Two shadows had come to my room.
I didn't know how long I'd been in my cell. Time had blurred in my mind and after a while, it stopped. My only solace was watching the candlelights in the hallways dance across the floor of my cell through the cracks of the door.
They came when I was asleep. Slipping through cracks in the wall like Rhysand except while the High Lord of the Night radiated such overwhelming power, the shadows felt like mist blowing from the ocean at night.
They never became fully corporeal like the High Lord. Their bodies were blurred like they couldn't decide which form to take.
I sat up abruptly as they grabbed each of my arms. I didn't bother to fight them off, I had a sneaking suspicion they'd just turn to shadows again if I did. They pulled me to my feet and began walking to the closed cell door.
"Can't we just take the normal way out, pretty please?" I laughed nervously. The wraiths gave no reaction, they just continued walking to the door that was less than a foot away.
I felt my body blur like I was vanishing. I felt it as the shadows encased me and I was no longer a solid being.
The wraiths took me through the slits in the door and if I could breathe normally, I would have gasped. We came out, and yet we never became fully solid again as we glided through the hallways. The path they took was unfamiliar; not leading to the pits, arena, or throne room.
They stopped for a momentâas if in warning as we came to a door. We became smoke again, slipping through the cracks of the world until we were in a room.
I became myself again, holding up my hands and seeing that I was no longer a shadow. I raised my head, taking in the room. It was dimly lit by an array of half-melted candles on the walls. The jagged stone poked out of the walls dangerously, and yet somehow it looked oddly peaceful.
There was a large bathtub in the middle of the roomâalready filled to the brim with steaming water. Stacked on the walls were buckets of a black substance and brushes. I turned around facing the door, seeing fabric hanging thereâno not fabric, just a very, very scandalous dress.
I liked it.
I was sick and tired of all the puffy fru-fru dresses of the Mortal Lands and Spring Court. Even the dress I wore at Solstice was practically unacceptable. The glittery dress on the wall was more my forte.
I'd been raised under the notion that a body was just a body, we all had them and yet it was unacceptable to show themâfor women anyway. Men could run out of the house naked and go about their day being praised, and yet when a woman did the same she was called a whore. In my opinion; the rules can go fuck themselves.
The shadows spared no more time and undressed meâmuch to my dismayâbefore they shoved me into the bath and began scrubbing my skin raw to get all the dirt and grime out. It was slightly mortifying as I watched the bathwater turn a muddy brown color. I couldn't help but wonder if it was dirt or dried blood.
When they were satisfied one pulled me from the bath while the other retreated to the wall to grab the buckets of the black liquid and paintbrushes. And then they began to...paint me?
Everywhere.
Literally everywhere.
Within minutes my body was covered with swirls and patterns of black paint that almost blended with my tattoo. As I looked closer I saw that the paint was even more void than the permanent art on my arm. My tattoo was a deep blue while the paint was the color of the blackest nights.
When the paint covered every inch of my body the shadows dressed me in the garment that turned out to be a bit see-through. That part I wasn't a fan of.
The fabric was sheer. Two shafts of glittering fabric met at the point of my navel and connected with a black chain belt. I would have loved the dress had it not shown every part of my body and left nothing to the imagination. They topped the outfit off with a glittering silver tiara that looked like it was made from stardust.
There was a body-length mirror that I looked at myself through. I looked...different to say the least. The wraiths had also put my hair up into a half up half down style that allowed most of my hair to hang at my back.
At least they'd given me a trampy pair of undergarments. I began pulling off the dress to put my other clothes on. I refused to be shown off like a prize to be won. I had more respect for myself than that.
I seethed at myself through the mirror as I tried to take it offâknowing full well whose handiwork this was.
"I wouldn't do that," a deep lilting voice spoke from the doorway. I turned around, baring my teeth at the High Lord who leaned against the threshold with crossed armsâlooking like he didn't have a care in the world.
"What is this?" I hissed as I picked at the sheer fabric.
"I need an escort for the party," his violet eyes glittered, "And when I thought of you squatting in a cell all night, alone..." he waved a hand and the wraths slithered away. Rhysand chuckled, "You look just as I hoped you would."
"I refuse to be shown off as a prize to be sold off to the highest bidder!" I practically yelled as I stepped up to Rhysand, looking down at him even though he was taller than me. "I. Am. Not. An. Object."
"Of course," he said matter of factly, "you're my date."
I breathed a shaky breath as I resisted the urge to slam his head into the spiky stone wall. "Is this necessary?"
He looked me up and down, "Yes," he replied, "How else would I know if anyone touches you?"
He approached and had to clench my fists as Rhysand ran a warm finger along my shoulder, smearing the paint there. As soon as his hand left my skin the paint had gone back to its original design as though it had never been messed with in the first place. "The dress itself won't mar it, and neither will your movements," he explained, his face too close to mine. "And I'll remember precisely where my hands have been. But if anyone else touches you. I'll know." he flicked my nose, "And, Danika," he added, his voice a murmur, "I don't like my belongings tampered with."
I laughed in his face before my features became deadly as I drawled, "If your hands come anywhere near me, Rhysand," I learned near his neck, whispering in his earâmy voice a sensual caress of sound, "I'll cut them off."
The High Lord of the Night rolled his eyes at my threat, "Come," he beckoned with a hand, "We're already late."
âââ · ãï¾â: *.â½ .* :âï¾. âââ
We walked through the stone halls. The sound of cheerful music grew louder with every step I took. I mentally cursed Rhysand for making me wear this dress that left nothing to the imagination. The dress retained no heat, I had to clench my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering. My bare feet had gone numb as the icy stone touched them.
We came to a stop at two large doors I immediately recognized as the throne room. Of kilter, the music sounded from inside.
The doors opened on their own accord and a pathway lined with people sitting in front of us. Fae and Faeries gawked as we passed, I wasn't sure if it was because of Rhysand, me, or both of us.
Some bowed to Rhysand as others gaped at him.
Rhysand didn't touch me as we walked. Though he stayed at a distance that told people I was here with him. That I was his property. I hated that word more than anything. I wouldn't have been surprised if he put a collar around my neck.
Whispers floated around with the shouts of celebration as the crowd quieted, making way for us to approach Amarantha at the dais. I raised my chin, ignoring the tiara as it dug into my skull.
I looked at Tamlin, giving him a once over before I made a disgusted sound and turned to the red troll with that same grossed-out look. I'd never been fond of Tamlin before, but I truly despised him now as he watched as Feyre and I suffered at the hands of the queen he sat beside and did absolutely nothing.
"Merry Midsommer," Rhysand bowed to the queen.
Amarantha wore a smile that didn't meet her eyes, "What have you done with my captive?"
"We made a bargain," he replied. I clenched my jaw as he brushed a stray lock of my white hair behind my ear. He ran a finger down my cheek and I had the sudden urge to kill someone. "One week with me at Night Court every month in exchange for my healing services after the first task." he took my left arm in his grasp raising it up to the crowd, showing off the slightly different ink of my tattoo. "For the rest of her life," he added. The faerie queen straightened a bit.
"Enjoy my party," she practically hissed with a smile that held absolutely no emotion.
Rhysand walked us back through the crowd, my traitorous ears caught snippets of conversation and whispers about me.
Rhysand approached an empty table in the back corner of the throne room. He pulled out a wooden chair for me, gesturing for me to sit down. I listened like the good little plaything he wished me to be.
Rhysand sat on the other side of the table, and I sat in that chair of misery as I observed the crowd for the rest of the night.
âââ · ãï¾â: *.â½ .* :âï¾. âââ
A/N: just Dani being a bad bitch againð