One dismal afterparty later, Feyre and I were back in the "cell" and I was just about to fall into an exhausted sleep, when I heard the sound of crying.
I sat up, blinking, and saw Feyre huddled in the corner, sobbing as if her heart would break. Poor thing. I would have given anything in that moment to be free of this invisibility spell and give her a hug, even though she probably would have pushed my arms away and said she felt claustrophobic. I remembered her little face when she was a toddler, her little ringlet curls and how she called me "Hestie" because she couldn't say "Nesta." And then I was about to cry too.
The moment was shattered, however, by a blast of music from the vent in the corner of the ceiling. Feyre gasped in delight and ran over to stand underneath the vent.
"I hear you, Tamlin!" she breathed. "I hear you playing this wonderful music for me! There is beauty in this music—beauty and goodness. The music is folding over itself like batter being poured from a bowl, one note atop another, melting together to form a whole, rising, filling me. I mean, not batter rising and filling me like a cake, because, gross. Way too sweet. But you know."
Cauldrons.
"It isn't wild music, but there is a violence of passion in it, a swelling kind of joy and sorrow. The pulse of the music is like hands that gently push me onward, pulling me higher, guiding me through the clouds. This isn't music to dance to—it is music to worship, music to fill in the gaps of my soul, to bring me to a place where-" This went on for quite a while.
"I hate these blurred lines!" came the music through the vent. "I know you want it!"
"The music is Tamlin's fingers strumming my body; it is the gold in his eyes and the twist of his smile!" I wondered if Tamlin's smile was more pleasant than his bestial snarl when he broke into our house, or his dead-eyed look when he stood next to Amarantha during the trial.
"Tried to domesticate you," sang the music, "But you're an animal!"
The moment was definitely gone. I wrapped the edge of my cloak around my ears and went back to sleep.
Next thing I knew, morning had dawned (or at least I assumed so, as there was no natural light to be found in Amarantha's realms). The morning of the third trial.
By this time it had practically become a routine - Rhysand showing up, picking out an outfit and makeup, talking to the camera-fae about Chateau Amarantha, Feyre giggling and asking Rhys why he couldn't keep his eyes off her, the walk down the maze of passageways to the throne room, the loud music, the cheering crowds, Tamlin by the throne looking depressed, Amarantha's taunting remarks.
She was really going for it today. "Two trials lie behind you, and only one more awaits. I wonder if it will be worse to fail now—when you are so close. Any words to say before you die?"
"I love you, Tamlin," she said, staring at his forlorn figure. "No matter what she says about it, no matter if it's only with my insignificant human heart. Even when they burn my body, I'll love you."
Did anyone say anything about burning her body? Cauldrons, but Feyre really had a way of digging her own grave sometimes.
"Hashtag FaeBae, amiright?" asked Amarantha. "All the heart emojis! OK, guys, come on out."
Three guard-fae dragged out three figures with brown bags tied over their heads. Faerie, human, I couldn't tell. The guards pushed them roughly to their knees in front of Feyre - then handed her three polished wooden daggers.
"Your final trial, girlboss," said Amarantha. "Stab these three unfortunate souls in the heart!"
A hush fell over the crowd.
"They're innocent—not that it should matter to you," Amarantha went on, "since it wasn't a concern the day you killed Tamlin's poor sentinel. 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?"
Oh my cauldrons, they'd really upped the stakes for this last trial. It's not real, it's fake, it's not real, I told myself. The daggers were fake and would fall apart in Feyre's hand, or the "captives" would jump aside at the last minute, or they weren't really alive, just clever figures the faeries had enchanted to look real.
But of course Feyre wouldn't actually kill three innocent people, even to save her own life.
Right?
"For Tamlin!" she yelled, grabbed the first dagger, and ran the first figure through. The faerie collapsed to the floor with a horrible moan.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. It's fake, it's fake, it's fake. I frantically looked for Rhysand in the crowd. Boos and hisses were filling the throne room, instead of the usual cheers.
"Medic! Can we get a medic over here!?" one of the guards screamed. Faeries in red and white uniforms ran to the stabbed faerie and started lifting him onto a stretcher.
"Feyre, um," Amarantha stammered, "You, uh-" she shuffled her stack of papers in a panicked fashion and looked towards the director-fae. He was busy yelling at the crowd to put their cellphones away. "I think you girlbossed too close to the sun."
"I'm out," said the second faerie, ripping the brown bag off her head and marching off into the crowd. "I can find a better way to get my fifteen minutes of fame!"
"Party people!" Amarantha rallied. "We have the best magi-medical care in Prythian. He'll be fine!" She gestured to one of the guard-fae. "Let's get to the big reveal, now, please!"
The guard nodded and ripped the brown bag off the third figure. It was Tamlin! But wasn't he - the "Tamlin" who had been standing by Amarantha's throne whirled around and revealed itself as that horrifying bat creature that had found Feyre in the cave at the beginning of this Under the Mountain saga.
"Babe," Feyre exclaimed.
"Something wrong, FeyFey?" Amarantha asked.
"Not...fair," Feyre gasped out. Courts, but she had no problem stabbing an innocent soul who wasn't her boyfriend!
"Fair?" Amarantha smirked, back on track with her stack of papers, "I wasn't aware you humans knew of the concept. Do you think it would be more appropriate to forfeit your life? After all, what the point if you survive only to lose him, am I right, Feyre? It would suck to survive only to lose him, right!?"
Feyre stood paralyzed with the third dagger in her hand. The faeries in the audience were on the edge of their seats. And finally -
"Don't tell me what to do!" Feyre shouted and rammed the dagger into her "beloved." She cried out in pain, however, as the dagger glanced off his chest and fell to the floor with a loud clatter.
"And that's the power of Tamlar vests at work, people!" Tamlin announced, ripping open his tunic and thumping the heavy, gunmetal-gray armor that covered his chest. "Not a scratch on me! And this week only you can get your very own Tamlar vest for 20% off using code TAMMYLIN at checkout! Just go to Tamlar.com and -"
"Enough!" screamed Amarantha, throwing her stack of papers to the ground. "For the last time, Tamlin, you can only plug my merchandise on this show! It's my show! It's AMARANTHATHON!"
"You'd be nothing without me!" said Tamlin, passing out little "Tamlar" cards with wild abandon. "Your ratings were plummeting last season until I thought of bringing in a human character!"
"People only like her as a hatewatch!" Amarantha screamed.
One of the director-fae started coming forward to intervene, but another one held him back. "This is TV gold, buddy."
"Yeah, well, why do you think people watch you, you psycho bitch?" Tamlin yelled. "Your head is so far up your royal ass you have no idea what people think! You've tanked my character in every pitch meeting this season, all I get to do is stand by your throne looking dumb, and people are sick of it! Tam-LIN! Tam-LIN! Right, everybody? Tam-LIN!"
"I love you, Tamlin!" Lucien chimed in. "In a totally platonic way, man!"
"At the risk of sounding crass," Rhysand put in, gliding near the dais, "I think I'm generally the fan favorite, according to recent Faecebook polls."
"All of you, shut up!" Amarantha screamed. "I'm the favorite, it's my! show! Feyre, you've been the worst thing to happen to this network since the Attor Island spin-off. You couldn't pass any of the challenges without my help, you bombed the riddle, and now you've totally screwed up this last trial! For fae's sake, why would you think viewers would want to see you stab innocent people, including your true love!? That is not hashtag FaeBae. YOU'RE DONE."
"OK, OK, that's enough, lady," said the director-fae, coming forward to lead Amarantha offstage. "Time for a Chardonfae break."
There was an awkward silence in the throne room as Amarantha was dragged off, still ranting. Then -
"AFTERPARTY!" Tamlin yelled. Music blasted forth, and all the faeries started doing what they apparently did best - shaking what the cauldron gave them.