After breakfast and shooing everyone out of the townhouse for some peace and quiet, Feyre retreated to her room, nearly falling asleep on the stairs. I had half a mind to join her if it hadn’t been for the pleasant weather and the little knot of anticipation riding my stomach.

Sure enough, it was mid-afternoon when Azriel landed at the open balcony to my study, the box I’d been waiting for held between his hands. It was carved finely of wood, and as I bid Azriel enter and watched him set it on my desk, I could see the mother of pearl inlaid at the center to form an impressive, imperial dagger.

“Any word?” I asked.

Az shook his head, his wings flexing taut behind him. “It arrived at the Court of Nightmares twenty minutes ago with no other detail.”

My lips pursed together as I ran a hand over the lid. I could practically feel Tarquin’s wrath, his disapproval as though he were right before me when my fingers brushed the pearl. A sick feeling swept over me.

“Go check on him,” I told Azriel. “See how serious he is about,” I waved my hand dismissively over the box and all the hopes I’d born that its arrival shattered, “...about this.”

“It’s done.” Azriel was out the window and gone before I could blink.

I snatched the box and went outside where the sun was still shining over the townhouse rooftop. I set it on the ledge and stared at it, summoning the first liquor I could find and pouring myself more than a healthy portion. The liquid burned my throat raw and I welcomed all of it, that searing heat.

Finally, I lifted the lid - and there they were.

Three luminous red rubies, glimmering in the setting sun. Each the size of a large egg and full of blood and vengeance and promise.

I didn’t know how long I stared at the gems, only that the sun had sunk considerably lower by the time I closed the lid and that my disappointment was sinking with it.

You fool. You great, ignorant fool.

I took another sip from my glass letting it sting me down.

To have dared think for one moment you might have found an ally in another man’s court, another dreamer - a friend.

Velaris began to glow with a steady rhythm before me, my view of the city winking into existence with lights here and there that would soon take over after darkness fell. For this, I had to remind myself, for this I could lose everything. Even... even a partner like Tarquin, and his dreams for a greater free world.

My chest heaved as my wings fell to the floor while I stared at Velaris and tried - tried to remember what had brought me here.

The pine hit me first, always the strongest and clearest of her scents. Followed swiftly by the grass and sun carried by the wind. Feyre cleared her throat. “I know you’re there,” I said. For once, I was not comforted by those scents enveloping me.

“If you want to be alone, I can go.” Her voice carried quietly on the air, willing to go or stay - whatever I wanted. She was being... easy for me, reasonable. Narrowly, I shirked at the chair next to me and Feyre shuffled forward to take it after a pause. She went straight to Tarquin’s gift on the table next to where my decanter sat.

Feyre’s eyes widened, as if she could feel Tarquin beneath the lid too. “What is that?” she asked.

My damnation , I thought, snatching the decanter to refill my glass and drown in another gulp of it.

In the distance, the Sidra shimmered in hues of red and gold as the sun touched down upon the horizon.

“I debated it for a good while, you know,” I said, clenching the glass in my fist. “Whether I should just ask Tarquin for the Book. But I thought that he might very well say no, then sell the information to the highest bidder. I thought he might say yes, and it’d still wind up with too many people knowing our plans and the potential for that information to get out. And at the end of the day, I needed the why of our mission to remain secret for as long as possible.”

But you could have tried. Tarquin might never had betrayed you. He trusted you. He welcomed you. You could have had a friend in this war, but you cursed his name and spat in his face instead...

My fingers tightened, daring to shatter the glass as I brought it to my lips and fought off the desire to rip my hair out.

“I didn’t like stealing from him. I didn’t like hurting his guards. I didn’t like vanishing without a word, when, ambition or no, he did truly want an alliance. Maybe even friendship. No other High Lords have ever bothered - or dared. But I think Tarquin wanted to be my friend.”

Feyre kept strictly serious at my side, either willfully ignoring what I’d said or too unsure what to even say as she went back to the box. “What is that?”

“Open it.” The lid gave a faint moan on its hinges beneath Feyre’s touch. She didn’t say anything as she saw the stones inside. “Blood rubies,” I told her silence. “In the Summer Court, when a grave insult has been committed, they send a blood ruby to the offender. An official declaration that there is a price on their head - that they are now hunted, and will soon be dead. The box arrived at the Court of Nightmares an hour ago.”

I felt more than saw Feyre draw a deep, slow breath. “I take it one of these has my name on it. And yours. And Amren’s.”

My eyes fell on the rubies and my power crackled out of me until the box had snapped shut. I didn’t want to look at them anymore. I wanted to hurl them into the Sidra a considerable distance away and never tell Amren, never see Tarquin again, or know that I had wronged him.

“I made a mistake,” I said as Feyre jumped back from the box. “I should have wiped the minds of the guards and let them continue on. Instead, I knocked them out. It’s been a while since I had to do any sort of physical...” my muscles still ached with the feeling of fist meeting flesh at the palace, “defending like that, and I was so focused on my Illyrian training that I forgot the other arsenal at my disposal. They probably awoke and went right to him.”

“He would have noticed the Book was missing soon enough.” Feyre sounded sharper. Clearer. It made me angry.

“We could have denied that we stole it and chalked it up to coincidence.” Could have saved... whatever trust had grown between us. I drained my glass, but managed not to throw it against the table. I would not be... violent. “I made a mistake.”

“It’s not the end of the world if you do that every now and then,” she said, understanding dripping from her lips so casually.

I scowled. “You’ve been told you are now public enemy number one of the Summer Court and you’re fine with it?”

“No. But I don’t blame you.” It was hard not to look at her then, but my eyes wouldn’t move. Wouldn’t budge as the sun dipped finally over the edge and the city refused to meet night, sparkling instead like a sheet of diamonds in the sky. Little lights twinkled everywhere, a friendly reminder of why I’d lost everything again.

My breath came out unevenly.

I blame me . That’s the problem . If we lose this because of what I did to him, it’s all my fault.

Feyre scooted a little closer to me. I almost wondered that she might reach out and touch me somehow, but she didn’t. I wasn’t sure if that emptiness made me relieved or all the more lonelier. “Perhaps you could return the Book once we’ve neutralized the Cauldron,” she suggested, “apologize.”

I snorted. “No. Amren will get that book for as long as she needs it.”

“Then make it up to him in some way.” She fidgeted, a trace of irritation behind the words. “Clearly, you wanted to be his friend as much as he wanted to be yours. You wouldn’t be so upset otherwise.”

“I’m not upset. I’m pissed off.”

“Semantics,” she scoffed, and finally I turned to look at her and found a scowl waiting for me.

She was still so unaware. So endearingly determined to see past it all.

“Feuds like the one we just started can last centuries - millennia. If that’s the cost of stopping this war, helping Amren... I’ll pay it.”

Over and over again. I’d be the villain to make history forget its saviors and the good they protected.

“Do the others know - about the blood rubies?”

“Azriel was the one who brought them to me. I’m debating how I’ll tell Amren.”

“Why?”

The rubble and destruction we had seen on our visit would become a mere fraction of the fires she would start, the dead a small pebble among a sea of graves. Only ash would remain of that seaside palace. I repressed a shudder.

“Because her answer would be to go to Adriata and wipe the city off the map.” Feyre shuddered for me and I felt the power go straight through my bones. “Exactly.”

We both stared back out at Velaris. What was the death of one city to me at the gain of saving another? My mind felt warped. Too many questions, too many what ifs. I was the High Lord of the Night Court, not Summer.

But the courts shared a duty to all of Prythian. That included myself.

My gaze swept over the long length of the Sidra, how it carried the city lights sweetly along the water, drifting from shop to shop, person to person. Anything to save this city, even at the cost of myself. There was so much life out there, but part of me would never be entitled to any of it for what I had do for my crown.

Still, somehow, looking at the treasure laid before me, part of it did not feel worth it. Not today.

Feyre’s breath was visible on the air when she spoke, the chill night having taken over. “I understand,” she started softly, “why you did what you had to in order to protect this city. And I understand why you will do anything to keep it safe during the times ahead.”

My stomach tightened. A reminder that I would pay further prices in the war to come for what I loved. “And your point is?” I said, the words sounding unpleasant, even to me.

But Feyre didn’t flinch. If anything, she shifted even further toward me and there was a kindness blinking back at me when I looked in her eyes. “Get through this war, Rhysand, and then worry about Tarquin and the blood rubies. Nullify the Cauldron, stop the king from shattering the wall and enslaving the human realm again, and then we’ll figure out the rest after.”

After .

“You sound as if you plan to stay here for a while.”

She straightened sharply. “I can find my own lodging, if that’s what you’re referring to.” Her eyes narrowed in that playful feline look I sometimes gave her . “Maybe I’ll use that generous paycheck to get myself something lavish.”

Lavish. Like that necklace Tarquin had given her, before she’d scoffed shortly after at my own offer to buy her jewels and finery.

“Spare your paycheck,” I bit out. “Your name has already been added to the list of those approved to use my household credit. Buy whatever you wish. Buy yourself a whole damn house if you want.”

Her voice was a song calling out to me as she nestled in at my side, softly, sweetly... “I saw a pretty shop across the Sidra the other day. It sold what looked to be lots of lacy little things. Am I allowed to buy that on your credit, too, or does that come out of my personal funds?”

When my eyes slowly slid over and caught her gaze, Feyre was blinking up at me, holding my gaze with a knowing, piercing look. She cared. It hit me so hard then, a stone across my chest or an arrow through my wings. This wasn’t just a game to her. Her face was bright and teasing, but her eyes held steady - held me steady through my worst.

And just when the Cauldron had seen fit to give me some small piece of my mate to care for me, all I could feel was that empty sinking feeling that I had just damned myself and my entire world for what I’d done to Tarquin, to get that book.

“I’m not in the mood,” I mumbled, and readied for the solitude that would follow. But Feyre’s head dipped forward, keeping my gaze from turning.

“I never knew Illyrians were such morose drunks.”

“I’m not drunk - I’m drinking,” I ground out, anger flashing through me.

Feyre waved a dismissive hand. “Again, semantics.” She removed herself from my side, settling back in her seat and staring up at the stars. Her body sprawled about casually, openly. And I noticed how it no longer looked so starved. Every day there was one less bone visible to count through her clothes. “Maybe you should have slept with Cresseida after all,” Feyre offered. “So you could both be sad and lonely together.”

“So you’re entitled to have as many bad days as you want, but I can’t get a few hours?”

“Oh, take however long you want to mope. I was going to invite you to come shopping with me for said lacy little unmentionables, but...” She kept her gaze trained on the heavens, but I could have sworn a faint smile almost ghosted her lips, “sit up here forever, if you have to.”

A wave of anger rolled over in my blood, melting into interest. The emptiness I’d felt earlier, not emptiness at all perhaps.

“Maybe I’ll send a few to Tarquin,” Feyre mused, as if she could see the outfits she’d already picked out in her mind before her now, “with an offer to wear them for him if he forgives us. Maybe he’ll take those blood rubies right back.”

Blue. She’d wear blue for Tarquin or maybe that seafoam green he was fond of. But for me, I’d have her in -

“He’d see that as a taunt,” I said and found Feyre’s eyes shining at me, the vixen.

“I gave him a few smiles and he handed over a family heirloom. I bet he’d give me the keys to his territory if I showed up wearing those undergarments.”

“Someone thinks mighty highly of herself.” I drew the sentence out, swirling the dark liquor around my glass. Feyre shrugged, carefree and indifferent.

“Why shouldn’t I? You seem to have difficulty not staring at me day and night.”

Red. Red lace and barely there, hugging every single one of those delicious curves of her skin that were coming back to her the more time she spent away from the Spring Court, safe and taken care of. It would make her body look like it’d been set alive with life and fire, and I would lick at every flame she offered.

Fine, Feyre. You win.

“Am I supposed to deny,” and I set my glass down to stare at her properly, “that I find you attractive?”

“You’ve never said it.”

“I’ve told you many times, and quite frequently, how attractive I find you.”

Her shoulders shrugged again, and her head lolled against the back of her chair. “Well, maybe you should do a better job of it.”

My hands tightened on the table, bracing to keep myself from pressing my body over hers. It would be too easy - she was sprawled out so deliciously on the seat. I decided then and there that that would be how I would have her, one day if she ever let me, spread out beneath me where I could touch her as I pleased until my mate was limp with indulgent pleasure against me.

My voice came out a rich purr, all anxiety forgotten as I looked at Feyre and saw excitement spark in her eyes at how close we’d gotten. “Is that a challenge, Feyre?”

The corners of her lips tugged. I begged them to go up more. “ Is it?” she asked, her own voice grown thick.

A jolt went racing through my core. She was practically inviting me to touch her. Her mouth was full and parted just enough that if I kissed her, I could slid my tongue inside and taste the sensations of her mouth. Would she moan? Would she grip me back as my hands and lips searched her chin, her neck? As my teeth grazed down the column of her throat...

“Why don’t we go down to that store right now, Feyre, so you can try on those lacy little things - so I can help you pick which one to send to Tarquin.”

Feyre’s chin dipped, her lips parting further. And for a heartbeat, I thought she might actually say yes, if the arousal that just hit me before I spotted the blur of darkness whirring about the sky was any indication.

Azriel came to land on the rooftop several feet away in two great strokes of his wings. Feyre was out of her chair and making for the stairwell before he’d even touched down, the scent of her arousal lingering near her seat and -

And down the bond, which stood open and bare to me with every step Feyre took. Wicked delight lit my soul.

“Tarquin’s-”

I cut Azriel off with an abrupt shushing noise, my hand help up as I rested back in my seat and closed my eyes. “Just... give me a sec.”

In my mind - I pictured the scene. And made sure Feyre did too:

Feyre’s steps slow to a creeping pace as she spots the shop beside the Sidra, feels the heat creep up her neck as I enter with her and politely nod at the shop ladies while she enters a dressing room stall. She snags the lace set off the table as she passes, eyeing me viciously over her shoulder.

It’s red. Good.

Her nerves go through the roof while we wait for her to dress, dancing along the bond between us so strongly that even she could feel the tension through the curtain separating us. A curtain that she sweeps back... and then reveals herself to me.

She wouldn’t know how much my breath would catch or my blood would boil, or how hard it would be not to spring out of my seat and grab her, push her back, back, back into the stall and against the wall to take her lips with mine at the very sight of her in that poor excuse for lingerie. I can see her nipples peaked through the fabric, and the way her skin glows against the red straps... Cauldron boil me.

Feyre bites her lip as I look her over twice and then dismiss the shop ladies. They lock up and leave us be. And suddenly, we’re alone. With nothing but desire and intensity in the space between us. Too much space, I decide.

I crook a finger at her, a finger I’d like to tease and stroke her with, and murmur across the room, “Come here.”

She lifts her head high and prowls to me, not a cat but a lioness, stalking toward her mate in heat across the savanna. My legs part so she can stand between them, her hands bracing on my shoulders as my own search her thighs, the sweet seductive curve of her hips. The lace feels incredible beneath my fingertips, but nothing compared to her skin.

Feyre....

The word is moaned across the bond to her or maybe it’s just in my mind, but I taste it on my tongue as my lips meet her stomach and suck, my cock straining in my pants and begging me to stand so I can remove every last article of clothing that stands between me and my mate. My tongue flicks out between my teeth and Feyre’s back arches slightly as her grip tightens on my shoulders.

She cries out in pain .

My eyes fluttered open as Feyre rubbed the spot on her head where she slammed into a beam or some such absurdity in stairwell, and cursed me down the bond - Prick - before throwing her shields back in place.

But I swore I could still feel the heat. I swore the care in the way she’d looked at me was still there. And I swore Feyre felt something now even if I wasn’t sure how far that something goes.

Azriel smirked at me where I sat grinning like an adolescent Illyrian fool, looking oddly smug. I knew he could scent me. He could probably still scent Feyre too. His eyes flitted briefly to the stairwell where she left and I suddenly couldn’t help but feel a little laid bare watching those shadows of his consider.

Mate...

A tense silence.

“I was going to offer taking you out with Cassian,” he said, “But it looks like I don’t need to.”

“Just, tell me what happened with Tarquin,” I replied, getting out of my seat and deciding another glass of liquor isn’t quite what I needed anymore.

Azriel shrugged. “Nothing. He’s fuming from what I can tell, but there’s no word anywhere within Adriata or elsewhere in the court of readying for attack or sending anyone after you. I think...” Azriel considers a moment, and it makes my face tense waiting. Finally, he shook his head. “I think he’s pissed as hell, Rhys, but he doesn’t mean it.”

My face must have fallen. I threw my hands in my pockets and faced the city. “Oh he means it. He didn’t just lose a secret precious to his court today. He lost a secret precious to all of Prythian, to the dawn of creation itself. If being High Lord means half as much as the title means to me, he’ll make sure to find a way to make me pay for it even if it isn’t with my life.”

“You don’t-”

“Yes, I do.”

A chill gust of wind rose up then, biting at my skin and forcing my head up to the sky. It would be nice to fly. When I looked over, Azriel was watching me thoughtfully, his gaze dancing between me and the stars. “Do you want to...”

The flick of his brows upward is the only end to the sentence I receive before I gave him a small smile - a thank you. And together, we took off into the night.

---

“Rhys.” Her silky voice coos in my ear, low and sweet, her hair falling to form a curtain around me that blanks out her face. My fingers find their way into the strands, curling around them in a fistful and gripping it tightly. Straddled above me, her hips move over me in an aggressive rhythm I hadn’t expected, but that I thrust into all the same until she’s moaning for me. “Rhysand.”

My eyes snap to her at that and I see the vicious glow increase in her gaze as her hips move more harshly, grating a rough course on my cock. It feels horrible. It feels wrong.

Amarantha runs her long fingers over one side of her hair so that her face catches the dull light of the room and I can see the red sheen of the strands, like freshly slain blood. It’s no wonder Feyre couldn’t look at the color for so long.

Feyre -

“Yes,” Amarantha croons, her hands flattening my shoulders into the mattress. “You thought it was her, didn’t you?” Her smile is torture. “But can your Feyre do this, Rhysand, hmm?” Her hips give a rough motion over my cock while she leans down to lick my face, her tongue trailing across my cheek until it ends in a low cackle at my ear.

I’m going to be sick. I’m going to throw her off of me if I can just get my shoulders out from under her hands, but the second I shirk, a terrible pain flares and I realize she’s somehow gotten me to spread my wings. They’re pinned to the bed with stakes.

A long, sharp fingernail rakes over my lip.

I’d thought it was Feyre...

A sob racks out of me. “Ooh,” Amarantha says, her voice full of mock sympathy. “If you insist then.”

Suddenly her body is different - is Feyre’s. Dark blond hair drips down from her shoulders and Feyre’s blue eyes stare wildly at me, but they aren’t her own. I can still hear my name ringing horribly in my ears: “Rhysand.... Rhysand... Rhysand...”

“Is this what you want?” Feyre says. She has stopped working me, but her words are just as awful. “You’d rather this human whore than a faerie queen?” Feyre gives me a horrible smile when the tears sting my eyes. “Touch me, Rhysand. Go on. You want to, don’t you?” Her hands grab mine and lead them up her body. It’s just as starved and scrawny as it was the first day I brought her to the Night Court. I shudder and try to pull away as they reach her breasts, but Feyre - Amarantha - makes me keep going until I’m at her neck, my fingers curled around the delicate skin.

My eyes widen, shocked and terrified because I know what she means to do now. And there is no darkness to guide me. No night. No stars. Only her and her venom.

“Go on Rhysand,” Feyre purrs.

Rhysand. Rhysand. Rhysand. Only my enemies call me Rhysand.

This is not my Feyre. My chest heaves to no avail.

“Touch me.”

Feyre’s hands yank for me and underneath my own touch, I feel her bones snap - and I’ve killed her. Her body falls against my chest, but somewhere in the room, I still hear a wild cackle of triumph. Salt stings my lips as I scream, a searing pain slamming into my face.

I pull on the bond - pull on it so hard to save her because it’s all I know, and mercifully, someone pulls back.

Rhys!

The sound drowns out the cackle for just a moment. It’s all I can feel or see, so I latch on to it, letting it guide me out of the nightmare.

When my eyes finally open and I’m no longer dreaming, Feyre is below me, our bodies somehow flipped though I don’t remember doing it, and she’s staring at me wide-eyed and heartbroken.

At her neck, my taloned hands curl.

---

“It was a dream,” Feyre said when I woke up. “It was a dream.” Her breath sounded just as ragged as my own. Here, the darkness is everywhere. But it still feels constricting . That is, until Feyre runs her hand along my arm and sends her own darkness calling out to me, flecked with night and care.

“Feyre,” she said, as she stroked me with the night. “I’m Feyre. You were dreaming.”

It took everything left in me to focus on the sound of her voice, to see through the haze and find those eyes. Grey. Her eyes were grey tonight, not blue like the dream when Amarantha had made me... made me...

I felt the darkness swell inside me, Feyre pressing it into my soul and shuddered in relief. She was real and whole and alive. I hadn’t killed her. But -

Touch me, Rhysand. Go on...

“Feyre,” I said, my voice barely even audible. She blinked back nodding encouragingly.

“Yes.” Her face was sharp, so razor sharp and completely dedicated. I could see her ambition, her resilience, her worth. All those things I loved about her, she somehow found and poured back into me until I was grounded into the earth.

This was my Feyre. I was sure of it.

And that was my taloned hand at her throat. I pulled it away at once, my body sinking backward to kneel on the sheets whilst trying violently not to shake. My entire body felt like a prison. My wings were blown wide across the bed behind me, and my hands and feet had become unrecognizable as the beast within me fought its fae shackles, yearning to break free.

I stared at my pillow and was vaguely aware as Feyre vacated the spot and sat beside me. Just a moment ago, it had been her head lying there - dead.

“You were having a nightmare,” she said quietly.

She’d saved me. I’d killed her, but - no. She’d saved me. She’d seen this - this mess. I looked around at how much darkness the room had enveloped. I didn’t have to leave the bed to feel it creeping through every pore in the house. It was the dead of night, I must have woken her. I must have - oh, Feyre...

My body heaved.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and willed my hands return to normal, to deny the evidence of what had happened.

“That’s why you’re staying here, not at the House. You don’t want the others seeing this.”

“I normally keep it contained to my room. I’m sorry it woke you.”

Feyre’s hands fisted. In anger? Or something else? “How often does it happen?” she asked.

I turned to look at her, suddenly realizing how much I hated this, hated her seeing me like this. Naked and afraid and the least of all fae. The least of all those strengths and powers I’d willed to her when she had woken up terrified and suffered her worst.

“As often as you.”

Feyre swallowed hard, her eyes searching mine with kindness, with that compassion only she ever showed me. “What did you dream of tonight?” I wanted to weep at the answer.

So I avoided her gaze, blinking back the tears, and stared at Velaris through the windows - my city and my life. “There are memories from Under the Mountain, Feyre, that are best left unshared. Even with you.”

I’d told her once that I dreamt of only two things: Amarantha fucking me and my brothers against our will, and watching the light leave Feyre’s eyes as she died. Technically, Feyre already knew what I’d seen tonight, but damn me to hell if I was going to say it out loud. I wouldn’t - couldn’t do it. It would be as torturous as reliving it all over again.

Tentatively, Feyre touched my arm, pulling me back, not caring if I was ready to show her the truth or not. It was just a simple touch. A friendly touch. So much softer and kinder than Amarantha’s had been. “When you want to talk,” she whispered, “let me know. I won’t tell the others.”

I found warmth in the spot her fingers held.

She moved, toward the edge of the bed, but I found my hand holding on to that touch, keeping her against me. Just a moment longer. Just one more moment...

“Thank you,” I said, squeezing her hand and letting it fall away so she could escape.

But Feyre... Feyre paused, and then she leaned up on the bed so that she was kneeling next to me, searching my face before her lips reached out and pressed gently to my cheek. And it didn’t feel dominating or controlling or rough or - or any of the things that Amarantha made me feel when she touched me.

No, Feyre’s kiss was loving . Caring. For me, not for her.

I couldn’t look at my mate as she climbed from the bed. Nor as she paused in the door one last time before she left. I didn’t move for a long while even after that. My body was loose and taut all at once thinking about that kiss and my mate and how she’d - she’d seen me at my worst and not looked away or flinched like everyone else did. Only Mor had ever come close, but even she hadn’t seen me like this.

The sheets were stark cold as I fell against them, letting my wings hang over the bed behind me whichever way they pleased. A star fell through the darkness in the air landing on my pillow. I twirled it around my finger until it danced away again falling somewhere else.

She had kissed me.

And somewhere in the darkness, my soul thought that maybe that was a little more than okay.