The Dark Flower (Azriel x OC)

19. No Fear in Death (Percy)

Percy couldn't contain her flinch at the sound of Feyre's blade sliding through flesh or the pained cry that escaped her father's mouth. But he would live. Percy knew that he would. But even now, Percy leashed her hope. Curse or no curse, this would not be over until Amarantha was dead.

"She won," someone in the crowd called out. "Free them," echoed another. 

Percy could practically feel the rage radiating off Amarantha, she could practically taste it. 

"I'll free them whenever I see fit. Feyre didn't specify when I had to free them - just that I had to. At some point. Perhaps when you're dead." 

Amarantha's mocking smile could be heard in her voice, and while Percy had never wanted to so much as hit another person before, she knew in her heart that if the chance presented itself, she would slit Amarantha's throat to the bone. 

"You assumed that when I said instantaneous freedom regarding the riddle, it applied to the trials, too, didn't you? Foolish, stupid human," taunted Amarantha. Her heels clicked as she descended the steps of the dias, one cruel step at a time. "And you," she hissed at Feyre. "You," she repeated, hate sharpening her tone. "I'm going to kill you."

Percy moved forward, as if there was a single thing that she could do to stop Amarantha, but Lucien caught her before she could take so much as a step, and hurled her behind him. Percy's hand flattened against his back as the sound of bone shattering filled the room. 

"I'm going to make you pay for your insolence," Amarantha seethed and Percy choked on a sob as Feyre's strangled scream echoed through the room.

"Admit you don't really love him, and I'll spare you," Amarantha said in a near whisper. "Admit what a cowardly, lying, inconstant bit of human garbage you are."

And even with her bones breaking one by one and death breathing down her neck, Feyre did no such thing. Percy wanted to curse her for it. Nothing was worth this. Nothing. Not her father. Not Lucien. Certainly not her. 

And strangely, it wasn't Percy who called out after her. Not Lucien, or even Tamlin. It was Rhysand. Rhysand who was rageful and angry and for the moment, seemed to have shed whatever mask it was that he usually donned. "Feyre!" he roared furiously. 

Amarantha didn't so much as pause in her ravings. Didn't notice that the one they called Amarantha's whore seemed to be turning against her. "You think you're worthy of him? A High Lord? You think you deserve anything at all, human?"

Rhysand screamed for her again and again, and around us faeries began began shedding their masks of loyalty as well, screaming foul play and for Tamlin's release. 

Amarantha didn't seem to hear them. "What are you but mud and bones and worm meat?" Feyre was nearly at her limit. Her screams growing weaker and weaker, the sound of them wetter as bone punctured her lungs and filled them with blood. 

Percy's hand slipped around Lucien's waist to where a hidden blade was kept. She wasn't entirely sure how she knew that it was there, but she'd noticed it the second she'd come into contact with Lucien before the third task had even begun - it had been as if he had told her about it. As if he'd been focusing half his energy on keeping it hidden and in the process directing Percy right to it.