my anger, I swallowed my pride and prepared myself to work towards my new goal. If I could find even an ounce of sympathy within his dark heart, maybe he could help me break free.

I turned to the wooden stool that stood alone behind me. A sudden gasp escaped my lips as I noticed the outfit that awaited me. Clutching my hand close to my chest, I scanned the threads carefully, refusing to accept what laid neatly arranged in front of me. They perfectly matched the outfit from my dream. What could he have meant by this? Was it a sign of goodwill? Or was it just another move on the chessboard? Shaking my head, I grabbed the pile of clothes. After ten years it will take a lot more than that.