A Court of Chaos and Confusion - An ACOTAR Rewrite

Chapter 38

For my final task, I was given the same tunic and pants I wore for the second trial – old and torn – but clean. I kept my chin high as I was escorted to the throne room.

The doors were flung open, and the silence of the room assaulted me. I waited for the jeers and shouts, waited to see gold flash as the onlookers placed their bets, but this time the faeries just stared at me, the masked ones especially intently.

Their world rested on my shoulders, Rhys had said. But I didn't think it was worry alone that was spread across their features. I had to swallow hard as a few of them touched their fingers to their lips, then extended their hands to me – a gesture for the fallen, a farewell to the honored dead. There was nothing malicious about it. Most of these faeries belonged to the courts of the High Lords – had belonged to those courts long before Amarantha seized their lands, their lives. And if Tamlin and Rhysand were playing games to keep us alive...

I strode up the path they'd cleared – straight for Amarantha. The queen smiled when I stopped in front of her throne. Tamlin was in his usual place beside her, but I wouldn't look at him – not yet.

"Two trials lie behind you," Amarantha said, picking at a fleck of dust on her blood-red gown. Her hair shone, a gleaming crimson river that threatened to swallow her golden crown. "And only one more awaits. I wonder if it will be worse to fail now – when you are so close." She gave me a pout, and we both awaited the laughter of the faeries.

But only a few laughs hissed from the red-skinned guards. Everyone else remained silent. Even Lucien's miserable brothers. Even Rhysand, wherever he was in the crowd.

I blinked to clear my burning eyes. Perhaps, like Rhysand, their oaths of allegiance and betting on my life and nastiness had been a show, the way I had been putting on a show. I'd played a different role than I had expected, but it was the best show anyone had ever performed. Perhaps our audience had been part of the show themselves. Perhaps now – now that the end was imminent – they, too, would face my potential death with whatever dignity they had left.

Amarantha glared at them, but when her gaze fell upon me, she smiled broadly, sweetly. "Any words to say before you die?"

I came up with a plethora of curses, but I instead looked at Tamlin. He didn't react – his features were like stone. As I stared at the familiar gold-masked face I wondered if I'd die without seeing him or Lucien's faces – not even for a moment. I settled for his eyes and prepared myself for our finale.

"I love you," I offered up, playing my part to perfection. I raised my voice a bit, so it would carry to the entire room. "No matter what she says about it, no matter if it's only with my insignificant human heart, even when they burn my body, I'll love you." My voice didn't falter as I managed to look around the room at everyone I was fighting for, hoping to catch two familiar pairs of eyes, but I didn't have the time. My vision clouded before several warm tears slipped down my chilled face. I didn't wipe them away.

He didn't react – he didn't even grip the arms of his throne. I supposed that was his way of enduring it, even if his silence confused me. I ran my thumb over the eye tattooed on my palm, wishing I'd caught a glimpse of him or Lucien before I met my final trial.

Amarantha said sweetly, "You'll be lucky, my darling, if we even have enough left of you to burn."

I stared at her long and hard. But her words were not met with jeers or smiles or applause from the crowd. Only silence.

It was a gift that gave me courage, that made me bunch my fists, that made me embrace the tattoo on my arm. I had beaten her until now, fairly or not, and I would not feel alone when I died. I would not die alone. It was all I could ask for.