ACOTAR (Rhysand's POV)

Chapter 13

I wasn't sure how long had passed since I left the throne room. The hearth remained cold and empty as I paced in front of it. Nuala and Cerridwen had not come to gather my plates and cups, most likely sensing my need to be alone. I wasn't even sure if being alone was what I needed. I was still reeling from seeing Tamlin against Feyre, their arms wound around each other. The urgency of their lips and his hands on her breasts. The fire beneath my skin burned and I slammed my fist against the mantel, splintering the marble. All he wanted was her and the pleasure of having her. 

I faced the door as their steps grew louder. My hand was on the knob, pulling the door open before their chance to knock. "What?" I snipped.

A slender faerie stood with wide eyes, taking in my form. I must have looked as haggard as I felt. "Amarantha, she requests your council." Their light blue skin was pocked with ancient scars. I wondered if they matched on the inside. 

"Tell her majesty, I will be there in a moment." The words were cold and the frail-looking faerie flinched at my inflection. I met their eyes, hoping to convey my unspoken apology. But they just turned and ambled down the hall, legs shaking. I softly closed the door. 

***

The large doors to the throne room were open. Servants lingered, sweeping and tidying up spaces in preparation for tomorrow's events. Their scuffling echoed off the stone walls. What would Feyre be faced with tomorrow. I almost deemed to think that was the reason Amarantha called for me. But, knowing her twisted mind and seeing the empty throne room, I knew why I was summoned. 

The spiraling stone staircase led into another dimly lit hall, similar to the rest. Yet, only one room was on this level. I could hear the sound of clinking dishes and Amarantha, "Hurry up. And pour me another glass." As I neared the bedroom door, it swung open and two short faeries stumbled out. Towers of half-eaten plates in their hands. They bowed their apologies and scuttled from the threshold.  I drew in a deep breath and entered. 

"There you are." Amarantha was stretched out across a velvet chaise, as stark red as the color she wore on her lips. A silk robe of matching color was lazily draped around her, almost exposing her breasts. She lifted the goblet to her lips and smiled. "Help yourself." She took a sip, gesturing with her eyes toward the bar cart. When I didn't move, she patted the empty space beside her. 

Every fiber of my being balked at the thought of being that close to her. But I forced the muscles and tendons to move, and took the seat. She set down her wine, her clawed nails ringing against the crystal as she withdrew them. They found their way into my hair, scraping at my scalp, tugging on the ends. "Rhysand," Amarantha purred. "You couldn't possibly have meant to offend me with your little charade with that human, could you?" I didn't answer. Her nails raked down my neck, following my spine. "That mortal trash couldn't please you like I do, now could she?" Bile rose in my throat and I fought it down. Amarantha lifted her glass to my mouth. "Drink." Her fingers played on my lips, parting them, and she lifted the goblet back, spilling the wine down my throat. "Let me show you, just incase you forgot." 

***

Before I knew where I was going, I was in the darkness of the cells. Water dripped in a small puddle, illuminated by the dim fae lights. My movements were automatic as I stepped into her cell, not even glancing at her reaction. I leaned my back into the freezing, crumbling wall and slid to the floor, my head hanging low between my knees. 

"What do you want?" she demanded. 

I rubbed at my temples. "A moment of peace and quiet." It came out more snapped than I meant, but I was too exhausted to care. 

Feyre paused a moment, then asked, "From what?"

That careful mask I kept on each day was nowhere to be found as I said, "That damned bitch is running me ragged." I dropped my hands and rested my brow on the wall. "You hate me. Imagine how you'd feel if I made you serve in my bedroom. I'm High Lord of the Night Court - not her harlot." The words kept tumbling out.