ACOMAF (Rhys's POV)

There Was No Choice In Death (Chapter 18)

"Mates, Rhysand? Really?"

I hadn't even closed the door to her treasure trove before Amren was side-eying me from her desk. Amren's home was more about function than entertaining, her sitting room doubling as a work study that greeted you upon entry. There wasn't even a space to accommodate a dining table or kitchen.

"And when do you plan on telling her?" she said above the dull scratching of pen on paper. I refused to sit.

"If Mor had her way, she'd already know," I said.

"That is not what I asked, boy."

I was quiet for a moment, watching her write before staring at her book shelves. "She hates me, Amren." All scratching stopped.

"Clearly not," Amren said. She threw her pen against the desk and leaned back in her seat inclining her head toward the seat opposite her. When I didn't budge, she glared.

I sat.

"One does not agree to work for someone they hate unless they have ulterior motives, and from what I smelled on that girl at dinner last night - believe me, her human heart does not hate you."

"Well she doesn't like me, either, and that's not enough to burden her with a mate bond."

Amren snorted. "With you , you mean."

My voice was harsher than I wanted it to sound. "Amren-"

"And what about you? What about your burden, Rhysand? Who takes care of you?"

"I thought that was your job as my Second," I said to mask the increasing anxiety in my tightening lungs. I didn't deserve a caretaker.

"My job is to kill people, among other things, and you are people whom I might kill if you don't explain what you're doing here. It's the middle of the night. The stars are out and the sky is black. Shouldn't you be flying around and making darkness appear or some nonsense."

"You're certainly chipper this evening-"

One sharply crafted eyebrow lifted hotly, cutting me off. I sighed and lifted my hands in defeat, and then relayed what had happened that morning with Feyre.

"She's still asleep. I waited all day for her to get up, to eat, to bathe - do something. But she hasn't moved once. Nuala and Cerridwen suggested I find another way to occupy myself."

Amren glowered. "You mean that shadow bastard you work with told them to tell you to get out and stop fussing."

Fucking Azriel. I hadn't even -

" Yes ," I ground out. "That may be a possibility."

Amren rolled her eyes and stood up to fetch a glass decanter from the side table that swam with a dark, crimson liquid. She poured herself a glass. "I shall take care of Feyre."

After she'd taken a sip, she stared casually out the window without another word. "What - that's it? You'll just take care of it?"

"Did I stutter, Rhysand? No, I did not. Now get out so I can go to sleep." I stood, but my feet hardly moved, hands in my pockets as I gave the woman a curious look over.

Centuries. I'd known her for centuries and it still felt sometimes like I all I'd learnt in that time was her name and favorite jewel.

(Every jewel was her favorite.)

When she caught me staring, her eyes narrowed into slits. "I said get out. "

"Goodnight to you too," I mumbled, my foul mood growing worse, and shuffled for the door. When I turned the handle, Amren hissed one last time. "Rhysand," she said, catching my eye. "For the record, your cousin is right."