ACOMAF (Rhys's POV)

Shove Me Out (Chapter 6)

"No, thank you."

Feyre's incredulous expression as she gripped her fork with far too much intensity for what breakfast food deserved was enough to rile me into a bit of mockery.

"You're going to be a High Lord's wife," I said casually. "You'll be expected to maintain your own correspondences, perhaps even give a speech or two. And the Cauldron knows what else he and Ianthe will deem appropriate for you. Make menus for dinner parties, write thank-you letters for all those wedding gifts, embroider sweet phrases on pillows... It's a necessary skill. And, you know what? Why don't we throw in shielding while we're at it. Reading and shielding - fortunately, you can practice them together."

I could practically feel the steam rolling off of Feyre, her irritation was quite palatable.

This, I could work with. This, I knew.

"They are both necessary skills," she said, jaw clenching with every word, "but you are not going to teach me."

Of course I wasn't. Should I ever have expected any other objection but this?

"What else are you going to do with yourself? Paint? How's that going these days, Feyre?"

How do you like it?

"What the hell does it even matter to you?"

"it serves various purposes of mine, of course."

"What. Purposes."

"You'll have to agree to work with me to find out, I'm afraid."

The letter sitting on my desk in my study flashed through my mind. I still hadn't had the nerve to send it since writing it shortly after waking. Feyre was still too unhinged, too much of a wild gamble to take on sending that letter prematurely. If she wasn't the person I thought she was, I'd have to find another way of infiltrating my neighbors to the deep south.

Feyre nearly asked my own question for me when her fork snapped between her fingers, the prongs jabbing into her skin to draw out a pain I only seemed to agitate in her.

Such a special bond, this mate thing between us, was becoming.

"Interesting," i said with a chuckle, noting how easily the metal bent around her slender fingers, those fingers I once watched paint to keep myself alive.

"You said that last night."

"Am I not allowed to say it twice?"

"That's not what I was implying and you know it."

Carefully, my eyes slid over her considering and she watched me with a pained, tense regard, waiting for me to render some hidden verdict I must be mulling over.

How much did Feyre know? How much power had she shown, if any? How far would Tamlin have gone to hide it from her if he knew?

How far dare I pry?

My eyes rested on the fork next to Feyre's plate, a perfect opposite to the pristine one resting in front of me.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're rather strong for a High Fae?"

"Am I?"

"I'll take that as a no." I sucked on a piece of melon and debated. At least Feyre was forthcoming about her ignorance of the fae world, I would haven't to fight her pride on it to solve every mystery. And I knew then she would tell me the truth if I asked. "Have you tested yourself against anyone?"

"Why would I?"

"Because you were resurrected and reborn by the combined powers of the seven High Lords. If I were you, I'd be curious to see if anything else transferred to me during that process."