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August 5 - August 6, 2025
Her life in that hovel was Hell enough.”
“I smelled you,” he breathed, his painted chest rising and falling so close to mine. “I searched for you, and you weren’t there.”
“You drove me mad,” he growled, and the sound trembled down my neck, along my breasts until they ached. “I searched for you, and you weren’t there. When I didn’t find you,” he said, bringing his face closer to mine, until we shared breath, “it made me pick another.”
“I would have been gentle with you, though.” I shuddered as I closed my eyes. Every inch of
my body went taut as his words echoed through me. “I would have had you moaning my name throughout it all. And I would have taken a very, very long time, Feyre.”
“She has the most delicious thoughts about you, Tamlin,” he said. “She’s wondered about the feeling of your fingers on her thighs—between them, too.”
“I’m curious: Why did she wonder if it would feel
good to have you bite her breast the way you bit her neck?”
“I love you,” he whispered, and kissed my brow. “Thorns and all.”
“I love you,” he said, and stepped away.
“Clare Beddor,” I said slowly.
“Please” before golden light exploded. The queen was blasted back, thrown against the far wall, and Tamlin let out a roar that shook the mountain as he launched himself at her.
“I don’t want to hear another male’s name on your lips right now,”
“Did you enjoy the sight of me kneeling before you?”
“Isn’t that all you males are good for, anyway?”
“Amren and Mor told me that the span of an Illyrian male’s wings says a lot about the size of … other parts.”
“Did they now.”
“They also said Azriel’s wings are the biggest.”
“When we return home, let’s get out the measuring stick, shall we?”
Rhysand shuddered, a soft groan slipping past my ear. “That,” he said tightly, “is very sensitive.”
“It feels like this,” he said, and leaned in so close that his lips brushed the shell of my ear as he sent a gentle breath into it. My back arched on instinct, my chin tipping up at the caress of that breath.
His thumb stroked again—this time joined with his pointer finger. A dull roaring was filling my ears, drowning out everything but that touch on the inside of my leg. The music was throbbing, ancient, wild, and people ground against each other to it.
I leaned a bit more against him, my legs widening ever so slightly. Why’d you stop? I said into his mind, into him. A near-silent growl reverberated against me. He stroked my ribs again, in time to the beat of the music, his thumb rising nearly high enough to graze the underside of my breasts.
“You’ll get what’s coming to you, whore.” Night exploded into the room.
“If you wish to speed your mate’s healing,
The trap sprang free. And the word clicked through me. Mate.
“The High Lord of the Night Court is your mate.”
“For a long while?” “Yes. Since—” “No. He can tell me—I want to hear it from his lips.”
“You think I didn’t want to tell you? You think I liked hearing you wanted me only for amusement and release? You think it didn’t drive me out of my mind so completely that those bastards shot me out of the sky because I was too busy wondering if I should just tell you, or wait—or maybe take whatever pieces that you offered me and be happy with it? Or that maybe I should let you go so you don’t have a lifetime of assassins and High Lords hunting you down for being with me?”
“He wanted to tell you. And it killed him not to. But … I’ve never seen him so happy as he is when he’s with you. And I don’t think that has anything to do with you being his mate.”
I watched a tear slide down Nesta’s cheek. And I watched as Cassian reached up a hand to wipe it away. She did not flinch from his touch. I didn’t know why, but I looked at Mor. Her eyes were wide. Not with jealousy, or irritation, but … something perhaps like awe.
Do not trust the others. The sixth queen was not ill.
When I return, we’re going to that shop across the Sidra and you’re going to try on all those lacy little underthings for me.
“I’m listening,” I purred as he laid me on the sheets.
“Now that I’ve upheld my end of the bargain, I expect you to uphold yours.” From the shadows near a side door, two figures emerged. I began shaking my head as if I could unsee it as Lucien and Tamlin stepped into the light.
He’d been working with the King of Hybern. “No,” I breathed.
Tamlin ignored him, looking at the king at last. “You have my word.”
“We made a bargain. I give you over, and he agrees to let my forces enter Prythian through his territory. And then use it as a base as we remove that ridiculous wall.”
“You’ll say differently, my dear,” the king countered, “when I complete the final part of my bargain.”
Tamlin growled at him, but again held out his hand toward me. “Come home with me. Now.” “No.” “Feyre.” An unflinching command. Rhys was barely breathing—barely moving. And I realized … realized it was to keep his scent from becoming apparent. Our scent. Our mating bond.
moment before the king laughed. “I don’t believe it. Your bride left you only to find her mate. The Mother has a warped sense of humor, it seems. And what a talent—tell me, girl: how did you unravel that spell?”
Lucien’s hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, “You’re my mate.”
“She is my mate. And my spy,” I said too quietly. “And she is the High Lady of the Night Court.” “What?” Mor whispered. I caressed a mental finger down that bond now hidden deep, deep within us, and said, “If they had removed her other glove, they would have seen a second tattoo on her right arm. The twin to the other. Inked last night, when we crept out, found a priestess, and I swore her in as my High Lady.”
Slowly, the golden disc of the sun broke over the hazy greens and blues of the horizon. Light filled the world, clear and strong, spearing right for us. Ianthe’s back arched, her body a mere vessel for the solstice’s light to fill, and what I could see of her face was already limned in pious ecstasy. The sun rose, a held, gilded note echoing through the land. The crowd began to murmur. Then cry out. Not at Ianthe. But at me. At me, resplendent and pure in white, beginning to glow with the light of day as the sun’s path flowed directly over me instead.
When I looked to Ianthe and smiled again, I let a little bit of the wolf show.
The longest day of the year, I said into the bond, sending along flickers of all that had occurred atop that hill. I wish I could spend it with you.
It’d be an honor, he said, laughter in every word, to spend even a moment in the company of Feyre Cauldron-blessed.
made myself peer up into his face. “Lucien—Lucien told me that you didn’t complete the Rite at Calanmai. That you refused.” And you let Ianthe take him into that cave instead.
couldn’t stomach it.” And yet you could stomach making a deal with Hybern, as if I were a stolen item to be returned.
lifted my head from his sculpted chest at last, my fingers digging into the hard muscles of his shoulders as I peered into his concerned face. I took deep, heaving breaths, my brows knotting and mouth parting as I— “What’s going on.” Lucien whipped his head toward the door. Tamlin stood there, face a mask of cold calm. The beginnings of claws glinted at his knuckles.
