14: Rhysand's POV

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    The mountains inked upon my knees looked back at me like they were taunting me. Oh, what those markings had once meant to me. They represented a promise I'd made long ago, to protect the people I was born to rule. I'd done quite a shitty job. I wondered what they'd done in my absence.

    Had Velaris moved on as though I'd never existed? Had they selected a new leader? Were they even still alive? On nights like these when I actually allowed myself to remember what life was before, my heart felt so heavy that I sometimes worried it would give out, the strain of my life becoming too much to bear.

    So, I drank.

    I drank and I numbed my pain until it didn't sting anymore, until I felt okay again. Not that I ever really felt okay. Most days I didn't even feel alive. I felt like a ghost of who I once was. I'd made so many promises. I had sworn to protect my people, and I'd failed them. Not very many of them were left. Amarantha used them like bargaining chips against me.

    She'd promised me that if I gave in to her and let her have my body, that she wouldn't harm a hair on the Night Court people's head. Until she'd become paranoid of rebellion, anyway. When Feyre had to watch Vincent and Elias's executions, I had hoped she would understand. I hoped that she'd see what happened when someone betrayed Amarantha and understand that I had no other choice.

    Vincent and Elias were old acquaintances of mine. I hadn't even known my people were plotting rebellion. Had I known, I would have helped or stopped them. My own people no longer trusted me. They sneered and whispered just as hatefully as the rest when I walked by. It was too dangerous to them to try and defend my honor. If preoccupying Amarantha helped them survive, I would do it every single time. They deserved none of this. I shielded them as much as I could.

    Just as I was now trying to shield Feyre. And miserably failing her.

    Fifty years was a long time. I'd stopped trying to find a way out of my position long ago. It was pointless. I wouldn't escape her, not as long as she was alive. Though she'd likely find a way to haunt me even in death.

    When she'd first propositioned me, I'd been indignant. The next time it made me furious. The third time, she presented me an ultimatum. I could either fuck her properly  and happily, or she'd slaughter any Night Court man, woman, and child she could get her cold hands on. I'd reasoned that my body wasn't worth that much protection when it would cause so many deaths. So, I'd let her have whatever she wanted from me.

    Back in the beginning, I used to believe that one day she'd grow bored and no longer seek me out, but if anything, she demands more of my time now. I'd tried being unenthusiastic and make her disappointed in my performance, but she found new ways to threaten me. If I wasn't enthusiastic about my participation, she'd kill my people just the same.

    I'd used magic to numb my skin so I couldn't feel her touch, but she'd caught on pretty quickly and nipped it in the bud. No, she forced me to participate and praise her, urging on my own abuse. She on occasion would threaten me so severely that she could even twist my arm into begging for her to touch me. Her cruelty truly knew no bounds.

    If she ever knew of the affections I'd begun to feel toward Feyre, she'd never allow her to live and see the results. I also didn't trust Feyre enough to tell her the truth. So, if I had to be her bad guy to keep her alive, I was okay with that. I'd do whatever it took, as long as she was safe. I just prayed to all the gods Amarantha would never figure that out.

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    The next night, we were all summoned for another of Amarantha's dramatic gatherings she used as excuses to ensue violence and solicit sex. Everything about Amarantha was calculated. She was always 7 steps ahead of everyone else.

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