A Court of Truth and Deceit

Chapter Seven - Feyre

Tamlin barely asked about what happened during our journey.

"How was it?" he asked, when Lucien and I came walking back into the manor late at night. He had sensed our arrival and was waiting for us at the table.

I told him that it was a nice contrast to the Spring Court. How the Autumn Court was lovely even though I'd barely seen it. I even made up a story about talking to the Lady of Autumn.

No one knows about the kind gesture she made to me back Under the Mountain—finishing the first impossible chore Amarantha had assigned me in return for giving my name for her son's life. One day, I'd like to get to really know her.

When I finished telling the tale, Tamlin merely nodded and kissed my brow before heading back to his quarters.

Lucien watched him go up the stairs before turning to me. "You had reason to leave, but I didn't understand why you chose the Night Court at the time. Now I do." I didn't say anything as he returned to his rooms.

The next morning, I awoke to shouting and banging downstairs.

I was halfway down the steps when a blast of magic shot through the walls of the manor. The tremor was so terrible that I lost my balance and rolled down the remaining stairs.

"Feyre!"

I groaned. Despite being immortal, I was, unfortunately, not immune to pain.

Lucien was by my side in the next second, but my attention was fully on the table at the center of the dining room.

Tamlin stood from his chair, breathing heavily. His claws were out. He noticed me and finally realized what he had done, and was coming towards me.

But my attention was on the female guest with golden hair. And the slightly bigger stomach from when I had last seen her.

It was a fight with my instincts to keep myself from pouncing on her. Not because of jealousy—although maybe it kind of was in some twisted way. But no, she was the one who was working with Hybern from the start. Who had come to the Spring Court to gather information and sold out my sisters to the King. Who made Tamlin more of a beast and threatened Lucien only to bed him. Who acted like my friend to only backstab me in the end.

I was starting to get ready to claw her face out, but Tamlin put a hand on my arm, his claws scraping against my skin. "I lost control. I'm sorry." I wondered how many times he'd apologized, wondered how many times it would happen again. I was sick of it—sick of him. I rose to my feet, away from his touch. Tamlin and Lucien stood from their crouches as well.

Ianthe sat still in her seat with her head lowered. She wore the same layered robes that she always wore, although they were now larger to accommodate the child inside her—Tamlin's child too—and the matching circlet that went with it. But today, her panel was down, and it was still unsettling as I'd first thought of it. Her lips were curled in a tight smile.

She hadn't moved an inch, and I realized that Tamlin had invisible bonds on Ianthe—the same ones he'd placed on me when I was brought here. Surely, they were stronger though because her arms looked like they were about to break.

"What is she doing here?" I asked, trying to keep the bite in my voice calm.

It was Lucien who explained, "She winnowed here just a few minutes before you came falling down the stairs."

"She just. . . winnowed here? That's it? Did she come here from Hybern? Or maybe she came back from Vallahan?" Vallahan was one of the faeries territories across the ocean, and she and her family fled there just before Amarantha took over. And for fifty years, her family resided there only returning when the news of Amarantha's death was out.