𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑

"𝘚𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺, 𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘴𝘴 "

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╰┈˚ · ° .  THE NEXT DAY,  Lucian, Tamlin, Feyre and I, all sat together at the table for lunch—which was breakfast since we had all got up later than usual.

Lucien kept rubbing at his temples as he ate, unusually silent. Feyre hid her smile as she asked him, "And where were you last night?"

Lucien's metal eye narrowed on me before turning to Feyre. "I'll have you know that while you two were dancing with the spirits, and I was sober enough, I got stuck on border patrol." Tamlin gave a pointed cough, and Lucien added, "With some company." He gave her a sly grin. "Rumor has it you two didn't come back until after dawn."

"You bit my neck on Fire Night," She said under her breath towards Tamlin. "If I can face you after that, a few kisses are nothing."

I widened my eyes at the new information. Of course, I had talked with Feyre. I knew of her feelings for the High Lord, and, by the looks that the two exchanged, but this, this was a completely new information.

Tamlin braced his forearms on the table as he leaned closer to the girl. "Nothing?"

As Lucien shifted in his seat, muttering to the Cauldron to spare him, I groaned, putting my hands to my face as the two lovers didn't even seem to spare us a glance as they continued to flirt shamelessly.

"Nothing,"

"Are you sure?"

"I'm trying to eat," Lucien said.

"We, we are trying to eat." I muttered with a huff. "And today I feel very stabby. You might not want to get on my nerves."

Three pairs of eyes landed on me, which I completely ignored continuing to eat.

"Now that I have your attention, Tamlin," Lucien snapped. With some effort, Tamlin glanced back at his emissary. "Not to be the bearer of truly bad tidings, but my contact at the Winter Court managed to get a letter to me." Lucien took a steadying breath "The blight," Lucien said tightly, softly. "It took out two dozen of their younglings. Two dozen, all gone." He swallowed. "It just ... burned through their magic, then broke apart their minds. No one in the Winter Court could do anything—no one could stop it once it turned its attention toward them. Their grief is ... unfathomable. My contact says other courts are being hit hard—though the Night Court, of course, manages to remain unscathed. But the blight seems to be sending its wickedness this way—farther south with every attack."

"The blight can ... can truly kill people?" My twin managed to say, distressed by the sudden news.

Tamlin's eyes were shadowed, and he slowly shook his head—as if trying to clear the grief and shock of those deaths from him. "The blight is capable of hurting us in ways you—" He shot to his feet so quickly that his chair flipped over. He unsheathed his claws and snarled at the open doorway, canines long and gleaming.

The house, usually full of the whispering skirts and chatter of servants, had gone silent.

I knew that someone was near. Someone powerful. Someone that I recognized. I quickly stood up from my chair and grabbed my sister by her shoulder not so gently. I wasn't in the mood for gentleness that morning.

"Get Feyre to the window—by the curtains" I commanded Lucian, lightly pushing the girl into his arms.

I hoped that at least with me here, I could cover up the human scent of my sister. I knew that it was mostly a futile attempt since the male's powers were far greater than anyone I had ever met, even Braken's, but I still had to try.

I sat myself down in the chair, one from where I could see the entrance of the room.

I picked the small blade from my left boot, and rested my back on the chair. The blade twirling between my fingers as I act nonchalant.

Footsteps sounded from the hall. Even, strolling, casual.

Tamlin continued cleaning his nails, Lucien assumed a position of appearing to be looking out the window as I still twirled the blade between my fingers, a look boredroom on plastered on my features . The footsteps grew louder—the scuff of boots on marble tiles.

And then he appeared. The male from Fire Night.

"High Lord," the stranger crooned, inclining his head slightly towards Tamlin. It wasn't a bow, more a mocking of his status.

Tamlin remained seated "What do you want, Rhysand?"

Rhysand smiled, putting a hand on his chest. "Rhysand? Come now, Tamlin. I don't see you for forty-nine years, and you start calling me Rhysand? Only my prisoners and my enemies call me that." His grin widened as he finished, and something in his countenance turned feral and deadly. Rhysand turned as he ran an eye over Lucien. "A fox mask. Appropriate for you, Lucien."

"Go to Hell, Rhys," Lucien snapped.

"Always a pleasure dealing with the rabble." Rhysand said, and faced Tamlin again. "I hope I wasn't interrupting."

"You did." I said. "We were in the middle of lunch." My voice was void of any warmth as the cold mask of the assassin was now placed back on my face.

Rhysand eyes snapped to me smirking "The girl from the Fire night. The human girl." He pointed out.

"A human girl who likes to stab and kill whoever is in her path or simply just annoys her." The predator look in my movement made Rhysand smirk just wilder.

"And they are still alive?" He asked with a snort as he nodded his head towards the other two Fae.

Twirling my blade in my hand until the handle was back in my palm, I gave him the most bored stare that I could master. "Barely." To my surprise it made Rhysan smile, and it wasn't a forced one.

"What are you doing here, Rhys?" Tamlin demanded, still in his seat, taking the attention off of me.

"I wanted to check up on you. I wanted to see how you were faring. If you got my little present."

"Your present was unnecessary."

"And lacked any sense of creativity." I added glancing up at him. It wasn't a critique to him as it wasn't his kill. He might have taken the credit for it, but the fae had died from my hands. The instruction telling what to do, sent directly by Braken, lacked creativity.

"But a nice reminder of the fun days, wasn't it?" Rhysand clicked his tongue and surveyed the room. "Almost half a century holed up in a country estate. I don't know how you managed it. But," he said, facing Tamlin again, "you're such a stubborn bastard that this must have seemed like a paradise compared to Under the Mountain. I suppose it is. I'm surprised, though: forty-nine years, and no attempts to save yourself or your lands. Even now that things are getting interesting again."

I didn't understand what Rhysand was saying; everything that I cared about at that moment was Feyre. And she was in danger with him here.

"There's nothing to be done," conceded Tamlin, his voice low.

Rhysand approached the blond fae, each movement smooth as silk. His voice dropped into a whisper "What a pity that you must endure the brunt of it, Tamlin—and an even greater pity that you're so resigned to your fate. You might be stubborn, but this is pathetic. How different the High Lord is from the brutal war-band leader of centuries ago."

Lucien interrupted, "What do you know about anything? You're just Amarantha's whore."

I could feel it, somehow I could feel the rage of Rhysand as the female's name was spoken. And still, his expression remained unmoving.

"Her whore I might be, but not without my reasons. At least I haven't bided my time among the hedges and flowers while the world has gone to Hell."

Lucien's sword rose slightly. "If you think that's all I've been doing, you'll soon learn otherwise."

"Little Lucien. You certainly gave them something to talk about when you switched to Spring. Such a sad thing, to see your lovely mother in perpetual mourning over losing you."

Lucien pointed his sword at Rhysand. "Watch your filthy mouth."

Rhysand laughed, low and soft. "Is that any way to speak to a High Lord of Prythian? Come now, Tamlin," Rhysand said. "Shouldn't you reprimand your lackey for speaking to me like that?"

"I don't enforce rank in my court," Tamlin simply said.

"Still?" Rhysand crossed his arms. "But it's so entertaining when they grovel. I suppose your father never bothered to show you."

"This isn't the Night Court," Lucien hissed. "And you have no power here—so clear out. Amarantha's bed is growing cold."

Rhysand snickered, but then he was upon Lucien, too fast to follow with human eyes, growling in his face.

"I was slaughtering on the battlefield before you were even born," Rhysand snarled. Then, as quickly as he had come, he withdrew, casual and careless. "Besides," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "who do you think taught your beloved Tamlin the finer aspects of swords and females? You can't truly believe he learned everything in his father's little war-camps."

"Gross." I mumbled under her breath, scrunching up my face. Of course everyone in the room had heard thanks to their heightened hearing, but I really couldn't have cared less.

Tamlin rubbed his temples. "Save it for another time, Rhys. You'll see me soon enough."

Rhysand meandered toward the door. "She's already preparing for you. Given your current state, I think I can safely report that you've already been broken and will reconsider her offer." Lucien's breath hitched as Rhysand passed the table. The High Lord of the Night Court ran a finger along the back of Feyre's chair—a casual gesture. "I'm looking forward to seeing your face when you—"

Rhysand cutted himself off, his eyes carefully studying the table.

The table was still set for four, Feyre's half-eaten plate of food sitting right before him.

"Where is your twin.?" Rhysand asked, turning towards me.

"Home." I simply answered without turning my attention from the blade, even if I could still see the High Lord from my peripheral view.

"Where's your guest?" Rhysand asked Tamlin, lifting Feyre's goblet and sniffing it, before setting it down again.

"Tamlin sent her off when he sensed your arrival." I lied coolly.

Rhysand now faced the High Lord, and his face was void of emotion before his brows rose. A flicker of excitement—perhaps even disbelief—flashed across his features, but he whipped his head to Lucien. Magic burst into the air, and now, Feyre stared at Rhysand in undiluted terror as his face contorted with rage.

"You dare glamour me?" he growled, his violet eyes burning as they bore into hers. Lucien just pressed her harder into the wall.

Tamlin's chair groaned as it was shoved back. He rose, claws at the ready, deadlier than any of the knives strapped to him. I was quick to unsheath the knife on my thigh and take my other blade in a better grip, but still, I remained sat on the chair, an almost bored look plastered on my features.

Rhysand's face became a mask of calm fury as he stared and stared at my twin. "Here is the other twin," he purred looking towards me, making me simply roll my eyes. He turned to Tamlin. "Who, pray tell, are your guests?"

"My betrothed and her sister," Lucien answered.

"And, who is the betrothed and who is the sister?" The High Lord of the Night Court asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I am definitely not the betrothed," I said with a deadpan look. For the situation we were in, that was highly inappropriate but maybe my lack of fear made me too uncareful, and I couldn't resist throwing sharp comments whenever I felt like doing it.

Rhysand turned towards me. He now noticed the knife in my right hand that accompanied the blade in the left one. His eyes scanned me focusing on the faint scars on my neck and face and more noticeable ones of the hands. His mask was a carefully crafted one, but his eyes betrayed the surprise. Maybe seeing a human girl having the guts to even fathom to look at a faerie without passing out was what made him surprised. Maybe my scar and the clear look in my own eyes that spoke clearly. ' I dare you to touch her.' they said. I, the same girl that dared to point a knife to his throat at the Fire Night and now more than ready to do it again to protect my sister.

"...Cassian." I heard him again like a far away whisper. Like at Calanmai, he hadn't spoken out loud. But I have still heard him.

Who the hell is Cassian?— I thought. The way he slightly widened his eyes as he still kept his gaze locked on me spoke of many things. One, that he might have heard what I had said in my mind, just like I could do it with him in some way. How, I didn't know.

Rhysand's sharp eyes then turned to Lucien completely dismissing what had happened, if anything had happened at all. He was ready to play his part once again. Because I knew how to play one, I was just the human girl and nothing else, that was the part that I acted. Rhysand might have been a phenomenal actor, but even then, he was still reciting his part. I could see it.

"Oh? Here I was, thinking you still mourned your commoner lover after all these centuries," Rhysand said, stalking closer to Feyre was hidden behind the fae.

Lucien spat at Rhysand's feet and shoved his sword forward.

Rhysand's venom-coated smile grew. "You draw blood from me, Lucien, and you'll learn how quickly Amarantha's whore can make the entire Autumn Court bleed. Especially its darling Lady."

The color leached from Lucien's face, but he held his ground. It was Tamlin, tho, who answered. "Put your sword down, Lucien."

Rhysand ran an eye over Feyre. "I knew you liked to stoop low with your lovers, Lucien, but I never thought you'd actually dabble with mortal trash." Lucien was trembling—with rage or fear or sorrow "The Lady of the Autumn Court will be grieved indeed when she hears of her youngest son. If I were you, I'd keep your new pet well away from your father."

"Leave, Rhys," Tamlin commanded, standing a few feet behind the High Lord of the Night Court. And yet he didn't make a move to attack, despite the claws, despite Rhysand still approaching his lover.

Rhys brushed Lucien aside as if he were a curtain. There was nothing between him and Feyre now. That wanted to make my heart beat faster, but in a room full of people that could hear it, it wasn't the best, so I did everything, followed every lesson to not make it happen. A faster heartbeat betrays your fear.

"If you were wise, you would be screaming and running from this place, from these people. Both of you. It's a wonder that you're still here, actually." Feyre's confusion must have been written across her face, for Rhysand laughed loudly. "Oh, they don't know, do they?"

"You have seconds, Rhys," Tamlin warned. "Seconds to get out."

"If I were you, I wouldn't speak to me like that."

The tang of magic erupted through the air as I felt the tendrils of it enter Feyre's mind. A Daemati. Rhysand could invade the minds of whoever he wanted, and from how his magic felt, the male was very powerful.

It had never happened before, almost seeing someone magic, not with Braken, not with Lucian, not with Tamlin. But somehow, I could feel the High Lord of the Night Court magic. And I knew he had never used it on me, so whatever mind reading thing had happened between us, it hadn't been because of his abilities.

"Let her go," Tamlin said, bristling, but didn't advance forward. A kind of panic had entered his eyes, and he glanced from Feyre to Rhysand. "Enough."

"I'd forgotten that human minds are as easy to shatter as eggshells," Rhysand said, and ran a finger across the base of Feyre's throat. "Look at how delightful she is—look how she's trying not to cry out in terror. It would be quick, I promise. She has the most delicious thoughts about you, Tamlin," he said. "She's wondered about the feeling of your fingers on her thighs—between them, too." He chuckled. Rhysand turned to the High Lord. "I'm curious: Why did she wonder if it would feel good to have you bite her breast the way you bit her neck?"

"Let. Her. Go." Tamlin's face was twisted with such feral rage, one that I had never witnessed with him before. It almost made him more interesting.

"If it's any consolation," Rhysand confided to him, "she would have been the one for you—and you might have gotten away with it. A bit late, though. She's more stubborn than you are."

As I saw the two other Fae in the room almost petrified by the raven-haired male, I took things in my hand. I quietly and deadly slipped behind the High Lord of the Night Court. My knife pressed to the base of his throat directly on his carotid artery while I placed my blade, sharp to cut skin only at contact, on his back between his shoulder blade where I was sure to hit his lungs. It was close enough that he could feel the tip of it on his skin between the layers of clothes.

"Let her go. Now. I won't repeat it another time. I am not as patient as the High Lord of the Spring Court here is, and not as benevolent." I commanded as I pressed the knife to his neck until a small drop of blood stained the steel.

To say that Rhysand was surprised was an understatement. I felt him stiffen beneath my blades even if he controlled his reaction enough for only me to spot it. "I'll cut your throat before you even think of using your magic."

Rhysand let out a small laugh, being cautious at the steel that I held against him.

Those invisible claws lazily caressed Feyre's mind again—then vanished. I felt them leave her before trying to latch into me.

"Sorry, denied access." I commented as I felt his claws scratching the thick walls of pure dark black stone stained with blood. Even my mental walls were created in bloodshed and darkness.

I felt his surprise as he came in contact with them. Humans' minds should have been easy to enter, not that much when I had builded each layer of mine with years of torture untill they we solid that not even a daementi as good as Rhysand could breach.

"How? " Again, I heard him say, his lips were not moving and his magic had disappeared. His voice was like far away, almost echoing back to me.

As Feyre sank to the floor, curling over her knees her eyes, pooling with tears, darted up at me. I gave her a quick look before slowly retracting my blades from the High Lord as I helped my sister to stand and pulled her behind me.

Rhysand gave me a questioning look, he stayed silent before dismissing me and turning towards Tamlin."Amarantha will enjoy breaking her," Rhysand said as he gave Feyre a quick glance "Almost as much as she'll enjoy watching you as she shatters her bit by bit." He then nodded his head towards me, eyes ablaze with a new type of fire "But she will enjoy breaking you the most." 'Assassin' I heard again his voice like a distant echo as his lips never moved.

"Someone already did. And now, there is nothing that will make me break again. " I revealed with a taunting smile 'He made sure of it ' I added in my mind. I knew that he had received the thought as his eyebrows lowered slightly. At least he too didn't know what the hell was happening.

Rhysand titled his head trying to understand the meaning of my words but Tamlin was frozen, his arms—his claws—hanging limply at his side.

"Please." was all that Tamlin said.

"Please what?" Rhysand said—gently, coaxingly. Like a lover. He wanted something, and that something was seeing Tamlin suffer and be humiliated. That much was true.

"Don't tell Amarantha about her." Tamlin said, his voice strained.

Thanks for including me– I thought suppressing an eye roll, and once again, Rhysand's eyes fell to me almost with a questioning look.

"And why not? As her whore, I should tell her everything." he said with a glance tossed in Lucien's direction

I wasn't stupid. I knew that there was something else under those accusations. Rhysand wasn't Amarantha's whore for nothing. But if he was here as a threat, then why didn't he feel like one?

"Please." Tamlin managed, as if it were difficult to breathe.

Rhysand pointed at the ground, and his smile became vicious. "Beg, and I'll consider not telling Amarantha."

Tamlin dropped to his knees and bowed his head.

"Lower."

Tamlin pressed his forehead to the floor, his hands sliding along the floor toward Rhysand's boots.

Rhysand pointed at Lucien. "You too, fox-boy."

Lucien's face was dark, but he lowered himself to his knees, then touched his head to the ground.

"Are you doing this for your sake, or for theirs? Maybe should I say hers since your beg didn't seem to include the sister." he pondered, then shrugged, as if he weren't forcing a High Lord of Prythian to grovel. "You're far too desperate, Tamlin. It's off-putting. Becoming High Lord made you so boring."

"Are you going to tell Amarantha?" Tamlin said, keeping his face on the floor.

Rhysand smirked. "Perhaps I'll tell her, perhaps I won't."

In a flash of motion, Tamlin was on his feet, fangs dangerously close to Rhysand's face.

"None of that," Rhysand said, clicking his tongue and lightly shoving Tamlin away with a single hand. "Not with the ladies present." His eyes shifted to our faces. "What are your names?"

I glanced at my sister. I knew that we couldn't give our family's name. I looked at the High Lord making a show of clenching my jaw to show frustration as I gave him our names. Or in reality, the names of the only other twins in our village. If they would die then so be it. At least it wasn't us or our family.

"Ava," I said "Ava and Claire Beddor."

"And tell me who is the younger and who is the oldest of you two?" Rhysand asked amused.

"None of your business." I hissed, raising a brow in a challenging way.

"I am older." Feyre breathed out. She was really trying to prevent me from getting killed by the High Fae even if Rhysand seemed more amusend than anything.

"Hmm" He hummed "Interesting" Rhysand turned back to Tamlin "Well, this was entertaining. The most fun I've had in ages, actually. I'm looking forward to seeing you four Under the Mountain. I'll give Amarantha your regards."

Then Rhysand vanished into nothing—as if he'd stepped through a rip in the world—leaving us alone in a trembling silence.

 ✎

˗ˏˋ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ˊˎ˗

Hello everyone!

This is the end of Act 1 guys!! I hope you are enjoying this book so far.

I have a lot planned for the feature.

Let me know your theories on the weird thing between Maiven and Rhys, I'm so curious!!!

And yes, Maiven just handed the Beddors like she couldn't have cared less. As said, better them then her family. She is like that, you can love her or hate her.

I'm sorry to say that you'll have to wait a bit for the second Act, but I'll do my best to update as soon as I can.

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞!

– 𝐋𝐨𝐥𝐚 ☾