A Court of Guilt and Passion

Chapter 3

You sighed, you had to find some way to deal with it all - especially if you now had eternity to live. If Tamlin was close to bringing in a priestess to speak to you, you had to admit telling Lucien seemed like a much better plan. Even if he was in for some hard truths about what you went through.

It was the week after your first task - a week after you defeated the Middengard Wyrm. You lay in your cell, blood, sweat and mud still covering your face, your clothes. You wrapped a cloth around your injured arm, you had ripped it from your undershirt - it wasn't clean, but cleaner than the rest of you. You had used your water ration to try and clean the wound, but nothing made it better.

You waited for Lucien to help you, for him to sneak away and heal you. But he never came and as the days passed by in a feverish blur, you knew that your efforts were in vain, that infection had taken hold.

"I'm sorry," Lucien breathed, barely a whisper, breaking you from your narrative, "I tried to get to you, but Amarantha had beaten me to a pulp when you survived, just to prove to Tam that she could. I couldn't move for days."

You nodded to him, "it wasn't your fault, Lucien, I never blamed you for any of it." When he nodded, you continued -

You had just accepted death, wishing only that you could see Tamlin and Lucien one last time to tell them goodbye, tell them you tried. You held on for a bit longer, trying in vain to solve the riddle that would free everyone instantly, but you couldn't. Your fevered brainfog stopped you from even being able to recall the riddle at all.

Later that night, darkness fell on your cell, but not a terrifying darkness like the Attor, but one like the night sky, soft and comforting, silent and peaceful. Then Rhysand - the High Lord of the Night Court was standing over you. You looked at him, but there was only a flash of concern in his eyes as he looked at your face. He could tell then that it wasn't just your physical injuries, but your broken spirit too.

He healed you, made a bargain to spend a week with him each month in exchange for his healing power. You didn't even object, you had no strength to even if you wanted to. You never thought of the consequences of this bargain, only that it let you live another day.

Lucien snarled, "he tricked you."

You shook your head, "he healed me. He visited me in that cell more than anyone, he kept me going."

"He also drugged you, tricked you into a life long deal and paraded you around to taunt Tam," he continued.

"I didn't say it wasn't awful, I didn't say I liked it," you said defensively, "but if you want to understand how I survived down there, Rhys was a big part of it - no matter what he did to me in the process."

"So you trust him?" Lucien asked, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

"Trust? No," you responded, watching his chest fall in relief, "but he kept me alive." Lucien thought he saw gratitude for it, and he had to admit he was grateful - grateful that Rhys saved your life when he could not. But what you felt was different - Rhys was a big part of how you survived and you sometimes hated him for that too.

Despite your silent confession, you continued your story -

You wanted to give up, you sat in your cell the night before your final task. Rhys called on you to join him in the throne room one last time. "Through there," he whispered, pointing to a small room off to the side, the door half hidden by shadows, "I have a surprise for you."

You rolled your eyes, "I want nothing from you."

Rhys grabbed my chin roughly, forcing me to look into his eyes. The world would have seen anger in them, but you saw softness, "would you just do as I say?"

You pulled away and he let you, he touched your shoulder and walked off. You were confused by the gesture at first only to realize that he had shrouded you in darkness, using the small pieces of his magic that remained. You used it to your advantage, taking it as a sign of good faith as you entered the room he pointed out.

You felt the darkness slide off of you as you closed the door quietly, "Sil?" a voice whispered.

You ran for it in the darkness and you breathed a sigh of relief as you felt Tamlin's strong arms wrap around you. He placed his hands on each side of your face as he checked you for signs of injury. "I'm alright," you whispered, breathing in the comforting scent of your friend, letting his presence seep warm comfort into your bones.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, tugging you into a tight embrace like you might fade away into mist, "I tried to keep you from all of this."

"It's almost over," you said, running a hand through his tangled hair. Even now you comforted him, you knew you were the only one that could comfort him, you knew him better than anyone save Lucien.

You leaned back studying his face, "If I die tomorrow-"

Tam let a tear roll down his cheek, "Sil-"

There was a soft knock and Rhysand stepped in, "times up." Then he was pulling you out a back door you didn't know was there. Tamlin clawed at your hand as he wrenched in away, "Rhys-"

He growled, "I said times up." Tam only looked defeated as he let you be pulled away. "Goodbye," you whispered to him.

—---------------

Later that night, Rhysand took you back to your cell, only he didn't leave like he usually did. He sat on the floor of the cell across from you. "So, you've given up?" he asked.

You looked at him across the near darkness, "what makes you think that, O Great High Lord?"

He snickered, "you told Tamlin goodbye."

You rolled your eyes, "had my conversation not been cut short-"

Rhysand growled, "Tam was gone too long, Amarantha would have went looking for him."

You said nothing, realizing that Rhys had actually saved you both from discovery. "I thought he would get you out," he said softly, more raw than I ever heard him, "I thought if I could get you a minute alone, he would have Lucien or someone take you far away from here."

"You're afraid," you said, not really a question.

"I have my reasons for what I've done," Rhysand replied, "and if you fail tomorrow, they will have all been for nothing."

"Then you should be glad he didn't get me out," you said, a small bite in your words.

Rhys growled again, a flash of night around you, "I-" but then he stopped, like he was afraid he was going to admit his true plans. "Tamlin loves you," he said, changing the subject.

You shifted, "he has been kind to me, he took me in, cared for me, introduced me to this world. Cared for my family - I owe him everything."

"Even your heart?" he asked. When you said nothing, he stood and handed you a small flask, "drink this and you will awake tomorrow well rested."

You sniffed the contents of the flask, "still don't trust me?" he purred.

You chuckled quietly, "never," then downed the drink in one gulp. Whatever it was worked almost immediately as you slumped into the solid brick of the wall behind you. Rhys grabbed the flask from your hand, leaning down and brushing a strand of hair from your face, "don't be afraid of something as rare as love," he whispered, although you were already asleep, "rest will, Sil."

And then you died.