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Prologue * Act I * Act II

Act II

Lucien

I write a letter to Tamlin, though I know he won’t answer. He hasn’t answered my letters in months.

Dear old friend,

How is Hybern? Do you make progress with the king? I wish I was there, with death at my heels, making a difference in the world.

I hear that Cassian is recovering. He will be alright, the good man.

And Feyre is in the Spring Court. I have not yet seen her, but I hear your bride-to-be is full of life. I should visit. I hear she has grown more beautiful, more clever. I greatly envy you and your happiness.

This will be my last letter to him if he chooses not to answer again.

____________

Feyre

I can’t stop thinking about Rhysand and our night at the ball. What am I to tell Tamlin? Do I tell him at all?

I must write him a letter, I decide. I sit down at the desk in my room and begin to write.

Dear Tamlin,

What more can I write after what has happened? What do I do if I love him, but also love another? I must be a terrible person to be unfaithful.

Maybe if I look at the candle in the mirror again, it will give me a sign. Elain said it would show me my future, so it’s worth a try.

I arrange my mirrors as Elain did, and holding my candle, peer into my reflection.

I see nothing but the candle. No coffin, no man–standing or lying. No visions of the future. I feel so lost. What am I to do?

I need to take my mind off of it. I notice an unread letter on my desk. A letter, I find, that is from the Lady of Autumn.

I open it and hold it to the candlelight.

Dear Feyre,

I’m in deep despair at the misunderstanding there is between us.

Whatever my husband’s feelings might be, I beg you to believe that I cannot stop thinking about you, and that I want to know you. My husband is a tired old man, and you must forgive him. Please, come see us again.

I take out a fresh piece of parchment, and begin my reply.

My Lady,

What do I write? They were so awful to me, but do they deserve another chance? I would do it for Tamlin, but am I even meant to be with him? So many terrible questions.

A letter from Rhysand appears in front of me. So many letters in a single night, I think I might go crazy. I open his letter anyway.

Feyre darling, I must love you or die.

Feyre darling, if you love me, say yes, and I will come and steal you away, steal you to the dark.

Feyre darling, I want nothing more.

Just say yes.

Yes, I love him. I’ve decided it. How else could I have his letter in my hand? I read it again, savouring each word. I read it twenty times, thirty times, forty times. Each and every word. Yes, I love him.

I fall asleep with his letter in my hand.

____________

“Feyre, tell me isn’t true.” I wake at my sister’s voice. “It can’t be that you love him, it can’t be. Feyre–”

“Elain, you’re back!” I embrace my sister. But noticing the look on her face, I know why she has woken me. “Elain! You’ve read the letter!”

She nods, unable to look me in the eye.

“Oh, I’m glad, I can’t hide it any longer! Now you know we love one another. Oh Elain, he writes and writes! If you only knew how happy I am… you don’t know what love is!”

“And what of Tamlin?”

“I don’t understand…”

“Are you refusing him?”

“Oh, You don’t understand anything, Elain! Don’t talk nonsense, just listen!”

“No, I don’t understand, Feyre! You’ve only known him three days!”

Has it only been three days? It feels like I’ve loved him for a hundred years. It feels like I’ve never loved anyone before–not like this. I have no will, my life is his. I’ll do anything he wants me to. “What can I do, Elain? Why can’t you understand that I love him?”

“I won’t let it come to that, Feyre. I’ll tell Ianthe. I won’t let you ruin everything for us.” She bursts into tears, which only fuels my anger.

“What do you mean, for cauldron’s sake? If you tell her you will be my enemy! Do you want me to be miserable by tearing us apart?” I take her hands in mine. “Please, Elain,” I beg, “don’t tell anyone! I have confided in you, you can’t betray me like this!”

She pulls her hands from mine and reaches for the letters. “What has he said to you?” Her brows furrow as she scans the letters. She looks furious. “Why doesn’t he come here and properly ask for your hand? Why this secrecy? Have you thought of what he may be trying to hide, Feyre?”

“I don’t know his reasons, and I don’t care to. Elain, I can’t doubt him.”

She sighs. “Does he love you?”

“Does he love me? Well, you’ve read his letters! Of course he loves me, you can see it in every word.” I take the letters from her, cradling them against my heart.

“Feyre,” she pleads, “think of this family. Think of Tamlin.”

“Tamlin said I was free to refuse him,” I counter.

“But you haven’t refused him,” she pauses, “or have you?”

“Perhaps I have. Perhaps it’s all over between me and Tamlin.” I sigh and look at her with my best doe eyes. “Would you think so badly of me?”

“I won’t fall for your tone, Feyre,” she snaps, “I don’t trust him! And I’m afraid you’re going to your ruin!”

“Then I’ll go to my ruin!” I shout, “Yes, I will! As soon as possible! It’s not your business, so leave me alone. Just leave me alone!” Elain flinches at my words, but I don’t stop. “I hate you, Elain! I hate you, and you are my enemy forever!” She bursts into sobs and runs from the room, the door left wide open behind her.

Without a moment to reflect, I write the letter to the Lady of Autumn I’d been unable to write all morning.

All our misunderstandings are at an end. Forget everything, and forgive me.

But I can’t be Tamlin’s wife.

____________

Cassian

The plan to take Feyre to the Night Court had all been arranged and the preparations made.

This was how it would go:

Feyre would be on her balcony at sunset, and Rhys, Az, and I would swoop in and take her away. We would fly to the edge of the Night Court, where a priestess will be waiting to make them get wed. Then we fly the rest of the way to Velaris, where Rhys and Feyre will live the rest of their days in happiness.

We are all gathered at the Spring Court Inn, drinking and waiting for sunset. Rhys paces the floor, his shirt unbuttoned and wings out. He walks to and fro, to and fro, to and fro. It’s making me dizzy. Or maybe that’s just the alcohol.

“Rhys, are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Shut up, Cassian, of course it is. I love her and she loves me.”

“Then why are you pacing?”

The door to the inn opens, Rhys’ attention going to whoever walks in. When I see the look on his face, I turn to see who it is too.

Lucien Vanserra. I roll my eyes and go back to my drink.

“Rhysand,” he says. Then, noticing the luggage and papers strewn about, “leaving Spring so soon? Where are you off to?”

“Ah, Fox-boy,” Rhysand drawls, and I chuckle at the nickname. “Tonight, I go away on an adventure. I doubt we will be seeing each other for a while. I have found a new love, and I’m taking her away with me. I’ll send you a letter from Velaris.”

“Ha!” Lucien laughs. “But Rhysand, are you not already married?”

“You watch your tongue,” I snap.

“But it’s true, isn’t it? You’re married to Amarantha.”

“What would you know of marriages, Vanserra?”

Lucien doesn’t answer.

“And it doesn’t matter, anyway,” Rhys, continues, “because I will make sure that no one else knows about my past. I trust that you will keep this to yourself.”

“It’s time to go, Rhys,” I say, standing up. It is nearly sunset, and Azriel will be waiting outside.

“Goodbye, Fox-boy! Raise a glass for me!” Rhys calls back as we leave the inn.

As I expected Azriel is outside the inn, waiting at the nearby treeline. He is cloaked in shadow, his wings looming behind him.

“Let’s go,” Rhys says before summoning his wings and taking off. Azriel and I follow.

When we reached the gate of the Manor, I whistled. The whistle was heard by a servant, who, after being bribed, agreed to open the gate for us. Az and I stayed by the gate, Rhysand followed the servant into the courtyard and up to the house.

“You will not enter this house, scoundrel!” Ianthe appears in the doorway.

“Rhysand,” I call, “come back! We’ve been betrayed!”

Azriel, Rhysand, and I flee, back to the safety of the inn.

____________

Feyre

“You shameless, good-for-nothing girl,” Ianthe spits. She paces my room, furious with me. Elain stands in the doorway, unable to look at me. “Have you lost your mind? Running away with the High Lord of the Night Court from the house of your betrothed… you vile, shameless girl!”

I open my mouth to speak, but she cuts me off. “Don’t you say one word! There is nothing you could say to save yourself from what you have done.”

My body begins to shake with noiseless, convulsive sobs. Everything is ruined. Ianthe brings her hand to my arm, but I jerk away. “Don’t touch me! Just let me be!”

She is growing more agitated with every moment. “What are we to tell your father? The other High Lords? Tamlin? What do we tell your betrothed?”

“I have no betrothed,” I declare, “I have refused him.”

“Feyre,” Elain cries, “just stop!” She reaches out to me as Ianthe did, and I give her the same treatment.

“Don’t touch me!”

“If he had succeeded in carrying you off, don’t you think Tamlin would have found him?” Elain asks. ”Rhysand is a monster!”

“He is better than any of you!” I say. “Why did you have to interfere, Elain?” She tries to speak, but I don’t want to hear it. “Just go away! Everyone go away.” Ianthe too tries to speak again, but I cry out. “Go away! You all hate and despise me!” and I throw myself down on my bed.

“Feyre!” Ianthe shouts, but I do not respond. She finally gives in and leaves, Elain following behind her.

I do not sleep that night. I sit at the window, waiting for Rhysand, but he never comes.

____________

Lucien

I knock hesitantly on the door of the manor. Ianthe did not sound happy in the letter she sent, asking me to come see her immediately. I have a feeling something terrible has happened, but I can’t figure out what. Perhaps Tamlin is being delayed again, and won’t be coming home as soon as we had hoped.

A servant opens the door and directs me to the drawing room, where Ianthe is waiting. She paces the floor, wringing her hands, her eyebrows drawn. She notices I’ve arrived, and walk toward me, pulling me into a quick embrace. “Lucien,” she says, “I’m sorry it’s late. I haven’t seen you around in many days, where have you been?”

“I have been… studying.”

“Lucien, we need your help–Tamlin and the entire Court need your help. There is ruin at the door.”

“Ianthe, what is–”

“Feyre has broken with Tamlin.”

“What?”

“Feyre has tried to run away.”

“It can’t be! She would never–”

“She has tried to run away with Rhysand.”

I sit down, unable to believe my ears. Rhysand, that prick, wasn’t joking when he said he was in love with Feyre. Ianthe sits next to me.

“Tamlin will kill him, and surely start a war. We must get Rhysand to return to the Night Court before Tamlin comes home.”

“I’ll go talk to him at once.”

But where would I find Rhysand? I check the inn, but it is empty. Perhaps at the bar.

All is going on as usual when I arrive. Everyone is gossiping in small groups, and in my search, I hear snippets of what they are saying. “Have you heard of Rhysand’s abduction?” “Is it true?” “Feyre is ruined!”

“Nonsense,” I snap, “nothing has happened! Everything is fine.” They do nothing but lower their voices when I pass closely by.

I find Rhysand at the end of the bar, muttering Feyre’s name under his breath. He looks like death. “Rhysand,” I clap him on the shoulder. “Come, I must speak to you.” I lead him to a private room. He follows with his usual confident step, but his face betrays anxiety. I close the door and address him without looking at him. “You prepared to take Feyre away to the Night Court, is that so?”

“I don’t consider myself bound to answer questions put to me in that tone,” he says indignantly. Classic Rhysand, ever the arrogant fool. I don’t have the time to deal with him like this. The well-being of my friend is in serious jeopardy because of his selfish, stupid actions.

My face, already pale, becomes distorted by fury. I seize him by the collar and push him against the wall. “Listen to me, Rhysand! When I tell you I must talk to you–”

“Come now, fox-boy, this is stupid!” I only push him harder. We both know he could stop me in an instant without so much as a thought.

“You’re a scoundrel and a blackguard, and I don’t know what deprives me of the pleasure of smashing your head in right now.”

“We both know you couldn’t if you tried.” He pushes me away now, but doesn’t make an attempt to leave. I recompose myself, but I’m still seething. He is not going off the hook for this, not on my watch.

“First, do you have any letters of hers?” He reluctantly pulls a package of letters out of his pocket and hands them over. His name is scrawled across the top of each one in the neat handwriting of a rich merchant’s daughter, the stack tied together neatly with a black ribbon. “Second, tonight, you must leave the Spring Court.” He nods. “Third, you must never breathe a word of what has happened between you and Feyre.” He sits down now, and sighs deeply.

“Lucien, she’s my mate.”

I pace the room several times in silence. He watches me.

“You must understand, Rhysand, that there is such a thing as other people, and their happiness and peace. And that you are ruining a whole life for the sake of… amusing yourself.”

“I’m not just amusing myself, Lucien. She wanted to come with me. She doesn’t want to stay here”

“Just promise me you’ll leave. You can’t be here when Tamlin returns, and he will return.”

He sighs, but nods. Satisfied, I leave him.

____________

Elain

Dear Tamlin,

Feyre is very ill. The whole house is in a state of alarm and commotion.

I don’t know if Ianthe has written to you yet, but Feyre has been unfaithful. If not for Ianthe, she would be in the Night Court right now with Rhysand, who has attempted to kidnap her. Rhysand and his ‘entourage’ have returned to the Night Court without her, thankfully.

But unfortunately, Feyre, seemingly heartbroken, poisoned herself in the night. She woke me in the middle of the night and told me what she had done. The healers came with the antidote, and now she is out of danger, but still so weak.

Please return to the Spring Court at once.

We wait for Tamlin to return with dread. He will surely challenge Rhysand to a duel, and get himself killed, and all will be ruined.

____________

Lucien

Tamlin is back in the Spring Court, and the first thing he does is not visit Feyre, who is dreadfully ill, but visits me. He appeared in my doorway, stone-faced and emotionless. I brought him into the library to sit.

“Well,” he says after settling,  “how are you?”

I don’t answer. He knows how I am. Or at least he would, if he read my letters. “You look grim,” I remark.

“I’ve been away too long, but I am well. It’s good to see you.”

We sit in silence for a few long moments. The ticking clock on the wall is the only sound.

“Forgive me for troubling you, old friend. I received a refusal from Feyre, and I have heard reports of Rhysand having… asked for her hand, or something of that kind. Is this true?”

“Something of that kind.”

He avoids meeting my eyes, and reaches into his coat pocket. “Here are her letters. Please give them to her.” He begins to stand up to leave.

“Feyre is ill. She has been at death’s door.”

“I much regret her illness.” He smiles like my father–coldly, maliciously. “Well,” he continues to the door, “forgive me for bothering you.”

“You told me once,” I call after him, “that all people should be given the chance to be forgiven.”

“But I didn’t say that I could forgive.” He puts his hand on the doorknob. “I can’t. If you wished to remain my friend, you would be on my side, and never speak of that again.”

I know I can’t be on his side in this. I am on nobody’s side.

“Well, goodbye.” He spares me a final glance before closing the door behind him.

I remain seated until I can no longer hear the roaring in my ears.

I decide that I am going to visit Feyre. She must feel so lonely, so despised. She deserves to have someone comfort her. I put on my heavy coat and go to the manor, where she will be staying at just until she gets better. Then she will be returned to her home in the Mortal Lands, or so Ianthe has said.

I find Feyre standing in the middle of the art gallery, with a pale, yet steady face. When I appeared in the doorway, she grew flustered, and I hurried to her. It looked like she was about to give me her hand, but instead she stopped, leaving her too-thin arms hanging at her sides.

“Lucien Vanserra,” she says distantly, her face remaining blank.

“Just Lucien.”

“Tamlin was your friend,” she says, seemingly to herself. “He once told me that I should turn to you.”

I sniff, holding back tears. What has happened to the charming, clever girl I once saw? Until now, I had blamed her for what had happened. Despised her for hurting Tamlin. But now, and especially after my visit with Tam, I can only pity her.

“He is here now, isn’t he?”

I nod.

“Please… tell him to forgive me. For everything.”

“I will tell him,” I assure her. “Just answer me one thing.” She meets my eyes now, and I’m taken aback by how clear and understanding her grey eyes are, considering her demeanor. “Did you love him? Did you love Rhysand?”

“I did… I do.” She begins to cry, and my heart overflows with pity for this poor mortal girl.

“We won’t talk about him anymore. Just promise me something, Feyre. Promise me that you will consider me your friend, and if you ever need help, or just someone to talk to, you’ll think of me.”

She smiles, just a bit, for the first time since I arrived. “Why are you being so kind to me? I’m not worth it. I am an ungrateful, lying piece of–”

“Stop, Feyre. Don’t speak about yourself like that. This isn’t the end of your happiness, you have a whole life in front of you.”

“No, Lucien. All is over for me.”

All over? Is this all it takes for your life to be made meaningless? It is far from fair. Feyre deserves to get to still live a full, happy life, unlike the life I’ve lived.

“If,” I start, then stop myself, then start again. “If I were not… myself, but the brightest, handsomest, best male in Prythian, and if I were free, then I would marry you myself.”

She begins to weep. Not tears of sadness, I can see from her face, but tears of gratitude. Tears of thanks. She nods, and leaves the room smiling. Restraining my own tears that threaten to fall, I too turn and leave the room. I leave the gallery, the hall, the marble floors, the stone steps, all of it, behind me.

Where can I go now? I can’t stay in Spring, I can’t go back to Autumn. All of Prythian, all of life itself, feels pitiful–prude, even–compared the the final, grateful last glance Feyre gave me through her tears.

Night has fallen, and the air outside is cool. A breeze rustles the leaves in the trees, carrying with it a faint perfume of roses from Tamlin’s garden.

I look up at the dark, starry sky.

And there, I see it. In the middle of the sky, surrounded and sprinkled on all sides by stars, a great comet–a brilliant comet, shooting through the dark.

It is said that the comet was followed by a war that brought untold horrors, and the end of the world as we know it. But for me, the comet brings no tears. No, I gaze joyfully at this bright, amazing star, which, tracing its path across the sky, seems to have stopped just for me. Like an arrow piercing my heart.

It seems to me that this comet feels me; feels my softened and uplifted soul, and my newly melted heart, now blossoming into a new and sweeter life.

____________

Dear Feyre,

I hear you have been reunited with the High Lord of the Night Court, and that you are happily mated. I’m glad that you have found happiness with him, and I congratulate you on your position as High Lady.

I have found happiness too. As you know, I left Prythian behind me to travel the world, and I’m now living with some people you may know—Jurian and Vassa. For the first time in many years, I am truly and utterly happy.

I of course have heard news of a brewing war, and I want you to know that I will aid in any way I can. I will support you, Feyre, though I didn’t before when I should have.

I want to ask you to forgive me for trying to keep you and Rhysand apart. I of all people should know what that can do to a person.

Forever your friend,

Lucien