It's been a while. In all honesty, I was very close to stopping this Rhys POV because I just wasn't feeling it, but I have urges to write and writing existing things is much easier than original works.

Here goes...

Letting some of my darkness swirl around me, I looked towards Tamlin with a cock of my head. He, Lucien, and their sentries drawing their swords. They were hesitating, thoughts of how they would get Feyre away from me without hurting her running through their minds.

I lifted my hand and they all went still, knowing that things would end very badly if they made one wrong move against me. From the corner of my eye, I could see Ianthe in dark blue robes backing away. I almost laughed and was glad that she had finally learned her lesson. She had messed with the wrong High Lord, though now it looked like she had her power-hungry claws in Tamlin.

"What a pretty little wedding," I said while stuffing my hands into my pockets. No one dared move their swords an inch. I could sense people scrambling to get away.

In all honestly, the wedding was horrendous, all flowery and bright and so distinctly Spring. It was abhorrent. I turned to look at Feyre who looked ridiculous in the puffy white dress she was wearing, Ianthe's doing, no doubt. The High Priestess had also put silk gloves on Feyre to cover the evidence of my bargain with Feyre. I clicked my tongue at the sight.

Tamlin stalked towards me with no grace whatsoever, his claws loosed. No control either. "Get the hell out," he growled at me.

There were so many ways I could mess with him, but that wasn't my purpose today. Not completely at least. Once again, I clicked my tongue. "Oh, I don't think so. Not when I need to call in my bargain with Feyre darling," I offered him a smirk.

I could sense that my mate was already refusing in her mind, nauseous at the thought, but I knew that getting away from the Spring Court was what she needed. Even if she didn't think so. Her panic while walking down the aisle was so bad that she had begged for someone to save her. That someone just happened to be me.

Though my face showed nothing aside from the typical High Lord of the Night Court arrogance that everyone expected, my temper was fraying. It was a combination of the state that Feyre was in, my history with Tamlin, and the fact that the scent of roses was making my nose so godsdamned itchy.

"You try to break the bargain, and you know what will happen," I went on. Typically, a broken Night Court bargain meant death, but I had left that part out when I made the deal with Feyre Under the Mountain, but Tamlin didn't have to know that. I looked at the guests scrambling over one another and chuckled. It was a sight to see. I jerked my chin toward Feyre, knowing I still had a role to play. "I gave you three months of freedom. You could at least look happy to see me."

She was shaking and I gave her a look of distaste. Spectators were already wondering what the look meant, but no one guessed that it was because I was extremely unhappy with the fact that she looked nothing like the female I had left three months ago. This Feyre had no spark in her eyes and she had lost so much weight. It couldn't have been healthy.

"I'll be taking her now," I told Tamlin as I returned my face to neutrality. I had to mentally tell myself to keep my mask on, not to think about the fact that in a matter of seconds, Feyre would be with me in my court.

"Don't you dare," Tamlin snarled at me, his canines showing. I almost snorted in his face. He reminded me of a rabid dog.

"Was I interrupting?" I asked haughtily. "I thought it was over." I sent Feyre a smile dripping with venom to add to the show. "At least, Feyre seemed to think so."

"Let us finish the ceremony—" Tamlin started. Yeah, right, I mentally said. I was going to keep Feyre from becoming the Lady of the Spring Court for as long as possible. I had convinced myself that she was happy and that I wouldn't interfere with that, but that was before she had begged to be saved from being tied to Tamlin forever.

I looked past his shoulder at the empty alter and smirked. Ianthe was long gone, no doubt remembering the pain I had inflicted upon her long ago. "Your High Priestess seems to think it's over, too."

Tamlin looked surprised that Ianthe had gone. I watched as his claws retracted. I smirked inwardly knowing he was planning on bargaining with me. It was a bit funny. "Rhysand—" he started, but I didn't feel like dealing with him any longer.

"I'm in no mood to bargain," I told him truthfully, "even though I could work it to my advantage, I'm sure." My temper was still brewing under my skin and if I had to look at Tamlin any longer, I would use the fact that he had let Feyre waste away as a reason to snap his neck.

I slid my hand over Feyre's elbow, relishing in the fact that I was touching her, not even caring that she jolted at my touch. "Let's go."

"Tamlin," she breathed out, unmoving. Part of me did feel bad that I was calling in on our bargain, but she knew it was going to happen sooner or later. I had given her three months of freedom.

Spring's High Lord took a single step, his face yellowish and his gaze focused on me. "Name your price."

I almost scoffed in his face. There was nothing Tamlin could offer me in exchange for the week that I would already get with my mate. He could have offered me every inch of his lands and all of the jewels he had, but it would have been futile.

"Don't bother," I crooned at him as I linked arms with Feyre. I could tell that my touch was absolutely unbearable, but she would have to deal with it. Maybe one day in the future, she would look at me differently, like she did that day Under the Mountain. Today just wasn't that day though.

She was scared of what she would see in the Night Court, the depravity and torture and death. Oh, what a surprise she was in for. Sure, the Court of Nightmares was what every other court based their stories on, but it was only a tiny fraction of my court. Maybe one day, I'd be able to show Feyre the other parts, but until she was out of Tamlin's grasp, that wouldn't happen.

"Tamlin, please."

"Such dramatics," I said with a tug, puller her closer to my body.

Tamlin was snarling again. "If you hurt her—"

"I know, I know. I'll return her in a week," I drawled. The scent of roses was driving me nuts. A small part of me was a bit surprised that he had given in so quickly. Even the Lucien looked furious at his High Lord, face white with shock. Weak, Tamlin was weak, but it worked out well enough for me.

The arm I had on Feyre's elbow slid around to gently wrap around her slim waist, pressing her even closer to my side. "Hold on," I whispered into her ear.

I winnowed from the Spring Court, relishing in the darkness that surrounded us. Feyre clung to me, even though she hated herself for doing so, hated me. We landed in the house above the Court of Nightmares, the familiar scent of jasmine tickling my nose. Home, sweet home.

It was night, the stars shining through the open spaces between marble pillars. Feyre was practically gaping at the sight and part of me was purring at the fact that, despite herself, she liked what she was seeing. She enjoyed the night sky and the openness of my court.

"Welcome to the Night Court," was all I could say.

I actually couldn't believe that my mate was standing before me, in my court. She still looked absolutely ridiculous in her wedding dress, but she was here.

Standing against one of the marble pillars, I watched as her gray-blue eyes wandered around the room as she took in her surroundings. I didn't even have to breach her mind to know what she was thinking. The emotions from today had left her walls wide open. She wondered why there was no screaming or shouts or pleas.

"This is my private residence," I casually let out. She looked at me, mentally making comments about my newly tanned skin and wondering where my wings were. I smirked at her thoughts.

"How dare you—" Feyre started to say, that familiar look of disdain on her face.

I snorted. "I certainly missed that look on your face." It was the partial truth, that look was what started it all. I stalked towards her, the mask of the High Lord on my face. It had been a long day, my temper slipping ever so slightly. "You're welcome, you know."

"For what?"

There was a foot of space between Feyre and me before I stopped, slipping my hands into my pockets. Morrigan had once said it was the only tear in my High Lord mask, but only my Inner Circle knew my tell. "For saving you when asked."

She tensed, ready to argue that she didn't want to be saved. I saved her having to do so by looking down to her left arm. The tattoo that was a result of our bargain, the one that matched the dark swirls on my own skin, was covered by silk gloves.

The sight irked me and I gripped her arm with a snarl, ripping the gloves off. She flinched at my action and took a step back, but I didn't yield, getting rid of the other glove. "I heard you begging someone, anyone, to rescue you, to get you out. I heard you say no."

I wouldn't have breached Spring Court territory otherwise. If Feyre hadn't begged for someone to save her, if she hadn't have said no so loudly to the male before her, I wouldn't have went to her. But she did, I saved her, I saved my mate. Even though she didn't think she wanted to be saved at the present moment, hopefully one day she would think otherwise.

"I didn't say anything."

Resisting the urge to run my thumb over her soft skin, I turned her hand in mine and the tattooed eye on her palm stared back at me. I tapped the center twice. "I heard it loud and clear."

She pulled her hand from me. "Take me back. Now. I didn't want to be stolen away."

I shrugged at her words. I could have easily brought up the bargain, but didn't. "What better time to take you here? Maybe Tamlin didn't notice you were about to reject him in front of his entire court—maybe you can now simply blame it on me."

"You're a bastard." I had been called much worse. "You made it clear enough that I had…reservations." There was temptation to inform her that one shouldn't have any reservations about marriage.

"Such gratitude, as always."

"What do you want from me?"

My temper was slowly starting to fray. "Want? I want you to say thank you, first of all. Then I want you to take off that hideous dress. You look…" —like a demure cupcake. The thought of Feyre becoming Tamlin's trophy…my mouth became a cruel line on its own accord. "You look exactly like the doe-eyed damsel he and that simpering priestess want you to be."

Feyre wasn't meant to become a wife, planning parties and rearing stupid Spring Court babies, she was meant for much more than that. Everyone that had watched the trials Under the Mountain would know that. Tamlin should have seen the power that swam beneath her skin, even her human skin, but he had always had a hard head.

"You don't know anything about me. Or us."

I smiled at her knowingly. I knew much more than she thought I did. "Does Tamlin? Does he ever ask you why you hurl your guts up every night, or why you can't go into certain rooms or see certain colors?"

Her nightmares were my own and every time I she walked into rooms that she felt trapped in or saw the color red, I could feel the terror and guilt consume her. Tamlin had failed to see what was happening with Feyre, failed to hold her hair as she emptied her stomach nightly, and he was either completely blind or an absolute moron.

"Get the hell out of my head."

"Likewise." I stepped away from her, not completely sure I could hold onto my sanity much longer as her scent lingered around me. She smelled of crisp mountain air, pine, and something distinctly Feyre. "You think I enjoy being awoken every night by visions of you puking? You send everything right down the bond, and I don't appreciate having a front-row seat when I'm trying to sleep."

"Prick." I chuckled. Such a lovely meeting we were having.

"As for what else I want from you…" I motioned to the house. "I'll tell you tomorrow at breakfast. For now, clean yourself up. Rest." Letting my gaze fall back to the monstrosity of her wedding dress and them up to her hair, my temper flared again. The urge to return to the Spring Court and punch Tamlin and possibly Ianthe was overwhelming. "Take the stairs on the right, one level down. Your room is the first door."

"Not a dungeon cell?" It was a serious question and part of me was hurt at the insinuation, but Tamlin had no doubt told Feyre the worst of my court, meaning the Court of Nightmares. He knew nothing of anything else.

I turned with a brow lifted. "You are not a prisoner, Feyre. You made a bargain, and I am calling it in. You will be my guest here, with the privileges of a member of my house hold. None of my subjects are going to touch you, hurt you, or so much as think ill of you here." None of my subjects would even know of Feyre's presence.

"And where might those subjects be?"

There was an air of fear around her. I told her that my subjects lived in the mountain below us and that they were forbidden from entering my home and that Amarantha's court was based off what was below our feet.

Fear shifted to terror when she asked if I would take her there and my heart cracked at the sight. Every fiber of my being longed to pull her into my arms to comfort her.

"I'm not." Some of her terror dissipated. "This is my home, and the one beneath it is my…occupation, as you mortals call it. I do not like for the two to overlap very often."

If it weren't beneficial for the Court of Nightmares to exist, I would have destroyed it, but being feared by all other courts didn't hurt.

"'You mortals'?" Feyre questioned with raised brows.

"Should I consider you something different?" There was uncertainty to whether Feyre had accepted her newfound heritage.

"And the other denizens of your court?"

"Scattered throughout, dwelling as they wish. Just as you are now free to roam where you wish."

"I wish to roam home."

I laughed and walked down the hall towards one of the open areas, the stars calling my name. "I'm willing to accept your thanks at any time, you know," I said to her with a hint of my signature cockiness in my voice.

Apparently it wasn't the right thing to say because not a heartbeat later, I was hit in the back of the head. Hard. And it had hurt. What the hell?

Whirling back to face her while using one of my hands to touch the spot where I had hit, I looked at her with wide eyes. She had thrown a slipper at my head. A godsdamned slipper. I didn't even realize it until it had hit me upside the head, literally.

The matching slipper was in her hand, ready to be thrown. The slipper that had bounced off my head had broken the hold I had on my temper. "I dare you," I said with a bit of anger.

Silk in the form of footwear came flying at my face, but I was prepared this time. I grabbed it just before it hit my face. The force Feyre used to throw the slipper made my hand sting. Odd. I hissed at the fact that she had thrown yet another thing at my head and met her eyes as I dissolved the shoe into a pile of glittering black dust.

I looked her over.

"Interesting," I murmured before continuing on my way towards the open air, resting my elbows on the railing. She was extremely strong, even for a Fae.

The sound of bare feet against the marble informed me that Feyre had decided to take her leave. As the quiet footsteps reached the top of the stairs, I let out a mix between a sigh and a groan. This day had been exhausting.

"So, that went well," Mor said from besides me. I let my head drop into my hands and snarled at my cousin. She had the audacity to pat me on the shoulder. "You used to be so good at the whole charm thing, you've lost your touch."

I lifted my head to look at her, suddenly very tired. Mor's brown eyes softened and a tumbler of amber liquid appeared in each of her hands. Gratefully taking one, I knocked it back in a single gulp, the burn of alcohol a welcome feeling.

"It will work out with time, Rhysand," Mor uttered. I only nodded. "Get some sleep, cousin."

Mor left me alone with a lingering look and another touch of my shoulder. I sighed and looked up at the stars one last time before setting off to find Cassian. It was still early and I needed a drinking buddy.

Ҩ

It had been a very, very long night. Feyre had begun sobbing, shuddering and gasping sobs that tugged at my heart shortly after I found my brother. When she had finally fallen asleep, I was fairly drunk. Cassian and I found our way home, but I knew I was too on edge from Feyre's crying to fall asleep. Instead, I took to the skies.

When the sun started rising, I returned to my residence above the Court of Nightmares and sat down to breakfast. I sent Nuala and Cerridwen to rouse Feyre, hoping familiar faces would soften her up a little. After my third cup of tea and second pastry, I got petty and tugged on the bond until I heard her footsteps in the hallway.

I continued looking out at the clear blue sky. "I'm not a dog to be summoned," she greeted me and I slowly looked over my shoulder, not letting my anxiousness show.

Not bothering to hide my gaze, I looked her up and down. She looked stunning in typical Night Court fashion, the peach color complementing her skin tone. Scanning her frame again, I frowned. She has lost so much weight in the past three months. Too skinny, she was too skinny.

"I didn't want you to get lost," I answered, no hint of amusement in my tone. Tamlin was a blind imbecile who deserved to be tossed out the window I had previously been looking out of.

Feyre's gray-blue eyes eyed the silver teapot on table almost desperately. "I thought it'd always be dark here."

"We're one of the three Solar Courts," I started, motioning her to sit with a careless, but graceful motion of my wrist. "Our nights are far more beautiful, and our sunsets and dawns are exquisite, but we do adhere to the laws of nature." As much as I adored the night, my skin did hunger for the occasional ray of sunshine.

Sliding to the chair opposite me, she asked, "And do the other courts choose not to?"

I explained how the courts worked, how each High Lord's magic was connected to their land. Solar Courts were symbolic of nature, therefore the sun set and rose every day. Even a High Lord could not freeze the sun. Though in the Seasonal Courts, magic could be used to keep a season eternal. "Tea?" A small dip of her chin was all I received in answer.

"But you will find that our nights are more spectacular—so spectacular that some in my territory even awaken at sunset and go to bed at dawn, just to live under the starlight," I explained as I poured her a cup of tea.

Maybe one day, I would be to share the night sky with her. Maybe one day, I'd even be able to show her Velaris. Maybe one day, she'd be freed of the leash that Tamlin held, but until then, Velaris was off limits. There was no way I would reveal my true home to Feyre when I knew Tamlin would be waiting for Feyre's return in order to question her about my court.

"Why is it so warm in here, when winter is in full blast out there?" she asked after pouring some milk into her tea.

"Magic." I almost laughed. I don't think anyone enjoyed living in frigid air, but it was such an innocent question. After centuries, I still wondered why my predecessors on their decision to build such an open palace in the mountains where the weather was never really more than warm. It was one of my homes though and I never felt the need to change it.

Even more so after returning from Under the Mountain.

I watched as Feyre sipped at her tea and then proceeded to cautiously add some fruit to her plate. At least she was eating. "You've lost weight." And the fact still bothered me.

She violently forked a piece of fruit. "You're prone to diffing through my head whenever you please, I don't see why you're surprised by it."

Continuing to stare at her, I let my High Lord smile grace my lips. The bond between us was both a blessing and a curse. It allowed me to make sure Feyre was…okay, but it also meant I saw things that I really, really didn't need to see.

The bond we shared was a bridge between us. Since Feyre was untrained in shielding her thoughts, it was quite easy to stroll through her mind, especially when her emotions were particularly strong. Sometimes I could hear her thoughts, sometimes I didn't. I tried to give Feyre her privacy, not that she would sense my presence in the first place, but sometimes I had no choice.

"And how often do you just rifle through my mind when my shields are down?" she questioned with a scowl. I watched as the grip on her fork tightened.

My face turned serious. "When I can't tell if your nightmares are real threats or imagined. When you're about to be married and you silently beg anyone to help you. Only when you drop your mental shields and unknowingly blast those things down the bridge. And to answer your question before you ask, yes. Even with your shields up, I could get through them if I wished. You could train, though—learn how to shield against someone like me, even with the bond bridging out minds and my own abilities."

The first time that Tamlin had been gone at night and left Feyre alone, she had had a nightmare of a faceless woman tossing her about and preparing to snap her neck. I had almost winnowed to the Spring Court without an inch of clothing before realizing that she was having a nightmare. I hadn't gone back to sleep after that.

"What do you want with me? You said you'd tell me here. So tell me." Feyre demanded.

I leaned back, crossing my arms across my chest, practically relishing at her attempt to hide her admiring of the muscles under my clothes. "For this week?" I want you to learn how to read."

And there it is.

As always, reviews, comments, advice, and love are welcome.

Until next time!