From that day, the life of Feyre on the so-called Spring Court (whatever it would mean; maybe it was for the flowers, the temperature or the birds, but she was not sure) was basically eating: morning, noon and night. Besides, if she wanted to eat between meals, there was always something to pick up at every table in every corner. Heaven on Earth.

She never ate so much, not even when her family was rich. Yes, you read it right. Those beggars in the woods, those cowards that left her alone, were wealthy so long ago she almost forgot. Until her stupid father made a stupid mistake with his stupid business for following an stupid advice of an stupid friend, and got broke. That was after her mother died (thanks for it, she would never bore that shame); before all her father's friends went away from his side as if his bad luck would be contagious (those horrible traitors); after the eldest daughter Nesta was introduced in society with great success (she was crazy, but the most beautiful cat in all the country); but before Nesta The Great could find a great match that would be the salvation of the family (because she never found anyone who would be perfect enough for her).

However, as the days passed in the castle and her belly got full, she started to have time to think (before that, she constantly had to consider how to not die from hunger). She wondered why the faecats had taken her to live with them because it had no sense. They really didn't like her, or almost they didn't show it. So, she asked in a sweet way that night:

—I have a question, my Lordcat.

—Yes? —hissed Tamlin.

That was the time, she had to choose her words very well.

—I was meditating about how I came here with you.

—And?

—Why?

Plain and simple. No doubts, no escape. If she had to die, die fast and left a beautiful corpse. As all those poor cats on the road (rest in peace).

—I thought I told you that night and you understood. Never mind. I'll tell you again. Because the proverb says "a life for a life". You took the life of my friend…

—It was the dam lightning bolt, not me… —babbled Feyre in a angry soft voice.

—... the life of my friend, and now I have your life.

—What for? —shouted in despair.

—Come on Tamlin, say it. To be the one… —started whispering Lucien.

—To be nothing! Just to torture you as you tortured our friend for the rest of the time you walk on the Earth.

Feyre was sure Tamlin didn't understand the meaning of the word "torture". Or he had had the most pleasant life in all history. Some creatures are born with fortune.

—I'm sure you are doing something wrong.

She was a sincere cat. A fool cat, but never a lie got out from that mouth.

—What did you say?

The great lord was angry and started to grow. Maybe he was going to return to the shape he had in the forest. He had a real problem of rage. Lucien put a paw on his muscular shoulder.

—I told you that wasn't working. This kitty is not as half-witted as it seems. Sooner or later she had to notice something wasn't right.

Then, the voices on the head of Feyre appeared again, telling her to say good night as a good girl (whatever it was, again) and returning to her room. She could eat something else in her way. However, when she was leaving, Lucien said in a friendly voice:

—Kitty, tomorrow I'll show you these lands. Be at the front door at daybreak. We are leaving this featherbrain here, working, while you and I conspire to overthrow him.

—Over my corpse —hissed Tamlin.