Him

No amount of food or liquid could dampen the absolute pounding in my head or fill the bottomlessness of my stomach today.

I can't decide if it's the sheer amount of wine I had during last night's festivities, or the knowledge that Tamlin is in fact winning Feyre over, that has me feeling the slightest bit like I wish the Mother would take me now...

And then there she is, floating through the door with a twinkle in her eye and a devilish smirk for him. And I can't help but groan.

She must hear me because she looks at me and lightly clicks her tongue as if she knows just how much wine I'd consumed last night.

She finally asks, "And where were you last night?" I don't know what she thinks I was up to. I don't know if she cares. All I know is that she can't possibly understand the reason why. So with no other option presenting itself, I tell her a version of the truth. "I'll have you know that while you two were dancing with the spirits, I was stuck on border patrol. With some company."

Because yes, I was assigned border patrol duties, and yes I did carry them out. And yes, there were some poor souls stuck out there with me. But it's easier if she thinks I did something better. It's easier if she thinks... that I am happy...happy for her.

She gives me a sly grin, and I know she believes what I've said. And with that smile playing on her lips and her eyes looking at me, with the slightest crinkles in the corner, I feel compelled to bring up what I can sense she wants to discuss. Him.

"Rumor has it you two didn't come back until after dawn." I'm not even the slightest bit prepared to have this conversation, and I can feel the blood rushing through my temples– hear it pounding–my head aching.

After a short pause, while looking directly at Tamlin she says, "You bit my neck on Fire Night. If I can face you after that, a few kisses are nothing."

And I realize that everything Tamlin had–we had–hoped for, is coming to fruition. She is falling for him. Him.

"Nothing?" Tam says, moving towards her, practically edging me out of my seat.

"Cauldron spare me," I say aloud before I can stop the words from escaping me. They don't hear me. Gods, they don't see me.

"Are you sure?" He murmurs and I can scent that she's coming undone and I can taste last night's drinks coming back on the back of my tongue. "I'm trying to eat!" I blurt out. Make it stop, please.

They settle for a moment, and I fill the silence as fast as I can, trying to spare myself from watching the two of them ravish each other on this table, practically on my plate...

"Not to be the bearer of truly bad tidings, but my contact at the Winter Court managed to get a letter to me." I wait for Tam to give me any indication he's listening. He briefly cuts his eyes away from Feyre over in my direction, and I can feel her do the same.

"The...blight." I hate this. I hate speaking in riddles. This curse has become infinitely worse in the past weeks than I ever imagined it could be. "The blight," I start again, "It took out two dozen of their younglings. Two dozen, all gone."

I picture the chaos that must have ensued, my eye clicks and spins slowly as I see the image in my mind; hear what I imagine the screams of the families to sound like.

"It just... burned through their magic, then broke apart their minds. No one in the Winter Court could do anything–no one could stop it once it turned its attention toward them. Their grief is... unfathomable." I pause. The color is draining from Feyre's face, and I think that I should stop. She doesn't need to hear this. She doesn't need to hear one more horrid thing about this place she doesn't belong in. But Tamlin is waiting, so I continue, "My contacts say other courts are being hit hard–though the Night Court, of course, manages to remain unscathed. But the blight seems to be sending its wickedness this way–farther south with every attack."