Feyre was called for dinner that night, after a day of nothing else than looking at her room's ceiling and counting cracks. There were none. Such a boring place.
She was really hungry and had the premonition that she was going to eat like a queen. She almost detected the food being cooked in the air.
However, first she had to get dressed. In a very strange way: the way of the faecats. With ruffles and bows and laces and cologne. No cat dressed like that nowadays. Not even in the old days, he thought. Maybe a little bit of satin when she was a kitty, nothing else. But she did it anyway, supported by Alis, without complaining. Just to feast on.
When she was ready, and not a bow was out of its place, Feyre went down the stairs followed also by Alis. She was a bizarre ladycat. Too refined to be a maid, too plain to be a lady. She meowed like she lived in a garden all her life, rounded by roses. She even smelled like one. But she seemed trustworthy and without thorns.
The dining room was enormous, as it should be in a palace like that. There was a long table with more food than Feyre ever saw all at once in her life. Numerous plates with fish, meat, vegetables, sauces, grilled things, boiled things, cakes, fruits,... and more. She thought she was going to die of happiness. She sat on the place Alis told her and, when she was going to start the best moment of her existence, Tamlin appeared with another cat on his side, with a hard look.
—Well… well. It seems our guest is hungry —hissed Tamlin.
Feyre had a herring on her paw.
—Yep.
—But our guest should be more polite and wait for her host. All right?
—All right —purred her, leaving the fish again on the plate.
The faecat lord sat on the honour place, and his companion on his right. Feyre was on his left. She feared he was going to make a long long speech about the situation she was in, the situation he was in, the situation of the land, and so on. She knew he was going to do that.
She was right. He started meowing about the High Lord Cats and the monstrous monsters around his lands. A lot of bla bla bla danger, bla bla bla queen of death, bla bla bla war, bla bla bla do what you want but I'm not going to clean up your blood, and all those things.
Feyre couldn't stop staring at the other cat instead of hearing Tamlin. He had a false eye of iron (Nesta, you are going to die of shame if we meet again, she said to herself) and he was ravishing. In fact, she noticed that Tamlin, the monotonous lordcat, was also very handsome. In that precise moment, Feyre thought she needed to eat something to take away those dangerous ideas. That would be a good chance for the voices in her head to speak again. But they had to be sleeping because nothing sounded. So, she ignored everything around her and took again the delicious herring.
—Oh, maybe we are not enough… enjoyable for you, mycat? —muttered Tamlin with irony and a frozen look. He seemed very hurted in his self esteem.
—Well… —started chirping Feyre with the herring in her mouth.
—No, she is right —said the other cat shutting up Feyre—, you are such a bore. And very rude. She doesn't even know my name. Hi, I'm Lucien. I'm here to help my High Lordcat and make your life more pleasant. Welcome to the Spring Court.