Feyre/Rhys/Tam Fanficfion ACoTaR

Chapter 6

Turns out, court is exceedingly boring.

I had drunk four glasses of fairy wine and was presently cursing my evolve to High Fae. When I had been human, fairy wine had been much more fun. As it was, I was only carrying a slight buzz-one not strong enough to drown out the politics and whining Rhysand was mediating.

It had been two hours. By the Gods, this must be a punishment.

Beside me, Rhysand cracked his knuckles, and I winced again as it echoed through my ears. I had become to expect it- it happened about once every half hour, but it didn't help with the sharpness of the sound. At first I had thought it an interesting habit; a very human like habit, at that. But after the third time, the novelty had worn off. I swirled the remaining wine around in my glass and stared into it's depths gloomily, before drinking it back in one go. I motioned for a refill, but Rhysand startled me by leaning in close and whispering,

"My recommendation would be to hold the wine there. As glad as I am to see your tolerance has improved, one more and I'm afraid your little buzz will take another turn."

What an interesting way to say one more glass will make me drunk, I thought, entertained. I hadn't even realized he was noticing.

I snapped my fingers to signify the shadow should pour me another glass.

"How horrible," I replied to Rhysand, leaning in closer than I would probably approve in a sober state, "Me-drunk on fairy wine? I've heard I dance quite rowdily when intoxicated, and severely lack moral sense." I gave a loose shrug, "Oh dear, what can one do." Rhysand's eyes heated, their violet depths twinkling like the night sky and momentarily ensnaring me.

"I know what one can do," he breathed, licking his lips. I was distracted by this, and then by his lips, which were currently looking full and scrumptious. I wetted my own with my tongue. Rhysand's gaze followed the motion, and his eyes darkened even further. Then the doors at the end of the hall opened with an unceremonious bang, startling the court.

I looked up and almost jumped from my seat, mouth agape. The High Lord of the Spring Court himself was striding towards us. Rhysand was already back in position, a look of indifference on his face and leg slung lazily. I realized he must have known the whole time that Tamlin was here.

"Well hello," he said, as Tamlin strode up the middle of the tables. "I thought I'd smelt dog. What possibly could I have done, to warrant a visit from the High Lord of the Spring Court?" The whole court had fallen silent, and you could hear the tapping of Tamlin's boots against the marble as he approached.

Not even Tamlin could hide here, I thought, at random, my thoughts still scattered.

His hair was in a disarray and he was unshaven, but despite it all he was still breathtaking. My heart squeezed as a slice of pain went through me at his familiar clothing. It was bright and light green, reminding me of rolling fields and white horses and sunshine.

He stopped about ten meters away, head slightly tilted so that he could look Rhysand in the eye. For a moment I panicked, suddenly realizing how close Rhysand and I had been before he'd entered. But Tamlin must have missed it, because in a voice sure and husky he announced,

"I am taking Feyre home. Something has happened to her sister, Nesta." My mind took too long to comprehend this. Vaguely, I realized I was clutching my throat.

Nesta? My Nesta? It must be something terrible if he had come himself, to trek across Prythian instead of sending me a note.

"What do you mean, something has happened to her sister?" Rhysand demanded from beside my, voicing my thoughts, but I couldn't see him, nor Tamlin; all I could picture was my sister, the one who hid her love behind a curtain of sharp words and flinty eyes. Nesta, the one who had accepted my situation with a nod of her head. Nesta, who I saw conquering the world, no man needed at her side.