#feysand

Heat burned her cheeks from embarrassment and anger. “You’re really a vain faerie cunt, you know that?” She straddled his middle and her closed fits hit his chest. “I was trying to be nice. Fuckin’— asshat— fuck you! I hope the servant fey revolt and pour out your fancy fuckin’ wine cellar.” 

Rhys’ thick lashes lowered, his smile shined through the shadows as he looked up at her with apt affection. Warmth bloomed in her chest. 

“You pissed me off, so I’d be on top of you.”

“Am I supposed to deny that I find enjoyment in you being mean and rough to me?”

Feyre chewed her lip. “What about those other faer—“

“They do not matter. As far as I am concerned, everyone else is a pawn to the games I play. And you, my Queen of the Night.” Rhys pulled Feyre down for a chaste kiss, “I crave no other. They do not take me as you do, darling,” He said between soft pecks. “I am yours, Feyre. I was forged by the fates to be yours.”

+++

The other faeries are the fair folk he is instructed to fuck, as entertainment for the Court.

this is a snippet of what I’m working on rn. It’s another smut fic— that’s longer ahaha with fluff and has some backdrop stuff. 🦦 btw in those scene, they are NOT together. I kid you not. Rhysand never asked and Feyre never confirmed. Rhys has just been, being her mate in an Illyrian sense for days and he never asked her. More like tell her because she wouldn’t know.

Like his territorial urges, sky rocket the moment they cuddle and roll in his nest.

The golden queen, it turned out, had left the Book with a note—If anyone asks, you stole this during the meeting. Do not trust the others. The sixth queen was not ill—and the possibility of foul play rattled us all. While Amren worked on decoding the ancient text, the townhouse became the base of operations for planning our inevitable visit to Hybern. Mor practically moved into our guest room, and Azriel took to perching on the roof while reading reports from his scouts.

Days passed without the slightest sign of Cassian, however. Rhys had sent him to marshal the Illyrians, and once the legions were camped and prepared to fly out to battle at a moment's notice, Cassian took every available shift among the sentries protecting my family's manor.

We'd finally crossed paths when he'd emerged from Rhys's study. I'd brought another history text up from the library, but at the sight of Cassian tired-eyed and sporting day-old stubble, my plans for an afternoon of reading with my feet propped up on Rhys's desk vanished.

"I'm going to take a walk through the city," I announced. "Come with?"

"If you'd like," he said. More than anything, Cassian needed rest, but short of persuading him to take a sleeping draught, I couldn't do much about that. Companionship and fresh air might do him good, though.

He flew us both down to the street, and for a while, we walked along the Sidra in silence. After a long, cold winter, half the city had come outside to enjoy the sun, and fae of all shapes and sizes crowded the path. A gaggle of students had set their easels up on a grassy knoll to paint en plein air, and the salt breeze carried music from street performers.

I wished I could breathe the art and peace deep into my lungs.

But I doubted I'd see Cassian for another few days, so as we rounded a bend, I said, "How are my sisters faring?"

"They're safe." Cassian drew his wings in tighter.

I'd assumed as much, though Nesta hadn't written another letter. That didn't preclude me from contacting her, but every time I tried picking up a pen, the fear that she'd ignore the message kept me from composing anything. As usual, Nesta had chosen Elain over me, and I doubted she'd speak to me until Elain did first.

And Elain certainly had no interest in reaching out.

"It means a great deal to me that you've continued to watch over them."

Cassian shrugged. "They're the High Lord's family. I'm duty-bound."

"I'm sure it means a lot to Nesta, too," I said, keeping my voice light as I gazed out towards the river. "She's rigid and vicious, but it's a shield. If she let herself feel anything deeply, she'd burn from the intensity of it. Without that wall, she'd care too greatly."

"Besides Elain, she barely seems to care about anyone. Not even herself."

I'd never told Cassian that Nesta had hired a mercenary and trekked through the winter woods to rescue me. After all the years I'd taken on the risk of hunting while my sisters barely lifted a finger, perhaps that one act was merely a drop in the bucket. Rhys had gotten me to safety, not her.

But if Nesta didn't care at all, she never would have bothered. And I needed to sort out my own feelings before I tried to discuss the matter with anyone else.

"She won't forget that you offered to defend Elain. As long as she lives, she'll remember that."

Despite his exhaustion, Cassian's eyes were sharp as he regarded me. Wary. "Why are you telling me this?"

Cauldron boil me—Rhys had advised me to not play matchmaker for a reason. If Cassian learned we'd kept our suspicions of a mating bond to ourselves, we might have another family falling out on our hands.

"I just—thought you should know. For whenever you see her again and she pisses you off."

I forced a smile, and Cassian didn't return it as our gazes shifted back towards the river. Ripples had appeared on the surface, probably from fish or the water nymphs that lived below its depths. I wondered if a child had started skipping stones from the bank.

And then it shifted.

Not a physical shifting. But…a tremor in the current, in the bedrock, in the skittering things crawling on it. Like ink dropped in water.

"What the hell?" he murmured, alertness straightening his spine. He tapped the siphon on each hand with a finger.

I gaped as scaled black armor began unfolding and slithering up his wrists, his arms, replacing the tunic that had been there. The additional siphons appeared, and more armor spread across his neck, his shoulders, down his chest and waist. I blinked, and it had covered his legs—then his feet.

The sky was cloudless, the streets full of chatter and life.

Cassian's gaze snapped to the west just as I spotted it, too—a smear of black on the horizon. Swift-moving and spreading apart.

"Tell me those are birds," I said, sucking in a deep, slow breath to stave off panic.

"There's no Illyrian patrol that's supposed to know about this place…" he said, as if it were an answer. His gaze cut to me. "We're going back to the town house right now."

The smear of black separated, fracturing into countless figures. Too big for birds. Far too big.

I said, "You have to sound the alarm—"

But people were. Some were pointing, some were shouting.

Cassian reached for me, but I jumped back. They looked like birds; I could pick them off one by one, just like a flock of geese— "Get Azriel and Amren."

They'd reached the sea cliffs. Countless, long-limbed flying creatures, some bearing soldiers in their arms…An invading host. "A bow. I need a bow, Cassian."

An Illyrian bow appeared in his hand, a quiver full of ash arrows in the other. I didn't dare question where he'd stored them. He held them out to me. "I mean it. Get to the townhouse. Right now."

I most certainly wouldn't—not with a weapon that could take down flying creatures. Even if there were so many.

They'd already reached the outer edge of the city, unleashing arrows upon shrieking people running for cover. My soul cried out to hit back. I grabbed the bow and slung the quiver over my shoulder.

Cassian lifted his hand into the air. Red light exploded from his siphon, blasting up and away—forming a hard wall in the sky above the city, directly in the path of that oncoming force.

He ground his teeth, grunting as the winged legion slammed into his shield. As if he felt every impact. The creatures were not just any manner of faerie.

They were all like the Attor.

All long-limbed, gray-skinned, with serpentine snouts and razor-sharp teeth. And as the legion of its ilk punched through Cassian's shield as if it were a cobweb, I beheld on their spindly gray arms gauntlets of that bluish stone I'd only read about in books. Stone that broke and repelled magic, from Hybern's trove.

We had seconds—seconds—before Cassian's shield crumbled. People were screaming, fleeing.

"GO!" Cassian roared.

I'd gotten two steps before the creatures ripped a hole in the shield. Cassian threw me to the ground, spread his wings wide to protect me. An arrow could pierce the membrane so easily, and if—

A crunch. A thud.

He shifted, and I darted out from beneath him. A spray of blood dotted the cobblestones. Just under streetlamp, where a bent body hung, impaled.

Golden hair shorn to the skull. Golden eyes plucked out. Gore leaking onto the metal, dripping down towards the street.

The scent of vomit stung my nose, but I didn't tear my gaze away from what was left of the golden queen. Or from the Attor, which alighted atop the lamppost.

The memory of its claws came roaring back, dragging me to Amarantha's throne room, clutching me by the armpits to drop me into the Middengard Wyrm's lair. I hadn't thought I'd see it again, at least not outside my nightmares.

"Hello again," it hissed, the rasp of its voice unchanged. Terror must have shone on my face; its grin went wider. "The mortal queens and Jurian send their regards to Rhysand's human whore."

And with that, it leapt into flight, headed straight for the theater district.

Cassian surged towards it, slowing only to call back to me over his shoulder, "Run home. Now."

I did as he said, sprinting towards the other side of the Sidra, to the townhouse. The horde would hit my street in minutes, but perhaps I could drag a few neighbors inside with me, through the protective wards. Not even these creatures could get inside.

Faeries rushed past me, racing for shelter. My breath came in gasps as I hit the end of the bridge. Mother above—I wouldn't make it up the hill rising before me.

Hybern soldiers had already landed there, dragging people out of their houses, laughing at the screams and desperate pleading of unarmed faeries. Of children. The street beneath me grew slick with blood.

Right in the heart of the city. The Rainbow, defenseless. The Attor and its swarm converged there, as if the queens had told them exactly where to strike.

Black smoke stained the sky, and I glanced up in search of Rhys. Gods, where was he? Thunder boomed, but it came from Amren, who held her own from the opposite bank of the Sidra.

A single clear street remained, the lone safe passage back to the townhouse. If I wanted to take it, I'd have to move quickly. Another opportunity wouldn't present itself.

In the artist's quarter, a woman screamed. And I ran towards that instead.

Without breaking my stride, I pulled an arrow from my quiver and nocked it.

This was my home. These were my people.

If I died defending them, defending that small place in the world where art thrived…then so be it.

At the edge of the Rainbow, the first of the Hybern soldiers rounded a corner. They spilled onto the river avenue, too busy shredding cafes and looting restaurants to notice my approach. They'd come on foot rather than winnowing, a sign I could take them down.

I loosed several arrows in quick succession. Each found its home in a Hybern soldier's neck or eye. They went down, one right after the other.

More soldiers followed behind them. Too many. Even if I recovered my arrows, I'd never kill them all.

To my right, a green-skinned female raised an ancient bit of rusted pipe over her shoulder. The owner of the gallery I'd visited with Rhys. She stood her ground, defending it, as people inside sobbed.

I couldn't defeat Hybern's entire army, but I could buy her time. With the soldiers more interested in taunting her, playing with her like cats killing a mouse, killing them was a simple matter of shooting quickly. It depleted nearly all of my arrows, but more soldiers whirled and fled down a deserted alley.

A group of younglings crept out from a doorway. They'd gone so still I hadn't noticed them hiding in the shadows. Rushing across across the now-empty square, they pushed past me in a blur, ducking past the green-skinned faerie to find refuge in her gallery.

If those soldiers had lived, they would have set about killing those children next.

The gallery owner caught my eye and nodded, her rusted bar still raised. I rushed forward, gathering gore-covered arrows and sliding them back into my quiver.

My hunt hadn't ended—not yet. I pressed forward, scanning the skies and the empty street for more soldiers to shoot. More would rush down the hill soon, and I nocked another arrow in preparation.

Another streak of grey on the horizon. Quick, but a large target, easier to hit than the ducks I'd learned on. I shot again. The soldier tumbled into the Sidra.

More flapping wings. More shots taken. More splashes into the water.

It bought time for the residents of the Rainbow, enough for them to hide in cellars or pick up improvised weapons of their own. A small crowd joined the green-skinned faerie, scaled and horned and antlered artists wielding sharpened fence posts, butcher knives, walking-sticks-turned-bludgeons

I stood with them, watching Hybern's forces descend, counting down the seconds until they were upon us. One of the soldiers rose up above the brightly painted buildings…I knew him.

The Attor was flapping, frantic, blood of the innocent coating its gray skin, its stone gauntlets. It headed away from the crimson-and-cobalt power of Cassian and Azriel, away from the droves of flying soldiers that Amren sent crashing down without any visible injury.

It would get away. Back to Hybern, after leading the king's forces straight to the city's vulnerable beating heart. For nothing more than spite.

Where are you?

Rhys's voice sounded distantly in my head, through the sliver in my shield.

WHERE ARE YOU?

The Attor veered towards the sea, towards Hybern. Once it got over the water, I'd lose track of it. Already, it had nearly flown out of the range of my bow.

WHERE—

Focus on protecting our people, I said to Rhys. Not me.

FEYRE—

I slammed a shield down, locked him out. He pounded at it, roared, and scraped his talons in search of a crack, but I did not relent. After attacking that Illyrian and shooting Lucien, Rhys would hate me for this. Assuming, of course, I survived this battle.

The Attor had led them all here, and I wanted it dead by my hands alone. The need to claim a kill for myself overtook me for the first time since Calanmai.

At the center of the Rainbow, I planted my feet and loosed one last arrow.

It tore into the Attor's wing, the grey figure tumbling mid-air as it tried to right itself. I tracked the movement, estimating where the creature would fall, just as I did when shooting down a pigeon. If it didn't perish on impact, I needed to finish the job.

In the distance, rushing toward me, toward Velaris, a mighty darkness devoured the world. Soldiers in its path did not emerge again.

There he was—my mate. I'd been looking for him.

The Attor would hit the ground before Rhys's power reached it. I charged forward, sprinting through torn-up promenades, past murals streaked with blood and statues burned to ash. Pointless destruction and frightened screams in all directions.

I found the Attor on a pile of crumbled plaster, at the far end of a wide plaza. As I skidded to a stop, it writhed in the crater its impact had made. Bone ground on bone. I nearly retched at the sound.

An injured arm, mud squelching underfoot, the slither of—

No. I was not Under the Mountain.

I stepped closer, but when I reached back for another arrow, my fingers closed around empty air. The Attor shot me a grin, silver fangs glistening in the sun. "Nice try, little mortal."

My ash arrow had lodged in the Attor's leathery wing, keeping it from healing entirely. But the breaks in its other limbs were already mending themselves. It would get to its feet soon. But if I could just move quickly—

I reached for the arrow. The Attor's clawed hand curled around it first, pulled it free. Not a single splinter remained in the Attor's wing, and the last of its wounds healed over.

And then it grabbed me next.

Talons sank into my shoulders. My fingers scrambled for the loose arrow, grabbing it just as the Attor launched us both into the sky. I gripped the ash wood tightly, even as a scream ripped from my throat.

The Rainbow grew small beneath us, and the Attor climbed higher. I had no hope of surviving so great a fall; like prey, I dangled from the Attor's claws as it set a course towards Hybern. The darkness consuming the horizon drew closer, but not quickly enough to catch us. Not even close.

If the Attor didn't drop me in the sea, the king would never let me escape his palace of bone alive.

But I could keep the Attor from terrorizing Velaris any further. It had led Hybern's soldiers here. If they were following it like a general, its death would make them scatter.

I stabbed the arrow upwards, straight into the Attor's belly. It shrieked, thrashed. I thrust again and again, not stopping even as hot, silvery blood streaked down my wrist.

Its cries became gurgles. The wind tore at us.

Free fall.

I pushed the arrow upwards again, tearing as much flesh as I could. Ensuring the Attor had no chance of survival. Gore dripped down to the city below.

Buildings took form. The Sidra ran red, but the sky was empty—free of soldiers. So were the streets.

The Attor let out a final cry. It went limp. The ground swelled up to meet us. From here, I could count the cobblestones, see my reflection in a pool of blood.

I closed my eyes and braced for impact. For death.

A tendril of star-flecked darkness caught me, cradled me, set me down. My legs shook so violently that I nearly tripped onto the pile of crushed bone and twisted wings that had once been the Attor. The power—Rhys's power, comforting and familiar—wrapped itself around my shoulders like a mantle.

Panting, I glanced up at the darkness on the horizon still approaching. Close, but still a few seconds away.

The wave hit our side of the river before I could ask how he'd saved me.

No one cried out at the star-flecked cascade of night that cut off all light.

It sought out hidden soldiers lingering in the Rainbow, hunted them down like a bloodhound, and snuffed them out like candles.

In a second, it vanished. Sunlight returned.

"Feyre? Feyre!" Rhys landed gracelessly before me, violet eyes wide and frantic as he stumbled forward. "My magic drained away, just like..."

I stretched my hands out towards him, prepared to pull him close. People were weeping and keening, but the screams had stopped. With the bloodshed over, I wanted nothing more than my mate's embrace.

His steps faltered. Rhys sank to his knees.

"Feyre Cursebreaker, Defender of the Rainbow," he murmured, taking my left hand in both of his. "And High Lady of the Night Court."

The glamour had disappeared from my left hand, and the tattoo had changed. The gaps had filled themselves in, the complete pattern extending all the way from my elbow to my fingertips.

During the battle, the magic had accepted my half of the bargain. And in return, it had crowned me High Lady.

The magic that broken my fall hadn't come from Rhys at all.

It had come from me.

But I could marvel at this new development another time. "We need to secure the city," I said. The fae would want to bury their dead as quickly as possible, and we'd have to organize funeral rites on a massive scale. Injuries needed tending; families required reuniting. Perhaps we could use the House of Wind as a temporary shelter for those in need…

Rhys rose to his feet. "I have enough power remaining to repair the wards."

"If you need me, I'll be helping the survivors here."

Before Rhys could take off into the sky, I slid my arms around his waist, squeezing him to me with more force than necessary. His wings folded around us both, and our chests rose and fell in unison as we each took a long, slow breath.

Once he left, I glanced down at my left hand. Anyone who spotted the tattoo would recognize what it meant, and I had no desire to field any questions about it just yet. Mother above—I wasn't even sure I had the answers.

As if in response to that thought, magic skittered over my skin. A glamour covered the whorls of ink, but this time, I'd cast it myself.

I wiped my hands down the front of my thighs, not caring if the sweat, grime, and gore stained my pants. There was work to do.

For the next several hours, I helped the survivors in the Rainbow patch themselves up, repair what they could, and count the dead. The green-skinned faerie—Ressina, I'd learned she was called—had managed to keep her gallery intact with my assistance, and healers arrived to use it as a temporary field hospital.

Every now and then, Rhys checked in while we worked. Half with words, half with tugs on the bond or slight changes to the current that flowed between us. As he pieced the protective spells back together, he pulled on the thread in my chest like a knitter drawing more yarn from a skein.

The Inner Circle had set about tracking down answers and organizing relief efforts, and none of them had suffered any serious wounds. By the time we all finally gathered in the townhouse, the clock struck three in the morning. Only Rhys managed to stay on his feet, though he leaned against the mantel—the rest of us had sprawled on the sofa or armchairs.

"Make this quick," Amren snapped, though the words were half-hearted. Her clothes hung in strips, revealing ghostly pale skin beneath.

Rhys merely inclined his head towards me. I'd gone limp on the sofa next to Mor, but I forced myself to sit up, holding out my hand for the others to see.

A tiny, mental push, and my tattoo revealed itself. The air went out of the room.

"During the fighting," Rhys said quietly, "my power depleted, as if I'd…sprung a leak. At first, I thought it was some curse Hybern had cast, not unlike the poisoned wine at Amarantha's party. But it seems the magic flowed to Feyre."

Cassian pressed his eyes shut, then opened them slowly, as trying to force himself back into alertness. "Are you saying your mate is a walking siphon?"

"It sounds like it," Azriel said, crossing his arms. His own gems had gone a dull shade of blue. Utterly depleted.

Amren said, "I believe Rhysand means to tell us that he and Feyre are carranam."

I'd never heard the word before, but based on the blank looks in her direction, neither had any of the others. Perhaps it was from the Holy Tongue that she used to translate the Book of Breathings.

"Explain," Mor said with a groan. "And briefly, please. We all need to get to bed."

"It's a connection between fae that allows for sharing of magic. Permanent and rare, not unlike a mating bond," Amren said.

"But I'm not fae," I said. Surely none of them had forgotten that fact.

"Entering into a carranam bond with another faerie would either burn Rhysand out or drive him mad. Adding their magic to his own would disrupt the balance of power among the courts of Prythian. A human, with no magic of her own, however…"

Rhys pushed away from the mantel, strolling closer. "Do you mean to say the Night Court intended for my power to be split between Feyre and me?"

A shiver ran through me. Rhys was, undoubtedly, the most powerful High Lord ever born. Perhaps that well of magic ran so deep…because he was carrying enough for the both of us, holding onto it for centuries until I came along to claim my share.

"Perhaps," Amren said, the swirling silver of her eyes glinting in the lamplight as she regarded me. "I was under the impression a carranam bond requires an acceptance ritual, so this is speculation on my part. But I doubt it's a coincidence that Feyre was born a few decades into your imprisonment Under the Mountain, after you convinced Amarantha to loosen the leash. The Night Court itself recognized the need for a savior, but with you still alive, it couldn't choose a new High Lord to replace you. Instead, it found a human to become your carranam and share the throne."

Cassian snorted. "That sounds like horseshit."

"And like it can wait. It'll be easier to tolerate Amren flapping her gums after a few hours of sleep." Mor let her head loll to the side, pressing her temple against Cassian's shoulder.

Azriel added, "If the magic wanted Feyre to rescue Rhys, then shouldn't it have made her High Lady before she went Under the Mountain?"

"No," I said, the answer bubbling up from within me, an intuitive, star-kissed understanding. "I went Under the Mountain for Rhys. If an opportunity arose to save him, even if it damned the rest of the world, I would have taken it. Defending the Rainbow fulfilled the bargain today—that's what the Night Court wanted from me."

Rhys's eyes blazed as he stared at me, the emotion rippling across his face strong enough to make the others look away. A tangle of emotions shot across our mating bond, strong enough to knock me over if I hadn't already been seated.

"I'm dismissing you all to go rest. We only have so much time before Hybern returns or the other courts come sniffing," he said without looking away from me, not even for a moment.

The rest of the Inner Circle made themselves scarce.

I'd hardly gotten to my feet when Rhys buried his face in my shoulder. He shuddered against me. A sob, perhaps. I reached behind him, stroking my hands along his back.

"I don't deserve you," he breathed against my neck. "Especially not now, after handing this city over to those queens."

I only held him tighter. "It's not your fault."

"Isn't it? I decided to take this risk."

"Because the King of Hybern decided not to mind his business and stay on his island."

Rhys huffed a bitter laugh, loosening his grip on me just enough to cup my cheek in his palm. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to lean into the touch, drinking in the scrape of fingers calloused from wielding an Illyrian blade.

"I'm sorry. For not going to the townhouse. Even if it turned out alright, it was reckless," I said eventually.

Rhys shook his head. "There's a part of me that wants to throttle you for it, but you don't owe me an apology, Feyre. I won't scold you for defending our people."

Our people. Not his. An unfamiliar choice of words, even if it made the magic within me preen in recognition.

"I love you." It was all there was to say.

He kissed me fiercely, and I arched into him, even as my stiff and bruised body barked in pain. Rhys would need to winnow me to bed—I doubted I could make it up the stairs.

My knee can't handle the floor this time, but I could make love to you on the sofa if you wished. Rhys slipped the words into my mind and his tongue between my lips. But if we aren't sleeping tonight, there's another task we should accomplish.

Oh? I said.

We've delayed having our bond verified by a priestess long enough. I won't allow us to do the same with you swearing-in, High Lady.

I blinked, so surprised that I pulled away and broke the kiss. "Now?"

"No time like the present," he purred. But as Rhys brushed a lock of hair from my brow, his smirk darkened into a more sober expression. "Until the threat of Hybern is eliminated, I don't want to leave anything to chance. And if something happened…"