YOUNG GOD | RHYSAND [ON HOLD]

1.12 | THE BARGAIN

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The pain in her arm overwhelmed Feyre to the point screaming whenever she prodded the embedded bit of bone, but she had no other option but to sit there, letting the wound gnaw on her strength.

But worse than that was the growing panic-- panic that the wound hadn't stopped bleeding. Feyre was sitting against the far wall of her cell, savouring the coolness of the stone beneath her back. She'd woken from a fitful sleep and found herself burning hot with a fever. Her eyelids were heavy, stinging. As she imagined the door moved.

The door actually did move, no, not the door, but rather the darkness around it, which seemed to ripple. Real fear coiled in Feyre's stomach as a male and female formed out of that darkness, hardly more than a shadow.

Rhysand was fully corporeal now, his violet eyes glowed in the dim light. He slowly smiled from where he stood by the door, the female, who Feyre perceived as Amarantha still didn't come out of the shadows. "What a sorry state for Tamlin's champion."

"Go to hell," Feyre snapped, but the words were little more than a wheeze.

With one last look at the woman in the shadows, Rhysand stalked closer with that feline grace and dropped into an easy crouch before Feyre. He sniffed, grimacing at the corner splattered with Feyre's vomit.

Rhysand cocked his head. His pale skin seemed to radiate alabaster light. "What would Tamlin say," he murmured, "if he knew his beloved was rotting away down here, burning up with fever? Not that he can even come here, not when his every move is watched."

Feyre kept her arm hidden in the shadows. The last thing she needed was them to know how weak she was. "Get away."

He raised an eyebrow, but the reply came from the shadows, as the woman stepped out. Aadya. "We come here to offer you help, and you have the nerve to tell us to leave?"

Feyre raised her eyes to Aadya and scanned her from head to toe. She looked the same, no evidence that she ever fought with many soldiers. Maybe a little more pale, and her eyes a little more darker than last time.

"Why?" Feyre questioned. Her eyes were so sore that it hurt to keep them open. Though she would never admit, she was relieved to see Aadya here, maybe she wouldn't die alone after all.

"You made me a lot of money, you know. I figured I would repay the favor."

Feyre couldn't reply, as she leaned her head against the wall. Everything was spinning, as she tried to keep her nausea down.

"Let me see your arm," Aadya said too quietly.

When Feyre didn't lift her arm from the shadows, Rhysand lost his patience at the human girl being so stubborn.

"Let me see it." A growl rippled from him. Without waiting for Feyre's reaction, he grabbed her elbow and forced her arm into the dim light of the cell.

Rhysand examined the wound, a smile appearing on his lips. "Oh, that's wonderfully gruesome." Aadya fought back a smile when Feyre swore at him and Rhysand chuckled. "Such words from a lady."

"Get out," Feyre wheezed.

"Don't you want me to heal your arm?" His fingers tightened around her elbow.

"Why can't Aadya do it?" Feyre turned to Aadya with pleading eyes. Aadya gave her a bitter smile, as she leaned against the wall. "My magic is not mine to use." It was Amarantha's, was what she didn't add. "That's why I asked Rhysand here to help you. Just accept it."

Feyre was silent for a moment before turning to Rhysand. "At what cost?" She shot at him.

"Ah, that. Living among faeries has taught you some of our ways."