A Court of Truth and Deceit

Chapter Eleven - Feyre

and to everyone else who's been waiting 

WOW HAS IT BEEN FIVE MONTHS UMMMM HAHAHAHA WELL UM HAPPY HOLIDAYS !!!! WE GIFT YOU WITH AN UPDATE LOL. THIS CHAPTER IS SUCH A ROLLER COASTER RIDE LIKE UM WAOW IT'S CRAZY.

"Get away from her," the woman in the back snarled. Quick as a viper, she shoved Enfys behind her, and bared her teeth at me. Her wings flared open in a defensive response.

Faintly, in the background, I heard Lucien crying out in warning, and Tamlin snarling.

I raised my hands, trying to placate the woman—Ariella, Rhys' mother. "I mean no harm," I said quickly.

"Funny," Ariella scoffed. "That's what the king of Hybern said." I stayed silent and cast a glance toward Lucien and Tamlin, both of whom's eyes were wide with apprehension. I was unsure of what to do next. Plead the truth to this woman? Yet the repercussions would be disastrous, what with Jurian upstairs, and likely listening in, and Tamlin just a cell away.

I didn't know what plans the king had for Rhys' family, but I would never forgive myself if I didn't try to save the family of my mate from Hybern.

"You're the mother of the High Lord of the Night Court," I said carefully. Her eyes narrowed.

"His mate," she corrected. I shook my head slowly.

"Rhysand is the High Lord."

Her eyes widened. "Who killed him." Who had killed her mate. Not a question. A demand. And not a hint of sentimentality in her voice, with the commanding aura of the consort of the late High Lord of the Night Court.

"I'm... not sure." A beat. And then.

"You lie," she hissed. "Surely you must know. You have his scent all over you." Ariella gave me a pointed look, laced with secrets. Had she smelt Rhysand upon me? Was it possible to identify a High Lord or High Lady by scent alone? I wasn't sure.

Instead, I turned toward the cell that held Tamlin. He sat in his cell, slightly quivering as he stared at Ariella. The previous High Lord of Night had been slaughtered by him. Likely he never expected to face retribution by the woman his father and brothers had killed. He was afraid, I realized.

"Feyre," Tamlin's voice trembled. "You need to go back."

Go back?

He was in a terrible state, so I took the chance to enter his mind.

I looked into his eyes and shot my power at him and was welcomed by a wall of spring. The scent of flowers and mildew sprang into my nose. I could hear the faint buzz of bumblebees and the gentle flap of spring birds. His wall was rather weak, but that made sense in the situation he was in.

I used the same technique I'd use with Tarquin, and I made myself become spring. I became the essence of him—his shield. That quickly, I was in Tamlin's eyes, and I had paved a way back for me to exit. His thoughts hit me like the few raindrops that fall before it gets heavier.

Go back to the Night Court.

What? I willed myself, in a different body, to keep a serious face and not look surprised.

Everything is my fault. I was blinded by my selfish reasons. Feyre, you need to escape. Get away from Ianthe. Get away from the King. Even if it's the Night Court. . . even if it's with that bastard. . .

I pulled myself back from his mind and rejoined my own. His thoughts. . . I was suddenly reminded of the old Tamlin. I blinked. Later. I'd deal with it later.