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It's been weeks since Aadya's talk with Feyre and Rhysand's promise to take of the human. Amarantha sent her out for more jobs than usual, since revolts have been rising, because of Feyre's presence at Under the Mountain.
A brown-skinned High Fae male was sobbing on the floor before the dias. Amarantha was smiling at him like a snake-- so intently that she didn't even spare Feyre a glance. Beside her, Tamlin remained utterly impassive. A beast without claws.
Rhysand's eyes flicked to Feyre a silent command for her to stay at the edge of the crowd. Feyre watched as Rhysand kept turning his head in search of someone in the crowd. Feyre was disappointed when Rhysand gave her the news that Aadya will not be present during her second task. Feyre knew it was Amarantha's wickedness to seperate Feyre from the one person who would try and save her.
Amarantha caressed her ring, watching every movement that Rhysand made as he approached. "The summer lordling," she said of the male cowering at her feet, "tried to escape through the exit to the Spring Court lands. I want to know why."
There was a tall, handsome High Fae male standing at the crowd's edge--his hair near-white, eyes of crushing, crystal blue, his skin of richest mahogany. But his mouth was drawn as his attention darted between Amarantha and Rhysand and the crowd, searching for someone.
Rhysand slid his hands into his pockets and sauntered closer to the male on the ground.
The summer faerie cringed, his face shining with tears as he wet himself at the sight of Rhysand. "P-p-please," he gasped out.
The crowd was breathless, too silent.
His back was to Feyre, Rhysand's shoulders were loose, not a stitch of clothing out of place. But she knew his talons had latched onto the faerie's mind the moment the male stopepd shaking on the ground.
The High Lord of Summer had gone still, too--and it was pain, real pain, and fear that shone in those stunning blue eyes. He was a new, untested High Lord, who had not yet had to make choices that cost him lives.
After a moment of silence, Rhysand looked at Amarantha, but the answer came from the crowd as Aadya's voice echoed through the throne room. "He wanted to escape. To get to the Spring Court, cross the wall, and flee south into human territory. He had no accomplices, no motives beyond his own pathetic cowardice." She jerked her chin toward the puddle of piss beneath the male.
At her arrival, the Summer High Lord sag a bit, and Rhysand turn his head swiftly to try to catch her eye, but Aadya didn't take her challenging gaze off the Hybern's commander.
Amarantha straightened at her voice, her shoulders were tensed but she rolled her eyes and slouched in her throne. "Shatter him, Aadya." She flicked a hand at the High Lord of the Summer Court. "You may do what you want with the body afterward."
The High Lord of the Summer Court bowed-- as if he'd been given a gift and looked to Aadya with a grateful look, then to his subject, who had gone still and calm on the floor, hugging his knees. The male faerie was ready-- relieved.
Aadya's fingers curled into a fist. The faerie male's eyes closed, as he fell to the floor. Not a sound was made, and anyone didn't know better they could have mistaken him for sleeping. He looked peaceful in death.
"I said shatter his mind and kill him, not to shut down his brain," Amarantha snapped.
Aadya lifted her eyes of the dead faerie to Amarantha, "No. I brought him here, I get to decide how he dies. Not you." Aadya said calmly, which enraged Amarantha even more. The Hybern's commander looked like she wanted to, but restrained her tongue. "Come back during, the human's third task. Not a day before." Aadya nodded her head and turned to walk away.
Her eyes met Rhysand's violet ones for a brief second, which Aadya used to push past his mental shields to convey the message. "Do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Please." Rhysand gave her a subtle nod which was gone unnoticed by everyone. Aadya winnowed out as she reached the entrance of the throne room, and could only hope that her plan, would work.
♚✭♛
After completing the second task with the help of Rhysand, Feyre had wept for hours, or days or weeks she didn't know. And it really didn't help that Rhysand was dragging her as his escort--due to absence of Aadya-- and getting her drunk. Feyre was getting numb to feeling the joy from faerie wine.
She didn't know what time it was, bit hours later, footsteps sounded inside of Feyre's cell. Feyre jolted into a sitting position, and Rhys stepped out of a shadow. It was weird for Feyre to see Rhysand alone, Aadya was always somewhere around him. Not now.
Feyre still remembered what Rhysand did for her during her second task. But she knew better, it was for Aadya that Rhysand helped her and kept visiting her cell from time to time. But that doesn't mean Feyre trusted him.
Rhysand's tunic was unbuttoned at the top, and he ran a hand through his blue-black hair before he wordlessly slumped against the wall across from Feyre and slid to the floor.
"What do you want?" Feyre demanded.
"A moment of peace and quiet," he snapped, rubbing his temples.
Feyre paused. "From what?"
He massaged his pale skin, making the corners of his eyes go up and down, out and in. He sighed. "From this mess."
Feyre sat up farther on her pallet of hay. She'd never seen him this irritable. It was always a calm face adorned by a smirk. The absence of Aadya had made him more agitated.
"That damned bitch is running me ragged," he went on, and dropped his hands from his temples to lean his head against the wall. "You hate me. Imagine how you'd feel if I made you serve in my bedroom. I'm High Lord of the Night Court-- not her harlot."
The slurs were true, Feyre deduced. "Why are you telling me this?"
The swagger and nastiness were gone. "Because I'm tired and lonely and Aadya is not here to make it go away, and you're the only thing that is connected to her, who I can talk to without putting myself at risk." He let out a low laugh. "How absurd: a High Lord of Prythain and a--"
"You can leave if you're just going to insult me."
"But I'm so good at it." He flashed her a grin. Feyre glared at him, but he sighed. "One wrong move tomorrow, Feyre, and we're all doomed."
"And if you fail," he went on, more to himself than to Feyre, "then Amarantha will rule forever."
"If she captured Tamlin's power once, who's to say she can't do it again?" It was a question Feyre hadn't yet dared voice.
"I don't trust Tamlin," he said with hidden fury as he stares up at the ceiling. "But Aadya on the other hand. . ." He trailed as he turned towards Feyre. "Amarantha's biggest weapon is that she keeps our powers contained. But she can't access them, not wholly-- though she can control us through them. While Aadya maybe be unpredictable and will do what she wants, for her brother, She hates being caged," Rhysand's voice turned silent. "I just hope we will all be able to sustain it when she's given in to her rage on ending Amarantha."
Feyre felt a chill go through her.
"What is with you and Aadya?" Rhysand sucked a silent breath at the question. When Feyre realised that he will not answer, she changed the topic.
"Why did Amarantha target you?" She asked. "Why make you her whore?"
"Beyond the obvious?" He gestured to his face. When Feyre didn't smile, he loosed a breath. "In the beginning I thought it was because my father killed Tamlin's father--and his brothers."
Feyre gaped with her mouth open. But the way he worded it. . . "You thought?"
"I did. But when I overheard Aadya telling you about the time she spent in Hybern, and the King. I suspect something happened there which Amarantha taught would trigger Aadya's anger." He sighed in defeat. "And it did. It was after Amarantha made me her whore, did Aadya leave to live in Spring Court. Or maybe Amarantha decided that she especially wanted to punish the son of her friend's murderer-- decided that she hated me enough for my father's deeds that I was to suffer."
Feyre might have reached out for him, but she was busy trying to figure out how everything that happened somehow lead to her in a dark cell.
"So," he said wearily, "here we are, with the fate of our immortal world in the hands of an illiterate human, who looks similar to my dead sister." His laugh was unpleasant as he hung his head, cupping his forehead in a hand and closed his eyes, and avoided Feyre's inquiring stare, wondering what he told about his sister and herself. "What a mess."
Regardless of his motives or his methods, Rhysand was keeping her alive for Aadya. Suddenly she wished to thank him and Aadya for saving her life constantly.
"I've told you too much," he said as he got to his feet. "Perhaps I should have drugged you first. If you were clever, you'd find a way to use this against me. And if you had any stomach for cruelty, you'd go to Amarantha and tell her the truth about her whore. Perhaps she'd give you Tamlin for it." He slid his hands into the pockets of his black pants, but as faded into shadow, Feyre dared to speak.
"I'm sorry about your family, and your sister."
A half smile appeared on his lips as he vanished.
♚✭♛
The day of the Final task had arrived. Aadya having reached Under the Mountain just at midnight, was now lying on her bed in the chamber in silence, as Rhysand was with Amarantha. A bitter taste filled her at that thought.
The ceiling was bare with old stone. The stars that Rhysand has conjured was long gone. Aadya couldn't get their last encounter in the very same room, out of her head. When he shifted, it was like she was in trance, maybe she was. She pushed down the feeling that arose in her gut, whatever it was, now was not the time.
She knew what she had to do. Now all she had to do was wait for Feyre to finish her final task, then she would do it. The chime of a loud bell rang in Aadya ears, as she swiftly stood up to leave to the chamber. It was time for Feyre's final task.
Just as she stepped out of the chamber a warm hand encircled her wrist. The High Court of the Day Court stood infront in all his glory. With swords hanging from his belt, barbaric clothes adorning his body. Like A High Lord of Prythain that was ready for battle.
"Helion?" She whispered. "What are you doing here. You are supposed to be in the throne room." She almost yelled. Aadya needed all the High Lord of Prythain to be together, and here he was.
Helion's eyes scanned his friend's face as of he was searching for something. When they both footsteps of servants, Helion quickly linked arm through Aadya's as they walked in the direction of the throne room. His eyes were straight, but kept his voice quiet.
"I know you are planning, something." He hurried the words out. When Aadya's face didn't reveal anything, he stopped both of them a hallway down the throne room. Helion turned towards her, and saw genuine fear in his eyes. For her, she realised.
The warm palm of the High Lord was pressed against her cheek, Aadya had to dig her nails in her palm to stop herself from wavering. He looked so much like her brother. "Whatever you are going to do. . ." He trailed, "Just make sure you come out of this alive."
Aadya placed her hands gently over his palm that was on her cheek and removed it slowly, but didn't let let go of it as she gave him a wry smile before she said her parting words to him and dropped his hand.
"I'm not planning on dying anytime soon."
♚✭♛
Feyre was given her old tunic and pants--stained and torn and reeking-- despite the stench, she kept her chin high as she was escorted to the throne room.
The doors were flung open, the silence of the room assaulted her. She waited for the jeers and shouts, waited to see gold flash as the onlookers placed their bets, but this time the faeries just stared at her, the masked ones especially intently.
As she let her wander across the room, Feyre saw the raven-locked woman she was searching for. Aadya sat near the High Lords below Amarantha. Aadya's eyes where not on Feyre like everyone else in the room. Her pale hands were placed on her lap, as Aadya kept intently staring at it, Feyre dismissed it, as she thought about what Rhysand said to her in the cell.
Their world rested on her shoulders, Rhys had said.
With that thought she strode up the path they'd cleared-- straight for Amarantha. The queen smiled when Feyre stopped in front of her throne.
"Two trails lie behind you," Amarantha said, picking at a fleck of dust on her blood-red gown. Her hair shone, a gleaming crimson river that threatened to swallow her golden crown. "And only one more awaits. I wonder if it will be worse to fail now--when you are so close." Amarantha gave her a pout, and they both awaited the laughter of the faeries.
But only a few laughs hissed from the red-skinned guards. Everyone else remained silent. Even Lucien's miserable brothers. Even Rhysand.
Amarantha glared at them, but when her gaze fell upon Feyre, she smiled broadly, sweetly. "Any words to say before you die?"
Aadya watched as Feyre confessed her love towards Tamlin. She wished Tamlin would say something but he remained like a stone. Aadya was surprised when the human's eyes turned to her, filled with tears. "Thank you." Aadya didn't give any signs that she heard her, but the slight twitch of her lips was enough for Feyre.
Amarantha said sweetly, "You'll be lucky, my darling, if we even have enough left of you to burn."
The Hybern's commander propped her chin on a hand. "You never figured out my riddle, did you?" When Feyre didn't respond, she smiled. "Pity. The answer is so lovely."
"Get it over with," Feyre growled.
Amarantha looked at Tamlin. "No final words to her?" She said, quirking an eyebrow. When he didn't respond, she grinned at Feyre. "Very well, then." She clapped her hands twice.
A door swung open, and three figures-- two male and one female-- with brown sacks tied over their heads were dragged in by the guards. Their concealed faces turned this way and that as they tried to discern the whispers that rippled across the throne room.
With sharp jabs and blunt shoves, the red-skinned guards forced the three faeries to their knees at the foot of the dias, but facing Feyre. Their bodies and clothes revealed nothing of who they were.
Amarantha clapped her hands again, and three servants clad in black appeared at the side of each of the kneeling faeries. In their long, pale hands, they each carried a dark velvet pillow. And on each pillow lay a single polished wooden dagger. Not metal for blade, but ash. Ash because--
"Your final task, Feyre," Amarantha drawled, as she turned towards Aadya and waved an ideal hand, gesturing her to come front. While Aadya's face revealed nothing as she stood up and walked to the front, Rhysand and Helion and even the High Lord of the Summer Court had gone pale.
Aadya came to a stop a little bit away from Feyre. Her face was in a bored state as she gestured to the kneeling faeries. "Stab each of these unfortunate souls in the heart."
Feyre stared at Aadya, her mouth opening and closing. A part of Feyre really hoped Aadya would help her, but she knew that was not going to happen.
"They're innocent--not that it should matter to you," Aadya went on, "since it wasn't a concern the day you killed Andras. And it wasn't a concern for dear Jurian when he butchered Clythia, Amarantha's sister. But if it's a problem. . . well, you can always refuse. Of course, I'll take your life in exchange, but a bargain's a bargain, is it not? If you ask me, though, given your history with murdering our kind, I do believe I'm offering you a gift."
Refuse and die. Kill three innocents and live. Three innocents, for selfish happiness. Feyre tried to pin her anger towards Aadya, but Feyre knew, just like everyone gathered, Aadya was fighting for her freedom.
"Well?" Amarantha asked. She lifted her hand, letting Jurian's eye get a good look at Feyre, at the ash daggers, and purred to it, "I wouldn't want you to miss this." She turned the eye towards Aadya, "you remember your old friend, Aadya, right Jurian?" Jurian's eye settled on Aadya and didn't move again.
Aadya watched as Feyre stepped up to the first kneeling figure. The human's fingers trembled, but she took the first dagger in her hand.
"Not so fast." Amarantha chuckled, and the guards who held the first kneeling figure snatched the hood off its face." That's better," Amarantha said, waving her hand again. "Proceed , Feyre, dear. Enjoy it."
The male faerie's eyes were glistening as it shined with fear. Aadya watched as the faerie started begging, and heard Feyre whispered an apology, but didn't raise her dagger.
Darkness rippled near the throne, and then Rhysand was there standing near Aadya, the pair stood with their arms crossed. His face was a copy of Aadya's, disinterested, but Feyre's hand tingled. Do it, the tingling said. Whether the magic belonged to Aadya or Rhys, Feyre couldn't tell.
With a ragged sob, Feyre plunged the dagger into his heart.
His eyes, full of shock and hate, remained on Feyre as he sagged, damning her, and that person in the crowd let out a kneeling wail.
Feyre's bloody dagger clacked on the marble floor as she stumbled back several steps.
"Very good," Amarantha said.
Feyre wanted to run away. For the first time in her time the Under the Mountain, she wanted to sprint from the blood. But Aadya's hands captured her from the back as she held Feyre's trembling figure.
"Now the next. Oh, don't look so miserable, Feyre. Aren't you having fun?"
Aadya didn't watch as the female Fae, started whispering prayer. A prayer for her death. The female fae begged for a deathless pain as she kneeled in front of a Feyre, who Aadya was holding up straight.
Feyre struggled, as she took the second dagger and pierced it into her heart. The faerie gasped, and blood spilled onto the ground like a splattering of rain. She slumped to the floor and didn't move. She never will.
The faeries were stirring now--shifting, many whispering and weeping. Feyre turned to Amarantha who was smiling an Rhysand who was watching Aadya with a protective gaze, and Aadya was still. So still that Feyre wasn't sure she was breathing.
Aadya was narrowing her eyes at the third mask as her eyes turned into slits. The magic that was rippling from the third figure was familiar. . . And when the guard removed the hood from the third male, her suspicion was confirmed. Tamlin.
Seems like Feyre realised the same thing, as she whipped her head to the throne beside Amarantha's, still occupied by the High Lord of Spring, and she laughed as she snapped her fingers. The Tamlin beside her transformed into the Attor, smiling wickedly at Feyre.
"Something wrong?" Amarantha asked, cocking her head.
"Not. . . Not fair," Feyre got it out.
Rhysand's face had gone pale--so, so pale. He watched as Aadya eyes turned into that calculating manner. He knew she was planning something, but this. . . Rhysand knew she didn't expect this. Rhysand watched as Aadya silently stepped backwards, she reached Helion in a state of trance or shock.
Helion watched as Aadya squeezed his left hand with her right one. He didn't want to think anything of it, other than an emotional support, but he knew, for Cauldron's sake he knew it was a goodbye. He couldn't do anything, other than squeeze back.
Aadya slipped her hand out of Helion's warm ones and stood next to Rhysand, his presence easing her in the slightest. Rhysand knew why she came besides him, she would go down saving his life, even by giving up her own. But he couldn't let it happen. Rhysand's pale hand grasped her cold, slender ones.
"Fair?" Amarantha mused, playing with Jurian's bone on her necklace. "I wasn't aware you humans knew of the concept. You kill Tamlin, and he's free." Her smile was the most hideous thing. "And then you can have him all to yourself."
"Unless," Amarantha went on, "you think it would be more appropriate to forfeit your life. After all: what's the point? To survive only to lose him?" Her words were like poison. "Imagine all those years you were going to spend together. . . Suddenly alone. Tragic, really. Though a few months ago, you hated our kind enough to butcher us--surely you'll move on easily enough." She patted her ring. "Jurian's human lover did."
"So," Amarantha said, but Feyre didn't look at her. "What will it be, Feyre?"
Aadya zoned out as she thought of what to do. Her plan remained the same, just a slight hindrance that she would have to get rid of. She will push Feyre's hand into Tamlin's heart I'd she had to. But the human girl, did something that Aadya didn't think she had the guts to.
"I love you," Feyre said, and then she stabbed him.
♚✭♛
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