Jurian’s sword was already out—and he was looking at Mor as if he was going to kill her first. Azriel’s blood-drained face twisted with rage as he noticed that stare. Cassian, still holding him upright, took them all in, assessing, readying himself to fight, to defend.
I stopped beating at the fist on my power. Stroked it gently—lovingly.
I am Fae and not-Fae, all and none, I told the spell that gripped me. You do not hold me. I am as you are—real and not, little more than gathered wisps of power. You do not hold me.
“I’ll come with you,” I said softly to Tamlin, to Lucien, shifting on his feet, “if you leave them alone. Let them go.”
You do not hold me.
Tamlin’s face contorted with wrath. “They’re monsters. They’re—” He didn’t finish as he stalked across the floor to grab me. To drag me out of here, then no doubt winnow away.
You do not hold me.
The fist gripping my power relaxed. Vanished.
Tamlin lunged for me over the few feet that remained. So fast—too fast—
I became mist and shadow.
I winnowed beyond his reach. The king let out a low laugh as Tamlin stumbled.
And went sprawling as Rhysand’s fist connected with his face.
Panting, I retreated right into Rhysand’s arms as one looped around my waist, as Azriel’s blood on him soaked into my back. Behind us, Mor leaped in to fill the space Rhys had vacated, slinging Azriel’s arm over her shoulders.
But that wall of hideous stone remained in my mind, and still blocked Rhys’s own power.
Tamlin rose, wiping the blood now trickling from his nose as he backed to where Lucien held his position with a hand on his sword.
But just as Tamlin neared his Emissary, he staggered a step. His face went white with rage.
And I knew Tamlin understood a 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?”
I ignored him. But the hatred in Tamlin’s eyes made my knees buckle. “I’m sorry,” I said, and meant it.
Tamlin’s eyes were on Rhysand, his face near-feral. “You,” he snarled, the sound more animal than Fae. “What did you do to her?”
Behind us, the doors opened and soldiers poured in. Some looked like the Attor. Some looked worse. More and more, filling up the room, the exits, armor and weapons clanking.
Mor and Cassian, Azriel sagging and heavy-lidded between them, scanned each soldier and weapon, sizing up our best odds of escape. I left them to it as Rhys and I faced Tamlin.
“I’m not going with you,” I spat at Tamlin. “And even if I did … You spineless, stupid fool for selling us out to him! Do you know what he wants to do with that Cauldron?”
“Oh, I’m going to do many, many things with it,” the king said.
And the Cauldron appeared again between us.
“Starting now.”
Kill him kill him kill him
I could not tell if the voice was mine or the Cauldron’s. I didn’t care. I unleashed myself.
Talons and wings and shadows were instantly around me, surrounded by water and fire—
Then they vanished, stifled as that invisible hand gripped my power again, so hard I gasped.
“Ah,” the king said to me, clicking his tongue, “that. Look at you. A child of all seven courts—like and unlike all. How the Cauldron purrs in your presence. Did you plan to use it? Destroy it? With that book, you could do anything you wished.”
I didn’t say anything. The king shrugged. “You’ll tell me soon enough.”
“I made no bargain with you.”
“No, but your master did, so you will obey.”
Molten rage poured into me. I hissed at Tamlin, “If you bring me from here, if you take me from my mate, I will destroy you. I will destroy your court, and everything you hold dear.”
Tamlin’s lips thinned. But he said simply, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Lucien cringed.
The king jerked his chin to the guards by the side door through which Tamlin and Lucien had appeared. “No—she doesn’t.” The doors opened again. “There will be no destroying,” the king went on as people—as women walked through those doors.
Four women. Four humans. The four remaining queens.
“Because,” the king said, the queens’ guards falling into rank behind them, hauling something in the core of their formation, “you will find, Feyre Archeron, that it is in your best interest to behave.”
The four queens sneered at us with hate in their eyes. Hate.
And parted to let their personal guards through.
Fear like I had never known entered my heart as the men dragged my sisters, gagged and bound, before the King of Hybern.
CHAPTER
65
This was some new hell. Some new level of nightmare. I even went so far as to try to wake myself up.
But there they were—in their nightgowns, the silk and lace dirty, torn.
Elain was quietly sobbing, the gag soaked with her tears. Nesta, hair disheveled as if she’d fought like a wildcat, was panting as she took us in. Took in the Cauldron.
“You made a very big mistake,” the king said to Rhysand, my mate’s arms banded around me, “the day you went after the Book. I had no need of it. I was content to let it lie hidden. But the moment your forces started sniffing around … I decided who better than to be my liaison to the human realm than my newly reborn friend, Jurian? He’d just finished all those months of recovering from the process, and longed to see what his former home had become, so he was more than happy to visit the continent for an extended visit.”