Acotar retelling

The Wyrm

The sounds of a teeming crowd reverberated against the passageway. My armed escort didn't bother with drawn weapons as they tugged me forward. I wasn't even shackled. Someone or something would catch me before I moved three feet and gut me where I stood.

The cacophony of laughter, shouting, and unearthly howls worsened when the hall opened into what had to be a massive arena. There had been no attempts to decorate the torch-lit cavern—and I couldn't tell if it had been hewn from the rock or if it was formed by nature. The floor was slick and muddy, and I struggled to keep my footing as we walked.

But it was the enormous, riotous crowd that turned my insides cold as they stared at me. I couldn't decipher what they were shouting, but I had a good-enough idea. Their cruel, ethereal faces and wide grins told me everything I needed to know. Not just lesser faeries but High Fae, too, their excitement making their faces almost as feral as their more unearthly brethren.

I was hauled toward a wooden platform erected above the crowd. Atop it sat Amarantha and Tamlin, and before it...

I did my best to keep my chin high as I once again beheld the exposed labyrinth of tunnels and trenches running along the floor. The crowd stood along the banks, blocking my view of what lay within as I was thrown to my knees before Amarantha's platform. The half-frozen mud seeped into my pants.

I rose on trembling legs. Around the platform stood a group of six males, secluded from the main crowd. From their cold, beautiful faces, from that echo of power still about them, I knew they were the other High Lords of Prythian. I focused on Rhysand as soon as I noticed his feline smile, the corona of darkness around him. I made eye contact and he winked, a half smile on his fae festures.

Amarantha had only to raise a hand and the roaring crowd silenced.

It became so quiet that I could almost hear my heart beating. "Well, Feyre," the Faerie Queen said. "Your first task is here. Let us see how deep that human affection of yours runs."

I ground my teeth and exposed them to her.

"I took the liberty of learning a few things about you," Amarantha drawled. "It was only fair, you know."

Every instinct, every bit of me that was intrinsically human, screamed to run, but I kept my feet planted, locking my knees to avoid them giving out.

"I think you'll like this task," she said. She waved a hand, and the Attor stepped forward to part the crowd, clearing the way to the lip of a trench. "Go ahead. Look."

I obeyed. Taking a Quick Look at the Wyrm's den. Before I could be pushed—or dropped like last time—I braced myself and jumped.

Mud squelched, and I swung my arms as I teetered and slipped. The audience gasped but I remained upright.

The mud smelled atrocious, but I swallowed my gag. I turned to find Amarantha's platform now floating to the lip of the trench. She looked down at me, glaring.

"Rhysand tells me you're a huntress," she said, and my heartbeat faltered.

Amarantha flicked her fingers in my direction. "Hunt this."

The faeries cheered, and I saw gold flash between spindly, multi-hued palms. Betting on my life—on how long I would last once this started.

I raised my eyes to Rhys. His violet gaze was filled with mirth, and I memorized the lines of his face, the shape of his jaw, the shade of his hair, one last time.

"Release it," Amarantha called. I trembled to the marrow of my bones as a grate groaned, and then a slithering, swift-moving noise filled the chamber.

My shoulders rose toward my ears. The crowd quieted to a murmur, silent enough to hear a guttural kind of grumble, so I could feel the vibrations in the ground as whatever it was rushed at me.