If She Had Known

The Cottage

I returned to the hovel I had once lived in, the doe slung across my shoulders. It had felt like an eternity since I had seen it, and it perhaps had been. But the family that lived inside had seen me only this morning.

My legs shook with each step I took. I had built so much muscle from my frequent training sessions with Cassian. I had killed two Hybern generals with those skills. Had survived a war. But along with everything else I had lost in the blink of an eye, I had lost that too. It felt like the icing on the cake. I could almost laugh at the unfairness of it all.

But still I pushed forward, thinking of what might be there to greet me behind the door. Anything could be waiting for me there. I had fallen through time, for cauldron's sake. Nothing was too unlikely anymore. For what might have been the hundredth time in two hours, I wondered what had become of Rhys. Had he been transported back Under the Mountain? That was no doubt where he would be at this point in time. I recoiled at the thought of my Mate in that dark and brutal place, forced to wear a cruel mask to protect those he loved.

I remembered a conversation we had right when I had discovered our bond. He had told me that his dreams of me were what kept him going. That someone, somewhere had enough time and safety to paint flowers on a table. I thought of the night sky painted on my drawer in the cottage I was nearing. I had always been meant to be at his side. I had no idea if it would work, but I sent a picture through whatever scraps were left of the hidden, diluted bond. A glittering night sky above our townhouse in Velaris. The warmth at my side and the love and pure content in my heart visible with every note of color. I'd paint that for him one day.

I kicked the snow from my boots and pushed through the door, noticing the carvings on the frame. They had been etched there to protect us from violent Fae. They wouldn't do much, if I knew what was about to happen. While I had once loved Tamlin with all my heart, he was also one of the most violent Fae over the wall. Of course he wasn't violent like Amarantha or the King were Violent, but he had the power to do whatever he wished with whomever he wished, and those capabilities led to tragic consequences in the wrong hands.

"Feyre!" Elain gasped in perfect replay of what had once happened— was happening now. I had the strange out of body feeling like I was reading a book about my own life. "Where did you get that?" she asked. Once again, not one of the three of them cared enough to ask about me. They only asked about when they would eat next. It didn't hurt as much the second time.

I took the same calming breath as I once had and slung the doe off my shoulders and onto the table.

"Where do you think I got it?" My voice was still hoarse, the words burning.

"Will it take you long to clean it?" Elain voiced in quiet anticipation.

As I expected, none of them offered to help. I was less frustrated as I had been once upon a time. It was strange to see my sisters like this, to see my father at all. I wanted to say something, to somehow acknowledge that I was not in the proper universe. Some unknown force had hurled me back in time and forced me to relive these moments. How long would this last?

"Feyre." My father's deep voice came from the fire. He looked just as he had that first day. "What luck you had today — in bringing us such a feast."

Nesta still snorted from beside him, her burning anger the same as it had always been. I overlooked it as I took in my father. He hadn't done it yet, but he would someday rally ships and troops to come and fight for us, to fight for me. I had never gotten the chance to say goodbye, to thank him for what he did during his last stand. And Nesta, who had been so broken by his passing, still brushed him off. I didn't blame her, although I knew the pain it would bring her later.

"We can eat half the meat this week," I said, the words coming easily. "We can dry the other half," I went on. I would, of course, be doing all the work, but I kept the phrasing the same. "And I'll go to the market tomorrow to see how much I can get for the hide."

When no one acknowledged that they had even heard me, I was reminded of the early days after our money had run out. When I had announced I would be going hunting and none of them had tried to stop me. My father hadn't even bothered to stand. They were supposed to care for me, and yet I was the one to make sure they hadn't died that winter. I remembered the way I had cried after ensnaring and killing my first rabbit. I suddenly felt unattached, like I could float away from the ground by the feeling of emptiness.

I wanted Rhys to wrap his arms around me. To anchor me to the earth—to him. I had been empty these days, but it hadn't mattered because I hadn't known the pure, unconditional love, the warmth of my Mate's embrace. Now having known it, the withdrawal threatened to devour me whole.

I had the same conversations with my sisters about cloaks and boots, not really caring about the outcome. I knew what would happen once we returned from the market, and knew that anything I bought myself would be wasted anyway. I had left Andras with his skin. I couldn't bring myself to complete the heinous task in full knowledge of what he was, or who he was. The pelt from the doe would bring enough coin.

Because of the lack of pelt, my father did not bother to chastise me about the risk. I didn't know if I'd be able to take it, after he had done nothing but let us starve. I bristled after Nesta's comment on being an ignorant peasant, but managed not to call her on it. I knew much more than I had back when this had first happened, and was no longer the peasant she believed me to be. But it still stung no matter what the truth of it was, she was my older sister.

I did my best to persuade Nesta to chop wood. It was a chaotic and exhausting conversation, but I got through it. Eventually, I retreated to the room the three of us shared and discarded my outer layer. This time, I did collapse on the bed, but it was all I could do to keep the sob in my chest from rising.

*

That night, we dined on roasted venison. The night rolled along just as I remembered. We ate in silence until Nesta and Elain's chattering disrupted it. Talk of Tomas Mandray that gave me a disorienting feeling of deja vu. I continued on with my onslaught until I caught myself saying, "Love won't feed a hungry belly."

I hadn't loved Isaac, and Nesta had reminded me of the arrangement he and I were still supposedly carrying out. But I had loved Rhys. Dearly. I knew that I would starve rather than lose him. But when I had said those words the first time, I had truly meant them. I hadn't known the kind of thing love did to you, how it alters your soul.

"What do you know?" Nesta breathed, "You're just a half-wild beast with the nerve to bark orders at all hours of the day and night. Keep it up, and someday— someday, Feyre, you'll have no one left to remember you, or care that you even existed."

I tried not to let the words sting as she and Elain stormed off. Just last night, I had been with the inner circle. Rhys, Mor, Cassian, Amren, Azriel, and even both my sisters had been there. It had been more than I ever could have dreamed for myself, that life that I lived. There was proof all around that her words were lies. And yet, I still couldn't wrap my mind around why it hurt so badly.

But I did now beyond a doubt that Tomas did not love Nesta, regardless of how he felt about her. She had finally told me what had been done to her, and I was tempted to march to his house and beat him senseless for it now that I had the chance. Never mind the fact that I was human and he hadn't done it yet.

My father's words still echoed around me. "We need hope as much as we need bread and meat." He said again, his eyes clear. "We need hope or else we cannot endure. So let her keep this hope, Feyre. Let her imagine a better life. A better world."

The words came out of my mouth whether I still believed them or not, "there is no such thing."