A Court of Blood and Glory

Taken

Feyre
I knew that if Lucien touched me I would immediately be taken back to the Spring Court, back to the monster within. I couldn't let that happen. I couldn't survive there again.
Rhys was still too far away to find us, too far to save me, and at that thought I felt a brief flutter of panic.
How could I escape Lucien? A trained warrior with centuries of practice, flanked by two guards twice my size? Lucien noticed my sudden distraction. It was only a second, but it was all he needed to reach out and winnow us further away from help, from Rhys. He kept winnowing at a rapid pace. Disorientated, I was unable to escape from his grasp long enough to escape, and before I knew it I was standing on the immaculate lawn of Tamlin's manor, the beast himself only a few paces away.
"Feyre!" He breathed. He held his hand out to me, expecting me to come to him, but I flinched away from his touch. "Feyre, it's ok, you're home, you're safe!" Safe? How could I be safe with him? And I would never call this prison my home again.
"This is not my home." I said firmly, shocked by the steadiness of my voice; I felt like a rabbit caught in a trap. My powers roared beneath my skin, rising to the surface and threatening to explode. "This is not my home, nor will it ever be!" I repeated. I was practically shouting at him now, and I almost felt sorry for Tamlin as I glimpsed the hurt in his eyes. Almost.
"Tamlin." Lucien interjected, attempting to diffuse the tension between us. "We need to talk about what happened, and soon."
"What's wrong?" Tamlin replied, concern lining his voice.
"What's wrong is that I am here when I should be back in the Night Court with Rhys!" I yelled. Tamlin turned to me, rage flickering behind his emerald eyes. "So it's 'Rhys' now, is it?" He took a step towards me, his hands clamping onto my shoulders. "That monster was the one who stole you away! He was the one who took you from the one you loved! He is a monster and a whore!" Tamlin was spitting by the end of his speech, shaking me, as if to knock the fight out of my body.
I took a step back from him, shaking his hands from my shoulders. "Rhys is not a monster." My voice was calm, but the rage was clearly there. "And He is twice the male you'll ever be." I continued backing away, but Tamlin, in the blink of an eye, closed the gap between us and knocked me to the floor.
Almost immediately my claws were out, scraping away at the grass, pulling out clumps of dirt.
All was quiet for a moment as I got to my feet, wiping the dirt from my fighting leathers. As I raised my head I registered the shock on the males' faces. At first I'd thought it was because of the claws, but I soon realised that wings had taken shape at my back, and were now flaring out behind me. With my clothes and the Illyrian wings I looked like an Illyrian, I looked like Rhys.
"I was trying to tell you, Tam," Lucien began quietly, "Rhysand must have trained her in his dark ways, corrupting her mind and making Feyre believe that he was her hero..." Lucien would have continued, but was shut up by a sharp look from Tamlin.
"Get. Rid. Of. Them." He was fuming, practically in beast form. "I want those wings ripped from your back!" He roared.
"Tamlin -" Lucien once again attempted to calm his friend, but Tamlin turned to him, and once again Lucien fell silent, still the obedient dog obeying his master's every command.
"You will do no such thing." I was trying to keep the rising panic from my voice. He wouldn't hurt me that way, would he?
"I am your High Lord. If I say the wings go, then the wings go." There was a finality to his tone. He expected me to do as he said, be the docile female her remembered.
But I was not that person anymore.
"You are not my fucking High Lord! Rhys is!" And before I knew it I had been thrown into a tree, the world going black around me.

Rhysand
I was panicking. I couldn't find her anywhere. I tracked her scent to a clearing, the trail still quite fresh. Here another scent entwined with Feyre's. Three others, actually, but only one that I recognised. Lucien's.
Which meant that Feyre had been found by the Spring Court, and going by the scent of magic in the area, had been been taken back there, the one place she couldn't bare to set foot in again.
I winnowed back to the town house immediately, summoning the inner circle there. We had to get Feyre - Oh!
Pain lashed through the bond followed by fear. In my blinding panic I had forgotten our bond! Stupid! I had to control my emotions. Still waiting on my family, I checked on Feyre, only to be met with utter darkness. At least I could tell she was alive – for now.
My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Cassian and Azriel, closely followed by Mor and Amren, concerned lining their faces, going to feel when they saw my own expression.
"Rhys, what is going on? I thought you and Feyre were training..." Cassian fell silent when he noticed that Feyre wasn't in the room, or the house, for that matter.
"Rhys, where's Feyre?" Mor asked me. I didn't respond, unsure how to tell them. "Rhys!" She demanded.
I felt my control slip, and my wings took form behind me, my power filling the room.
"Rhysand!" Mor shouted, pulling me back to the room.
"She's in Spring." I said weakly. "With Tamlin." The look on their faces made me hesitate to continue. "And our bond went dark after I felt fear and pain. I don't know what is happening to her... she's... I can't stand it, my-"
"Rhys," Azriel interrupted, "we may not know much, but we know that she's alive, and that Tamlin won't kill her, so let's start with that and focus on getting her back."
He was right. Of course he was right; he was thinking like a rational male.
"I can get someone on the inside until Feyre and you can communicate through the bond again. Once she can speak with you we can get her out safely, and if not we will still have enough information to plan her escape." 
Mor was now besides me, her hand on my shoulder, comforting me as best she could. If only that hand was my mate's. Amren moved further into the room, her eyes never leaving me, analysing me, as if scanning for physical injuries.
"Well we won't help Feyre by standing around and moping." Amren said. "We will get her back as soon as we can, Rhys, and she will be fine until then. She is strong, and she can hold her own. Our Feyre is a survivor, and she will survive this."
I almost believed her. Almost.