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The melodic laughter of my ‘mate’ filled the living room. Such a sound was not uncommon but they happened a lot more on nights like these. Simple date nights felt rare as of late so we were both relishing in the moments that we had together to relax on the couch. No paperwork, no responsibilities, and Nyx was having a sleep over with Nesta and Elain. We had the manor all to ourselves.
Flames danced casting a gentle glow of the fire from the fireplace. On the small coffee table were two glasses of fae wine sitting on the table and the curtains to the bay window were drawn closed giving us some much needed privacy.
Feyre was practically glued to my side in a skin tights sweater and leggings that left literally nothing to the imagination. My left hand rested on her high rubbing gentle circles with my thumb as she talked. Keeping a patient smile on my face as she went on and on.
“- the look on Mor’s face when she found out they didn’t have the dress in her size.” Feyre babbled.
It would be so easy to knock her out just so I could get some true peace and quiet. A little magic to slip into her mind, place a false memory of me pleasuring her until she passed out, and I could leave the room to do whatever I wish with her none the wiser.
Feyre made for such an obedient little puppet.
My right hand squeezed hers as I contemplated doing just that. She was soft, so very soft. But it wasn’t the same. This gentleness was nothing like her.
Feyre smiled and squeezed my hand back, to her it was a term of endearment. It was best to let her believe that.
As she continued to babble on, my mind began to wander behind the mental walls Feyre could never get past. Thoughts of my life before this, before it got so complicated, before I trapped myself with this used up tramp.
For a moment I could imagine soft hands being replaced with sharp nails digging into my skin, demanding my attention at all times. A sharp voice replacing the ear piercing melodic one called for me. Demanding my attention.
No. I told myself I wouldn’t go back tonight. Appearances were important and I promised myself I wouldn’t leave her here while I sought out lost memories. But it was only a promise to myself…..
I looked down at Feyre, lost in her own little made up world and not even realizing what was going on. If it wouldn’t cause unnecessary complications I’d snap her neck here and now. Claim it was an assassin or some other nonsense, a nice little lie anyone could believe.
“I’m so glad we could spend this evening together.” Feyre sighed. She reached over and picked up the wine glass on the left and took a sip. “It feels like it’s been so long since we’ve had time to ourselves.”
“A court doesn’t rule itself, Feyre darling.” I murmur. My words dripped like honey into her ears, using the nickname she was not worthy of.
Yet it seemed it wasn’t enough to sooth her back into compliance. I could feel her protest begin to bubble up so I lean down and gently kiss a trail up her neck. A nibble here, a peck there and she was putty in my arms. Too easy.
With swift movements I removed the wine glass from her hands and placed it onto the table. Ensuring her attention was solely and undeniably on me. As it should always be.
The scent of lilac filled my nostrils making me want to gag. I couldn’t do this. Everything about this evening was far too delicate.
“Rhysand.” Feyre whispered in that breathy tone.
It wasn’t the one I wanted to hear, she wasn’t the one I craved in this moment. Yet I kept my movements steady acting like she was all that mattered in this world when the reality was much harsher. I promised I wouldn’t. Yet I didn’t stop myself from lifting my hand from her thigh and snapped my fingers.
“Rhysand, are you…” her words died off and Feyre collapsed against me in a slumber. Left in a dream world of her fantasies.
I wasted no time shoving her body unceremoniously off mine, leaving her slumped on the couch. Sprawled out like a used ragdoll. In a few hours she would wake in our bed believing we had a passionate night. Perhaps in a few days I would actually do so just to let off some steam.
I rose to my feet and brushed off any lint or lingering scents of Feyre then straightened my clothes meticulously. These recent clothing styles were truly barbaric. Just a simple tunic and pants and I was supposed to expect anyone to see me as their high lord. It was laughable. These simple clothes were compared to what I used to wear, what I now could only wear in the Hewn City.
I glanced one last time at my little puppet. Any moment now she would make those high pitched noises and any fae who valued their life wouldn’t dare to enter this room. Just the thought of knowing I’d have to endure hearing them again was revolting. Then again most simple creatures always were.
Reaching into my magic I winnowed to the master suite to change. Rich silk fabrics donned my body embroidered with silver along the hem and a long sweeping cloak that seemed to be woven by the stars themselves. A change that felt like a second skin compared to the drab I was in before. My magic seemed to sing in contentment at the change to the familiar.
I took one last look in the mirror to ensure everything fell into place then winnowed once more to the one place that no fae dares to enter again. Where I can allow the mask to fall.
The moment I arrive torch lights lit up illuminating the winding pathway of stone. Each step echoed off the walls as I descended deeper and deeper under the mountain.
For the briefest of moments I felt as if time had not passed. It was so easy to pretend the courts were still trapped here, fae cowering at my mere presence, yet as I reached the throne room reality wasted no time reminding me of what had occurred.
Though it was alight by the torches the room that once held thousands of fae was empty. Every breath and noise echoed off its stone walls amidst a ceiling that seemed to reach the heavens. And in the center at the top of a steep incline of stairs stained with blood, sat a large opulent throne. Designed only the most skilled of fae for the only one clever enough to fool all of Prythian. Even now the mere sight of it was breathtaking.
As I had done a thousand times before, I walked up the staircase toward the throne. Steering clear of the blood path where she had fallen. Due to my frequent visits and spell casting dust hadn’t settled on any surface. Everything was exactly as it was before with just one notable exception.
Darling.
Her sharp voice would coo when I reached the top. On instinct I knelt before the throne. The darkness hidden within my heart burst forth creating an illusion of the past. Shadows of starlight swept across the room, the once empty prison cells held the high lords chains, the voices of fae from all courts echoed off the walls in a beautiful symphony of suffering, and the once empty chair was filled once more by the one fae that ruled over me. Body, mind, and soul.
I lifted my eyes to see her sitting primly on the throne, her long legs crossed over one another causing the slip of her starlight dress to widen. Ruby red lips were set to a satisfied smirk as she looked down on me.
“My queen.” The words slipped from my tongue making her smirk widen in approval.
“My darling Rhysand.” Amarantha cooed. She lifted a hand and beckoned with a crook of her fingers to come closer.
I rose to my feet and walked toward her. Ready to spend the evening in an illusion with the one I could not replace. That I caused to fall through no fault but my own. Until the time came where I could bring her back to me.
Amarantha’s cool hand reached up to cup my face once I was within her reach. Her sharp nails digging into my skin as a reminder of who it was my bond was truly tied to. Who my mate was and always will be.