ACOTAR (Rhysand's POV)

Chapter 7

No one came to her in the following days, aside from me. But I stayed in the shadows, watching as Feyre writhed in pain. I promised myself I wouldn't interfere, no matter how painful it was to remain pressed into the darkness. Everyone had seen, heard her arm break - someone would come. Although, Lucien was under a watchful eye now for his exclamation at the trial. My bet against the wyrm did not do anything to help my case either. Amarantha need not say it, I saw it in the way she looked at me now - doubt.

Yet, five days had passed and not a single soul came to Feyre's aid - not even Tamlin. Even though he held his mask of remoteness tight, one would think her pain, her suffering would be worth the risk of being caught in these cells. Whatever he felt for Feyre, it couldn't be love. Love would blind a man, have them do stupid things like risk their morals, their judgement, their own sanity in the name of her. 

Feyre let out another cry and choked sob as she rolled against her mangled arm. Her eyes were filled with panic, at the pain and at the inevitable she was realizing would happen. Blood continued to seep from her wound and, by the sheen of sweat forming on her brow, it was clear the fever had likely set in. She clenched at her stomach, another wave of nausea passing. Was it from the infection or the ghastly smell of the mud still caked on her skin? Probably a combination of both. She looked so fragile in this moment, my heart ached for her. That strength and ferocity shown in the pit of the wyrms den barely lingered on her face now. 

I continued waiting in the cover of the cells blackness, fighting with myself. No one was coming. It was torment for her to lay in her filth, twisting in agony. If we were to escape from this mountain, Feyre was our only hope at the moment. It would be treason not to help her, not to do anything to save my court. More of her slow heartbeats passed as she wriggled herself against the far cell wall. 

I shoved out of the shadows toward her cell door. "What a sorry state for Tamlin's champion." Feyre's eyes rolled in her head, finally meeting mine. 

"Go to hell." It was no more than a wheeze. Feyre tried to lift her head but it, too, rolled and swayed and she laid it back down. I stepped forward, bending into a crouch before her - her corner reeked of sweat and vomit and the wyrms grime. 

Reaching out, I swiped my finger against her brow where droplets of sweat hung. "What would Tamlin say if he knew his beloved was rotting away down here, burning up with fever?" It plagued me, his carelessness and arrogance. Did she wonder why Tamlin hadn't come? "Not that he can even come here, not when his every move is watched." 

Feyre mustered any wrath she had left into the faint words she spit, "Get away." 

"I come here to offer you help, and you have the nerve to tell me to leave?" A smile crept upon my lips, but I felt far from anything remotely joyful. 

"Get away." Her arms and legs betrayed her as she tried to crawl from me. 

"You made me a lot of money, you know. I figured I would repay the favor." She wouldn't understand, nor trust, my offer for help without strings attached. Neither did I, to be truthful. Feyre attempted to adjust herself into a seated position, her head still swayed and her eyes struggled to focus. "Let me see your arm." But she didn't move, only keeping her scowl directed at me. Frustrating female. My concern for her overtook my need for cordiality, "Let me see it." The words came out stronger than I intended, as did my grasp. By her elbow, I pulled her arm into the faint light of the cell to view the damage. It was bleeding, infected, and crusted over with blood. The bone protruded from the flesh at alarming angles. "Oh, that's wonderfully gruesome." Her response only came in the form of obscenities. It was hard to not to smile at that. "Such words from a lady." 

"Get out." Feyre wasn't going to make this easy, as was expected. Even in her lowest of moments, she still would still be as bullheaded.

I pulled her arm closer to further examine. "Don't you want me to heal your arm? "The infection had spread, of course causing the fever. It would need to be dealt with soon, before it was irreversible.