YOUNG GOD | RHYSAND [ON HOLD]

1.02 | NEVER-ENDING DINNER

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Tamlin and Lucien were lounging at the table when Feyre entered the dining room. She stared at the golden goblets. Real gold-- not paint or foil. Such wealth-- such staggering wealth, when they had nothing.

Feyre noticed the woman from yesterday, Aadya was not present at the table. Food remained on the table, the array of spices lingering in the air, beckoning. She realised she was starving, her head unnervingly light.

"Before you ask again: the food is safe for you to eat." Tamlin pointed to the chair at the other end of the table. When Feyre didn't move, he sighed sharply. "What do you want, then?" she said nothing in return.

A female voice drawled from the entrance of the dining hall, "I told you so, Tamlin." She elegantly walked towards her seat. "Your skills with females have definitely become rusty in recent decades."

Aadya held an innocent look as Tamlin glowered at her. She tried to push back of that wretched day when they first met everyone she knew now. She sipped on her wine as Lucien began talking.

"Well," Lucien said, his russet eyes fixed on Feyre, "you don't look half as bad now. A relief, I suppose, since you're to live with us. Though the tunic isn't as pretty as a dress."

Feyre was all too aware of the eyes on her, of every breath she took as she said, "I'd prefer not to wear that dress."

"Just like Aadya. And why not?" Lucien crooned as Feyre snuck a look at the brunette ahead of her. She wore all dark hair clothes and pants completely opposed to the bright vibrant colours of the spring court.

It was Tamlin who answered for Feyre. "Because killing us is easier in pants." As Aadya made a sound of approval, she should know it. She killed way too much to count.

Feyre kept her face blank as she said, "Now that I'm here, what... what do plan to do with me?" Aadya and Lucien snorted at the question but Tamlin said with a snarl of annoyance, "Just sit down." And with a clench of her fist she did.

Her next words were hesitant, "You're High Fae--faerie nobility?"

Lucien and Aadya coughed and looked to Tamlin. "You can take that question."

"Yes," Tamlin said, frowning-- as if searching for anything to say to her. He settled on merely: "We are."

"What do you plan to do with me now that I'm here?"

Aadya was getting bored at all this question as she zoned out of the conversation as she traced the two bands adorning her right bicep the top one that served as a mark of Amarantha's curse on her and the next band below was a mark that she shared with Rhysand.

The only day in the past few decades where she begged for something. She remember Rhysand holding her up as the band inked itself into her hand and looked something similar to a crown. She was pulled out of her memory when she heard Feyre had started begging for something.

"My family is starving." Feyre begged, "Please let me go. There must be--must be some other loophole out of the Treaty's rules--some other way to atone."

"Atone?" Aadya said. "Have you even apologized yet?

Feyre's head snapped at Aadya's direction who only stared at her with a stotic look on her face. "I'm sorry."

Aadya leaned back in her chair. "How did you kill him? Was it a bloody fight, or just cold-blooded murder?

Feyre's spine stiffened. "I shot him with an ash arrow. And then an ordinary arrow through the eye. He didn't put up a fight. After the first shot, he just stared at me."