If She Had Known

Rhysand

The next day, Lucien joined us for lunch. I tried to remember my job, and play my part. Tease Lucien. Flirt with Tamlin. But I couldn't stop thinking about the new version of our first kiss. I couldn't remember anything other than waking up to being devoured by Tamlin. My skin felt wrong where he had touched it. I had been so intoxicated that I couldn't even remember asking him to kiss me. Or if I had at all.

"Rumor has it you two didn't come back until after dawn," I heard Lucien say.

I glanced at Tamlin. I was supposed to be in love with him, to cherish our closeness. But I didn't. His kiss had only brought nightmares and made my headaches worse. Tamlin's gaze roved my face ad if searching for any tinge of regret, of fear. I quickly plastered on a mask of my own, and bit my lip.

"You bit my neck on Fire Night," I said under my breath, hiding behind the mask. "If I can face you after that, a few kisses are nothing."

He braced his forearms on the table as he leaned closer to me. "Nothing?" his eyes flicked to my lips. Lucien shifted in his seat, muttering to the cauldron to spare him.

"Nothing," I repeated a bit distantly.

"I'm trying to eat," Lucien said, and I blinked, grateful for the interruption. "But now that I have your attention Tamlin," he snapped. "Not to be the bearer of truly bad tidings, but my contact at the Winter Court managed to get a letter to me." I remembered wondering if Lucien was also spymaster. He didn't hold a candle to Azriel. "The blight," Lucien said tightly, softly. "It took out two dozen of their younglings. two dozen, all gone." He swallowed. "It just... burned through their magic, then broke apart their minds." That part, I knew. Daemati. "No one in the winter court could do anything— no one could stop it once it turned it's attention toward them. Their grief is... unfathomable. My contact says other courts are being hit hard— though the Night Court, of course, manages to remain unscathed. But the blight seems to be sending its wickedness this way— farther south with every attack."

They had no idea what Rhys was doing to keep his court safe. What he was doing to spare all of them from her full attention. And yet he was labeled a monster and whore for it. It was undeniably a daemati that killed those younglings. Yet another attack on Rhys, to make it look like he was the one responsible. I thought of Vivianne and Kallias. Their grief. The rarity of children was so much that the loss of so many would be felt throughout the entirety of Prythian.

Tamlin's eyes were shadowed, and he slowly shook his head— as if trying to clear the grief and shock of those deaths from him. No matter the differences between us, we could agree on this.

He shot to his feet so quickly that his chair flipped over. He unsheathed his claws and snarled at the open doorway, canines long and gleaming. The house, usually full of the whispering skirts and chatter of servants, had gone silent.

I was surprised he felt it before it did. Whatever undiscovered mating bond still remained was pulled taut at the nearness. My head whipped to the doorway, straining to see. I was filled with so much hope that the emptiness in me subsided. He was here, and I had completely forgotten. I held my hand over my mouth to hide my smile, hoping I looked frightened.

"Get Feyre to the window— by the curtains," Tamlin growled to Lucien, not taking his eyes off the open doors. Lucien's hand gripped my elbow, dragging me out of my chair.

The ground shook with each step the intruder took. Night filled the room as I was yanked over to the wall. Lucien's knuckles turned white as he gripped me. I would have protested if I could get any words out. I didn't want to be hidden from him. Soon, I was invisible, peering over Lucien's shoulder at Tamlin, who took a long breath and sheathed his claws and fangs, his baldric of knives appearing from thin air across his chest. Illyrian knives. But he didn't draw any of them as he righted his chair and slouched in it, picking at his nails. As if nothing were happening.