The Dark Flower (Azriel x OC)

17. The Game (Tamlin)

Tamlin's lip curled in disgust as Feyre and Persephone trailed just a step behind Rhysand as he entered court. He'd been dragging them around for the better part of a month, displaying the wretched tattoos on their arms from the doomed bargain they'd made with him. It made Tamlin sick to know he hadn't made it to them in time... that Rhysand had taken advantage of that. 

It was only made worse by the realization that Persephone was slowly getting better under that bastards care. No longer was she brought up and beaten for all to see - naked as the day she was born. Instead, she was dressed in scraps of fabric and made to dance alongside Feyre for the entirety of the night as Rhysand forced them to drink glass after glass of wine. 

Weeks and weeks that had been going on, but what was his purpose in dragging them out now? There was no party. Not now at least - just a potential execution. 

Amarantha smiled down at a brown-skinned High Fae male. Tamlin didn't know his name - just that he was a young lord. Hardly past the age of being considered a youngling. She was so focused on his torment that she didn't so much as bat an eye at the sight of Feyre and Persephone. 

Tamlin made a point of not looking at either of them. If they had his attention, then they'd have Amarantha's attention. 

"The summer lordling," Amarantha said to Rhysand as he approached, "tried to escape through the exit to the Spring Court lands. I want to know why." 

Tarquin, the new young High Lord of Summer, stood anxiously nearby. He didn't cry or look away - Tamlin had to give him credit for his strength. Still, Tamlin knew that there was more behind the other young lords attempted escape. Another act of rebellion perhaps. Whatever had occurred was seconds from damning their entire court 

Rhysand stepped forward almost lazily and the young faerie cringed back, his face shining with wet tears. Tamlin didn't allow himself to react to it. He had his own court to worry about without adding the misguided rebellions of other High Lords courtiers. 

"P-p-please," begged the young lord. 

Everyone in the room fell silent as the lord went limp on the ground and Rhys seized control of his mind. Tamlin fought back the shiver of disgust. Such a disgusting power... Daemati... they should all be killed off. The world would be a safer place for it. 

Tamlin spared half a second to look at Tarquin. The male's fists were clenched tightly at his side -  too young and too new to his role to know to hide the more obvious signs of his fear. 

Rhysand looked up, an expression of sheer boredom on his face. "He wanted to escape. To get to the Spring Court, cross the wall, and flee south into human territory. He had no accomplices, no motive beyond his own pathetic cowardice." His chin jerked to the growing puddle of piss beneath the male, effectively drawing attention away from Tarquin who's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. 

Tamlin might hate Rhysand with every fiber of his being, but even he had to admit that nobody played the game quite like him. 

Amarantha rolled her eyes and slumped back into her throne. With a dismissive wave of her hand she said, "Shatter him, Rhysand." Then to Tarquin. "You may do what you want with the body afterward." 

Tarquin had the sense to bow and accept the gift he'd just been given. For whatever reason, Rhysand had just spared his court. It was silent for a moment as Rhysand just studied the male. Then-

"I'm growing bored, Rhysand," Amarantha said, huffing out a sigh as she fiddled with her ring - the one that held Jurian's eye. On more than one occasion, Tamlin had imagined himself ripping it off her finger and tossing it into that pit where the Middengard Wyrm's body rotted. 

Rhysand merely had to tighten his fist and the faerie's eyes went wide just before he slumped over to the side, blood spilling from his nose first, then his ears, pooling around his head. 

"I said shatter his mind, not his brain," Amarantha snapped at him. 

Tamlin wanted to scoff as Rhysand offered up a simple shrug and tucked his hands back into his pockets. "Apologies, my queen." Then he turned on his heel without being dismissed and stepped between Feyre and Persephone as he made his way to the back of the throne room. 

Feyre was quick to grab Persephone's hand as they silently followed after him. He didn't stop until he found the buffet of food and wind at the far end of the hall. He downed a goblet before handing one to Persephone and Feyre, quietly ordering them to do the same. 

Tamlin didn't move so much as a muscle as Feyre and Persephone lost themselves in the wine and began to dance. Sometimes they took turns - one of them sat down on Rhysand's knee while the other danced. Other times, they danced together, holding onto each other, moving seductively. Tamlin just stared straight ahead, refusing to see his daughter and the woman he loved demeaned in such a way. 

///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\

"Are you alright?" Tamlin asked Lucien the next day. 

His emissary hadn't spoken a word since the conclusion of the second task. He'd lost himself in his own mind, locking himself down to avoid the reality of just how close to death he'd come. 

Too close. That had been far too close. Feyre had won the second task through sheer and idiotic luck. A cruel twist of fate had left Feyre solving a riddle while Lucien was nearly torn apart - each second she hesitated brought him closer to death. And she was illiterate... she hadn't been able to read. No, she'd just closed her eyes and picked at random. Too close. 

Lucien nodded his head once, his throat bobbing. "Too close." His words echoed Tamlin's own thoughts. "How did Amarantha know?" Lucien hissed out. "How did she know that Feyre couldn't read?" 

Tamlin shook his head. "I don't think she knew - she would have taunted Feyre for it more. No... it was... it was bad luck." 

Lucien sucked in a breath and ran a hand through his hair. "One more," he murmured to himself. "We just have to get through one more." 

"She's made it further than I thought she would," Tamin admitted quietly. He hated how much he had doubted her. He'd thought that it was over the second he'd seen that Middengard Wyrm, then again when he saw that the second task required her to be able to read. But Feyre kept defying the odds... They just needed that fortune to last a bit further. 

"She'll finish this," Lucien said with quiet determination. "Because if she doesn't..." He shook his head, not willing to finish that sentence. 

"One more," Tamlin agreed softly. "Then we go home."