I almost didn’t believe this was all happening until I was standing there waiting for her to be led out. I could count the number of times I had seen Feyre on one hand and I had been hoping it would stay that way. If she didn’t turn up, it would mean she was safe. Some other poor soul would struggle out instead only to die at what I knew waited in the pit below me, but their loss would be nothing compared to what losing her would feel like.
Every death always meant something, but somehow when it came to Feyre, I was beginning to feel like I would tear the Heavens apart to keep her safe the way I had for Velaris, consequences be damned. I practically had.
Daily I lied to myself, denying she was here. The beautiful dreams of a girl I would have loved to know in another time and place would be all I had to keep me comfort from now on. It was easy to do since I’d already been denying her existence to myself from the day I scared Tamlin into sending her away. At least the fool had been smart enough to do that much. If only she had stayed away, had listened to Tamlin. We would all still be suffering, but she would be safe, a silent victory Amarantha could never get back.
Shadows impressed themselves along the walls of the torch lit hallways where Amarantha’s next victim would emerge. I half dared to pray it wouldn’t be Feyre, but then, there she was, stumbling forward unarmed and unbound among a sea of guards as she took in the scene before her.
The jeers were cruel, devoid of sympathy. The entire arena was unbearable. Amarantha rubbed Tamlin’s knee predatorily, a symbol of ownership I knew was driving Feyre nuts when she spotted it. The love she had in her eyes as she searched Tamlin’s face for a shared bond between sent my blood boiling with jealousy, though I had no right. It was too hard to stay out of her head and I didn’t care to anymore, not so long as these ridiculous trials went on. And to think she had no idea what was coming.
It was a mark of her humanity, how truly ignorant of the fae world she was to not even be able to guess at what manner of creature was waiting to snap at her from where she stood. Her simple appearance alone gave her away, the rags she wore and dirtied face already grown pale and feeble from days of rotting in Amarantha’s dark prison cells. It gnawed at every part of my heart that she would have to suffer this and worse when the trial was over, and suffer it she would because I was betting on her very humanity to save her. The room laughed and scoffed at Feyre for her human weaknesses even when most of they themselves would not survive the task at hand.
But I knew better. Feyre would survive this because she was human, because she still had enough sense about her to not let pride stand in the way of succeeding like the fae would. And for that reason alone, I would never bet against her.
As if somehow sensing my focus on her, Feyre caught my gaze and I tossed her my most confident, feline smile, equal parts amusement as part of the game I played and support for her she could not yet see. Little tendrils of darkness shuddered out of me the second her eyes darted away in annoyance.
“Well, Feyre,” Amarantha said smoothly. “Your first task is here. Let us see how deep that human affection of yours runs.” Pretty damn far, if my instincts were correct. “I took the liberty of learning a few things about you,” she continued. “It was only fair, you know. I think you’ll like this task. Go ahead. Look.”
The attor made way for Feyre to step to the brink of the pit and take in the trenches thick with mud and slime below her. But then almost as fast as he’d allowed her forward did the Attor push Feyre off the edge so that she was hurtling down. He grabbed her mid air in a wild jerk that set my stomach in knots and challenged my control over what was supposed to be a wickedly entertained face before letting her go at the pit’s base.
One day, that Attor and I would have more than words exchanged between us for that move alone.
“Rhysand tells me you’re a huntress,” Amarantha said and I could tell from Feyre’s mind that she was beginning to worry at what else I might have revealed. But then her focus shifted as Amarantha challenged her, “Hunt this.” She gave the command to open the pits of the gate, maliciously enjoying telling Feyre to run, which she promptly did at the first site of the Middengard Wyrm twisting its way toward her.
This was it. I dug my hands in my pockets, readying myself for what was coming. I didn’t know if it would take her five minutes or five years, but one way or another I knew Feyre was getting out of this pit alive.
The roar of the crowd was deafening as Feyre took off. It was clear she had no plan as she took whichever turn her feet decided were further away from the Wyrm. If she was lucky enough to guess the right course, another path straight and to the left would bring her into an open space where she might have a moment enough to think.
She was nearly there when she came crashing to a halt and shoved herself into a crevice that only those of us above her could see would never work, it was far too small. Feyre began sensing her bad decision almost immediately. Not like this, not like this… flashed wildly through her mind and she struggled against the mud and stone.
My pulse shot up about a thousand beats per minute as I watched her kick and claw and tear at anything to push her through. She was entirely right. Not like this. Never like this. Not for her, I thought pleadingly.
And then the Wyrm was on her, biting at the crevice and Feyre somehow slipped miraculously through and I released the breath I’d been holding. My confidence went up a notch that I had bet on the right contender in that pit after all.
Now she only needed to figure out the key to this madness. I could see the wheels turning in her head as the crowds diverted their attention to the Wyrm that had veered off in entirely the wrong direction. I would have broken into her mind and given her the answer if I needed to, but again Feyre was a marvel with no real use for me. Her eyes brightened as she realized the obvious truth in front of her as I knew she would: the Wyrm was blind.
And she was standing in the middle of its kitchen.
Her expression shifted to one of shock as she took in the bones and ran for it, trying desperately to scale the muddy walls that betrayed her, sending her back down into the pit after only a few inches of height at each attempt. The fae around her laughed hurling their nasty taunts at her. I marked each and every one of their faces down for safe keeping later.
I took a deep breath, confident. I would not let myself be anything but a stronghold for her even if she didn’t know it. Think, Feyre, think! I mentally pushed at her. Brute strength wasn’t going to win her this war the way it would for a fae and she needed to see it.
Feyre slipped once more from the wall, her gaze landing on the bones as I watched an idea take root in her mind. And then she moved, quick as the wind, shoving the largest bones into the wall to form a ladder she could climb. She took other longer bones and began cleaving them in two over her knees. I could feel her wince as pain dug at her legs with every snap of the bone, but I also could see where her plan was taking her.
And it was brilliant.
Feyre had used her resourcefulness as a hunter, as a human who was used to fighting off predators bigger and mightier in physical size than herself, to set a perfect trap for the Middengard Wyrm. And slowly, all at once, the crowd was beginning to notice. I stole a glance at Amarantha and was delighted to see her face set in a hard line. If I dared to break the surface of her mind, I was certain I would find the first trace of doubt flickering in her thoughts. It made me giddy to see someone get under her skin for once, maybe the first time since Jurian even.
Feyre had almost entirely covered her body in the mud and grime of the Middengard Wyrm‘s home, the final piece of her plan taking shape, as the crowd jeered at her in confusion.
“What’s it doing?” an annoyingly whiny fae with a green face asked and I couldn’t help myself as I replied in a voice smooth as the night sky, “She’s building a trap.”
“But the Middengard-”
“Relies on its scent to see and Feyre just became invisible.”
The moment I said her name, Feyre looked at me in answer and any last trace of worry disappeared from my body. Though the look she gave me was one of disdain, I fashioned a sharp smile just for her to see, filled with delight and amusement and what I one day hoped to show her could be so much more.
She read the joy in my eyes, undoubtedly thinking me entertained by her misery, and flipped me off before dashing after the Wyrm. And all at once, my body wanted to collapse on itself. My chest heaved as I cut the laugh off from bursting from my chest. I could hear Cassian all the way in Velaris finish the roar of happiness for me - happiness I had not felt in years. Amren would be nodding her head in approval were she here to watch, and although Mor would be a nervous wreck, she too would smile at the brave beautiful girl in the pit who dared be so bold as to not care if she pissed off the once all-powerful High Lord of the Night Court.
And that settled it: I was irrevocably taken with her.
But I had to shove those thoughts away, if only because they were dangerous thoughts to have Under the Mountain with Amarantha inches from me. But also because Feyre had unknowingly lost track of the Wyrm and was about to be devoured herself.
“TO YOUR LEFT!” came a shout across the way from where I stood. It was Lucien’s. I felt Amarantha’s skin burn as her eyes pierced him. The red-haired fox would pay for that later, I was sure. And though I delighted in seeing Lucien knocked down a notch now and then, I hoped Amarantha wouldn’t make me be the one to do it this time.
But it had worked. Feyre bolted not a moment too soon and wove her way around the maze until she had led the Wyrm back to her trap. I both felt and saw the collection of bodies around me lean forward all at once as Feyre jumped, clearing the spikes and landing with a thud back inside of the Wyrm’s den. A loud, strangled cry pierced the air and it took every strand of effort in me not to winnow straight to her. My fists clenched tightly in my pocket and I ground my teeth waiting, waiting to see if my - if Feyre had made it.
The Wyrm didn’t move. I swallowed, waiting, and then… there she was, walking out of the Middengard Wyrm‘s reach with one of its long bones grasped tightly in one hand and… a mangled mass of muscle and her own bone protruding out of her other arm. It was grotesque.
Now I understood the cry. The Wyrm must have gotten one go at her before it fell. And yet, Feyre herself looked incredible. She walked forward with stiff confidence, shaking all over, but I couldn’t sense any trace of fear on her. She was wild, the most wonderful creature I ever had the privilege of seeing as she faced Amarantha without hesitation.
And she had won.
“Well,” Amarantha said, not entirely comfortable although she managed a smirk. “I suppose anyone could have done that.”
The second the words passed her lips, Feyre darted forward and bone went flying through the air, landing sharply at Amarantha’s feet and staining her pure white dress with mud. Shocked silence reigned in Amarantha’s place in those moments. How fitting to see the Queen dressed to reveal at last what filth she really was with the mud on her perfect gown.
Again, I wanted to laugh. And for once, my facade and my true expression were the same. I didn’t have to pretend I was Amarantha’s whore so I could seem pleased to see the human entertainment brought to me as Feyre hurled that javelin. My smile was genuine and it was all for her. For Feyre and her nerve.
Amarantha chuckled mischievously before she began searching the betting lists to find that only one out of everyone - even Lucien, if he had even bothered to bet on her - had chosen Feyre. Feyre didn’t know I had bet on her, Amarantha didn’t say that much, but I wagered she could guess from the glower on her face.
“Take her away,” Amarantha barked. “I tire of her mundane face.” I kept my fists firmly in my pockets in a tight fist. Feyre’s face was many things, but mundane was not one of them. “Rhysand, come here,” the fae bitch shot at me, as if she could read my mind though I knew that would never happen.
A sick feeling swept over me, not my sickness, but Feyre’s and my eyes dove to consume her. As the Attor dragged her off, I could already see her legs begin to fail her as her mind processed what the Wyrm had done to her arm. My heart clenched terribly. I made for Amarantha before my pause could become noticeable and I knew I had to find a way to help Feyre’s arm heal. And if I were clever enough - and Cauldron knew I was - I would find a way to get something out of it for myself, something that would help both of us through this hell.
The idea fell squarely into place and I knew what I would do. I just had to get to her first. If I could get her to agree, to willingly let me help her, she would hate me for what I would do to her and the possibility of Feyre outright hating me completely might be enough to finish me in the end when there was no more Under the Mountain and Amarantha to distract me from my many pains. But however selfish and scheming my plan was, however much it might ultimately unhinge me, I would do it for Feyre’s safety and that of my court.
I owed them both that much at least.