Acotar and Tog [Discontinued, Will be deleted]

Fight It

And it was his fault.

Feyre looked at me, then quickly away. I didn’t let the rage stop from pouring out of my gaze, a rage so strong the depths of that vicious court beneath me churned in agony.

Feyre’s voice turned icy, the first real flicker of emotion, as she sank into her seat and I joined her. “If you know, why even ask about it?”

Because I adore you, and I abhor the thought that you would suffer and not tell me, even if it is me.

“Because these days,” I said, my voice somehow impossibly smaller than what I fashioned for my persona, “all I hear through that bond is nothing. Silence. Even with your shields up rather impressively most of the time, I should be able to feel you. And yet I don’t. Sometimes I’ll tug on the bond only to make sure you’re still alive.”

The magic inside my soul twitched as I hit the words, denying the flood of memories of the last time she died. It was complete torment to consider it happening again.

“And then one day, I’m in the middle of an important meeting when terror blasts through the bond. All I get are glimpses of you and him - and then nothing. Back to silence. I’d like to know what caused such a disruption.”

Feyre casually ignored me as she piled food atop her plate and merely said, “It was an argument, and the rest is none of your concern.”

My next words snapped out of me quickly.

“Is it why you look like your grief and guilt and rage are eating you alive, bit by bit?”

“Get out of my head.”

“Make me. Push me out.” The words were so pained off my tongue. I just wanted her to react, to do something, to acknowledge the problem, but it was like pulling teeth. I vaguely wondered how far down she hid the truth even from herself, what it must really be like to be inside her own head. Did my own grief and burdens even compare?

But then I thought of Cassian. And Azriel. My family who had watched me shoot into the sky in the middle of a storm that Cassian was right, could have killed me. I hadn’t cared then. Feyre didn’t care now.

So they pushed me to care. Until I saw it even if I lied daily on the surface about every single emotion I felt. But still, they made me care.

Feyre needed to care.

“You dropped your shield this morning - anyone could have walked right in.”

Her eyes met my challenge... and willingly threw in the towel. “Where’s Mor?” she asked, her voice fading.

Working underneath this fucking rock like I asked her to when I should have found an excuse to drag her back here for the week.

But this was about Feyre.

“Away. She has duties to attend to. Is the wedding on hold, then?”

She stopped chewing for the briefest moment and barely whispered, “Yes.”

“I expected an answer more along the lines of, ‘ Don’t ask stupid questions you already know the answer to,’ or my timeless favorite, ‘ Go to hell .’“

She didn’t say anything. Feyre - fuck, please say something .

She reached for a tartlet on one of the shining silver platters and her eyes flickered over my hands when darkness shot out of me reaching for her, ready to claw my way across the brief distance that separated us between our plates.

“Did you give my offer any thought?”

I watched her while she ate. Ate her way through an entire plate of food like she had never eaten anything in her life before she answered me.