I was burning through books every day—stories about people and places I’d never heard of. They were perhaps the only thing that kept me from teetering into utter despair.
Tamlin returned eight days later, brushing a kiss over my brow and looking me over, and then headed into the study. Where Ianthe had news for him.
That I was also not to hear.
Alone in the hall, watching as the hooded priestess led him toward the double doors at its other end, a glimmer of red—
My body tensed, instinct roaring through me as I whirled—
Not Amarantha.
Lucien.
The red hair was his, not hers. I was here, not in that dungeon—
My friend’s eyes—both metal and flesh—were fixed on my hands.
Where my nails were growing, curving. Not into talons of shadow, but claws that had shredded through my undergarments time and again—
Stop stop stop stop stop—
It did.
Like blowing out a candle, the claws vanished into a wisp of shadow.
Lucien’s gaze slid to Tamlin and Ianthe, unaware of what had happened, and then he silently inclined his head, motioning for me to follow.
We took the sweeping stairs to the second level, the halls deserted. I didn’t look at the paintings flanking either side. Didn’t look beyond the towering windows to the bright gardens.
We passed my bedroom door, passed his own—until we entered a small study on the second level, mostly left unused.
He shut the door after I’d entered the room, and leaned against the wood panel.
“How long have the claws been appearing?” he said softly.
“That was the first time.” My voice rang hollow and dull in my ears.
Lucien surveyed me—the vibrant fuchsia gown Ianthe had selected that morning, the face I didn’t bother to set into a pleasant expression …
“There’s only so much I can do,” he said hoarsely. “But I’ll ask him tonight. About the training. The powers will manifest whether we train you or not, no matter who is around. I’ll ask him tonight,” he repeated.
I already knew what the answer would be, though.
Lucien didn’t stop me as I opened the door he’d been leaning against and left without another word. I slept until dinner, roused myself enough to eat—and when I went downstairs, the raised voices of Tamlin, Lucien, and Ianthe sent me right back to the steps.
They will hunt her, and kill her, Ianthe had hissed at Lucien.
Lucien had growled back, They’ll do it anyway, so what’s the difference?
The difference, Ianthe had seethed, lies in us having the advantage of this knowledge—it won’t be Feyre alone who is targeted for the gifts stolen from those High Lords. Your children, she then said to Tamlin, will also have such power. Other High Lords will know that. And if they do not kill Feyre outright, then they might realize what they stand to gain if gifted with offspring from her, too.
My stomach had turned over at the implication. That I might be stolen—and kept—for … breeding. Surely … surely no High Lord would go so far.
If they were to do that, Lucien had countered, none of the other High Lords would stand with them. They would face the wrath of six courts bearing down on them. No one is that stupid.
Rhysand is that stupid, Ianthe had spat. And with that power of his, he could potentially withstand it. Imagine, she said, voice softening as she had no doubt turned to Tamlin, a day might come when he does not return her. You hear the poisoned lies he whispers in her ear. There are other ways around it, she had added with such quiet venom. We might not be able to deal with him, but there are some friends that I made across the sea …
We are not assassins, Lucien had cut in. Rhys is what he is, but who would take his place—
My blood went cold, and I could have sworn ice frosted my fingertips.
Lucien had gone on, his tone pleading, Tamlin. Tam. Just let her train, let her master this—if the other High Lords do come for her, let her stand a chance …
Silence fell as they let Tamlin consider.
My feet began moving the moment I heard the first word out of his mouth, barely more than a growl. No.
With each step up the stairs, I heard the rest.
We give them no reason to suspect she might have any abilities, which training will surely do. Don’t give me that look, Lucien.
Silence again.
Then a vicious snarl, and a shudder of magic rocked the house.
Tamlin’s voice had been low, deadly. Do not push me on this.
I didn’t want to know what was happening in that room, what he’d done to Lucien, what Lucien had even looked like to cause that pulse of power.
