Chapter Text
From the moment the bargain—the bond— was made between Rhysand and I… something was different.
Of course, I would never be the girl I was before Under the Mountain.
Mostly because I was no longer a girl.
I was a female.
I was High Fae.
The Spring Court was my residence once more, not the wretched place Amarantha had designed to her whims. But everywhere I looked, it was off. The roses became simply their thorns. The walls were confining. The male I loved was a shadow in my mind.
Day after day, I walked the halls and tried to make sense of my ever-fracturing mind, and most of all, why the nightmares wouldn’t go away. Nightmares of everything. The Attor, Clare Beddor, and most of all… my own death. Tamlin knew about them, and would hold me when the flashbacks dug their claws into my mind. But, after a full month back home… everything just worsened.
I was withering away, mind and body.
My dresses couldn’t stay up without being taken in and pinned on my frame.
I could hardly think straight.
Some nights, Tamlin would beg me to speak to him, but my thoughts were a prison and everything would fade to an inky void.
Tamlin did everything he could.
He held my hand during the days.
Kept me close during those long nights.
And never left my side.
But his presence alone began to warp, and I found myself having an aversion to the very male I died for.
And soon, I began to wonder if Rhysand would ever call in his bargain.
✧
“Feyre?” Tamlin’s voice called softly from the hall.
I was trying to paint. The brush shook in my trembling fingers, and even glancing at the deep reds would make my breathing become shallow.
“Feyre.” His voice was close now, approaching. I felt his hands land on my waist.
“Hi.” The words were a struggle to get out.
“You’re painting.” He murmured, looking up and down the canvas.
“I’m trying, at least.” I said raspily.
“Feyre, listen.” Tamlin’s fingers intertwined with mine as I set my brush down. He guided me, one hand on mine and the other on my back, over to the seating in the corner of the room, near a lit fireplace. “I’m worried about you. Truly. Talk to me.”
“I’m fine.” I wasn’t. Why was I lying to him?
“You’re not.” Tamlin said, echoing my thoughts. His eyes were pleading, but even inches from mine, his forehead beginning to press to mine, they were blurry in my vision.
“I’m just adjusting. To my new body, and our new life.”
“But… it’s been a month. And you’re a ghost. You…” His gaze drew from mine. “You look at me like a stranger now.”
My eyes fixed on the ground.
“Please. Just… Let me help you.” In my peripheral vision, I could see a tentative, hopeful smile on his chiselled face.
“Listen—You can’t.” I snapped.
Tamlin’s face fell.
I began to unconsciously rub the tattoo along my arm—Rhysand’s tattoo.
His gaze darted to the same arm and his face crumbled even more. “Is this about him? Is this about your bargain?” He tried to pull me closer. “Have you seen him?”
“No, I—!”
The world shifted, tilting and turning.
The tattoo grew hot atop my skin.
Every molecule of my body stopped short and I got to my feet, staring at the doorway.
And the figure standing there.
“Your month of… adjustment is up, Feyre.” Rhysand rumbled. He looked fuller, healthier. But, still... broken at his core.
I found a small part of me tugged to him.
Tamlin grabbed my waist, pulling me behind him protectively and blocking my view.
“Rhysand, she’s… she’s unwell! You can’t—!” I couldn't see Tamlin's face, but the pain in his voice nearly got to me.
“I think you’ve forgotten, Tamlin. You see that marking on your beloved’s arm? She belongs to me. And you’ve gotten to keep your... pet long enough.” Rhys was cool and collected, and the darkness wafting off of him seemed to call my name.
I took a step forward, pushing Tamlin lightly from me.
“Feyre?” Tamlin’s voice was faraway.
I felt cold talons caress a spot somewhere deep in my mind, and my mind became foggy as I approached the High Lord of the Night Court.
“Tam? What’s going on?” Lucien’s presence became apparent, as he seemed to enter through a different doorway.
The rest of their exchanged words were muffled in my ears as I finally stepped in place next to Rhysand.
“Feyre, please. Let me help you. Come back. Please.” Tamlin began to beg, and a desperation slipped into his tone that I’d never heard before. The bleariness throughout my mind cleared momentarily and I felt a pang of hurt before Rhysand put a hand out toward me.
I’d loved Tamlin.
But something was different now.
Everything was different now.
So, I simply shook my head at the High Lord of the Spring Court.
And my hand slipped into Rhysand’s, before the world spun into darkness and disappeared.