Feyre Archeron Quotes

Feyre Archeron,' the Suriel said again, gazing at the leafy canopy, the sky peeking through it. A painful inhale. 'A request.' I leaned close. 'Anything.' Another rattling breath. 'Leave this world...a better place than how you found it.' And as its chest rose and stopped altogether, as its breath escaped in one last sigh, I understood why the Suriel had come to help me, again and again. Not just for kindness...but because it was a dreamer. And it was the heart of a dreamer that ceased beating inside that monstrous chest.

We're all broken," Mor said. "In our own ways - in places no one might see.

I believe everything happens for a reason. Whether it is decided by the Mother, or the Cauldron, or some sort of tapestry of Fate, I don't know. I don't really care. But I am grateful for it, whatever it is. Grateful that it brought you all into my life. If it hadn't... I might have become as awful as that prick we're going to face today. If I had not met an Illyrian warrior-in-training," he said to Cassian, "I would not have known the true depths of strength, of resilience, of honor and loyalty." Cassian's eyes gleamed bright. Rhys said to Azriel, "If I had not met a shadowsinger, I would not have known that it is the family you make, not the one you are born into, that matters. I would not have known what it is to truly hope, even when the world tells you to despair." Azriel bowed his head in thanks. Mor was already crying when Rhys spoke to her. "If I had not met my cousin, I would neer have learned that light can be found in even the darkest of hells. That kidness can thrive even amongst cruelty." She wiped away her teas as she nodded. I waited for Amren to offer a retort. But she was only waiting. Rhys bowed his head to her. "If I had not met a tiny monster who hoards jewels more fiercely than a firedrake..." A quite laugh from all of us at that. Rhys smiled softly. "My own power would have consumed me long ago." Rhys squeezed my hand as he looked to me at last. "And if I had not met my mate..." His words failed him as silver lined his eyes. He said down the bond, I would have waited five hundred more years for you. A thousand years. And if this was all the time we were allowed to have... The wait was worth it. He wiped away the tears sliding down my face. "I believe that everything happened, exactly the way it had to... so I could find you." He kissed another tear away.

It's already ended badly. Now it's just a matter of deciding how we meet the consequences.

Feyre Archeron.” A labored breath. “I told you—to stay with the High Lord. And you did.

As Cassian drew twin Illyrian blades, the sight of them like home, and said to Eris with lethal calm, “I suggest you drop my lady.

This could be . . . a very bad idea," I admitted, my grip tightening on his hand. "Oh, it most certainly is," Cassian said with a faint smile as we continued down and down into the heavy black and thrumming silence. "But this is war. We don't have the luxury of good ideas–only picking between the bad ones.

I was not a pet, not a doll, not an animal. I was a survivor, and I was strong. I would not be weak, or helpless again. I would not, could not be broken.” -Feyre Archeron - A Court of Mist and Fury

The stars winked into existence, dim and small above the blazing fires. I watched them through the long hours of celebrating, and could have sworn that they kept me company, my silent and stalwart friends.

A nightmare, I'd told Tamlin. I was the nightmare.

I feel nothing, Nesta said silently. Only the sight of Feyre on Death’s threshold kept her from forgetting why she was here, what she needed to do. Is that not what you wanted? To feel nothing? I thought that was what I wanted. Nesta surveyed the people around her. Her sisters. Cassian, who had been willing to plunge a dagger into his heart rather than harm her. But no longer. When the female voice didn’t press her, Nesta went on, I want to feel everything. I want to embrace it with my whole heart. Even the things that hurt and hunt you? Only curiosity laced the question. Nesta allowed herself a breath to ponder it, stilling her mind once more. We need those things in order to appreciate the good. Some days might be more difficult than others, but … I want to experience all of it, live through all of it. With them. That wise, soft voice whispered, So live, Nesta Archeron.

She could barely stand to hear the crack and pop of the wood. Had barely been able to endure it in Feyre’s town house. Snap; crunch. How no one had ever remarked that it sounded like breaking bones, like a snapping neck, she had no idea.

Why do you push everyone away but Elain?” Why have you always pushed me away? Some emotion guttered in her eyes. Her throat bobbed. Nesta shut her eyes for a moment, breathing in sharply. “Because—

I want you to know,” I whispered, “that I am broken and healing, but every piece of my heart belongs to you.

—Porque yo no querría morirme sola —respondí, y me tembló la voz cuando volví a mirar a Tamlin y me obligué a buscar sus ojos con los míos—. Porque me gustaría que alguien me sostuviera la mano hasta el final y un rato más después. Eso es algo que todo el mundo merece, inmortales y humanos. –Capítulo 17, pág. 177

The sky was an eddy of molten amethyst, sapphire, and ruby, all bleeding into a final pool of onyx. I wanted to swim in it, wanted to bathe in its colours and feel the stars twinkling between my fingers.

He stole you away into the night, claiming some nonsense about the Treaty. And then everything went on as if it had never happened. It wasn’t right. None of it was right." "You went after me," I said. "You went after me -- to Prythian." "I got to the wall. I couldn't find a way through." I raised a shaking hand to my throat. "You trekked two days there and two days back-- through the winter woods?" She shrugged, looking at the sliver she'd pried from the table. "I hired that mercenary from town to bring me a week after you were taken. With the money from your pelt. She was the only one who seemed like she would believe me." "You did that -- for me?" Nesta's eyes -- my eyes, our mother's eyes -- met mine. "It wasn't right," she said again.

Rhys said to his mate, 'Feyre darling-' 'No good-byes,' Feyre panted. 'No good-byes, Rhys.

Be careful how you speak about my High Lady.

And from far away, as if it was carried on the cold wind, I heard the Suriel’s voice. Feyre Archeron, a request. Leave this world a better place than how you found it.

Stroking Feyre's cold hand, Nesta spoke into the timeless, frozen room, 'You loved me when no one else would. You never stopped. Even when I didn't deserve it, you loved me, and fought for me, and...' Nesta looked at Feyre's face, Death a breath away from claiming it. She didn't stop the tears that ran down her cheeks as she squeezed Feyre's slender hand tighter. 'I love you, Feyre.' She had never said the words aloud. To anyone. 'I love you,' Nesta whispered. 'I love you.

Of course I’ll dance with you,” Rhys said, his voice still raw. “All night, if you wish.” “Even if I step on your toes?” “Even then.

-given me quiet, steadfast company with those characters, who did not exist and never would, but somehow made me feel less...alone.

You are afraid to look. To see what is within.' 'Will it drive me- mad? Break me?' ... 'Only you can decide what breaks you, Cursebreaker. Only you.

Spring as always was in full bloom, the breeze laden with lilac, the brush flanking the path rustling with life.

Azriel's wings spread, dark reds and golds shining through in the bright sun, and he opened his arms to me. 'The pine forest will be good- the one by the lake.' 'Why?' 'Because water is better to fall into than hard rock,' Cassian replies, crossing his arms.

I am High Lady of the Night Court,' I said quietly to them all. Even Eris stopped sneering. His amber eyes widened, something like fear now creeping into them. 'There's no such thing as a High Lady,' one of Lucien's brothers spat. A faint smile played on my mouth. 'There is now.' And it was time for the world to know it.

They're having a snowball fight.' Another nod. 'Three Illyrian warriors,' I said. 'The greatest Illyrian warriors. Are having a snowball fight.' Mor's eyes practically glowed with wicked delight. 'Since they were children.' 'They're over five hundred years old.

I became their punching bag- passed off from blow to blow, my bones screaming in agony. Maybe I was screaming in agony, too.

His eyes met mine. The bond between us went taut. I flashed between my body and his, seeing myself through his eyes, bleeding and broken and sobbing.

It was like a million fireworks exploding inside me, filling my veins with starlight.

Never enough. Not to paint him, know him. Eons would never be enough for all I wanted to do, see with him. For all I wanted to love him.

Power smelling of lilac and cedar and the first bits of green, swirled around me.

A soft breeze laced with the scent of roses slipped in through the open windows to caress my face.

He said my name with such... intimacy. As if he weren't a creature capable of killing monsters made from nightmares.

Love won't feed a hungry belly.

I couldn't erase the creeping feeling that someone still watched me, curious and wanting to play.

The Court of Dreams. The people who knew there was a price, and one worth paying for that dream. The bastard-born warriors, the Illyrian half-breed, the monster trapped in a beautiful body, the dreamer born into a court of nightmares... And the huntress with an artist's soul.

We found each other. Killed our way across the mountains to get to each other. Turns out, a good number of Illyrian males wanted to prove they were stronger, smarter than us. Turns out they were wrong.

To the north, different mountains surrounded the city across the river- a river of sharp peaks like fish's teeth cleaved the city's merry hills from the sea beyond. But these mountains behind me... They were sleeping giants. Somehow alive, awake.

I feel nothing, Nesta said silently. Only the sight of Feyre on Death's threshold kept her from forgetting why she was here, what she needed to do. Is that not what you wanted? To feel nothing? I thought that was what I wanted. Nesta surveyed the people around her. Her sisters, Cassian, who had been willing to plunge a dagger into his heart rather than harm her. But no longer. When the female voice didn't press her, Nesta went on, I want to feel everything. I want to embrace it with my whole heart. Even the things that hurt and hunt you? Only curiosity laced the question. Nesta allowed herself a breath to ponder it, stilling her mind once more. We need those things in order to appreciate the good. Some days might be more difficult than others, but... I want to experience all of it, live through all of it. With them. The wise, soft voice whispered, So live, Nesta Archeron.

Is that so hard to believe? My mother claimed I was so withdrawn and strange because I was born on the longest night of the year. She tried one year to have my birthday on another day, but forgot to do it the next time—there was probably a more advantageous party she had to plan.” “Now I know where Nesta gets it. Honestly, it’s a shame we can’t stay longer—if only to see who’ll be left standing: her or Cassian.” “My money’s on Nesta.” A soft chuckle that snaked along my bones—a reminder that he’d once bet on me. Had been the only one Under the Mountain who had put money on me defeating the Middengard Wyrm. He said, “So’s mine.

That pine tree wasn't there a moment ago.' Azriel let out a quiet laugh from where he sat atop a boulder two days later, watching me pluck pine needles out of my hair and jacket. 'Judging by its size, I'd say it's been there for... two hundred years, at least.

Lucien asked, 'What is this place?' We all looked at him. 'Home,' I said. 'This is- my home.' I could see the details now sinking in. The lack of darkness. The lack of screaming. The scent of the sea and citrus, not blood and decay. The laughter of children that indeed continued. The greatest secret in Prythian's history. 'This is Velaris,' I explained. 'The City of Starlight.' His throat bobbed. 'And you are High Lady of the Night Court.' 'Indeed she is.

You knew I was his mate when we went. I don't see how being High Lady alters anything.' 'It does.' I put my hands on my hips, ignoring his motion to continue. 'Why?' Cassian dragged a hand through his hair. 'Because... because as his mate, you were still... his to protect. Oh, don't get that look. He's yours to protect, too. I would have laid my life down for you as his mate- and as your friend. But you were still... his.' 'And as High Lady?' Cassian loosed a rough breath. 'As High Lady, you are mine. And Azriel's, and Mor's and Amren's. You belong to all of us, and we belong to you. We would not have... put you in so much danger.

I think I fell in love with you,' Rhys murmured, stroking a finger down my arm, 'the moment I realised you were cleaving those bones to make a trap for the Middengard Wyrm. Or maybe the moment you flipped me off for mocking you. It reminded me so much of Cassian. For the first time in decades, I wanted to laugh.' 'You fell in love with me,' I said flatly, 'because I reminded you of your friend?' He flicked my nose. 'I fell in love with you, smartass, because you were one of us- because you weren't afraid of me, and you decided to end your spectacular victory by throwing that piece of bone at Amarantha like a javelin. I felt Cassian's spirit beside me in that moment, and could have sworn I heard him say, "if you don't marry her, you stupid prick, I will.

You declared yourself High Lady.' 'Was I not supposed to?' He released my arm to brush his knuckles across my cheek. 'I've wanted to roar it from the rooftops of Velaris from the moment the priestess anointed you. How typical of you to upend my grand plans.' A smiled tugged on my lips. 'It happened less than an hour ago. I'm sure you could go crow from the chimney right now and everyone would give you credit for breaking the news.' His fingers threaded through my hair, tilting my face up. That wicked smile grew, and my toes curled in their boots. 'There's my darling Feyre.

Elain had always been gentle and sweet- and I had considered it a different sort of strength. A better strength. To look at the hardness of the world and choose, over and over, to love, to be kind. She had been always so full of light. Perhaps that was why she now kept all the curtains open. To fill the void that existed where all of that light had once been. And now nothing remained.

Slowly, I turned around, to where the soup was now boiling, and ladled it into a bowl. He watched every step I took to the table, the steaming bowl in my hands. I stopped before him, staring down. And I said, 'You love me?' Rhys nodded. And I wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt, what he'd done for me. For what I felt for him. I set the bowl down before him. 'Then eat.

Another star crossed the sky, twirling and twisting over itself, as if it were revelling in its own sparkling beauty. It was chased by another, and another, until a brigade of them were unleashed from the edge of the horizon, like a thousand archers had loosed them from mighty bows. The stars cascaded over us, filling the world with white and blue light. They were like living fireworks, and my breath lodged in my throat as the stars kept on falling and falling. I'd never seen anything so beautiful. And when the sky was full with them, when the stars raced and danced and flowed across the world, the music began.

It meant a great deal to me- what you promised my sister the other day.' Cassian shrugged, his wings rustling. 'I'd do it for anyone.' 'It meant a lot to her, too.' Hazel eyes narrowed slightly. But I casually watched the river. 'Nesta is different from most people,' I explained. 'She comes across as rigid and vicious, but I think it's a wall. A shield- like the ones Rhys has in his mind.' 'Against what?' 'Feeling. I think Nesta feels everything- sees too much; sees and feels it all. And she burns with it. Keeping that wall up helps from being overwhelmed, from caring too greatly.' 'She barely seems to care about anyone other than Elain.' I met his stare, scanning the handsome, tan face. 'She will never be like Mor,' I said. 'She will never love freely and gift it to everyone who crosses her path. But the few she does care for... I think Nesta would shred the world apart for them. Shred herself apart for them. She and I have our... issues. But Elain...' My mouth quirked to the side. 'She will never forget, Cassian, that you offered to defend Elain. Defend her people. As long as she lives, she will remember that kindness.' He straightened, rapping his knuckles against the smooth marble. 'Why are you telling me this?' 'I just- thought you should know. For whenever you see her again and she pisses you off. Which I'm certain will happen. But know that deep down, she is grateful, and perhaps does not possess the ability to say so. Yet the feeling- the heart- is there.

Sprawled out, the Suriel's bony chest heaved unevenly, its breaths few and far between. Dying. I slid to my knees before it, sinking into the blood moss. 'Let me help you. I can heal you.' I'd do it the same way I'd helped Rhysand. Remove those arrows- and offer it my blood. I reached for the first one, but a dry, bony hand settled on my wrist. 'Your magic...' it rasped, 'is spent. Do not... waste it.' 'I can save you.' It only gripped my wrist. 'I am already gone.' 'What- what can I do?' The words turned thin- brittle. 'Stay...' it breathed. 'Stay... until the end.' I took its hand in mine. 'I'm sorry.' It was all I could think to say. I had done this- I had brought it here. 'I knew,' it gasped, sensing my shift in thoughts. 'The tracking... I knew of it.' 'Then why come at all?' 'You... you were kind. You... fought your fear. You were... kind,' it said again. I began crying. 'And you were kind to me,' I said, not brushing away the tears that fell onto its bloodied, tattered robe. 'Thank you- for helping me. When no one else would.' A small smile on that lipless mouth. 'Feyre Archeron.' A laboured breath. 'I told you- to stay with the High Lord. And you did.' Its warning to me that first time we'd met. 'You- you meant Rhys.' All this time, all this time- 'Stay with him... and live to see everything righted.' 'Yes, I did- and it was.' 'No- not yet. Stay with him.' 'I will.' I always would. Its chest rose- then fell. 'I don't even know your name,' I whispered. The Suriel- it was a title, a name for its kind. That small smile again. 'Does it matter, Cursebreaker?' 'Yes.' Its eyes dimmed, but it did not tell me. It only said, 'You should go now. Worse things- worse things are coming. The blood... draws them.' I squeezed its bony hand, the leathery skin growing colder. 'I can stay a while longer.' I had killed enough animals to know when a body neared death. Soon, now- it would be a matter of breaths. 'Feyre Archeron,' the Suriel said again, gazing at the leafy canopy, the sky peeking through it. A painful inhale. 'A request.' I leaned close. 'Anything.' Another rattling breath. 'Leave this world... a better place than how you found it.' And as its chest rose and stopped altogether, as its breath escaped in one last sigh, I understood why the Suriel had come to help me, again and again. Not just for kindness... but because it was a dreamer. And it was the heart of a dreamer that had created healing inside that monstrous chest. Its sudden silence echoed in my own. I laid my head on its chest, on that now-silent vault of bone, and wept. I wept and wept, until there was a strong hand at my shoulder.

My blood stopped at the voice that drawled from behind me. At the scent that hit me, awoke me. My friends began smiling. I turned. Rhysand leaned against the archway into the sitting room, arms crossed, wings nowhere to be seen, dressed in his usual immaculate black jacket and pants. And as those violet eyes met mine, as that familiar half smile faded... My face crumpled. A small, broken noise cracked from me. Rhys was instantly moving, but my legs had already given out. The foyer carpet cushioned the impact as I sank to my knees. I covered my face with my hands while the past month crashed into me. Rhys knelt before me, knee to knee. Gently, he pulled my hands away from my face. Gently, he took my cheeks in his hands and brushed away my tears. I didn't care that we had an audience as I lifted my head and beheld the joy and concern and love shining in those remarkable eyes. Neither did Rhys as he murmured, 'My love,' and kissed me. I'd no sooner slid my hands into his hair than he scooped me into his arms and stood in one smooth movement. I pulled my mouth from his, glancing toward a pallid Lucien, but Rhysand said to our companions without so much as looking at them, 'Go find somewhere else to be for a while.' He didn't wait to see if they obeyed. Rhys winnowed us up the stairs, and launched into a steady, swift walk down the hallway.

Cassian.' Rhys's voice was a thing of nightmares, of the darkness between the stars. Cassian froze at that voice he'd so rarely heard, and never once directed at himself. 'What happened?' Rhys's face was wholly calm. But death- black, raging death- lay in his eyes. Not a star or shimmer of violet remained. Rhys said in that voice that was like hell embodied, 'Nesta saw fit to inform Feyre of the risk to her and the babe.' Cassian's heart began thundering, even as it splintered. Rhys held his state, and it was all Cassian could do to weather it as his brother, his High Lord said, 'Get Nesta out of this city. Right now.' Rhys's power rumbled in the room like a rising storm. 'Before I fucking kill her.

I avoided any leaves and stones, falling into a pattern of movement that some part of my body—some part that was not born of the High Lords—remembered. Like waking up. That's what it felt like. I passed the well. Not a speck of dirt, not a stone out of place. A perfect, pretty trap, that mortal part of me warned. A trap designed from a time when humans were prey; now laid for a smarter, immortal sort of game. I was not prey any longer, I decided as I eased up to that door. And I was not a mouse. I was a wolf.

Sunlight still leaked in through the windows of the town house. The scent of citrus and the sea and baked bread still filled every room. And distantly... Children were still laughing in the streets. Home. Home was the same- home was untouched. I squeezed Rhys's hand so tightly I thought he'd complain, but he only squeezed tight back. And even thought we had all bathed, as we stood there... there was a grime to us. Like the blood hadn't entirely washed off. And I realised that home was indeed the same, but we... perhaps we were not.

I took it upon myself to add your presents to the communal trove.' I lifted my brows. 'Everyone gave you their gifts?' 'He's the only one who can be trusted not to snoop,' Mor explained. I looked toward Azriel. 'Even him,' Amren said. Azriel gave me a guilty cringe. 'Spymaster, remember?' 'We started doing it two centuries ago,' Mor went on. 'After Rhys caught Amren literally shaking a box to figure out what was inside.' Amren clicked her tongue as I laughed. 'What they didn't see was Cassian down here ten minutes earlier, sniffing each box.' Cassian threw her a lazy smile. 'I wasn't the one who got caught.' I turned to Rhys. 'And somehow you're the most trustworthy one?' Rhys looked outright offended. 'I am a High Lord, Feyre darling. Unwavering honour is built into my bones.' Mor and I snorted.

I heard you,' he said softly. 'When I was- gone.' I began to tense at the lingering terror that had driven me from sleep these past few nights- the terror I doubted I'd soon recover from. 'Those minutes,' I said once he began making long, soothing strokes down my thigh. 'Rhys... I never want to feel that again.' 'Now you know how I felt Under the Mountain.' I craned my neck to look up at him. 'Never lie to me again. Not about that.' 'But about other things?' I pinched his arm hard enough that he laughed and batted away my hand. 'I couldn't let all you ladies take the credit for saving us. Some male had to claim a bit of glory so you don't trample us until the end of time with your bragging.' I punched his arm this time. But he wrapped his arm around my waist and squeezed, breathing me in. 'I heard you, even in death. It made me look back. Made me stay- a little longer.' Before going to that place I had once tried to describe to the Carver. 'When it's time to go there,' I said quietly, 'we go together.' 'It's a bargain,' he said, and kissed me gently. I murmured back onto his lips, 'Yes, it is.

She refused the knife Cassian handed her, though. Went white as death at the sight of it. Azriel, still limping, merely nudged aside Cassian and extended another option. 'This is Truth-Teller,' he told her softly. 'I won't be using it today- so I want you to.' ... Elain's eyes widened at the obsidian-hilted blade in Azriel's scared hand. The runes on the dark scabbard. 'It had never failed me once,' the shadowsinger said, the midday sun devoured by the dark blade. 'Some people say it is magic and will always strike true.' He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. 'It will serve you well.' 'I- I don't know how to use it-' 'I'll make sure you don't have to,' I said, grass crunching as I stepped closer. Elain weighed my words... and slowly closed her fingers around the blade. Cassian gawked at Azriel, and I wondered how often Azriel had lent out that blade- Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife. Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade.

Twenty gold marks says there's a fight in the first hour,' Cassian said, still not really looking at Nesta. 'Thirty, and I say within forty-five minutes,' Mor said, crossing her arms. 'You do remember there are vows and wards of neutrality,' Rhys said mildly. 'You don't need fists or magic to fight,' Mor chirped. Azriel said from the door. 'Fifty, and I say within thirty minutes. Started by Autumn.' Rhys rolled his eyes. 'Try not to look like you're all gambling on them. And no cheating by provoking fights.' Their answering grins were anything but reassuring. Rhys sighed. 'A hundred marks on a fight within fifteen minutes.' Nesta let out a soft snort. But they all looked at me, waiting. I shrugged. 'Rhys and I are a team. He can gamble away our money on this bullshit.' They all looked deeply offended. Rhys looped his elbow through mine. 'A queen in appearance-' 'Don't even finish that,' I said. He laughed. 'Shall we?

How does it feel to be a High Fae?; he asked- a quiet, curious question. I looked out toward the mountains again, considering. And maybe it was because there was no one else to hear, maybe it was because the shadows in his eyes would also forever be in mine, but I said, 'I'm an immortal- who has been mortal. This body...' I looked down at my hand, so clean and shining- a mockery of what I'd done. 'This body is different, but this'- I put my hand on my chest, my heart- 'this is still human. Maybe it always will be. But it would have been easier to live with it...' My throat welled. 'Easier to live with what I did if my heart had changed, too. Maybe I wouldn't care so much; maybe I could convince myself their deaths weren't in vain. Maybe immortality will take that away. I can't tell whether I want it to.' Rhysand stared at me for long enough that I faced him. 'Be glad of your human heart, Feyre. Pity those who don't feel anything at all.' I couldn't explain about the hole that had already formed in my soul- didn't want to, so I just nodded. 'Well, good-bye for now,' he said, rolling his neck as if we hadn't been talking about anything important at all. He bowed at the waist, those wings vanishing entirely, and had begun to fade into the nearest shadow when he went rigid. His eyes locked on mine, wide and wild, and his nostrils flared. Shock- pure shock flashed across his features at whatever he saw on my face, and he stumbled back a step. Actually stumbled. 'What is-' I began. He disappeared- simply disappeared, not a shadow in sight- into the crisp air.

My sisters play no part in this.' Another beat of silence, interrupted only by the rustle of Azriel's wings. 'I asked them to help once- and look what happened. I won't risk them again.' Amren snorted. 'You sound exactly like Tamlin.' I felt the words like a blow. Rhys slid a hand against my back, having appeared so fast I didn't see him move. But before he could reply, Mor said quietly, 'Don't you ever see that sort of bullshit again, Amren.' There was nothing on Mor's face beyond cold calm- fury. I'd never seen her look so... terrifying. She had been furious with the mortal queens, but this... This was the face of the High Lord's third in command. 'If you're cranky because you're hungry, then tell us,' Mor went on with that frozen quiet. 'But if you say anything like that again, I will through you in the gods-damned Sidra.' 'I'd like to see you try.' A little smile was Mor's only answer. ... 'Apologise,' said Mor. 'Mor,' I murmured. 'Apologise,' she hissed at Amren. Amren said nothing.

I bartered access to my lands to get back the woman I love from a sadist who plays with minds as if they are toys. I meant to fight Hybern- to find a way around the bargain I made with the king once she was back. Only Rhysand and his cabal had turned her into one of them. And she delighted in ripping open my territory for Hybern to invade. All for a petty grudge- either her own or her... master's.' 'You don't get to rewrite the narrative,' I breathed. 'You don't get to spin this to your advantage.' Tamlin only angled his head to Rhys. 'When you fuck her, have you ever noticed that little noise she makes right before she climaxes?' Hear stained my cheeks. This wasn't outright battle, but a steady, careful shredding of my dignity, my credibility. ... Rhys turned his head, looking me over from head to toe. Then back to Tamlin. A storm about to be unleashed. But it was Azriel who said, his voice like cold death, 'Be careful how you speak about my High Lady.' Surprise flashed in Tamlin's eyes- then vanished. Vanished, swallowed by pure fury as he realised what that tattoo coating my hand was for. 'It was not enough to sit at my side, was it?' A hateful smile curled his lips. 'You once asked me if you'd be my High Lady, and when I said no...' A low laugh. 'Perhaps I underestimated you. Why serve in my court, when you could rule in his?

Nesta,' he said into her ear. 'Nesta, open your hand and come back.' Her breathing sharpened. The cold deepened. 'Nesta,' he snarled- And the cold halted. It didn't vanish, but rather... stopped. Nesta's eyes flicked open. Silver fire burned within. Nothing Fae looked out through them. Rhys shoved Feyre behind him. She shoved her way back to his side. But Nesta's hand continued to squeeze Cassian's. He squeezed back, let his Siphons send a bite of power into her skin. She turned her head so slowly it was like watching a puppet move. Her eyes met his. Death watched him. But Death had walked beside him every day of his life. So Cassian stroked his thumb along her palm and said, 'Hello, Nes.' Nesta blinked, and he let his Siphons bite her with his power again. The fire flickered. He nodded to the map, 'Let go of the stones and bones.' He didn't let her scent his fear. Here was the being the Bone Carver had whispered about, exalted and feared. 'Let go of the stones and bones, and then you and I can play.

The Suriel's stained teeth clacked against each other. 'If you wish to speed your mate's healing, in addition to your blood, a pink-flowered weed sprouts by the river. Make him chew it.' I fired my arrow at the snare before I finished hearing its words. The trap sprang free. And the word clicked through me. Mate. 'What did you say?' The Suriel rose to its full height, towering over me even from across the clearing. I had not realised that despite the bone, it was muscled- powerful. 'If you wish to...' The Suriel paused, and grinned, showing nearly all of those brown, thick teeth. 'You did not know, then.' 'Say it,' I gritted out. 'The High Lord of the Night Court is your mate.' I wasn't entirely breathing. 'Interesting,' the Suriel said. Mate. Mate. Mate. Rhysand was my mate. Not lover, not husband, but more than that. A bond so deep, so permanent that it was honoured above all others. Rare, cherished. Not Tamlin's mate. Rhysand's. I was jealous, and pissed off... You're mine. The words slipped out of me, low and twisted, 'Does he know?' The Suriel clenched the robes of its new cloak in its bone-fingers. 'Yes.' 'For a long while?' 'Yes. Since-' 'No. He can tell me- I want to hear it from his lips.' The Suriel cocked its head. 'You are- you are feeling too much, too fast. I cannot read it.' 'How can I possibly be his mate?' Mates were equals- matched, at least in some ways. 'He is the most powerful High Lord to ever walk this earth. You are... new. You are made of all seven High Lords. Unlike anything. Are you two not similar in that? Are you not matched?' Mate. And he knew- he'd known. I glanced toward the river, as if I could see all the way to the cave, to where Rhysand slept. When I looked back at the Suriel, it was gone.

The flame in her eyes was not of your usual sort, I take it.' Lucien shook his head. 'No. It spoke to nothing in my own arsenal. That was... Ice so cold it burned. Ice and yet... fluid like flame. Or flame made of ice.' 'I think it's death,' I said quietly. I held Rhys's gaze, as if it were again the tether that had kept me in this world. 'I think the power is death- death made flesh. Or whatever power the Cauldron holds over such things. That's why the Carver heard it- heard about her.' 'Mother above,' Lucien said, dragging a hand through his hair. Cassian gave him a solemn nod. But Rhys rubbed his jaw, weighing, thinking. Then he said simply, 'Only Nesta would not just conquer Death- but pillage it.

The sun had barely set as Rhys and I walked hand in hand into the dining room of the House of Wind, and found Mor, Azriel, Amren, and Cassian already seated. Waiting for us. At one, they stood. At one, they looked at me. And as one, they bowed. It was Amren who said, 'We will serve and protect.' They each placed a hand over their heart. Waiting- for my reply. Rhys hadn't warned me, and I wondered if the words were supposed to come from my heart, spoken without agenda or guile. So I voiced them. 'Thank you,' I said, willing my voice to be steady. 'But I'd rather you were my friends before the serving and protecting.' Mor said with a wink, 'We are. But we will serve and protect.' My face warmed, and I smiled at them. My- family.

Nesta didn't care that she was covered in sweat, wearing her leathers amongst a bejewelled crowd. Not as she staggered onto the veranda at the top of the House and gaped at the stars raining across the bowl of the sky. They zoomed by so close some sparked against the stones, leaving glowing dust in their wake. She had a vague sense of Cassian and Mor and Azriel nearby, of Feyre and Rhys and Lucien, of Elain and Varian and Helion. Of Kallias and Viviane, also swollen with child and glowing with joy and strength. Nesta smiled in greeting and left them blinking, but she forgot them within a moment because the stars, the stars, the stars... She hadn't realised that such beauty existed in the world. That she might feel so full from wonder it could hurt, like her body couldn't contain all of it. And she didn't know why she cried then, but the tears began rolling down her face. The world was beautiful, and she was so grateful to be in it. To be alive, to be here, to see this. She stuck out a hand over the railing, grazing a star as it shot past, and her fingers came away glowing with blue and green dust. She laughed, a sound of pure joy, and she cried more, because that joy was a miracle.

Rhys lunged against his hold, but Amren stepped to their side and hissed, 'Listen.' Nesta whispered, 'I give it all back.' Her shoulders heaved as she wept. Rhys began shaking his head, his power a palpable, rising wave that would destroy them all, destroy the world if it meant Feyre was no longer in it, even if he only had seconds to live beyond her, but Amren grabbed the nape of his neck. Her red nails dug into his golden skin. 'Look at the light.' Iridescent light began flowing from Nesta's body. Into Feyre. Nesta kept holding her sister. 'I give it back. I give it back. I give it back.' Even Rhys stopped fighting. No one moved. The lights glimmered down Feyre's arm. Her legs. It suffused her ashen face. Began to fill the room. Cassian's Siphons guttered, as if sensing a power far beyond his own, beyond any of theirs. Tendrils of light drifted between the sisters. And one, delicate and loving, flowed towards Mor. To the bundle in her arms, setting the silent babe within glowing bright as the sun. And Nesta kept whispering, 'I give it back. I give it all back.' The iridescence filled her, filled Feyre, filled the bundle in Mor's arms, lighting his friend's face so the shock on it was etched in stark relief. 'I give it back,' Nesta said, one more time, and Mask and Crown tumbled from her head. The light exploded, blinding and warm, a wind sweeping past them, as if gathering every shard of itself out of the room. Ans as it faded, dark ink splashed upon Nesta's back, visible through her half-shredded shirt, as if it were a wave crashing upon the shore. A bargain. With the Cauldron itself. Yet Cassian could have sworn a luminescent, gentle hand prevented the light from leaving her body altogether. Cassian didn't fight Rhys this time as he raced to the bed. To where Feyre lay, flush with colour. No more blood spilling between her legs. Feyre opened her eyes. She blinked at Rhys, and then turned to Nesta. 'I love you, too,' Feyre whispered to her sister, and smiled. Nesta didn't stop her sob as she launched herself onto Feyre and embraced her.

I was in love with Feyre,' Rhys said quietly, 'long before she ever returned the feeling.' Lucien crossed his arms. 'How fortunate that you got what you wanted in the end.' I closed my eyes for a heartbeat. Cassian and Azriel stilled, waiting for the order. 'I will only say this once,' warned the High Lord of the Night Court. Even Lucien flinched. 'I suspected Feyre was my mate before I ever knew she was involved with Tamlin. And when I learned of it... If it made her happy, I was willing to step back.' 'You came to our house and stole her away on her wedding day.' 'I was going to call the wedding off,' I cut in, taking a step toward Lucien. 'You knew it.' Rhysand went on before Lucien could snap a reply. 'I was willing to lose my mate to another male. I was willing to let them marry, if it brought her joy. But what I was not willing to do was let her suffer. To let her fade away into a shadow. And the moment that piece of shit blew apart his study, the moment he locked her in that house...' His wings ripped from him, and Lucien started. Rhys bared his teeth. My limbs turned light, trembling at the dark power curling in the corners of the room. Not fear- never fear of him. But at the shattered control as Rhys snarled at Lucien. 'My mate may one day find it in herself to forgive him. Forgive you. But I will never forget how it felt to sense her terror in those moments.' My cheeks heated, especially as Cassian and Azriel stalked closer, those hazel eyes now filled with a mix of sympathy and wrath. I had never talked about it to them- what had gone on that day Tamlin had destroyed his study, or the day he'd sealed me inside the manor. I'd never asked Rhys if he'd informed them. From the fury rippling from Cassian, the cold rage seeping from Azriel... I didn't think so. Lucien, to his credit, didn't back away a step. From Rhys, or me, or the Illyrians. The Clever Fox Stares Down Winged Death. The painting flashed in my mind. 'So, again, I will say this only once,' Rhys went on, his expression smoothing into lethal calm, dragging me from the colours and light and shadows gathering in my mind. 'Feyre did not dishonour or betray Tamlin. I revealed the mating bond months later- and she gave me hell for it, don't worry. But now that you've found your mate in a similar situation, perhaps you will try to understand how it felt. And if you can't be bothered, then I hope you're wise enough to keep your mouth shut, because the next time you look at my mate with that disdain and disgust, I won't bother to explain it again, and I will rip out your fucking throat.' Rhys said is so mildly that the threat took a second to register. To settle in me like a stone plunked into a pool. Lucien only shifted on his feet. Wary. Considering. I counted the heartbeats, debating how much I'd interfere if he said something truly stupid, when he at last murmured, 'There is a longer story to be told, it seems.

I was about to beg Rhys to fly me home when I caught the strands of music pouring from a group of performers outside a restaurant. My hands slackened at my sides. A reduced version of the symphony I'd heard in a chill dungeon, when I had been so lost in terror and despair that I'd hallucinated- hallucinated as this music poured into my cell- and kept me from shattering. And once more, the beauty of it hit me, the layering and swaying, the joy and peace. They had never played a piece like it Under the Mountain- never this sort of music. And I'd never heard music in my cell save for that one time. 'You,' I breathed, not taking my eyes from the musicians playing so skilfully that even the diners had set down their forks in the cafe nearby. 'You sent that music into my cell. Why?' Rhysand's voice was hoarse. 'Because you were breaking. And I couldn't find another way to save you.

Azriel lingered near the door, quiet enough that when Feyre and Mor began talking about some of her paintings, Nesta went over to him. 'Why don't you sit?' She leaned against the doorway beside the shadow singer. 'My shadows don't like the flames so much.' A pretty lie. She'd seen Azriel before the fire plenty. But she looked at who sat close to it and knew the answer. 'Why did you come if it torments you so much?' 'Because Rhys wants me here. It'd hurt him if I didn't come.' 'Well, I think holidays are stupid.' 'I don't.' She arched a brow. He explained, 'They pull people together. And bring them joy. They are a time to pause and reflect and gather, and those are never bad things.' Shadows darkened his eyes, full of enough pain that she couldn't stop herself from touching his shoulder. Letting him see that she understood why he stood in the doorway, why he wouldn't go near the fire. His secret to tell, never hers.

Do you know the answer to the riddle?' He crossed his arms. 'Cheating, are you?' 'She never said I couldn't ask for help.' 'Ah, but after she had you beaten to hell, she ordered us not to help you.' I waited. But he shook his head. 'Even if I felt like helping you, I couldn't. She gives the order, and we all bow to it.' He picked a fleck of dust off his black jacket. 'It's a good thing she likes me, isn't it?' I opened my mouth to press him- to beg him. If it meant instantaneous freedom- 'Don't waste your breath,' he said. 'I can't tell you- no one here can. If she ordered us all to stop breathing, we would have to obey that, too.' He frowned at me and snapped his fingers. The soot, the dirt, the ash vanished off my skin, leaving me as clean as if I'd bathed. 'There. A gift- for having the balls to even ask.' I gave him a flat stare, but he motioned to the hearth. It was spotless- and my bucket was filled with lentils.

Even in the warm faelight of the foyer, the gown glittered and gleamed like a fresh-cut jewel. We had taken my gown from Starfall and refashioned it, adding sheer silk panels to the back shoulders, the glittering material like woven starlight as it flowed behind me in lieu of a veil or cape. If Rhysand was Night Triumphant, I was the star that only glowed thanks to his darkness, the light only visible because of him. I scowled up the stairs. That is, if he bothered to show up on time. My hair, Nuala had swept into an ornate, elegant arc across my head, and in front of it... I caught Cassian glancing at me for the third time in less than a minute and demanded, 'What?' His lips twitched at the corners. 'You just look so...' 'Here we go,' Mor muttered from where she picked at her red-tinted nails against the stair banister. Rings glinted at every knuckle, on every finger; stacks of bracelets tinkled against each other on either wrist. 'Official,' Cassian said with an incredulous look in her direction. He waved a Siphon-topped hand to me. 'Fancy.' 'Over five hundred years old,' Mor said, shaking her head sadly, 'a skilled warrior and general, famous throughout territories, and complementing ladies is still something he finds next to impossible. Remind me why we bring you on diplomatic meetings?' Azriel, wreathed in shadows by the front door, chuckled quietly. Cassian shot him a glare. 'I don't see you spouting poetry, brother.' Azriel crossed his arms, still smiling faintly. 'I don't need to resort to it.

First Cassian and Azriel appeared in the doorway. The High Lord's general and shadowsinger- and the most powerful Illyrians in history. They were not the males I had come to know. Clad in battle-black that hugged their muscled forms, their armour was intricate, scaled- their shoulders impossibly broader, their faces a portrait of unfeeling brutality. They reminded me, somehow, of the ebony beasts carved into the pillars they passed. More siphons, I realised, glimmered in addition to the ones atop each of their hands. A Siphon in the centre of their chest. One on either shoulder. One on either knee. For a moment, my knees quaked, and I understood what the camplords had feared in them. If one Siphon was what most Illyrians needed to handle their killing power... Cassian and Azriel had seven each. Seven. The courtiers had the good sense to back away a step as Cassian and Azriel strolled through the crowd, toward the dais. Their wings gleamed, the talons at the apex sharp enough to pierce air- like they'd honed them.

I am not a child to be fought over.' Nesta's pulse pounded throughout her body, 'Do you not remember the war? What we encountered? Do you not remember the Cauldron kidnapping you, bringing you into the heart of Hybern's camp?' 'I do,' Elain said coldly. 'And I remember Feyre rescuing me.' Roaring erupted in Nesta's head. For a heartbeat, it appeared that Elain might say something to soften the words. But Nesta cut her off, seething at the pity about to be thrown her way. 'Look who decided to grow claws after all,' she crooned. 'Maybe you've become interesting at last, Elain.' Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain's face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike. Elain's eyes brightened with pain. Something imploded in Nesta's chest at that expression. She opened her mouth, as if it could somehow be undone. But Elain said, 'I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.

Lucien. It was Lucien. Lucien, haggard and bloody, panting for breath. As if he'd run from the shore. His gaze settled on Elain, and he sagged a little. But Elain only wrapped her arms around herself and remained at my side. 'Are you hurt?' he asked, coming toward us. Spying the blood speckling Elain's hands. He halted short as he noticed the King of Hybern's decapitated head on the other side of the clearing. Nesta was still showered with his blood. 'I'm fine,' Elain said quietly. And then asked, noticing the gore on him, the torn clothes and still-bloody weapons, 'Are you-' 'Well, I never want to fight in another battle as long as I live, but... yes, I'm in one piece.' A faint smile bloomed on Elain's lips. But Lucien noticed that scorched patch of grass behind us and said, 'I heard- what happened. I'm sorry for your loss. All of you.' I just strode to him and threw my arms around his neck, even if it wasn't the embrace he was hoping for. 'Thank you- for coming. With the battle, I mean.' 'I've got one hell of a story to tell you,' he said, squeezing me tightly.

You make me so very happy. My life is happy, and I will never stop being grateful that you are in it. I looked up to find him not at all ashamed to have tears slipping down his cheeks in public. I brushed a few away before the chill wind could freeze them, and Rhys whispered into my ear, 'I will never stop being grateful to have you in my life, either, Feyre darling. And no matter what lies ahead' - a small, joyous smile at that- 'we will face it together. Enjoy every moment of it together.' I leaned into him again, his arm tightening around my shoulders. Around the top of the arm inked with the tattoo we both bore, the promise between us. To never part, not until the end. And even after that. I love you, I said down the bond. What's not to love? Before I could elbow him, Rhys kissed me again, breathless and swift. To the stars who listen, Feyre. I brushed a hand over his cheek to wipe away the last of his tears, his skin warm and soft, and we turned down the street that would lead us home. Toward our future- and all that waited within it. To the dreams that are answered, Rhys.

Cassian was sizing up Nesta, a gleam in his eyes that I could only interpret as a warrior finding himself faced with a new, interesting opponent. Then, Mother above, Nesta shifted her attention to Cassian, noticing that gleam- what it meant. She snarled softly. 'What are you looking at?' Cassian's brows rose- little amusement to be found now. 'Someone who let her younger sister risk her life every day in the woods while she did nothing. Someone who let a fourteen-year-old child go out into that forest, so close to the wall.' My face began heating, and I opened my mouth. To say what, I don't know. 'Your sister died- died to save my people. She is willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don't expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make- and insult my people in the process.' Nesta didn't bat an eyelash as she studied the handsome features, the muscled torso. Then turned to me. Dismissing him entirely. Cassian's face went almost feral. A wolf who had been circling a doe... only to find a mountain cat wearing its hide instead.

It wasn't that Elain was cruel. She wasn't like Nesta, who had been born with a sneer on her face. Elain sometimes just... didn't grasp things. It wasn't meanness that kept her from offering to help; it simply never occurred to her that she might be capable of getting her hands dirty. I'd never been able to decide whether she actually didn't understand that we were truly poor or if she just refused to accept it. It still hadn't stopped me buying her seeds for the flower garden she tended in the milder months, whenever I could afford it. And it hadn't stopped her from buying me three small tins of paint- red, yellow, and blue- during that same summer I'd had enough to buy the ash arrow. It was the only gift she'd ever given me, and out house still bore the marks of it, even if the paint was now fading and chipped: little vines and flowers along the windows and thresholds and edges of things, tiny curls of flame on the stones bordering the hearth. And spare minute I'd had that bountiful summer, I used to bedeck out house in colour, sometimes hiding clever decorations inside drawers, behind the threadbare curtains, underneath the chairs and table. We hadn't had a summer that easy since.

Dying. I slid to my knees before it, sinking into the bloody moss. “Let me help you. I can heal you.” I’d do it the same way I’d helped Rhysand. Remove those arrows—and offer it my blood. I reached for the first one, but a dry, bony hand settled on my wrist. “Your magic …,” it rasped, “is spent. Do not … waste it.” “I can save you.” It only gripped my wrist. “I am already gone.” “What—what can I do?” The words turned thin—brittle. “Stay …,” it breathed. “Stay … until the end.” I took its hand in mine. “I’m sorry.” It was all I could think to say. I had done this—I had brought it here. “I knew,” it gasped, sensing my shift in thoughts. “The tracking … I knew of it.” “Then why come at all?” “You … were kind. You … fought your fear. You were … kind,” it said again. I began crying. “And you were kind to me,” I said, not brushing away the tears that fell onto its bloodied, tattered robe. “Thank you—for helping me. When no one else would.” A small smile on that lipless mouth. “Feyre Archeron.” A labored breath. “I told you—to stay with the High Lord. And you did.” Its warning to me that first time we’d met. “You—you meant Rhys.” All this time. All this time— “Stay with him … and live to see everything righted.” “Yes. I did—and it was.” “No—not yet. Stay with him.” “I will.” I always would. Its chest rose—then fell. “I don’t even know your name,” I whispered. The Suriel—it was a title, a name for its kind. That small smile again. “Does it matter, Cursebreaker?” “Yes.” Its eyes dimmed, but it did not tell me. It only said, “You should go now. Worse things—worse things are coming. The blood … draws them.” I squeezed its bony hand, the leathery skin growing colder. “I can stay a while longer.” I had killed enough animals to know when a body neared death. Soon, now—it would be a matter of breaths. “Feyre Archeron,” the Suriel said again, gazing at the leafy canopy, the sky peeking through it. A painful inhale. “A request.” I leaned close. “Anything.” Another rattling breath. “Leave this world … a better place than how you found it.” And as its chest rose and stopped altogether, as its breath escaped in one last sigh, I understood why the Suriel had come to help me, again and again. Not just for kindness … but because it was a dreamer. And it was the heart of a dreamer that had ceased beating inside that monstrous chest. Its sudden silence echoed into my own. I laid my head on its chest, on that now-silent vault of bone, and wept.

My mouth went paper-dry as Alis fluffed out the sparkling train of my gown in the shadow of the garden doors. Silk and gossamer rustled and sighed, and I gripped the pale bouquet in my gloved hands, nearly snapping the stems. Elbow-length silk gloves- to hide the marking. Ianthe had delivered them herself this morning in a velvet-lined box. 'Don't be nervous,' Alis chuckled, her tree-bark skin rich and flushed in the honey gold evening light. 'I'm not,' I rasped. 'You're fidgeting like my youngest nephew during a haircut.' She finished fussing over my dress, shooing away some servants who'd come to spy on me before the ceremony. I pretended I didn't see them or the glittering, sunset-gilded crowd seated in the courtyard ahead, and toyed with some invisible fleck on my skirts. 'You look beautiful,' Alis said quietly. I was fairly certain her thoughts on the dress were the same as my own, but I believed her. 'Thank you.' 'And you sound like you're going to your funeral.' I plastered a grin on my face. Alis rolled her eyes. But she nudged me toward the doors as they opened on some immortal wind, lilting music streaming in. 'It's be over faster than you can blink,' she promised, and gently nudged me into the last of the sunlight.

I scrambled onto the bed, lunging for him, feeling what was his arm, then his stomach, then his shoulders. His skin was freezing as I gripped his shoulders and shouted his name. No response, and I slid a hand up his neck, to his mouth- to make sure he was still breathing, that this wasn't his power floating away from him- Icy breath hit my palm. And bracing myself, I rose up on my knees, aiming blindly and slapping him. My palm stung- but he didn't move. I hit him again, pulling on that bond between us, shouting his name down it like it was a tunnel, banging on that wall of ebony adamant within his mind, roaring at it. A crack in the dark. And then his hands were on me, flipping me, pinning me with expert skill to the mattress, a taloned hand at my throat. I went still. 'Rhysand.' I breathed. Rhys, I said, through the bond, putting a hand against that inner shield. The dark shuddered. I threw my own power out- black to black, soothing his darkness, the rough edges, willing it to calm, to soften. My darkness sang his own a lullaby, a song my wet nurse had hummed when my mother had shoved me into her arms to go back to attending parties. 'It was a dream,' I said. His hand was so cold. 'It was a dream.' Again, the dark paused. I sent my own veils of night brushing up against it, running star-flecked hands down it. And for a heartbeat, the inky blackness cleared enough that I saw his face above me: drawn, lips pale, violet eyes wide- scanning. 'Feyre,' I said. 'I'm Feyre.' His breathing was jagged, uneven. I gripped the wrist that held my throat- held, but didn't hurt. 'You were dreaming.' I willed that darkness inside myself to echo it, to sing those raging fears to sleep, to brush up against that ebony wall within his mind, gentle and soft... Then, like snow shaken from a tree, his darkness fell away, taking mine with it. Moonlight poured in- and the sounds of the city.

Consider it a Solstice and birthday present in one.' He gestured to the house, the gardens, the grounds that flowed to the river's edge. With a perfect view of the Rainbow at night, thanks to the land's curve. 'It's yours. Ours. I purchased it on Solstice Eve. Workers are coming in two days to begin clearing the rubble and knock down the rest of the house.' I blinked again, long and slow. 'You bought me an estate?' 'Technically, it will be our estate, but the house is yours. Build it to your heart's content. Everything you want, everything you need- build it.' The cost alone, the sheer size of this gift had to astronomical. 'Rhys.' He paced a few steps, running his hands through his blue-black hair, his wings tucked in tight. 'We have no space at the town house. You and I can barely fit everything in the bedroom. And no one wants to be at the House of Wind.' He again gestured to the magnificent estate around us. 'So build a house for us, Feyre. Dream as wildly as you want. It's yours.' I didn't have words for it. What cascaded through me. 'It- the cost-' 'Don't worry about the cost.' 'But...' I gaped at the sleeping, tangled land, the ruined house. Pictured what I might want there. My knees wobbled. 'Rhys- it's too much.' His face became deadly serious. 'Not for you. Never for you.' He slid his arms around my waist, kissing my temple. 'Build a house with a painting studio.' He kissed my other temple. 'Build a house with an office for you, and one for me. Build a house with a bathtub big enough for two- and for wings.' Another kiss, this time to my cheek. 'Build a house with a garden for Elain, a training ring for the Illyrian babies, a library for Amren, and an enormous dressing room for Mor.' I choked on a laugh at that. But Rhys silenced it with a kiss to my mouth, lingering and sweet. 'Build a house with a nursery, Feyre.' My heart tightened to the point of pain, and I kissed him back. Kissed him again and again, the property wide and clear around us. 'I will,' I promised.

Go get her,' Amren hissed. 'Right now.' 'No,' I said, and hated the word. They gaped at me, and I wanted to roar at the sight of the blood coating them, at my unconscious and suffering brothers on the carpet before them. But I managed to say to my cousin, 'Weren't you listening to what Feyre said to him? She promised to destroy him- from within.' Mor's face paled, her magic flaring on Azriel's chest. 'She's going into that house to take him down. To take them all down.' I nodded. 'She is now a spy- with a direct line t me. What the King of Hybern does, where he goes, what his plans are, she will know. And report back.' Far between us, faint and soft, hidden so none might find it... between us lay a whisper of colour, and joy, of light and shadow- a whisper of her. Our bond. 'She's your mate,' Amren bit at me. 'Not your spy. Go get her.' 'She is my mate. And my spy,' I said too quietly. 'And she is the High Lady of the Night Court.' 'What?' Mor whispered. I caressed a mental finger down that bond now hidden deep, deep within us, and said, 'If they had removed her other glove, they would have seen a second tattoo on her right arm. The twin to the other. Inked last night, when we crept out, found a priestess, and I swore her in as my High Lady.' 'Not- not consort,' Amren blurted, blinking. I hadn't seen her surprised in... centuries. 'Not consort, not wife. Feyre is High Lady of the Night Court.' My equal in every way; she would wear my crown, sit on a throne beside mine. Never sidelined, never deigned to breeding and parties and child-rearing. My queen. As if in answer, a glimmer of love shuddered down the bond. I clamped down on the relief that threatened to shatter any calm I feigned having. 'You mean to tell me,' Mor breathed, 'that my High Lady is now surrounded by enemies?' A lethal sort of calm crept over her tear-stained face. 'I mean to tell you,' I said, watching the blood clot on Cassian's wings with Amren's tending. Beneath Mor's own hands. Azriel's bleeding at least eased. Enough to keep them alive until the healer got here. 'I mean to tell you,' I said again, my power building and rubbing itself against my skin, my bones, desperate to be unleashed upon the world, 'that your High Lady made a sacrifice for her court- and we will move when the time is right.' Perhaps Lucien being Elain's mate would help- somehow, I'd find a way. And then I'd assist my mate in ripping the Spring Court, Ianthe, those mortal queens, and the King of Hybern to shreds. Slowly. 'Until then?' Amren demanded. 'What of the Cauldron- of the book?' 'Until then,' I said, staring toward the door as if I might see her walk through it, laughing and vibrant and beautiful, 'we got to war.

Did you know,' I said over the sound of my sawing, 'that one summer, when I was seventeen, Elain bought me some paint? We'd had just enough to spend on extra things, and she bought me and Nesta presents. She didn't have enough for a full set, but bought me red and blue and yellow. I used them to the last drop, stretching them as much as I could, and painted little decorations in our cottage.' ... 'I painted the table, the cabinets, the doorway... And we had this old, black dresser in our room- one drawer for each of us. We didn't have much clothing to put in there, anyway.' I got through the second arrow faster, and he braced himself as I tugged it out. Blood flowed, then clotted. I started on the third. 'I painted flowers for Elain on her drawer,' I said, sawing and sawing. 'Little roses and begonias and irises. And for Nesta...' The arrow clanged to the ground and I ripped out the other end. I watched the blood flow and stop- watched him slowly lower the wing to the ground, his body trembling. 'Nesta,' I said, starting on the other wing, 'I painted flames for her. She was always angry, always burning. I think she and Amren would be fast friends. I think she would like Velaris, despite herself. And I think Elain- Elain would like it, too. Though she'd probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet.' I smiled at the thought- at how handsome they would be together. If the warrior ever stopped quietly loving Mor. I doubted it. Azriel would likely love Mor until he was a whisper of darkness between the stars. ... 'Rhys's voice was raw as he said to the floor, 'What did you paint for yourself?' ... 'I painted the night sky.' He stilled. I went on, 'I painted stars and the moon and clouds and just endless, dark sky.' I finished the sixth, and was well on my way sawing through the seventh before I said, 'I never knew why. I rarely went outside at night- usually, I was so tired from hunting that I just wanted to sleep. But I wonder...' I pulled out the seventh and final arrow. 'I wonder if some part of me knew what was waiting for me. That I would never be a gentle grower of things, or someone who burned like fire- but that I would be quiet and enduring and as faceted as the night. That I would have beauty, for those who knew where to look, and if people didn't bother to look, but to only fear it... Then I didn't particularly care for them, anyway. I wonder if, even in my despair and hopelessness, I was never truly alone. I wonder if I was looking for this place- looking for you all.' ... 'I was looking for you, too,' Rhys murmured. And passed out.

Does it undermine my image as a warrior to be with you?' 'No. Does it undermine Feyre's when she's seen with Rhys?' Her stomach tightened. Her heartbeat pulsed in her arms, her gut. 'It's different for them,' she made herself say as they reached the end of the bridge and turned to walk along the quay flanking the river. Cassian asked carefully. 'Why?' Nesta kept her focus on the glittering river, vibrant with the hues of sunset. 'Because they're mates.' At his utter silence, she knew what he'd say. Halted again, bracing herself for it. Cassian's face was a void. Completely empty as he said, 'And we're not?' Nesta said nothing. He huffed a laugh. 'Because they're mates and you don't want us to be.' 'That word means nothing to me, Cassian,' she said, voice thick as she tried to keep the people who strode past from overhearing. 'It means something to all of you, but for most of my life, husband and wife was as good as it got. Mate is just a word.' 'That's bullshit.' When she only began walking along the river again, he asked. 'Why are you frightened?' 'I'm not frightened.' 'What spooked you? Just being seen publicly with me like this?' Yes. Having him kiss her and realising that soon she'd have to return to the world humming around them, and leave the House, and she didn't know what she would do then. What it would mean for them. If she would plunge back into that dark place she'd occupied before. Drag him down with her. 'Nesta. Talk to me.' She met his stare, but wouldn't open her mouth. Cassian's eyes blazed. 'Say it.' She refused. 'Say it, Nesta.' 'I don't know what you're talking about.' 'Ask me why I vanished for nearly a week after Solstice. Why I suddenly had to do an inspection right after a holiday.' Nesta kept her mouth shut. 'It was because I woke up the next morning and all I wanted to do was fuck you for a week straight. And I knew what that meant, what had happened, even though you didn't, and I didn't want to scare you. You weren't ready for the truth- not yet.' Her mouth went dry. 'Say it,' Cassian snarled. People gave them a wide berth. Some outright turned back toward the direction they'd come from. 'No.' His face shuttered with rage even as his voice became calm. 'Say it.' She couldn't. Not before he'd ordered her to, and certainly not now. She couldn't let him win like that. 'Say what I guessed from the moment we met,' he breathed. 'What I knew the first time I kissed you. What became unbreakable between us on Solstice night.' She wouldn't. 'I am your mate, for fuck's sake!' Cassian shouted, loud enough for people across the river to hear. 'You are my mate! Why are you still fighting it?' She let the truth, voiced at last, wash over her. 'You promised me forever on Solstice,' he said, voice breaking. 'Why is one word somehow throwing you off that?' 'Because with that one word, the last scrap of my humanity goes away!' She didn't care who saw them, who heard. 'With that one stupid word, I am no longer human in any way. I'm one of you!' He blinked. 'I thought you wanted to be one of us.' 'I don't know what I want. I didn't have a choice.' 'Well, I didn't have a choice in being shackled to you, either.' The declaration slammed into her. Shackled. He sucked in a breath. 'That was an incredibly poor choice of words.' 'But the truth, right?' 'No, I was angry- it's not true.' 'Why? Your friends saw me for what I was. What I am. The mating bond made you stupidly blind to it. How many times did they warn you away from me, Cassian?' She barked a cold laugh. Shackled. Words beckoned, sharp as knives, begging for her to grab one and plunge it into his chest. Make him hurt as much as that one would hurt her. Make him bleed. But if she did that, if she ripped into him... She couldn't. Wouldn't let herself do it.

Rhys shut the door and went to a small box on the desk- then silently handed it to me. My heart thundered as I opened the lid. The star sapphire gleamed in the candlelight, as if it were one of the Starfall spirits trapped in stone. 'Your mother's ring?' 'My mother gave me that ring to remind me she was always with me, even during the worst of my training. And when I reached my majority, she took it away. It was an heirloom of her family- had been handed down from female to female over many, many years. My sister wasn't yet born, so she wouldn't have known to give it to her, but... My mother gave it to the Weaver. And then she told me that if I were to marry or mate, then the female would either have to be smart or strong enough to get it back. And if the female wasn't either of those things, then she wouldn't survive the marriage. I promised my mother that any potential bride or mate would have the test... And so it sat there for centuries.' My face heated. 'You said this was something of value-' 'It is. To me, and my family.' 'So my trip to the Weaver-' 'It was vital that we learn if you could detect those objects. But... I picked the object out of pure selfishness.' 'So I won my wedding ring without even being asked if I wanted to marry you.' 'Perhaps.' I cocked my head. 'Do- do you want me to wear it?' 'Only if you want to.' 'When we go to Hybern... Let's say things go badly. Will anyone be able to tell that we're mated? Could they use that against you?' Rage flickered in his eyes. 'If they see us together and can scent us both, they'll know.' 'And if I show up alone, wearing a Night Court wedding ring-' He snarled softly. I closed the box, leaving the ring inside. 'After we nullify the Cauldron, I want to do it all. Get the bond declared, get married, throw a stupid party and invite everyone in Velaris- all of it.' Rhys took the box from my hands and set it down on the nightstand before herding me toward the bed. 'And if I wanted to go one step beyond that?' 'I'm listening,' I purred as he laid me on the sheets.

Everyone tensed as he leaned in, head dipping, and kissed her. Nesta's lips were chips of ice. But he let their coldness sting his own, and brushed his mouth against hers. Nipped at her bottom lip until he felt it drop a fraction. He slid his tongue into that opening, and found the inside of her mouth, usually so soft and warm, crusted with hoarfrost. Nesta didn't kiss him back, but didn't shove him away. So Cassian sent his heat into it, fusing their mouths together, his free hand bracing her hip as his Siphons nipped at her hand once more. Her mouth opened wider, and he slid his tongue over every inch- over her frozen teeth, over the roof of her mouth. Warming, softening, freeing. Her tongue lifted to meet his in a single stroke that cracked the ice in her mouth. He slanted his mouth over hers, tugging her against his chest, and tasted her as he'd wanted to taste her the other night, deep and thorough and claiming. Her tongue again brushed against his, and then her body was warming, and Cassian pulled back enough to say against her lips, 'Let go, Nesta.' He drove his mouth into hers again, daring her to unleash that cold fire upon him. Something thunked and clinked beside them. And when Nesta's other hand gripped her shoulder, fingers now free of stones and bones, when she arched her neck, granting him better, deeper access, he nearly shuddered with relief. She broke the kiss first, as if sliding into her body and remembering who kissed her, where they were, who watched. Cassian opened his eyes to find her so close that they shared breath. Normal, unclouded breath. Her eyes had returned to the blue-grey he knew so well. Stunned surprise and a little fear lit her face. As if she'd never seen him before. 'Interesting,' Amren observed, and he found the female studying the map. Feyre gaped, though, Rhys's hand gripped tight in her own. Caution blazed on Rhys's face. On Azriel's, too. What the hell did you do to pull her out of that? Rhys asked. Cassian didn't really know. The only thing I could think of. You warmed the entire room. I didn't mean to.

I might be a shameless flirt, but at least I don't have a horrible temper. You should come tend to my wounds from our squabble in the snow. I'm bruised all over thanks to you. Something clicked against the nightstand, and a pen rolled across the polished mahogany. Hissing, I snatched it up and scribbed: Go lick your wounds and leave me be. The paper vanished. It was gone for a while- far longer than it should have taken to write the few words that appeared on the paper when it returned. I'd much rather you licked my wounds for me. My heart pounded, faster and faster, and a strange sort of rush went through my veins as I read the sentence again and again. A challenge. I clamped my lips shut to keep from smiling as I wrote, Lick you where exactly? The paper vanished before I'd even completed the final mark. His reply was a long time coming. Then, Wherever you want to lick me, Feyre. I'd like to start with "Everywhere," but I can choose, if necessary. I wrote back, Let's hope my licking is better than yours. I remember how horrible you were at it Under the Mountain. Lie. He'd licked away my tears when I'd been a moment away from shattering. He'd done it to keep me distracted- keep me angry. Because anger was better than feeling nothing; because anger and hatred were the long-lasting fuel in the endless dark of my despair. The same way that music had kept me from breaking. Lucien had come to patch me up a few times, but no one risked quite so much in keeping me not only alive, but as mentally intact as I could be considering the circumstances. Just as he'd been doing these past few weeks- taunting and teasing me to keep the hollowness at bay. Just as he was doing now. I was under duress, his next note read. If you want, I'd be more than happy to prove you wrong. I've been told I'm very, very good at licking. I clenched my knees together and wrote back, Good night. A heartbeat later, his note said, Try not to moan too loudly when you dream about me. I need my beauty rest. I got up, chucked the letter in the burbling fire, and gave it a vulgar gesture. I could have sworn laughter rumbled down the hall.

She knew she was going into that Cauldron. Knew she would lose this fight. Knew no one was going to save her: not sobbing Feyre, not Feyre's gagged former lover, nor her devastated new mate. Not Cassian, broken and bleeding on the floor. The warrior was still trying to rise on trembling arms. To reach her. The King of Hybern- he had done this. To Elain. To Cassian. And to her. The icy water bit into the soles of her feet. It was a kiss of venom, a death so permanent that every inch of her roared in defiance. She was going in- but she would not go gently. The water gripped her ankles with phantom talons, tugging her down. She twisted, wrenching her arm free from the guard who held it. And Nesta Archeron pointed. One finger- at the King of Hybern. A death-promise. A target marked. Hands shoved her into the water's waiting claws. Nesta laughed at the fear that crept into the king's eyes just before the water devoured her whole. In the beginning. And in the end. There was darkness. And nothing more. She did not feel the cold as she sank into a sea that had no bottom, no horizon, no surface. But she felt the burning. Immortality was not a serene youth It was fire. It was molten ore poured into her veins, boiling her human blood until it was nothing but steam, forging her brittle bones until they were fresh steel. And when she opened her mouth to scream, when the pain ripped her very self in two, there was no sound. There was nothing in this place but darkness and agony and power- They would pay. All of them. Staring with the Cauldron. Starting now. She tore into the darkness with talons and teeth. Rent and cleaved and shredded. And the dark eternity around her shuddered. Bucked. Thrashed. She laughed as it recoiled. Laughed around the mouthful of raw power she ripped out and swallowed whole; laughed at the fistfuls of eternity she shoved into her heart, her veins. The Cauldron struggled like a bird under a cat's paw. She refused to relent. Everything it had stolen from her, from Elain, she would take from it. Wrapped in black eternity, Nesta and the Cauldron twined, burning through the darkness like a newborn star.

Rhysand opened his mouth, but then the silhouettes of two tall, powerful bodies appeared on the other side of the front door's fogged glass. One of them banged on it with a fist. 'Hurry up, you lazy ass,' a deep male voice drawled from the antechamber beyond. Exhaustion drugged me so heavily that I didn't particularly care that there were wings peeking over thier two shadowy forms. Rhys didn't so much as blink toward the door. 'Two things, Feyre darling.' The pounding continued, followed by the second male murmuring to his companion, 'If you're going to pick a fight with him, do it after breakfast.' That voice- like shadows given form, dark and smooth and... cold. 'I wasn't the one who hauled me out of bed just now to fly down here,' the first one said. Then added, 'Busybody.' I could have sworn a smile tugged on Rhys's lips as he went on, 'One, no one- no one- but Mor and I are able to winnow directly inside this house. it is warded, shielded, and then warded some more. Only those I wish- and you wish- may enter. You are safe here; and safe anywhere in this city, for that matter. Velaris's walls are well protected and have not been breached in five thousand years. No one with ill intent enters this city unless I allow it. So go where you wish, do what you wish, and see who you wish. Those two in the antechamber,' he added, eyes sparkling, 'might not be on that list of people you should bother knowing, if they keep banging on the door like children.' Another pound, emphasised by the first male voice saying, 'You know we can hear you, prick.' 'Secondly,' Rhys went on, 'in regard to the two bastards at my door, it's up to you whether you want to meet them now, or head upstairs like a wise person, take a nap since you're still looking a little peaky, and then change into city-appropriate clothing while I beat the hell out of one of them for talking to his High Lord like that.' There was such light in his eyes. It made him look... younger, somehow. More mortal. So at odds with the icy rage I'd seen earlier when I'd awoken... Awoken on that couch, and then decided I wasn't returning home. Decided that, perhaps, the Spring Court might not be my home.

You came to claim Tamlin?' Amarantha said- it wasn't a question, but a challenge. 'Well, as it happens, I'm bored to tears of his sullen silence. I was worried when he didn't flinch while I played with darling Clare, when he didn't even show those lovely claws... 'But I'll make a bargain with you, human,' she said, and warning bells pealed in my mind. Unless your life depends on it, Alis had said. 'You complete three tasks of my choosing- three tasks to prove how deep that human sense of loyalty and love runs, and Tamlin is yours. Just three little challenges to prove your dedication, to prove to me, to darling Jurian, that your kind can indeed love true, and you can have your High Lord.' She turned to Tamlin. 'Consider it a favour, High Lord- these human dogs can make our kind so lust-blind that we lose all common sense. Better for you to see her true nature now.' 'I want his curse broken, too,' I blurted. She raised a brow, her smile growing, revealing far too many of those white teeth. 'I complete all three of your tasks, and his curse is broken, and we- and all his court- can leave here. And remain free forever,' I added. Magic was specific, Alis had said- that was how Amarantha had tricked them. I wouldn't let loopholes be my downfall. 'Of course,' Amarantha purred. 'I'll throw in another element, if you don't mind- just to see if you're worthy of one of our kind, if you're smart enough to deserve him.' Jurian's eye swivelled wildly, and she clicked her tongue at it. The eye stopped moving. 'I'll give you a way out girl,' she went on. 'You'll complete all the tasks- or, when you can't stand it anymore, all you have to do is answer one question.' I could barely hear her above the blood pounding in my ears. 'A riddle. You solve the riddle, and his curse will be broken. Instantaneously. I won't even need to lift my finger and he'll be free. Say the right answer, and he's yours. You can answer it at any time- but if you answer incorrectly...' She pointed, and I didn't need to turn to know she gestured to Clare. I turned her words over, looking for traps and loopholes within her phrasing. But it all sounded right. 'And what if I fail your tasks?' Her smile became almost grotesque, and she rubbed a thumb across the dome of her ring. 'If you fail a task, there won't be anything left of you for me to play with.

I wanted to go home, to Velaris, but I had to stay, to make sure things were set in motion, that you were all right. So I waited as long as I could, then I sent a tug through the bond. Then you came to find me. 'I almost told you then, but... You were so sad. And tired. And for once, you looked at me like... like I was worth something. So I promised myself that the next time I saw you, I'd free you of the bargain. Because I was selfish, and knew that if I let go right then, he'd lock you up and I'd never get to see you again. When I went to leave you... I think transforming you into Fae made the bond lock into place permanently. I'd known it existed, but it hit me then- hit me so strong that I panicked. I knew if I stayed a second longer, I'd damn the consequences and take you with me. And you'd hate me forever. 'I landed at the Night Court, right as Mor was waiting for me, and I was so frantic, so... unhinged, that I told her everything. I hadn't seen her in fifty years, and my first words to her were, "She's my mate." And for three months... for three months I tried to convince myself that you were better off without me. I tried to convince myself that everything I'd done had made you hate me. But I felt you through the bond, through your open mental shields. I felt your pain, and sadness, and loneliness. I felt you struggling to escape the darkness of Amarantha the same way I was. I heard you were going to marry him, and I told myself you were happy. I should you let you be happy, even if it killed me. Even if you were my mate, you'd earned that happiness. 'The day of your wedding, I'd planned to get rip-roaring drunk with Cassian, who had no idea why, but... But then I felt you again, I felt your panic, and despair, and heard you beg someone- anyone- to save you. I lost it. I winnowed to the wedding, and barely remembered who I was supposed to be, the part I was supposed to play. All I could see was you, in your stupid wedding dress- so thin. So, so thin, and pale. And I wanted to kill him for it, but I had to get you out. Had to call in that bargain, just once, to get you away, to see if you were all right.' Rhys looked at me, eyes desolate. 'It killed me, Feyre, to send you back. To see you waste away, month by month. It killed me to know he was sharing your bed. Not just because you were my mate, but because I...' He glanced down, then up at me again. 'I knew... I knew I was in love with you that moment I picked up the knife to kill Amarantha.' 'When you finally came here... I decided I wouldn't tell you. Any of it. I wouldn't let you out of the bargain, because your hatred was better than facing the two alternatives: that you felt nothing for me, or that you... you might feel something similar, and if I let myself love you, you would be taken from me. The way my family was- the way my friends were. So I didn't tell you. I watched as you faded away. Until that day... that day he locked you up. 'I would have killed him if he'd been there. But I broke some very, very fundamental rules in taking you away. Amren said if I got you to admit that we were mates, it would keep any trouble from our door, but... I couldn't force the bond on you. I couldn't try to seduce you into accepting the bond, either. Even if it gave Tamlin license to wage war on me. You had been through so much already. I didn't want you to think that everything I did was to win you, just to keep my lands safe. But I couldn't... I couldn't stop being around you, and loving you, and wanting you. I still can't stay away.' He leaned back, loosing a long breath.

Break the bond. The bargain, the- the mating bond. He- he made me do it, made me swear it-' 'No,' Rhysand said. I ignored him, even as my heart broke, even as I knew that he hadn't meant to say it- 'Do it,' I begged the king, even as I silently prayed he wouldn't notice his ruined wards, the door I'd left wide open. 'I know you can. Just- free me. Free me from it.' 'No,' Rhysand said. But Tamlin was staring between us. And I looked at thim, the High Lord I had once loved, and I breathed. 'No more. No more death- no more killing.' I sobbed through my clenched teeth. Made myself look at my sisters. 'No more. Take me home and let them go. Tell him it's part of the bargain and let them go. But no more- please.' Cassian slowly, every movement pained, stirred enough to look over a shredded wing at me. And in his pain-glazed eyes, I saw it- the understanding. The Court of Dreams. I had belonged to a court of dreams. And dreamers. And for their dreams... for what they had worked for, sacrificed for... I could do it. Get my sisters out, I said to Rhys one last time, sending it into that stone wall between us. I looked to Tamlin. 'No more.' Those green eyes met mine- and the sorrow and tenderness in them was the most hideous thing I'd ever seen. 'Take me home.' Tamlin said flatly to the king, 'Let them go, break her bond, and let's be done with it. Her sisters come with us. You've already crossed too many lines.' Jurian began objecting, but the king said, 'Very well.' 'No,' was all Rhys said again. Tamlin snarled at him, 'I don't give a shit if she's your mate. I don't give a shit if you think you're entitled to her. She is mine- and one day, I am going to repay every bit of pain she felt, every bit of suffering and despair. One day, perhaps when she decides she wants to end you, I'll be happy to oblige her.' Walk away- just go. Take my sisters with you. Rhys was only staring at me. 'Don't.' But I backed away- until I hit Tamlin's chest, until his hands, warm and heavy, landed on my shoulders. 'Do it,' he said to the king. 'No,' Rhys said again, his voice breaking. But the king pointed at me. And I screamed. Tamlin gripped my arms as I screamed and screamed at the pain that tore through my chest, my left arm. Rhysand was on the ground, roaring, and I thought he might have said my name, might have bellowed it as I thrashed and sobbed. I was being shredded, I was dying, I was dying- No. No, I didn't want it, I didn't want to- A crack sounded in my ears. And the world cleaved in two as the bond snapped.

He just wanted a walk- and a few books. It had been an age since he'd even had free time to read, let alone do so for pleasure. But there she was. His mate. She was nothing like Jesminda. Jesminda had been all laughter and mischief, too wild and free to be contained by the country life that she'd been born into. She had teased him, taunted him- seduced him so thoroughly that he hadn't wanted anything but her. She'd seen him not as a High Lord's seventh son, but as a male. Had loved him without question, without hesitation. She had chosen him. Elain had been... thrown at him. He glanced toward the tea service spread on a low-lying table nearby. 'I'm going to assume that one of those cups belongs to your sister.' Indeed, there was a discarded book in the viper's usual chair. Cauldron help the male who wound up shackled to her. 'Do you mind if I held myself to the other?' He tried to sound casual- comfortable. Even as his heart raced and raced, so swift he thought he might vomit on the very expensive, very old carpet. From Sangravah, if the patterns and rich dyes were any indication. Rhysand was many things, but he certainly had good taste. The entire place had been decorated with thought and elegance, with a penchant for comfort over stuffiness. He didn't want to admit he liked it. Didn't want to admit he found the city beautiful. That the circle of people who now claimed to be Feyre's new family... It was what, long ago, he'd once thought life at Tamlin's court would be. An ache like a blow to the chest went through him, but he crossed the rug. Forced his hands to be steady while he poured himself a cup of tea and sat in the chair opposite Nesta's vacated one. 'There's a plate of biscuits. Would you like one?' He didn't expect her to answer, and he gave himself all of one more minute before he'd rise from this chair and leave, hopefully avoiding Nesta's return. But sunlight on gold caught his eye- and Elain slowly turned from her vigil at the window. He had not seen her entire face since that day in Hybern. Then, it had been drawn and terrified, then utterly blank and numb, her hair plastered to her head, her lips blue with cold and shock. Looking at her now... She was pale, yes. The vacancy still glazing her features. But he couldn't breathe as she faced him fully. She was the most beautiful female he'd ever seen. Betrayal, queasy and oily, slid through his veins. He'd said the same to Jesminda once. But even as shame washed through him, the words, the sense chanted, Mine. You are mine, and I am yours. Mate.

She took my wings,' he whispered. Tamlin's green eyes flickered and I knew right then, that the faerie was going to die. Death wasn't just hovering in this hall; it was counting down the faerie's remaining heartbeats. I took one of the faerie's hands in mine. The skin there was almost leathery, and, perhaps more of a reflex than anything, his long fingers wrapped around mine, covering them completely. 'She took my wings,' he said again, his shaking subsiding a bit. I brushed the long, damp hair from the faerie's half-turned face, revealing a pointed nose and a mouth full of sharp teeth. His dark eyes shifted to mine, beseeching, pleading. 'It will be all right,' I said, and hoped he couldn't smell the lies the way the Suriel was able to. I stroked his limp hair, its texture like liquid night- another I would never be able to paint but would try to, perhaps forever. 'It will be all right.' The faerie closed his eyes, and I tightened my grip on his hand. Something wet touched my feet, and I didn't need to look down to see that his blood had pooled around me. 'My wings,' the faerie whispered. 'You'll get them back.' The faerie struggled to open his eyes. 'You swear?' 'Yes,' I breathed. The faerie managed a slight smile and closed his eyes again. My mouth trembled. I wished for something else to say, something more to offer him than my empty promises. The first false vow I'd ever sworn. But Tamlin began speaking, and I glanced up to see him take the faerie's other hand. 'Cauldron save you,' he said, reciting the words of a prayer that was probably older than the mortal realm. 'Mother hold you. Pass through the gates, and smell that immortal land of milk and honey. Fear no evil. Feel no pain.' Tamlin's voice wavered, but he finished. 'Go, and enter eternity.' The faerie heaved one final sigh, and his hand went limp in mine. I didn't let go, though, and kept stroking his hair, even when Tamlin released him and took a few steps from the table. I could feel Tamlin's eyes on me, but I wouldn't let go. I didn't know how long it took for a soul to fade from the body. I stood in the puddle of blood until it grew cold, holding the faerie's spindly hand and stroking his hair, wondering if he knew I'd lied when I'd sworn he would get his wings back, wondering if, wherever he had now gone, he had gotten them back. A clock chimed somewhere in the house, and Tamlin gripped my shoulder. I hadn't realised how cold I'd become until the heat of his hand warmed me through my nightgown. 'He's gone. Let him go.' I studied the faerie's face- so unearthly, so inhuman. Who could be so cruel to hurt him like that? 'Feyre,' Tamlin said, squeezing my shoulder. I brushed the faerie's hair behind his long, pointed ear, wishing I'd known his name, and let go.

Rhys kept starting at the table as he said, 'I didn't know. That you were with Tamlin. That you were staying at the Spring Court. Amarantha sent me that day after the Summer Solstice because I'd been so successful on Calanmai. I was prepared to mock him, maybe pick a fight. But then I got into that room, and the scent was familiar, but hidden... And then I saw the plate, and felt the glamour, and... There you were. Living in my second-most enemy's house. Dining with him. Reeking of his scent. Looking at him like... Like you loved him.' The whites of his knuckles showed. 'And I decided that I had to scare Tamlin. I had to scare you, and Lucien, but mostly Tamlin. Because I saw how he looked at you, too. So what I did that day...' His lips were pale, tight. 'I broke into your mind and held it enough that you felt it, that it terrified you, hurt you. I made Tamlin beg- as Amarantha had made me beg, to show him how powerless he was to save you. And I prayed my performance was enough to get him to send you away. Back to the human realm, away from Amarantha. Because she was going to find you. If you broke that curse, she was going to find you and kill you. 'But I was so selfish- I was so stupidly selfish that I couldn't walk away without knowing your name. And you were looking at me like I was a monster, so I told myself it didn't matter, anyway. But you lied when I asked. I knew you did. I had your mind in my hands, and you had the defiance and foresight to lie to my face. So I walked away from you again. I vomited my guts up as soon as I left.' My lips wobbled, and I pressed them together. 'I checked back once. To ensure you were gone. I went with them the day they sacked the manor- to make my performance complete. I told Amarantha the name of that girl, thinking you'd invented it. I had no idea... I had no idea she'd sent her cronies to retrieve Clare. But if I admitted my lie...' He swallowed hard. 'I broke into Clare's head when they brought her Under the Mountain. I took away her pain, and told her to scream when expected to. So they... they did those things to her, and I tried to make it right, but... After a week, I couldn't let them do it. Hurt her like that anymore. So while they tortured her, I slipped into her mind again and ended it. She didn't feel any pain. She felt none of what they did to her, even at the end. But... But I still see her. And my men. And the others that I killed for Amarantha.' Two tears slid down his cheeks, swift and cold. He didn't wipe them away as he said, 'I thought it was done after that. With Clare's death. Amarantha believed you were dead. So you were safe, and far away, and my people were safe, and Tamlin had lost, so... It was done. We were done. But then... I was in the back of the throne room that day the Attor brought you in. And I have never known such horror, Feyre, as I did when I watched you make that bargain. Irrational, stupid terror- I didn't know you. I didn't even know your name. But I thought of those painter's hands, the flowers I'd seen you create. And how she'd delight in breaking your fingers apart. I had to stand and watch as the Attor and its cronies beat you. I had to watch the disgust and hatred on your face as you looked at me, watched me threaten to shatter Lucien's mind. And then- then I learned your name. Hearing you say it... it was like an answer to a question I'd been asking for five hundred years.

Nesta, it should not have come out as it did.' 'Did Cassian tell you that?' He'd gone to Feyre, rather than here? 'No, but I can guess as much. He didn't want to keep anything from you.' 'My issue isn't with Cassian.' Nesta levelled her stare at Amren. 'I trusted you to have my back.' 'I stopped having your back the moment you decided to use that loyalty as a shield against everyone else.' Nesta snarled, but Feyre stepped between them, hands raised. 'This conversation ends now. Nesta, go back to the House. Amren, you...' She hesitated, as if considering the wisdom of ordering Amren around. Feyre finished carefully, 'You stay here.' Nesta let out a low laugh. 'You are her High Lady. You don't need to cater to her. Not when she now has less power than any of you.' Feyre's eyes blazed. 'Amren is my friend, and has been a member of this court for centuries. I offer her respect.' 'Is it respect that she offers you?' Nesta spat. 'It is respect that your mate offers you?' Feyre went still. Amren warned, 'Don't you say one more fucking word, Nesta Archeron.' Feyre asked, 'What do you mean?' And Nesta didn't care. Couldn't think around the roaring. 'Have any of them told you, their respected High lady, that the babe in your womb will kill you?' Amren barked, 'Shut your mouth!' But her order was confirmation enough. Face paling, Feyre whispered again, 'What do you mean?' 'The wings,' Nesta seethed. 'The boy's Illyrian wings will get stuck in your Fae body during the labour, and it will kill you both.' Silence rippled through the room, the world. Feyre breathed, 'Madja just said that the labour would be risky. But the Bone Carver... The son he showed me didn't have wings.' Her voice broke. 'Did he only show me what I wanted to see.' 'I don't know,' Nesta said. 'But I do know that your mate ordered everyone not to inform you of the truth.' She turned to Amren. 'Did you all vote on that, too? Did you talk about her, judge her, and deem her unworthy of the truth? What was your vote, Amren? To let Feyre die in ignorance?' Before Amren could reply, Nesta turned back to her sister. 'Didn't you question why your precious, perfect Rhysand has been a moody bastard for weeks? Because he knows you will die. He knows, and yet he still didn't tell you.' Feyre began shaking. 'If I die...' Her gaze drifted to one of her tattooed arms. She lifted her head, eyes bright with tears as she asked Amren, 'You... all of you knew this?' Amren threw a withering glare in Nesta's direction, but said, 'We did not wish to alarm you. Fear can be as deadly as any physical threat.' 'Rhys knew?' Tears spilled down Feyre's cheeks, smearing the paint splattered there. 'About the threat to our lives?' She peered down at herself, at the tattooed hand cradling her abdomen. And Nesta knew then that she had not once in her life been loved by her mother as much as Feyre already loved the boy growing within her. It broke something in Nesta- broke that rage, that roaring- seeing those tears begin to fall, the fear crumpling Feyre's paint-smeared face. She had gone too far. She... Oh, gods. Amren said, 'I think it is best, girl, if you speak to Rhysand about this.' Nesta couldn't bear it- the pain and fear and love on Feyre's face as she caressed her stomach. Amren growled at Nesta, 'I hope you're content now.' Nesta didn't respond. Didn't know what to say or do with herself. She simply turned on her heel and ran from the apartment.

I'm sorry.' I blinked. 'What do you possibly have to be sorry for?' 'His hands were shaking- as if in the aftermath of that fury at what Keir had called me, what he'd threatened. Perhaps he'd brought me here before heading home in order to have some privacy before his friends could interrupt. 'I shouldn't have let you go. Let you see that part of us. Of me.' I'd never seen him so raw, so... stumbling. 'I'm fine.' I didn't know what to make of what had been done. Both between us and to Keir. But it had been my choice. To play that role, to wear those clothes. To let him touch me. But... I said slowly, 'We knew what tonight would require of us. Please- please don't start protecting me. Not like that.' He knew what I meant. He'd protected me Under the Mountain, but that primal, male rage he'd just shown Keir... A shattered study splattered in paint flashed through my memory. Rhys rasped. 'I will never- never lock you up, force you to stay behind. But when he threatened you tonight, when he called you...' Whore. That's what they'd called him. For fifty years, they'd hissed it. I'd listened to Lucien spit the words in his face. Rhys released a jagged breath. 'It's hard to shut down my instincts.' Instincts. Just like... like someone else had instincts to protect, to hide me away. 'Then you should have prepared yourself better,' I snapped. 'You seemed to be going along just fine with it, until Keir said-' 'I will kill anyone who harms you,' Rhys snarled. 'I will kill them, and take a damn long time doing it.' He panted. 'Go ahead. Hate me- despise me for it.' 'You are my friend,' I said, and my voice broke on the word. I hated the tears that slipped down my face. I didn't even know why I was crying. Perhaps for the fact that it had felt real on that throne with him, even for a moment, and... and it likely hadn't been. Not for him. 'You're my friend- and I understand that you're High Lord. I understand that you will defend your true court, and punish threats against it. But I can't... I don't want you to stop telling me things, inviting me to do things, because of the threats against me.' Darkness rippled, and wings tore from his back. 'I am not him,' Rhys breathed. 'I will never be him, act like him. He locked you up and let you wither, and die.' 'He tried-' 'Stop comparing. Stop comparing me to him.' The words cut me short. I blinked. 'You think I don't know how stories get written- how this story will be written?' Rhys put his hands on his chest, his face more open, more anguished than I'd seen it. 'I am the dark lord, who stole away the bride of spring. I am a demon, and a nightmare, and I will meet a bad end. He is the golden prince- the hero who will get to keep you as his reward for not dying of stupidity and arrogance.' The things I love have a tendency to be taken from me. He'd admitted that to me Under the Mountain. But his words were kindling to my temper, to whatever pit of fear was yawning open inside of me. 'And what about my story?' I hissed. 'What about my reward? What about what I want?' 'What is it that you want, Feyre?' I had no answer. I didn't know. Not anymore. 'What is it that you want, Feyre?' I stayed silent. His laugh was bitter, soft. 'I thought so. Perhaps you should take some time to figure that out one of these days.' 'Perhaps I don't know what I want, but at least I don't hide what I am behind a mask,' I seethed. 'At least I let them see who I am, broken bits and all. Yes- it's to save your people. But what about the other masks, Rhys? What about letting your friends see your real face? But maybe it's easier not to. Because what if you did let someone in? And what if they saw everything, and still walked away? Who could blame them- who would want to bother with that sort of mess?' He flinched. The most powerful High Lord in history flinched. And I knew I'd hit hard- and deep. Too hard. Too deep. 'Rhys,' I said.