The Devil You Know

Part I: Chapter 2

Amarantha had made Rhysand stand next to her throne, Tamlin's daughter cowering at his feet as she and her cronies tortured the nymph in ways that would plague his nightmares. She had ripped the gag out of her daughter's mouth, delighting in the way she screamed and cried for her mother. She had passed out about an hour ago, across his shoes and in her own pile of vomit.

The nymph, by some will of her own, was still alive. But ever since her daughter had passed out, she had stopped fighting—had allowed her screams to be louder and louder. She had been trying her hardest to be strong for her little girl. Tried to hide her cries of pain and evidently, had tried to stay alive until this point.

But with her daughter now unconscious, Rhysand could see life slipping from her eyes. He had done all he could to hold her mind free from the pain without Amarantha catching on. For the most part, he had blocked out the worst. Of course, her daughter didn't know that so it hardly made it any better. With only a sliver of power to work with, he wasn't able to hold both of their minds.

It was over now, he realized. The last bit of life in her disappeared and that was it, she was dead. Eight hours. It had been eight hours of this. Her daughter had witnessed seven of those. He wondered if he should wipe her mind of it all—save her the burden of having those memories. But he wouldn't do it without her permission, as much as he wanted to.

"Oh my," Amarantha laughed, peering down at the girl at his feet. "She's made quite a mess of herself, hasn't she."

The demented fae in the crowd laughed along with her. He stood there as Amarantha nudged the girl with her foot. He felt a bit of himself dying with each second that passed. Finally, the girl awoke, panting. She tried to move but realized she was still tied up. Her large green eyes stared up at them in horror and she tried to look around Amarantha's skirts.

"Would you like to be reunited with dear old mommy now, girl?" Amarantha said, using a voice that sounded as though she cared. The girl couldn't do anything but plead with the redhead, her voice so hoarse from screaming and crying. Amarantha yanked on the chain, dragging the girl to stand on her shaky legs.

"Rhysand," Amarantha ordered. "Take her to her mother."

The mother that lay on the cold stone floor, fingers bent out of place, missing an eye, skin mostly burnt off. That's what Amarantha wanted her to see.

"Please, my Queen," Rhysand tried. "I've waited long enough to use my present. Can I not take her back to my chambers now?"

He ignored the way the other High Lord's glared at him in disgust.

"I think the girl wants to see her mother first," Amarantha said. "Isn't that right, girl?"

Tamlin's daughter nodded her head quickly, having no clue what laid behind Amarantha. He could do nothing but nod. A horrendous smile covered Amarantha's face as she moved out of the way and took Rhysand's free arm to escort them both down the dias.

As soon as the girl caught sight of her mom, a haunting scream came from her mouth—a sound he was sure he had never heard before. It sent chills down his spine. She tried to run, choking herself against the collar as Amarantha held him by his arm so he couldn't keep up with her movements.

She vomited again as they came to a standstill in front of her mother's corpse. The girl fell to her knees, sobbing, desperately scooting herself as close to her mother as possible. Rhysand wanted to throw up himself.

He held it together, trying to not let any emotion cloud his face. If Amarantha even got a whiff of the pity he felt for the girl, she would rip her right from his hands and give her to another fae who would do terrible things to her. This was the only way he could protect her. To take her, himself. Keep her in his chambers, as safe as he could.