CARDIGAN, acotar ¹

chapter fifty one

₊˚ˑ༄ؘ͏͏͏͏͏͏ ͏͏͏͏͏͏

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

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FOR FEYRE'S FINAL task, three faeries were dragged in by the guards. and with sharp jabs and blunt shoves, they were forced to their knees before amarantha's dais.

they began turning and shifting blindly, trying to discern the whispers now rippling across the throne room.

carson's hands begun shaking once again as she remembered her own fifth task and who she'd killed to win it. three lives she would never forget. noting her body language, eris's hand slid over hers, offering her what little comfort he could, but her gaze didn't drift from her sister as amarantha smiled sickly.

"your final task, feyre," amarantha drawled, and gestured to the kneeling faeries, "stab each of these unfortunate souls in the heart."

feyre stared at her, mouth opening and closing.

three servants appeared at each of their sides. in their pale hands, they each carried a dark velvet pillow. and atop each pillow, a single polished wooden dagger laid. ash wood — a fae weakness.

"they're innocent — not that it should matter to you," she went on, "since it wasn't a concern the day you killed tamlin's poor sentinel. and it wasn't a concern for dear jurian when he butchered my sister. but if it's a problem ... well, you can always refuse. of course, i'll take your life in exchange, but a bargain's a bargain, is it not? if you ask me, though, given your history with murdering our kind, i do believe i'm offering you a gift."

carson stifled her snarl. refuse and die, or kill and live. it was a choice she had been begun to be familiar with.

she imagined what it might feel like to run one of those ash-wood daggers through amarantha's throat — and if it might take away the burden buried in her mind. her glare hardened, only to falter when eris shifted in pain.

carson peeled back his blood-drenched tunic slightly and her breath hitched. rhysand had healed most of it but to keep amarantha's suspicion at arm's length, he'd kept a great deal of the wound open. but he'd still healed what was necessary to keep him alive, and that's all that mattered.

so all she could do was cling onto his hand tightly, blood and all, and watch the destruction.

"well?" amarantha asked. she then lifted her hand, allowing the eye encased in her ring — jurian to get a good look at feyre, at the ash daggers, and purred to it, "i wouldn't want you to miss this, old friend."

carson's heart broke again as feyre hesitated for a long time, torn. but after a few silent moments, she stepped up to the first kneeling figure.

from her position a distance away, she could still see feyre's fingers trembling as the first dagger wound up in her hand.

"not so fast." amarantha chuckled, and the guards snatched the brown hood off its face. "that's better. proceed, feyre, dear. enjoy it."

"please," he whispered, his focus darting between the ash dagger and feyre's face. his blue eyes were pleading desperately. "please." but feyre stepped closer, hands shaking. "don't," he begged as she lifted the dagger. "don't!"