Hello! Long time no see. I'm sorry *hides* I'm so on and off about this story. There are times where I'm like "LET'S DO THIS!" and there are other's where I'm like "This is mediocre at best, there are so many other Rhys POVs." It's a dilemma. But here I am, sporadic as always.

Hope you like it. Apologies for any grammatical errors because although I do try and edit, I always seem to miss things...

Voila!

Ferye was irked at my words. Though she was trying to hide her annoyance, I could see her knuckles whitening as she gripped the fork in her hand. To play the role of Tamlin's ever obedient wife, she would need to learn to read and write in order to maintain her household. I almost shuddered at the thought.

I had my own reasons for wanting Feyre to learn.

I watched as her grip tightened and the fork became a tangled silver mess. She was stronger than the average High Fae. I looked over her thin frame. She had kernels of power from all seven of the High Lords of Prythian and part of me wondered if those kernels had transferred more than just a second chance at life into the woman before me. I voiced my thoughts.

"Nothing else transferred to me," she answered vehemently. There was something she was holding back, but I wouldn't pry…yet.

"It'd just be rather…interesting," I said back with a smirk. If somehow, she had obtained the skills of the individual High Lords, she would be one of the most powerful beings in the world. Deep down, a part of me was extremely gratified at the idea. This was my mate. My equal in every way. I was the most powerful High Lord in history, if Feyre had even half that power, we'd be an unstoppable pair.

"It didn't, and I'm not going to learn to read or shield with you."

"Why? From spite? I thought you and I got past that Under the Mountain." I regretted the words the second they spilled from my lips.

"Don't get me started on what you did to me Under the Mountain."

I went completely still at her words. Feyre had went through hell to get Tamlin back, to free his people from the curse. Even though she didn't know the reason, everything I had done was to help her. To make sure she didn't give up, to make sure she didn't suffer any more than necessary, to make sure she survived.

Images assaulted my mind before I had a chance to stop them: the red of Amarantha's hair, her naked body above mine, the blood of those I had tortured in the role I played as her whore. Flashes of Feyre's snapped arm, her being beaten by Amarantha's lackey, and the sight of her neck snapping now intertwined with the images I had endured for half a century.

It was getting hard to breathe as the panic attack set in and combined with the anger that had been set off by Feyre's words, I struggled to reign it in. It was taking a lot of effort to control my beast and the need to tell her the truth behind my actions Under the Mountain wasn't helping.

I opened my mouth and leaned towards her, the words at the tip of my tongue, but I could sense Mor's presence. Instantly, all traces of my loss of control were gone. I put on a lazy grin and told her, "We have company. We'll discuss this later."

Mor sauntered into the space in her typical self-assured mannered and I watched as the two interacted. Feyre was making some semblance of an attempt to be civil, but my cousin saw right through her. I could already sense that Mor had taken a liking to the brunette, most likely because she knew Feyre got under my skin, but partly because she knew of our bond.

I produced another fork for Feyre and answered the questions that she had as the two females ate. To this day, it surprised me how much Mor managed to scarf down and the fact that Feyre was eating made me happy enough given her current physical state.

"I didn't see you Under the Mountain," Feyre stated as she looked to Mor. I froze.

"Oh, I wasn't there," my cousin answered. "I was in—" Velaris, she was going to say.

"Enough, Mor," I said, my voice a bit more forceful than I had intended, but necessary. Feyre could not know about the existence of Velaris. I knew that the moment she returned to the Spring Court, Tamlin would interrogate her about my court. The City of Starlight had remained hidden from the world for millennia and I intended to keep it that way even if it meant hiding it from my mate, at least until Tamlin's claws were no longer embedded in her heart.

I let Feyre know that Mor would be around if she wanted to seek her company, but I wasn't kidding about her lesson.

"If he pisses you off, Feyre, feel free to shove him over the rail of the nearest balcony," Mor stated through a mouthful of muffin. Without skipping a beat, I gracefully flipped her off though was laughing on the inside as Feyre rose from her seat. I had missed the banter and jest that came with being surrounded by my family. Mor continued to eat her breakfast as Feyre and I departed.

Ҩ

In the end, Feyre decided that learning to read and learning to shield were necessary. The main reason for her agreeing to the latter was probably so she could keep me out of her mind.

I had no idea what she knew, so I started by giving her a piece of paper with the alphabet written out on it. "I know my alphabet. I'm not that stupid," she said with a bite. I watched as she played with her fingers before sitting on them to keep herself from fidgeting. Feyre was the opposite of stupid, she was clever and a quick-study, proven with her fight against the Middengard Wyrm.

"Can't you hire a tutor?" A lovely blush appeared on her face. I relished in the affect I had on her, but I knew it was because she loathed me. There was hope that those feelings would change someday as I was particularly skilled in wearing people down with my charm and good looks.

"Is it that hard for you to even try in front of me?" I knew part of her reluctance was because she didn't want me to see her struggle.

"Of course. Bur none as enjoyable as seeing you squirm."

"You're a real bastard, you know that?"

I chuckled at her words. "I've been called worse. In fact, I think you've called me worse." I directed her attention to another sheet of paper I had written on. "Read that."

She was nervous, asking me questions in attempt to distract me. She slowly sounded out the words of the sentence I had written, only needing my help with one of the words before she looked at me incredulously, slightly angry.

"You look absolutely delicious today, Feyre?! That's what you wrote?" Her voice was raised as I leaned back and our eyes met.

With no effort, I slipped into the breadth of her mind, invisible claws caressing before I spoke without speaking: It's true, isn't it? The fashion of the Night Court suited her and I told her as much after I dug my mental claws deeper into her mind, commanding her entire being with barely a thought of my own to prove my point on the importance of mastering her mental shields. I clawed my way in even further as I told her to shove me out.

I watched as she blindly tried to shove me out of her mind, pushing and slamming in any way she could. After a few moments, I was taken by surprise as a wave of Feyre had me sputtering. I loosened my grip reluctantly. "Good," I said, not letting my surprise show.

After a conversation that left me in a fit of rage about freedom, obedience, Tamlin-this, and Tamlin-that, I left her to copy the alphabet and practice her shielding. Winnowing back to the dining nook, I slumped down across from Mor, who was now snacking on breakfast meat.

"You kind of look like my father after you've visited the Court of Nightmares," Mor stated, earning a glare from me. The topic of Feyre becoming a trophy wife, hanging off of Tamlin's arm, always set me on edge. She was meant for much more than hosting parties and bearing children for the rest of her life. Feyre deserved every star in the night sky handed her, though she could very well get them herself.

"She hates me, Mor," I muttered, running a hand through my dark hair. The look on my cousin's face softened with sympathy. She was the only one who knew Feyre was my mate and I wanted to keep it that way for the time being. Though I trusted my Inner Circle with my life, this was an extremely delicate matter.

Feyre needed to come to me by choice. Stealing her away from Spring Court or arranging an 'accident' for Tamlin, as Cassian would likely suggest, would lead to her hating me forever with no chance of redemption whatsoever.

I wouldn't risk it.

Mor moved to perch on the arm of the chair I occupied, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Just give it time, Rhys. All she knows is what Tamlin has given her and told her. When she sees things from a different perspective, she'll come around. You just need to do what we do best, dream and push forward." When I didn't speak, Mor asked, "Do you want to come with me to the Court of Nightmares? You can let out some of that pent up resentment towards Tamlin on Keir."

I considered the invitation, but declined my cousin. The idiots that made up my court in the mountain beneath me would only make my mood worse. There was also the possibility that anyone who breathed the wrong way would end up misted.

With some time to kill before needing to return to Feyre, I leapt off of the nearest balcony and took to the skies. Flying almost always helped clear my mind and settle down my emotions. My home above the Court of Nightmares was a marvelous sight and as much as I didn't my official court, it was still significantly better than being anywhere Under the Mountain.

My thoughts drifted to Feyre, who was wearily dragging her shields up and down. When they were down, I could sense the nervousness she felt followed by flinches at any sound she heard. I hated that she had been through so much to make her this way. And Tamlin was no help, failing to see that his betrothed was falling apart in front of him. I would mist him for that and that alone.

At the end of the hour, I returned to where I left Feyre, my wings once again hidden from sight. I stood a safe distance away in order to avoid startling her. Once I knew she was aware of my presence, I closed in and looked over her shoulder. The papers were filled with the letters of the alphabet, starting off shaky and unsure before becoming confident and assertive.

Without warning, I also slipped into her mind to see how her shields were doing. Scraping my mental claws along, I was met with black, glittering adamant. I was amazed at the progress she had made in a mere hour.

I purred out, "Well, well, hopefully I'll be getting a good night's rest at last, if you can manage to keep the wall up while you sleep." A full night's sleep was unlikely for me in any case. I had my own nightmares to deal with, but no one else needed to know that.

Feyre dropped her shield long enough to send one word down the mental bridge of ours: Prick.

"Prick I might be, but look at you. Maybe we'll get to have some fun with our lessons after all."

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