Acotar retelling

To Keep You From Breaking

What followed the second trial was a series of days that I don't care to recall. I began to regret the moment when Rhysand gave me that goblet of faerie wine and I lost those few hours.

Thinking of Tamlin made everything worse. I'd beaten two of Amarantha's tasks and still even though he claimed to love me, he would not move, would not fight to help me.

Whatever. I'm doing this all for Rhysand anyway

I was walking to the dressing chamber with the twins, staring at nothing and thinking of even less, when a hissing noise and the flap of wings sounded from around an upcoming corner. The Attor. The faeries beside me tensed, but their chins rose slightly.

I'd never become accustomed to the Attor, but I had come to accept its malignant presence. Seeing my escorts stiffen awakened a dormant dread, and my mouth turned dry as we neared the bend. Even though we were veiled and hidden by shadow, each step brought me closer to that winged demon. My feet turned leaden.

Then a lower, guttural voice grunted in response to the hissing of the Attor. Nails clicked on stone, and my escorts swapped glances before they swung me into an alcove, a tapestry that hadn't been there a moment before falling over us, the shadows deepening, solidifying. I had a feeling that if someone pulled back that tapestry, they would see only darkness and stone.

One of them covered my mouth with a hand, holding me tightly to her, shadows slithering down her arm and onto mine. She smelled of jasmine—I'd never noticed that before.

The Attor and its companion rounded the bend, still talking—their voices low. It was only when I could understand their words that I realized we weren't merely hiding.

"Yes," the Attor was saying, "good. She'll be most pleased to hear that they're ready at last."

"But will the High Lords contribute their forces?" the guttural voice replied. I could have sworn it snorted like a pig.

They came closer and closer, unaware of us. My escorts pressed in tighter to me, so tense that I realized they were holding their breath. Handmaidens—and spies.

"The High Lords will do as she tells them," the Attor gloated, and its tail slithered and slashed across the floor.

"I heard talk from soldiers in Hybern that the High King is not pleased regarding this situation with the girl. Amarantha made a fool's bargain. She cost him the War the last time because of her madness with Jurian; if she turns her back on him again, he will not be so willing to forgive her. Stealing his spells and taking a territory for her own is one thing. Failure to aid in his cause a second time is another."

There was a loud hiss, and I trembled as the Attor snapped its jaws at its companion. "Milady makes no bargains that are not advantageous to her. She lets them claw at hope—but once it is shattered, they are her beautifully broken minions."

They had to be passing right before the tapestry.

"You had better hope so," the guttural voice replied. What manner of creature was this thing to be so unmoved by the Attor? My escort's shadowy hand clamped tighter around my mouth, and the Attor passed on.

Don't trust your senses, Alis's voice echoed through my mind. The Attor had caught me once before when I thought I was safe ...

"And you had better hold your tongue," the Attor warned. "Or Milady will do so for you—and her pincers are not kind."

The other creature snorted that pig noise. "I am here on a condition of immunity from the king. If your lady thinks she's above the king because she rules this wretched land, she'll soon remember who can strip her powers away—without spells and potions."