Feyre/Rhys/Tam Fanficfion ACoTaR

Chapter 18

Brahms getting a little dirty in the challenges lol ^^

A/N: I'm sorry guys for the late update. This chapter was a struggle to write for some reason lol...I just hope it isn't too terrible!!! Next one should be better ;)
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The next few days seemed to pass by in a blur.

Every morning would begin with me waking up wrapped in Rhysand. I'd get dressed in my leathers, sit in my spot at breakfast and speak with Brahms and Lacque.

Approximately an hour after that, we would be summoned to the great hall for our next challenge, which would usually last all afternoon. After that was dinner and the victors party. And repeat.

There was never again two challenges in one day, and I was crossing my fingers it would stay that way.

My stamina wasn't the problem--Rhysand had trained me well--but I did fear for Brahms. It seems that being High Fae came with many benefits, and natural endurance wasn't necessarily one of them.

So now, a few days into the games and I had already scaled trees in search for flags, raced through different terrains for a golden coin, stalked lower fae that specialized in silence, and nearly burnt myself alive climbing out of a goddamned volcano.

The first challenge, I had come in first with flying colours. My time was three minutes and twenty two seconds. Second place was awarded to Brahms, who had wheezed his way across the finish line ten minutes later.

Supposedly he'd had asthma as a child; whatever that was.

So, at that night's victory party, I had pranced through the doors self-assured, only to basically have my throat ripped out by Rhysand.

Flashback

"What the hell were you thinking?!" He hissed at me, eyes flashing violet in the dim lighting.

Genuinely confused, I stared at him. "What?" In three quick steps he was in front of me, dangerously close. His fingers gripped my chin as he tilted it towards him, and I felt his breath fan my cheek.

"How stupid are you?" He growled at me, his grip tightening. "You can't come first!! Not until the last challenge."

Feeling overwhelmed at his closeness and my ire growing, I pushed him away a little, dislodging my chin from his grasp.

"Well sorry that winning is easy," I retorted, "Should I make it look a little harder next time, to save the ego's of everyone else?"

He sighed, sounding exasperated like I was missing a point, and ran a hand along his hair in a very uncharacteristic move, making it stand up straight. His eyes closed for a moment, as if struggling to find patience.

"Every year, the consecutive victors will start to get injured as the trials go on," he finally told me calmly. "Trust me on that. We say that the competitors have to fight fair, but everyone likes a little blood, especially the Autumn Court. I'd rather you didn't die, believe it or not."

Understanding washed over me, as I observed him. He was worried for me.

Normally, I suppose I would have brushed it off just to annoy him, but this time, I felt a bit of prescience trickle down my spine at his words, like a cold stream of water. Something told me he was right.

"Okay," I acquiesced, like a regretful child. "I won't come first anymore."

He nodded, doing that irritating thing where he acts as if I was going to agree all along. Turning, he went to enter the main room, before I reached out to stop him.