The Devil You Know

Part I: Chapter 5

His luck ran out eventually.

Once the week was over, Amarantha was back to ordering him to service her. The tiny taste of freedom from her had made it even harder to return to the role of her whore but he had no choice. So, Rhysand fell back into his daily routine of doing her biddings throughout the day, having dinner with her either in her chambers or in the throne room, and ending the day in her bed.

He tried to hide what he was doing outside the room from Irelia. He didn't want to address it, didn't want to talk about it with her, with anyone. The shame and humiliation he felt was enough to keep his lips sealed around the blonde girl.

So instead, he let her distract him. After that night at the party, the trust between them had only grown and Irelia was starting to seem more than just an ally, but a friend as well. She spent the days reading books—he made sure to restock the shelves with new ones once he noticed she was close to finishing the others.

When he returned at night, she would tell him interesting facts she learned or summarize stories she read. Something about her constant presence, her voice, had become somewhat of an escape for her—from the horrors of what happened outside of those four walls.

Most of the time, her voice eased him into sleeping. One night, he was having more trouble than usual falling asleep and he had asked her to read her book out loud to him. Since then, on days like that, she would start to read out loud without him even promoting her to.

Despite offering her the bed on multiple occasions, she slept on the same rug every night. She could be just as stubborn as him. She still cried most nights, but it was lessening over time. He knew she'd never get over her mother's death, would never be able to escape the dreams of her mother being tortured before her eyes. And it wasn't just her who suffered from awful dreams.

The first time he woke her up due to one of his nightmares, she had sat on the chaise lounge with him the rest of night telling him stories that had been passed down to her from the various tribes of nymphs her and her mother had lived with over the years.

Today had been particularly rough for Rhysand. Not only had he needed to murder a group of faeries trying to escape for Amarantha, but she had been so turned on by the act that she had him service her in her chambers with the blood of those fae still all over his skin.

So, by the time he made it back to his room, he was still covered in that blood and now covered in her as well.

He could feel himself slipping.

Irelia turned to look at him as he entered the room and immediately sprung to her feet, concern written all over her face.

"What happened?"

Rhysand was in a trance though, like he always was after particularly horrid sessions with Amarantha. So he didn't reply, didn't say a single word as he made his way into the bathing chamber.

"Rhys." Irelia's soft voice came from behind him. "What happened? Whose...whose blood is that?"

He knew why she was asking and gave her a single response. "Not mine."

The mirror in front of him stopped him in his tracks. So much blood. So much shame. He felt sick looking at himself—felt the world shifting on its axis. He hadn't even realized he had crumpled to the floor, drawing his knees up and resting his elbows on them as he hung his head. How could he live with himself after all of this?

"Rhys, please."

Irelia was kneeling in front of him now, but he couldn't look at her. How could he look at her after everything he had just done? Would she be able to see right through him? See the marks against his soul for every sin he had committed tonight.