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grace-mint · 3 months

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A Fate Worse Than Death- Part 3

Finale time!! I'm still working on improving my writing, so thank you to everyone who read! TW: Angst, negative self-talk, mentions of SA and torture. Let me know if I forgot anything.

My life had lost all of its meaning. I didn’t want to care anymore. I couldn’t find it in me to care anymore. Rhys was concerned, I knew. I also knew that I was slowly killing him, the fact that I hardly ate, hardly spoke, and hardly slept.

My back had healed in time, it had been about a month and a half since that day, and yet the feeling of hands on my body, the male taking advantage of me, and the gaping hole in my chest from the loss of my wings all felt so prominent and recent.

Now, in place of my once glorious wings, giant, ugly scars lived on my back. They didn’t allow me to fly, they didn’t offer intimate moments with my mate, and they didn’t offer me any comfort. These jagged, hideous things, they were a reflection of my soul. Who I was now. I didn’t try anymore. And just like I didn’t want to care, I didn’t want to try.

My childhood, which was ripped from my young grasp, wasn’t enough? The Gods had to punish me even more? I felt so completely numb, and I was ashamed of this. I was so ashamed when Mor had to help me bathe when I had gotten back, too weak to even wash myself. Or when Azriel had to help me learn how to walk again, his scarred hand sitting softly on my back was a parallel to what lingered under my shirts. I’m sure I looked ridiculous, like a fawn learning how to use her legs for the first time.

And then there was Rhysand, my mate. The person who I let down. I knew he assumed that I was stripped of my dignity. I couldn’t face him. I never let him see me anymore, panic raging through my body when I saw him, my father’s words echoing in my head. ‘They’ll all see you let yourself get taken by another man.’ He was right; I didn’t fight hard enough. In the end, I was still just as weak as I was as a child, letting my brothers and father treat me like nothing more than dirt.

But, by the cauldron I was bored. I lay in bed, mulling over all of these thoughts that constantly kept me company. I searched my mind and soul to find even a modicum of emotion, a single ray of hope, but I came back empty. So, I just lay there, wallowing.

3 days later, Cassian burst into my room. His face was one of empathy, yet he was determined. This was the General of the Night Court, still a much softer one, but he was in that mind set. He meant business.

“Get up,” he said, “get up out of that bed. You have hardly eaten, I know you don’t sleep well, and we are all worried.”

I rolled over onto my side, my back to him. “You want me to get up, and I want you to get out.” I spit back.

“No.” He plopped himself on the bed, next to my legs. “We don’t have to talk, but I’m not leaving. Cauldron y/n, we don't know what to do anymore.”

I hummed, not deigning to answer. I knew he would stay there, and again, that feeling, that thing in my chest struggled to get out. I smothered it.

I don’t know how long he sat there, or how long I lay there. I wish he would say something, anything to silence the racing thoughts in my mind. In conversation, I wanted silence, yet in silence, I wanted conversation. I was so pathetic.

“He has run himself rampant with worry, you know.” I didn’t want to hear about Rhysand right now, but I wouldn’t stop him. “He spent time in the camps, strictly and personally enforcing the wing laws, seeing to it the males treat the females like actual people, not objects.” Anger entered his voice while talking about the barbaric males in those camps.

“Y/n, he’s so broken without you. My brother has been the strongest male I’ve ever known. He went through hell with Amarantha, his father, and even now, the prejudice he faces from the other courts, it weighs on him. But, when you two were together, no matter what, I have never seen him more joyful. I had never seen him so stress-free, not caring what others had to say.” He brought his hand up to my head, gently stroking my hair. My heart ached, Cassian, the brother I never had, calmed me. Not as much as Rhys could, obviously, but he calmed me just the same. My thoughts slowed down, becoming less and less rapid. “Just see him, once. He needs to see you, and you need to see him. You two have been through so much together, he would never abandon you. You know that right?”

I didn’t answer, staying silent. At one point of my life, I would have answered this question without a single doubt in my mind, but now I couldn’t. That feeling in my chest tugged again, telling me I was being an idiot. My mate would never leave me, but everyone leaves eventually.

Cassian sighed, finally standing up and placing a kiss to my head. “Just think about what I said, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want.”

“I will.” The first words I had spoken since I’d tried to kick him out. I still couldn’t see him, but I heard him pause. I understood why, I had been so adamant about Rhysand not seeing me. I just gave him the worst possible thing. I gave him hope.

---------------

Rhysand had spent this past month in misery. He hadn’t seen her since a few days after she woke up. He always kept his side of the bond open, hoping she would feel he was there, no matter what.

“She said she’d think about seeing you.” A voice broke through his thoughts. He was sitting in his office, nursing a glass of bourbon.

Hope, the damned thing, sparked in his chest. “You think she will actually go through with it?” Rhysand asked Cassian, not wanting to show his disbelief that y/n would actually go through with it.

“She might.” Rhysand’s face fell at his words. He was going to die without his mate another day more. The numbness from the bond made his chest ache constantly. His heart felt as though it was being stabbed over and over.

“What do I do?” Sorrow dripped from Rhysand’s words.

“Go to her. You two can’t keep avoiding each other, brother. It is killing you both.”

He knew Cassian was right, as much as he hated to admit it, instead he just nodded my head in dismissal, mulling over his words.

Rhysand was going to get his mate back.

---------------

I slept fitfully. Nightmares plagued the darkness, hands, whips, screaming. It was all the same, every night. I woke up, not even phased anymore, yet still shaken. It was normal now, this is what I had been degraded down to. On nights like these, which had been every one, I missed Rhys the most.

A knock on my door woke me from my pity party and in walked Madja, the sweetest woman to grace this court.

She was so grandmotherly and gentle. She truly cared about her patients, treating them more like her own children than simply clients.

“How’s the back?” As kind as she was, she was also a straight to the point, no-nonsense type of grandmotherly.

“Fine.” My usual answer. I wouldn’t burden her with how sometimes it felt like I could feel the steel of the blade ripping into my skin, the crack of the whip against my wings.

She simply nodded, understanding in her eyes. “Lay on your stomach, I want to get a look at it, make sure it is healing well enough.”

I do as she says. I had been wearing Rhys’ clothes, the sole comfort of him I offered myself. They were large enough to not put too much pressure on my healed, but tender back. It also allowed easy access for Madja’s appointments. She unbuttoned the back of the shirt, pulling it away.

“Child, you are stronger than you give yourself credit for. You punish yourself, thinking you failed yourself. You are plain wrong.” Her voice was stern but not unkind. “You have healed physically, you are almost out of remission, but the mental has still yet to be touched upon. Why has your mate not been here? Does he not care?” Madja loved her High Lord like he was her own son, but that would not excuse these actions if they were true.

“No. I don’t want to see him.” My words were flat and left room for no argument.

She sighed, “Dear child, I know what happened, all of it. While others may not, you know that you are still here, despite everything. You cannot let those who hurt you win that war that rages in your head. You are our High Lady, or did you forget. You have fought for so much, do not let these demons be the ones who take you down.”

“Thank you, Madja. Your words mean more than you know.” And I meant it.

She begins to button up the shirt for me, hardly getting more than a few buttons as the door slammed open.

And there stood my mate, eyes wild and raging.

Panic flared in my chest, he would hate me. He would see my back and hate me and he wouldn’t want me anymore.

But as he just stood there, his gaze on my ruined back, I saw his gaze darken with an emotion that wasn’t disgust. He looked murderous.

“I’m so sorry, I should have knocked.” The words come out of Rhysand’s mouth, dripping with anger and melancholy.

“Actually, High Lord, if you wouldn’t mind helping her finish up, I fear I am running late for my next appointment.” Madja said, packing her stuff up. She rushed out of the room before either of us could say anything.

Rhys and just stayed there, staring at each other. He finally moved, “Can I help you button these? Is that okay?”

I nodded, relinquishing eye contact and staring out the window instead. He carefully began to button the shirt up, with the gentlest touch I could imagine. He made sure to not touch a single part of my skin, but I could feel his unwavering gaze on my back.

“Beautiful,” he murmured under his breath, and I felt myself stiffen at his words, not the finger running gently down the scars lingering where my wings should be.

“You’re delusional,” I hear myself say, my breath quickening at his presence. It wasn’t fear or panic I felt anymore, but longing. Cauldron, I’ve missed him.

Rhys stood sharply, helping me up and turning me to face him. He put his fingers under my chin firmly pulling it up to meet his gaze.

“Why would you say that about something that’s a part of you. You are the most gorgeous creature I’ve ever had the blessing to set my eyes upon, and these scars do not take away from that. I will make it my life’s mission to let you never forget that.”

I felt a shudder go through my body at his words. Emotions I had kept under lock and key flooded through me.

“You don’t know what you are talking about, I am ugly. I am disgusting. I am a failure. I don’t deserve someone like you, who still wants me after what I allowed them to do.” And with those words, the dam broke. The emotions escaped the carefully crafted safe, and I cried for the first time since I saw myself in that mirror, facing who I was now.

“Oh y/n darling,” Rhys placed his forehead to mine, “you are not a failure. You are the most stunning thing I have ever laid eyes on. Nothing can possibly compare to your beauty, not the brightest star on Starfall, nor the most awing beaches of the Summer Court. And you are not a failure. What could ever possess you to believe that.”

“Rhys, I failed you. I let them touch me, use me. And I didn’t stop it. I ruined what we had.”

Rhys stilled, his suspicions confirmed. “Your father is going to die an even more painful death than planned.” “He’s still alive?” Fear enters my words. I can hear the shake in my voice.

My mate’s eyes filled with even more anger. “Not for long. He hasn’t been sitting uninjured though, believe me. I would gladly take care of it today, unless you’d like the honor.” He was still in front of me, staring at me.

I shake my head, “I never want to see him or my brothers again.” He nodded in understanding.

“It is done then.” He sighed, and took a few steps back, dropping to his knees in front of me. “My mate, my beautiful, strong mate. You are not a failure, you did not fail me. It could never be possible.”

He gently held my hands, placing a kiss to the back of them. “Those scars you have gained are proof of your strength. Proof that you survived. And I will never, ever allow another male to touch you without your permission.” His words had a dangerous edge to them, one that I knew was speaking nothing but the truth.

“And my love, I am the one who failed you. I wasn’t there to stop them; I let you go on that mission. I am not worthy of your forgiveness.”

My heart leapt at his words, he thought he was the one who let me down. I tugged my hands from his grasp and placed them on either side of his face, sliding off the bed until I was knee to knee with him. Tears began pouring from my eyes. “Rhysand, you are good. You have been nothing less than perfect to me all these years.” His eyes filled with emotions of his own, and I felt his sorrow on the other end of the bond. The Bond. My mate, I could feel him again. I tugged on it, and felt Rhysand inhale.

“Y/N, I can feel you again.” His voice cracked, and I felt myself lunging into his arms. Rhysand’s arms, my mate’s arms tugging me impossibly closer.

“I’m so so sorry, Rhys. I missed you so much; I thought you’d hate me.”

“How could I ever hate you, darling.” His hand ran down the back of my head in comforting strokes. “I love you so much, I am still healing, and it will take time. But the thing I had felt like I was missing for so long was you.”

“You could throw me out and take another 6 years, and I would stand at that door waiting for you.” I knew he was telling the truth, a bit exaggerated, but I knew he would be there. I leaned back, pulling my head from his chest. We just gazed at each other for a while, before I slowly leaned up, placing a gentle kiss to his mouth. His arms tightened around me, as if afraid I might be pulled away.

“I was afraid I would never be able to taste your lips again, feel your embrace, or hear the soft lull of your voice.” My heart broke at his voice, the vulnerability in it.

“Never again, we will never be separated again.” I placed my head on his shoulder leaning into him.

“Never again,” He echoed.

____________________

For the next week, Rhysand was attached to me at the hip, not to say I didn't enjoy it. I missed his presence more than anything. I still couldn’t deal with him sleeping in the bed with me, waking up feeling like I was back in that basement, so he slept in the chair. I felt bad, knowing it couldn’t be comfortable, but he wouldn’t complain. He’d just say he was happy to sleep in the same room as me.

The day after everything happened between him and I, he walked into the room, hands behind his back. When I’d asked what was wrong, he had simply said he took care of an errand. I knew that meant my father and brothers were no longer living, so I simply just took him into the washroom, helping him wash the blood from his hands.

Tonight was the first family dinner I would be attending in nearly two months. Rhysand had helped me with my hair, bought me a new beautiful dress to wear, and now stood by my side, holding my hand as we stood on the roof of the townhouse.

“We don’t have to go, say the word and we can go back down stairs.” His words were soft and gentle. The last time we flew together, I was flying on my own. He would have to carry me now.

I offer a small smile, “I miss my family, Rhys. I have to do this sometime, so why not now.”

With strong arms, he picks me up, hooking one arm under my knees and the other under my shoulders. I wrapped my arms around his neck, with a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’ll be ok.”

He merely nods, stretching out his powerful wings, and I felt a pang go through my chest at the sight. His eyes snap to mine, feeling what I was feeling through the bond. “Darling?”

“Let’s go.” I say, my chin up and determined. I was ready to do this. He shot off the roof with a powerful flap of his wings. I felt the familiar, comforting feeling of my stomach dropping at the movement. My arms tightened around his neck, and I forced myself to look out over our city. It would take time, but I would force myself to be okay with this.

I brought my head up to see my mate staring at me. “You’re the most gorgeous being I’ve ever sat my eyes upon.” I felt my cheeks flush at his words.

“You and your flattery.” I grin at him, looking out over Velaris again. “Our city is gorgeous, Rhys.”

“That it is,” His words were soft, but his gaze never left my face. “The most gorgeous.”

#acotar #rhysand x reader #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand angst #acotar fandom #angst #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n

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grace-mint · 3 months

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Gracemint's Masterlist

ACOTAR

Rhysand

A Fate Worse Than Death - Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

#masterlist #rhysand x reader #acotar #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #acotar x reader

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grace-mint · 3 months

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A Fate Worse Than Death- Part 2

TW: Angst, mentions of torture and SA. Let me know if I miss anything.

Y'all I am so ready for this happy ending. (Spoilers: it will have a happy ending bc I can't read angst without happy endings). Also sorry it's a bit short, but I couldn't keep going without it getting way too long.

Rhysand hadn’t slept in three days. He could hardly eat or drink anything. He couldn’t get himself to care for himself, his main priority being the female lying in front of him. As much as his family tried, they couldn’t get him to eat. Only when Amren walked in and called him a ‘pathetic bastard,’ and stubbornly refused to leave until he ate, did he indulge her.

He sat in a chair in the corner of his and y/n’s shared room, far enough away from the bed, but close enough to keep an extremely close eye on her. He had smelled another male on her, dread sitting in his lower chest at the idea of what that may mean. Azriel had quickly captured her father, brothers, and the male he smelled after they found her, unconscious, and had them in his cells at the Court of Nightmares. He couldn’t get the image of Y/N out of his head. Her body was covered in blood, her arms and legs bruised and scabbed up, and her back. Cauldron her back. It was completely wrecked. Her wings were gone. It broke him to know that she lost an extension of herself. As anxious as he was for her to wake, he was grateful for the time it gave Madja to attempt to heal it. She told him it would scar, severely. The trauma her back endured from whips and knives. The trauma of her wings being cut out, in lieu of the faebane that was running through her system, was enough for her back to heal quite slowly. Madja had said it would take several weeks, if not months potentially, to fully heal. Her mind, Madja told him, was another topic entirely. Rhysand had known this, he would never expect her to bounce back from something like this. He cursed himself. Since she left for that mission he had cursed himself.

She was fine for a day or two, keeping him updated through their bond. The third day rolled around, and instead of getting his usual ‘Good morning, my love,’ greeting he was used to, he was only greeted by silence. He didn’t think too terribly much of it, assuming she was busy, but when evening had passed and still no word from her, he began to really worry. A pit of unease sat in his stomach all night. He had tossed and turned, debating whether he should leave for the camp to make sure she was okay. He had talked himself out of it, telling himself he was being overprotective, and that she could take care of herself. And she could, she was a fighter, the strongest person he’d ever met.

He told himself this again and again as he sat there in agony, watching his mate, who lay still on the bed. A knock at the door broke him from his trance. He looked up to see Azriel walking in. Az took a long look at the bed, a shadow covering his face, before he looked at his High Lord. Rhysand knew he must look like a wreck. Rightfully so. His mate had just gone through hell. No. She had gone through something worse than that, and here he was sitting, perfectly healthy, when he did nothing to protect her.

“You need to get some sleep,” Azriel said softly. He was a man of few words, only knowing when the situation warranted it or he felt comfortable enough. “She wouldn’t want you to sit here, torturing yourself over this.”

As much as he didn't want to think it, he knew Azriel was right. How could he help her recover from this… What could he even call it? Situation? Ailment? No, this was something much worse. This was the equivalent of a lost life. It was an Illyrian’s worst fear; their wings are sacred to them, and the lowest form of insult bestowed upon their race is defilement of their wings. Only a true monster could do something like this. Anger flared in his chest again, the thousandth time in these past few days, at the thought of her father. Even his father, cold as he might have been, would never even have the thought of using one’s wings against an Illyrian. He wanted to kill her father so bad. Better yet, he wanted to rip him apart, limb by limb. And here was Azriel, having the audacity to tell him to rest?

“Shut up, Az.” Rhysand snapped. “She’s just lost everything precious to her, and you are telling me to relax??”

Azriel didn’t even flinch at the tone of his voice, instead he walked over and placed a hand on Rhysand’s shoulder. “She didn’t lose everything precious to her. She still has you. Take a bath at least brother. You deserve it.”

Rhysand sat for a few hours after Az left, his mind running a thousand miles a minute. Finally, with a sigh, he got up and grabbed some spare clothes, walking into the washroom. The bath, as usual, was already filled with steaming water. He looked at himself in the mirror. He did look rough. His face was pale and gaunt, deep bags underneath my eyes, and in the eyes Rhysand looked broken. Taking off his shirt, summoning his wings, he stretched them out to their full length. Rhysand stayed there for several minutes, imagining how life would be without them. He couldn’t. His soul revolted at the idea of losing them, and he quickly let them disappear, the ache in his chest growing. He knew Y/N was going to suffer greatly, she already had. Running a hand down his face, he undressed and slipped into the tub. The warm water felt wonderful, but he didn’t allow himself to enjoy it. Rhysand cursed himself, he was wallowing in self-pity. He was the most powerful High Lord in existence, blessed with the most beautiful, most intelligent, and the most perfect mate to ever live, and yet he was still too weak.

Rhysand scolded himself once again, how could he be so pitiful when his mate is laying on their bed, still not awake. He got up from the bath, quickly toweled himself off, and got dressed. He walked back into the bedroom, hoping you might be awake, only to have that squashed by seeing you still sleeping.

He sat back down in the chair he’d been living in. He would stay by your side until you woke up.

----Y/N POV----

Hands were touching me, everywhere. They were running through my hair, down my front, my rear. I was screaming, or at least I was trying to. No sound was getting out. Panic wracked my chest, I was going to die. I was going to die right now. The hands kept exploring, and they reached my wings. Pulling on my wings. Pain sparked in my back where my wings were attached by powerful tendons and membrane. I yanked away, trying to escape. Not my wings, I screamed, the words still not escaping my throat. I shot upright, the screams finally tearing from my throat. I quickly tucked my wings around me, seeking their comfort. The dream was terrifying and all I wanted to do was to turn over to my mate and tuck myself in his powerful arms. But as I went to tuck in my wings, terror struck my whole being. I couldn’t feel my wings. I looked over my shoulder and saw nothing. Another blood curdling scream left my throat. I threw myself out of bed, attempting to run to the bathroom, but I couldn’t make it. I fell, my body off balanced without the comforting and natural weight of my wings.

“MY WINGS. MY WINGS ARE GONE.” I sat on the floor, sobs wracking my body, the pain in my back that I started to feel was agonizing. I was dying. That was the only possible answer.

“Shhhh, my love. It’s okay I’m right here.” I felt a hand on my cheek. I flinched away, throwing myself as far as possible from the touch.

“Go away! Leave me alone! Don’t take anything more from me!” Sobs broke through each of my words, the syllabus coming out choked and teary.

Y/N, darling, it’s me, it's Rhys. I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll stay on the other side of the room, but you must calm down. A voice struck through my jumbled thoughts. Rhysand. That was my mate. Yes, I’m your mate. Rhysand. You are in Velaris, in the townhouse. We are in our bedroom.

I look up, seeing my mate in a chair across the room, like he said. His eyes were frantic and wild. He looked pale and distressed. “Rhysand?”

“Yes, my heart. I’m right here.” He slowly stood up, walking over to me. “Can I help you up?”

I nod, not finding the energy to answer. He slowly and carefully, with attention to avoid the searing pain in my back, picked me up. I don’t know how he knew where it was so painful, but I was eternally thankful as he set me back on the bed.

“Rhys, my wings are gone.” My voice cracked with my words. “Someone took my wings.”

“I know, I know. I’m going to make them pay severely. Your father will die the slowest and most painful death. I swear it to you.”

At his words, the memories came rushing back. My father, my brothers, the male who used me. My head snapped up to my mate. “You need to leave.” His face fell, “Leave? No, I don't want to leave you. You’ve been passed out for nearly 3 weeks. I can’t leave.”

“Get out. Go, I don’t want to see you,” as I said the words, my heart roared in protest. I wanted him to stay, but he couldn’t. He can’t see me like this, weak and a failure.

“Y/N, please.” He begged.

“I won’t ask again, leave.” I spat the last word out. I saw him flinch, and I wanted to leap up and beg for forgiveness, but what would he think if I told him what I let them do to me.

Rhysand, begrudgingly left, reluctance to leave evident on his face. I felt awful for kicking him out, but I needed to be alone, for his sake and mine.

I slowly stood up, wobbling, and tried to walk to the bathroom. I almost lost my balance, before deciding to just say screw it and lowered myself to the floor. I crawled to the bathroom, placing my hands on the counter, heaving myself up. The sight in the mirror shocked me to my core. My face was extremely sunken in, my body frail and bony, and my wings. The absence of my wings was devastating. It felt utterly wrong. I was wrong.

I stared at myself in the mirror for a very long time; I hated every second of it, but I couldn’t bear to take my eyes away. A knock on the doorframe forced me to wrench my eyes away. There stood Cassian. His eyes full of sorrow and anger.

“I heard you were awake and wanted to come check on you.” His voice was soft, as if talking to a frightened child. I just stared at him in silence, before turning my gaze back to the mirror. What was the point of life anymore? I was robbed of any dignity I had left. From now on my life be pitiful looks and watchful eyes from those who knew me.

“Stop looking at me like that.” I say, without turning to look at him. “Stop it. Stop treating at me like I’m an object about to break.”

“It’s okay to break, Y/N. None of us will blame you. Whatever you need or want, we will be by your side. If you want to wallow, we will be there. You want to yell and scream? We’re there to take the brunt of it. If you want to burn the world down? We will be there to light the matches.” His words went in one ear and out the other.

I looked at him once again, with no emotion in my eyes. I saw his wings poking out from behind his back and jealousy reared its ugly head in my chest. “Leave. You think you can just come in here and flaunt your wings around and act all high and mighty. You are nothing more than a bastard who crawls at his High Lord’s feet.”

There wasn’t a single part of my soul that believed the words I spit at him. In fact, I hated myself for saying them, but I wanted him to feel just a fraction of the eternal soul crushing pain I was feeling at the moment. Cassian’s expression didn’t waver at all though, instead he just tilted his head to look at me.

“Is that the best you can do? That all you got?” He was goading me on, and I knew it. But this conversation had exhausted me enough. “Goodbye Casssian, “ I said in dismissal. I didn't bother to see if he left, I simply turned my head back to look at the mirror, to look at the ugliest creature in the world. Me.

----Rhysand POV----

Cassian walked back into the kitchen, his face grim. “She called me a bastard, said I crawled at your feet.”

“She doesn’t mean it,“ Rhysand said, somewhat softly. He knew Cassian didn’t believe

her, but he wanted to remind him.

“I know. Just hurts to see her like this.” Cassian and Y/N have always had a wonderful

relationship. He was able to be the older brother she never got to have.

Rhysand poured another shot of whiskey, handing it to his brother. “She kicked me out. You should have seen her when she woke up. She was terrified. She was terrified of me.” His voice was broken. Pain seeping into his words.

“She just needs time.” He knew Cassian was right, but the ache in his chest was overwhelming at this point. Not to mention that the bond had gone numb on his mate’s side. He knew it would be bad, and he was expecting this, but he just didn’t know how to help her. “She was looking at herself in the mirror when I was up there.”

Rhysand looked over at his brother, “Can I see?” Cassian nodded his approval as Rhysand entered his mind, finding the interaction between Cassian and Y/N. The lack of emotion in her eyes and face was the most heartbreaking thing he had ever seen. She was so gaunt and thin. She was a shell of herself. And Rhysand would stop at nothing to help her find her way home to him and his family.

#rhysand x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand angst #rhysand

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grace-mint · 3 months

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A Fate Worse Than Death

Hardcore TW: Extreme Angst, SA, whipping, blood. It's rough y'all. Let me know if there's anything I forgot.

Also kinda shitty writing. This is my first fic, and idek if anyone will see this.

I rush into Rhysand’s office, slightly breathless. My mate sat at his desk in all his glory. He was the most beautiful male in the world, and if I wasn’t in a hurry, I would have taken the time to appreciate the spectacle of a being in front of me. Unfortunately I didn’t have that. “Rhys, the camps are getting worse, my father is back.” My father, the cruelest man I’ve ever met. He was a camp lord, but when Rhysand had placed the anticlipping laws into effect, he disappeared, along with multiple other Illyrian males who had the same beliefs as him: beliefs that females had no rights to their bodies. I had been on a mission, sent by Rhys, and I was in charge of protecting the females from these barbaric men. My father being one of them where I had an unfortunate run in with him Rhysand stood up from the desk, concern lacing his features, and grabbed my hands. “Breathe, my love. Tell me what you found out.”

I took a deep breath, clinging to my mate for stability. “He was there, and he was clipping a young girl’s wings. He left before I could kill the sorry bastard, but I was able to stop some of his men. They won’t be heard of ever again.”

Rhys’ face morphed into one of anger. “I’m sorry you had to see him,” he said softly, before asking about the girl. “And the young girl, is she ok?”

“I got there before any real damage could be done, and returned her to her mother, but she will be traumatized, understandably so.”

“How a man as wretched as him gave life to a creature as stunning and caring as you, I’ll never understand.” He placed a soft kiss on my forehead. “One day, I’m going to kill him, and I will make it slow and painful.”

I wrapped my arms around him. “I just don’t understand how a young girl’s life isn’t worth more to those men.” My brow furrowed. “It sickens me, it reminds me of how I grew up, and I swore I would never allow another female to feel pain at my father’s hands. I failed.” My mate’s head snapped up at my words, he gripped my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “You have never failed. You are the strongest female I’ve ever known, the strongest person I’ve ever known, “ he amended.”You are working so hard to fully enact this law. I wish I could help you more.”

I knew he couldn’t, still dealing with the after effects of the war against Hybern. He was in the process of rebuilding relations with the other courts, trying to create stronger alliances. “I know you can’t, and I don’t blame you. My father, let him be my problem.” My father and I had a terrible relationship. He was raised in one of the worse Illyrian camps, with even stricter beliefs. He believed in cutting a female's wings out entirely and that thought was so outlandish that even the most cruel of males didn’t believe in it. But my father was a different breed of asshole. He and my three older brothers made my life a living hell. After my mother passed, giving birth to me, he blamed me for her death. He thought that since my mother had a daughter, and not a son, I was a curse sent to ruin them, so from a young age, I was a toy for their amusement. A plaything to take their anger on. They beat me often, hiding me away from the world. When I reached maturity and started to bleed, they were prepared to cut my wings. They wanted to hang them on the wall as a reminder of the curse I was.

The day my father and brothers were planning to enact their plan, I woke up early and ran for it. I knew I wouldn't make it far, but I was hoping and praying to the cauldron that someone would take pity on me. That was the fortunate day Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel were visiting our camp. As I ran, my eldest brother, Treyvis, was gaining on me. He tackled me to the ground, binding my arms and slamming my face into the ground. That was when Rhysand found me, the bond clicking in his chest when he saw me, though he didn’t mention it for years later. They stopped what was happening, not before giving my brother a warning in the form of a beating, and took me back to Velaris. That was about 100 years ago. Rhysand and I have been mated for 95 of those years now. We have been through plenty of ups and downs, but the bond remained strong and stable, even when we were both stuck under the mountain. I had never known a love like this.

“Give me the word, and he’ll be no one’s problem. I’ll kill that bastard in a second with great joy.” Rhysand unwound his arms from my waist, pressing a kiss to my temple once more, and made his way back over to his desk. I steeled myself, preparing to ask his blessing for another mission. We both agreed when we were mated, we don’t ask permission, rather each other’s blessing. “Rhys, I want to go after him, to end this. To take down the little cult he has accumulated. He’s been off the map for years and seeing him today hurting that young girl, I want him dead, and I want to be the one to do it.”

Rhysand, the one person who knew me better than anyone in the world, knew this about me. While I may have never vocalized it, this was what I wanted. He motioned for me to come closer, and so I perched myself on his lap, winding my arms around his neck.

“You are my brave, beautiful mate. You can handle anything, I know you can do this. It makes me scared to send you alone, but I know if I ask you to take Cas or Az you will refuse.” He was right about that, I wanted to do this alone, especially if something bad were to happen. “But I know you can take care of yourself. You've spent many years training, yet I can’t shake this feeling that something bad will happen. I know you can handle your own, I just get terrified at the thought of something happening to you.”

My heart ached at his words. I press a tender kiss to his lips. “I will always find my way home to you, to our friends, to Velaris. And when I come back, I will be free of the fear and the strife of that man.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------

I should’ve listened to Rhys. I should have brought Cassian or Azriel with me. I cursed myself as I hung there, my arms bound in faebane shackles, with my father pacing in front of me. “Fuck you.” I spat at him. If I was gonna die, I might as well die with the satisfaction of pissing him off. I reached down the bond again, not being able to reach it still, due to the faebane I was dosed with.

I pissed him off a little too well it would seem though. He walked up to me, chuckling. “Oh my dear y/n, how idiotic you are. You hide away with your little whore of a mate, thinking you are safe, yet you’ll never be.” His words send a shiver down my spine, anger flaring at the term he used for my mate.

“I hope you burn in hell.”

“Now now, dear y/n, I would shut up before you anger me even more.” As he speaks, he brings his knife down my arms, slicing a long line from my shoulder to my elbow, then he repeats this on my other arm. I show no pain though, not willing to show this man any vulnerability. He takes the knife, now slicing my legs in a similar fashion. I hadn’t even noticed my leathers were gone when I had woken. I shivered at the thought of someone undressing me.

“I’ll give you a chance to beg, it won’t do much, but it might make me be a little kinder.”

I know he’s lying, so I say, “When he finds you, you will feel such pain, he will do worse things than killing you, as that will be a mercy.”

He smiles sadistically, “ What I do to you, will be more merciless than anything your mate will do to me.” He spat the words at me as he made his way behind me. I hear the unmistakable slither of a whip. I look up to see my brother, Treyvis, walking in, whip in hand. I seethe at the bastard. He merely sends me a sickly sweet smile.

“Do your worst, I don’t care,” the words came out nonchalantly despite the panic raging in my chest. I didn’t flinch as the first lash came down. The second one, had my body jerking forward as I realized what he was aiming for. He was aiming for my wings. Panic seized my body, uncontrollably as my inane instincts to protect my wings kicked in and they folded up. Hands seized my wings, stretching them out to full length. I looked up to see my two other brothers had shown up and were the ones in charge of holding my wings open. I started to struggle, realizing the dire situation I was truly in. The whip rained down on my back and wings, lash after lash, until the skin was completely flayed. It still didn’t stop though. I hung, my whole body weight being held up by the shackles digging into my skin.

“Stop. Please,” my voice, hoarse from screaming, rasped. I didn’t want to beg, but my wings were never going to heal from this. My pleas fell on deaf ears.

Minutes, maybe hours later, the pain stopped. It took me a second to realize the whip stopped. I hung there, my head bowing having no strength to lift it. I was finally released from the shackle, and I fell forward, face slamming painfully into a pool of my own blood on the ground. I was yanked up by my hair, neck tilted to the side. I felt a needle being stabbed into the side of my neck, dosing me with more faebane. I fell forward, once more, after being released. I raised my head barely enough to see four pairs of feet exiting the cell I was in. It wasn’t long after until I fell unconscious.

Hours, or maybe even days later, I woke up. I had no concept of time anymore, darkness all around me. My wounds had clotted well enough, despite the dose of faebane, I was still able to heal somewhat, although not well enough to even stand. I lay there, chest down, on the ground and ran through my memories to keep me sane.

Rhysand and I days after he rescued me. Our first Starfall. When the mating bond finally snapped for me. Our frenzy, that lasted weeks. I missed Rhysand so dearly, regretting ever leaving his lap that day. I lay there for what feels like an eternity, slowly drifting in and out of sleep. I woke up to harsh hands grabbing me once more. My hands were forced into the shackles, and I mentally prepared myself for what was to come, promising myself to keep my mouth shut, not giving them the satisfaction of vocalizing the pain they were causing me.

I immediately broke that promise as soon as I felt one wing lifted up and the cool steel of a blade against it. I let out a yelp, both at the surprise of the action and the pain of them touching my wing. I felt my fathers voice in my ear, sending the millionth shiver down my spine, as he said, “You are a whore who defiled herself to another whore. I’ve been waiting to get my hands on these for quite some time.” Shameful tears began to pour down my cheeks as I realized what was to come. “Don’t worry, y/n, I’ll return you to your High Lord, but he won’t want you barren of wings. He also won’t want spoiled goods.” I stiffened at his words as male walked in, presumably one of his guards. “He wants to have his way with you while we’re here.” My blood turned to ice at his words. Fear sparking in my soul, more fear than I’ve felt these past few days. At the first hack of the knife against the root of my wing, I let out the most pathetic yelp in the world. The pain was unbearable. The hacking kept going as the male approached me. He put his hands on me, tearing my shirt and pants off. He ran his hands over my body as the pain in my back flared on. I wanted to throw up as his hands touched me. I wanted to die right then and there. I did throw up at the thud of one of my wings hitting the ground. The male in front of me cursed and backhanded me across my face. I was weeping at this point, weeping at the loss of my wings, the loss of control over my body as this man reached lower and lower stopping between my legs. Lastly, I weeped for Rhysand to come save me. I knew he wouldn’t, that he couldn’t.I hadn’t been checking in with him through the bond, but it was too late for him to find me anyway, as my second wing traded to the ground and the male in front of me, now naked and readying himself, spread my legs, and took the most vulnerable thing I had to offer. I hung there, numb, as he entered my body, the feeling wrong and disgusting. I had stopped crying long ago, finding no will in me to want to go on.

The male finished, leaving me naked, cold, and devoid of wings. I wanted to die, I wanted to die and never come back. I never wanted to face Rhysand again,or any of my friends. I wished they would’ve just killed me.

Finally, my father walked back in again. “Pitiful y/n. Pathetic bitch.” He gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. “You should have never left all those years ago, and now you’ve paid your price. I’m going to take you home.” He saw the fear in my eyes at his words. “Oh? Don’t want to go home to your husband? I don’t blame you, who would want you, after you let yourself be defiled and you were too weak to protect your wings.”

If looks could kill, this man would have dropped dead.

“Well, let’s go.” He unshackled me. I looked up at him in confusion.

“You’re letting me go?” I couldn’t even recognize my voice. “Why?”

“I’m condemning you to a fate worse than death. You have to face your family, and they’ll all have to see that you let yourself get taken by another man. How will they react? I’m sure they’ll be disgusted.” My father grabbed my bruised arm, I hardly winced in pain, too focused on his words as they raced around in my brain. Surely Rhysand would still love me. But I had insisted on going on this mission, who could blame him if he didn't.

My father threw me a slip that hardly hid anything, and I quickly put it on before he tossed me over his shoulder and walked me out of the cell. I could’ve thrown again up at the sight of my wings, limp and lifeless, lying on the floor, never to take flight again. I didn’t have time to dwell on it as a blinding light hit my eyes. We were outside. I was thrown unceremoniously to the snow-covered ground. I shivered and curled into myself, hoping to achieve a bit of warmth. I didn’t bother looking up to see where my father had gone, I laid there instead. Ready to face my death.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Y/N!! Oh fuck. Darling, wake up.” I felt a warm, gentle hand on my shoulder, rousing me from my sleep. I wanted to sleep, it was so nice and warm. A nice reprieve from the pain I had in my back for some reason. I hummed in annoyance, wanting the voice to go away. I was shivering though, my bed was extremely cold. It was then that all of the memories came flooding back, and I wrenched my eyes open with extreme effort. I attempted to sit up, but my back seized at the motion. I couldn’t move, I was paralyzed in pain.

“Be careful, don’t move. It’s ok. Stay still, please.” I recognized that voice, and I looked up to the most wonderful sight I had ever seen.

“Rhys?” My voice was still raspy from the screaming. “Yes, it’s me. Stay still, Az and Cas are coming.” I felt the warmth of a coat over my shivering body, as Rhysand wrapped me in his coat, careful to avoid the bloody mess that was my back. “Stay awake.” His voice filled with panic as I drifted off again with the warmth of his embrace. I didn’t want to stay awake. This was nice, I wanted to sleep.

“Y/n, my heart, you have to stay awake.” His voice shook as he pleaded with me. I could barely hear him as I slipped further and further and further into the void, the only sounds being Rhys’ cries and begging me not to go sounded like a lullaby to me as I welcomed unconsciousness with open arms.

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If you made it this far, let me know! Gentle critiquing is welcome and appreciated.

#rhysand x reader #acotar #rhysand angst #azriel x reader #acotar fandom #a court of thorns and roses #cassian x reader #angst #Rhysand

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grace-mint · 1 year

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So next week I’ll either popping my ass to Slut! (Taylor’s version) (from the vault) or crying my eyes out to Slut! (Taylor’s version) (from the vault). I’m very excited to find out.

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grace-mint · 1 year

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he's so tall and handsome as hell... and pretty please do not repost

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grace-mint · 2 years

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Retribution (Part One)

Part One | Part Two (Coming Soon) | Part Three (Coming Soon) | Masterlist

Summary: When Azriel’s best friend is kidnapped, he fears he may never get the chance to reveal his true feelings for her.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader (She/Her)

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: angst, graphic depiction of canon typical violence, torture, kidnapping

A/N: I decided to do this one in first person, hope you don’t mind.

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

He found her body on the path out of Windhaven, just a mile or so into the dark forest. She was slumped at an awkward angle, her torso face down with her arms limp at her sides and her legs curled halfway underneath her. The snow below her was stained crimson, turning into a bloody slush under her rapidly cooling body. He fell to his knees before her, shouting her name in a broken cry, but she did not so much as twitch. His hands hovered over her mangled body and he debated moving her, afraid she might shatter beneath his touch. He stilled, his breaths accompanied by a keening whine, like that of an animal in distress. He said her name again, receiving no response, and he finally got the nerve to move her.

He supported her head as he rolled her onto her back, stomach twisting at the feeling of her hair, matted and sticky with coagulated blood. He pushed away the strands covering her face, revealing two blackened eyes and a crooked nose. Blood was crusted on her upper lip, and more had dried on her cheek where it dripped from the wounds hidden in her hair. Her complexion was ashen, and the skin around her mouth and nose had taken on a blueish tint. She reminded him of the way bodies look after a battle before the crows descend to pluck out their eyes and tongues, their faces are gray and slackened. He froze, eyes transfixed on her unmoving chest, willing it to move, but she remained utterly still.

It was then that he began to scream.

⊱ Two Days Before ⊰

We all knew the strict enforcement of the High Lord’s laws would come with backlash. The ban on wing clipping and authorization for females to train had been a matter of contention for the Illyrians since Rhysand became High Lord. Now that he was cracking down on those who broke defied him, some of the more traditional Camp Lords were pushing back. It wasn’t enough for a full-scale rebellion, but the northernmost camps whispered about secession. Between monitoring the unrest and enforcing camp inspections to ensure compliance, the Inner Circle was stretched thin. I could tell the task was weighing heaviest on Azriel, who bore no affection for his people or their traditions. His spy work was critical in detecting dissent, but being immersed in the culture that had scarred his mind and body was taxing.

I worried for him, perhaps more than a friend should worry, so when Cassian asked me to help train some females in Windhaven, I jumped at the chance. Azriel had been staying in the camp for several weeks, making the trip back to Velaris every week to gather supplies and discuss his findings. It would be good, I reasoned, for him to have a familiar face other than Cassian’s around for a few days.

I arrived in Windhaven around midday, landing outside the house where Azriel and Cassian were staying. Although the camp was our closest ally among the Illyrians, Cassian and I still received looks of disdain and poorly veiled sneers as we walked toward the training ring. Neither of us paid them any mind, discussing our plans as we waited for the females to arrive. It wasn’t my first time training Illyrian females, but it was my first time training them in a camp, with males leering from all directions. I made sure to meet their stares with one of my own, keeping my shoulders square and chin high. It was the same calculated mask I wore in the Hewn City, a persona of power and volatility that made weaker males shrink.

Cassian took his leave after the females filed in, brushing past our observers with a steely expression. Some of the novice warriors skittered back as he passed, while the others held on to their bravado, squaring their chin to look the General in the eye. If I looked closely, though, I could see that even the most arrogant among them shifted away from him, almost imperceptibly; it was a sign of fear. I smiled, turning to the females who were beginning their stretches. The group was larger than ever before, and many among them stood tall, no longer flinching when the males showed hostility. It made me proud.

We worked for over an hour before the first comment was made. By then, most of the males had lost interest in watching, but a few novice warriors lingered, whispering amongst themselves as they watched. It was grating, but not yet disruptive, so I couldn’t quite justify chasing them off. When one of the younger females, Eponine, took a fall as we practiced swordwork, they burst into raucous laughter that had my blood boiling. I swiveled, glaring daggers at the ring leader. He was young, still a few years off from the Blood Rite, and he had a cruel glint in his eye that I knew all too well. “So you can do better, novice?” I said, approaching him.

He barked an arrogant laugh and replied, “Of course, I can.” His friends laughed at his comment and he preened under their approval. It was a truly pathetic display.

“Then do better,” I shot back, tossing him a practice sword. He seemed momentarily caught off guard, eyebrows raising as his bluff was called. His friends laughed again, but this time, they were nervous. I wasn’t surprised that they were apprehensive, it was always the loud ones who had the least confidence.

“I’m not wearing my leathers,” he sputtered, clutching the sword.

“Eponine isn’t wearing leathers either,” I shot back, pointing to the female who had since sprung from the mud. I was pleased to see she was not cowering under their criticism, instead mirroring my cold glare. “Besides, if your swordsmanship is as good as you seem to think, you shan’t need them… Unless, of course, you feel you’re outmatched.”

The novice’s cheeks darkened and his eyes sparked with indignant rage, and he leaped into the ring to square up. Our verbal spar was beginning to draw attention, with several other males wandering over to watch our fight. “What’s this?” asked one of the more experienced warriors, eyeing the two of us with suspicion.

“Just a friendly round of practice,” I called, feigning an easy smile. “This young gentleman wanted to show his skill, so I invited him to join us.”

“Go on, lad,” the older warrior said, giving the novice an encouraging nod. It seemed my opponent was not the only one confident he would best me. I turned to him then and nodded, initiating the round.

Predictably, he was the first to strike, raising his sword overhead in a dramatic swing meant to be a show of brute strength. I dodged easily and he stumbled, thrown off kilter by the momentum of the move. I used this chance to swipe at his ribs in a bruising, but not killing blow. I jumped back as he moved to counter, putting space between us once more. He huffed as he faced me, like a bull beginning to charge, and I knew our fight was all but won. I baited him then, blocking his clumsy strikes with my own, and when he finally went for a desperate jab, I had my opportunity. I caught his blade on the downswing and twisted, freeing the weapon from his grip and sending it skittering across the ground. In the same moment, I hooked my foot around his leg, bringing him to his knees with my sword leveled at his throat.

He looked up at me in utter shock and laughter reverberated through the small crowd. It was a humiliation, to be bested by a woman, and I hoped it would teach the young soldier a lesson. He stood quickly, brushing off his clothing as he regarded me with a vicious scowl. “You’ll pay for that, bitch,” he snarled lowly, his fists clenched at his side as he seethed.

“And how do you plan to make her pay”, a voice called out from behind me, causing a hush to settle over the crowd, “when you cannot even win a simple spar?” The novice paled slightly, stammering out a response, and Azriel came to stand at my side. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see his shadows coiling around him, contrasting against the glow of all seven of his siphons. When he received no response, he smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

The novice stormed off then, pushing his friends out of the way with a grunt of rage, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. With the sun beginning to sink low in the sky, I dismissed my pupils while the crowd dispersed.

“That was like watching a bear fight a rabbit… almost pathetic,” said Azriel, a glint of mischievous humor in his eyes.

“The rabbit started it,” I told him. “And the bear didn’t need your help to finish it.”

“No, she didn’t,” he agreed, “but the rabbit needed help keeping himself alive.”

“How charitable of you,” I shot back, the corners of my mouth twitching upward. Part of me wanted to be annoyed at the shadowsinger for stepping in, but as usual, I found it difficult to be angry at him.

“Yes, well, I may have also done it to keep the bear from being late to dinner,” he replied. “It’s stew tonight. Rabbit stew.” I chuckled at his joke, the tension leaving me as we fell into step, walking together toward the house.

“Cassian didn’t tell me you were coming,” he said after a moment of quiet. “When he asked you to help train, I assumed you’d say no.”

“Why would I say no?” I asked, studying his features. He kept his eyes forward, scanning the path ahead of us the way a sentry might.

“There are others who can train the females,” he replied. “And I can’t imagine why you’d want to come here.”

“Maybe I came to see you,” I teased, bumping him with my elbow. His cheeks darkened slightly and the corner of his mouth twitched, as though he was suppressing a grin. “And it’s good to get out of the city, every once in a while.”

“I would recommend vacationing somewhere other than this hellhole,” he said smoothly, “but to each their own.” I simply smiled and shook my head, ignoring the urge to reach out and take his hand as we walked toward the house.

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

I woke the next day to a grey sky and an empty house. Azriel and Cassian had left in the early hours of the morning to look into some suspicious activity in the north. With them gone, I would be alone with little to fill my time until training started. I debated going into the camp, but after yesterday’s incident, I didn’t want to cause more upset than I already had. There was a fine line between standing my ground and making an enemy of the Illyrians, and I knew I was already toeing it.

Around midday, as I say by the fire watching snow begin to fall outside, a knock sounded on the front door. I grabbed my blade and peeked out the window, surprised to see Eponine, the young Illyrian from training, standing on the porch. She was hunched, her eyes flitting from place to place like a frightened doe, and a sick feeling formed in my stomach. “Eponine, what’s wrong?” I asked as soon as I opened the door.

She craned her neck to look behind me, then asked, “Can we talk?”.

“Sure, come in,” I moved to let her inside but she shook her head furiously. I could hear her heart hammering in her chest and there was a fragile look about her, so I didn’t press the issue.

“Out here, please?” she requested, shifting from foot to foot. I nodded, utterly confused, and stepped over the threshold to comfort the female. As I did, her face fell further and tears began to gather in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, taking several steps backward.

“What—?” I began to ask, but my question was cut off by a teeth-rattling blow to the back of the head. I fell to my knees, my vision going white as I fought to stay conscious, but before I could right myself, the second hit came down.

I was flat on my front, my face stinging from the icy ground. My ears rang and my vision swam with blurred shapes and black spots. I tried to reach for my blade, but my hands wouldn’t obey, merely twitching at my sides. Distantly, I heard several voices, at least two males and a distressed sounding female. I tried to lift my head and find the source, but before I could clear my vision, a dark shape came hurtling at my face, sending me to oblivion.

Time lost all meaning as I drifted in and out, snippets and blurs flashing before me, as though I was a passive observer. Try as I might, I couldn’t concentrate long enough to remember where I was or why my head hurt so badly. I knew someone, a stranger, was carrying me and that we were flying, but I couldn’t so much as turn my head to see who it was. Deep in the recesses of my mind, alarm bells sounded, my subconscious screaming that I was in danger, but even that wasn’t enough to keep me from being pulled under once more, back into darkness.

When I woke again we were no longer flying. Instead, I was in a dark, windowless room that smelled of rot and standing water. A sliver of light trickled under the door and I tried to move towards it, only to be hit by a wave of dizziness and white-hot pain. Warm liquid trickled down my forehead as I grimaced, and I lifted my arms to feel for a wound, only to realize they were bound tightly in shackles, attached to the heavy wooden chair in which I was seated. My mind moved at a frustratingly slow pace, the mental fog from my head injury refusing to clear, and I struggled to piece things together. I had been captured, that much was clear, but by who and to what end remained a mystery. I didn’t have long to ponder in the dark, however, before the door swung open with a head-splitting screech.

The three males who entered were Illyrians, though I didn’t recognize them from any of the camps I had visited. They were lit only by a single torch, casting menacing shadows across their faces. The male in the center appeared to be the oldest, a single green siphon adorning his chest plate. “Well, she finally awakens,” he said smugly, sauntering towards me. “And here I was thinking we wasted our money, paying to get you alive.”

“What do you want?” I asked, disturbed by the way my speech slurred. Despite the damp cold of the chamber, my throat and mouth felt hot and dry. The male before me seemed pleased by my struggle to speak.

“What I want, is to send a message,” he said, pulling a hunting knife from his belt. “To that High Lord of yours and his dogs.” I tried to keep my breathing steady, beginning to understand the full extent of my predicament. “Especially the hound that keeps sniffing around my camp.”

It clicked then, and I realized the male before me was Tiberius, the camp lord who spearheaded the growing rebellion. He had a reputation for his brutality and was said to be a formidable warrior. “And what is killing me supposed to do for you, Tiberius?” I spat, blood trickling from my split lip.

He twirled the knife in his hand and began to circle me, a look of callous glee on his face. The other two Illyrians, some of his warriors, no doubt, looked on in anticipation. “What better way to send the traitor a message,” he mused, “than to carve up his mate?”

“I’m not his mate,” I argued, swallowing back bile. Although he was evidently mistaken about my relationship to Azriel, I doubted it would make much difference for me. Tiberius laughed at that, sharing a knowing look with one of the warriors.

“You’re a poor liar, Y/N,” he crooned, “Especially for the mate of a spy. I can smell the bond all over you.” I resisted the urge to argue, fearing that doing so might betray my growing desperation. With my head still spinning and my wrists bound, I had little hope of escaping. I would have to buy my time instead. “He should be getting back to camp soon. I wonder how long it will take him to come looking for your body.”

Before I could react to his words, pain exploded between my fifth and sixth rib. I looked down in shock, to see Tiberius had buried a stiletto in my side. He grinned as he withdrew it and I watched in horror as blood poured from the wound. I gasped in surprise and the pain traveled, radiating through my rib cage and up through my chest. I tried to breathe through it, but it felt like a weight was pressing down over my heart, keeping my lungs from expanding.

“A collapsed lung will take a while to kill a Fae,” Tiberius said, eyeing the bloodied blade in his hand. I tried to inhale deeply as if to prove him wrong, but all I could do was wheeze, my breath coming in shallow pants. “Don’t worry,” he crouched in front of me, bracing his hands on either side of the chair as his cold black eyes bore into mine, “we have plenty of time to play.”

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

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