A Surface of Pressure and Burden

Chapter 14: A Display of Betrayal and Finality

One dismal afterparty later, Feyre and I were back in the "cell" and I was just about to fall into an exhausted sleep, when I heard the sound of crying.

I sat up, blinking, and saw Feyre huddled in the corner, sobbing as if her heart would break. Poor thing. I would have given anything in that moment to be free of this invisibility spell and give her a hug, even though she probably would have pushed my arms away and said she felt claustrophobic. I remembered her little face when she was a toddler, her little ringlet curls and how she called me "Hestie" because she couldn't say "Nesta." And then I was about to cry too.

The moment was shattered, however, by a blast of music from the vent in the corner of the ceiling. Feyre gasped in delight and ran over to stand underneath the vent.

"I hear you, Tamlin!" she breathed. "I hear you playing this wonderful music for me! There is beauty in this music—beauty and goodness. The music is folding over itself like batter being poured from a bowl, one note atop another, melting together to form a whole, rising, filling me. I mean, not batter rising and filling me like a cake, because, gross. Way too sweet. But you know."

Cauldrons.

"It isn't wild music, but there is a violence of passion in it, a swelling kind of joy and sorrow. The pulse of the music is like hands that gently push me onward, pulling me higher, guiding me through the clouds. This isn't music to dance to—it is music to worship, music to fill in the gaps of my soul, to bring me to a place where-" This went on for quite a while.

"I hate these blurred lines!" came the music through the vent. "I know you want it!"

"The music is Tamlin's fingers strumming my body; it is the gold in his eyes and the twist of his smile!" I wondered if Tamlin's smile was more pleasant than his bestial snarl when he broke into our house, or his dead-eyed look when he stood next to Amarantha during the trial.

"Tried to domesticate you," sang the music, "But you're an animal!"

The moment was definitely gone. I wrapped the edge of my cloak around my ears and went back to sleep.

Next thing I knew, morning had dawned (or at least I assumed so, as there was no natural light to be found in Amarantha's realms). The morning of the third trial.

By this time it had practically become a routine - Rhysand showing up, picking out an outfit and makeup, talking to the camera-fae about Chateau Amarantha, Feyre giggling and asking Rhys why he couldn't keep his eyes off her, the walk down the maze of passageways to the throne room, the loud music, the cheering crowds, Tamlin by the throne looking depressed, Amarantha's taunting remarks.

She was really going for it today. "Two trials lie behind you, and only one more awaits. I wonder if it will be worse to fail now—when you are so close. Any words to say before you die?"

"I love you, Tamlin," she said, staring at his forlorn figure. "No matter what she says about it, no matter if it's only with my insignificant human heart. Even when they burn my body, I'll love you."

Did anyone say anything about burning her body? Cauldrons, but Feyre really had a way of digging her own grave sometimes.

"Hashtag FaeBae, amiright?" asked Amarantha. "All the heart emojis! OK, guys, come on out."

Three guard-fae dragged out three figures with brown bags tied over their heads. Faerie, human, I couldn't tell. The guards pushed them roughly to their knees in front of Feyre - then handed her three polished wooden daggers.

"Your final trial, girlboss," said Amarantha. "Stab these three unfortunate souls in the heart!"

A hush fell over the crowd.