𝐀 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝟏𝟒

Arya

     Lucien joined us for lunch the next day, which was our first meal of the day seeing that even the staff slept in this morning. I eyed Tamlin and Feyre fail in trying to keep their smiles from growing. Rumour has it that the two didn't come back until early this morning.

I then moved my gaze to Lucien who hadn't stopped rubbing his temples since he sat down, "And where were you last night?" I asked.

Lucien's metal eye narrowed at me, "I'll have you know that while those two were dancing with spirits, I was on border patrol." With Tamlin's pointed cough, he added, "With some company."

I groaned slumping a little in my seat, "Am I the only one who did not get any action last night?"

"From what I saw, you had a line of suitors. You should have picked one," I scrunch my nose in disgust. "Um, no thank you."

I move my gaze to Tamlin and Feyre who's having some sort of stare of, "You bit my neck on Fire Night," she said quietly. "If I can face you after that, a few kisses are nothing."

"Mother help us," I whispered slumping further into my seat.

"Nothing?" His eyes flick to Feyre's lips as he leans in closer. I meet Lucien's eyes as he shifts in his seat, muttering the Cauldron to spare him. "Nothing," replied a breathy Feyre.

"Are you sure?" he murmured.

I made a gagging sound whilst Lucien groaned. "Arya and I are trying to eat."

That seemed to snap them out of their bubble. "But now that I have your attention, Tamlin," Lucien continued and it took some effort for the High Lord to glance at the emissary.

"Not to be a bearer of truly bad things, but my contact at the Winter Court managed to get a letter to me." Tamlin's smile instantly faded at that but Lucien took a steadying breath before continuing. "The blight," he said tightly. "It took out two dozen of their younglings. Two dozen, all gone."

"It just ... burned through their magic, then broke apart their minds. No one in the Winter Court could do anything - no one could stop it once it turned its attention towards them. Their grief is ... unfathomable - thought the Night Court," he steals a glance at me. "They managed to remain unscathed. The blight seems to be sending its wickedness this way. Farther south with every attack."

Knowing Rhys, he's scheming the bitch. Though I know that whatever he's doing to make sure our Court stays safe isn't pretty.

My eyes shot at Tamlin who stood up so quickly that his chair flipped over.

Then I felt it.

I felt the power so similar to mine, a power that seems to call its counterpart.

"Get Feyre to the window -- by the curtains," Tamlin growled to Lucien, never taking his eyes off the open doors.

I simply sip my tea as Tamlin righted his chair after summoning his baldric of knives. He slouched on his chair, picking at his nails, trying to appear unbothered. But the sound of his heart was anything but.

I lean back on my chair, taking another sip of my tea when he came strolling in. His steps were too graceful, too feline, he kept walking and stopped a few yards from Tamlin.

"High Lord," he greeted with a tilt of his head, not a bow. Not that I expected one.

Although Tamlin remained seated, his voice carried a promise of violence, "What do you want, Rhysand?"

Rhys smiled and put a hand on his chest, "Rhysand? Come now, Tamlin. I haven't seen you for forty-nine years, and you start calling me Rhysand? Only my prisoners and my enemies call me that." Theatrics. This male was full of them. Embodied them. He ran an eye over Lucien, "A fox mask. Appropriate for you, Lucien."