Feyre finds Rhys sitting on the “rooftop patio”, which sounds both awesome and like a decidedly unmagical location. He tells her he considered asking Tarquin for the book and the reasons he ultimately decided against it. I don’t know how I feel about the reasons. One of them is that he was scared of lots of people knowing their plan, but now the information is out that they wanted the book, and the enemy could probably still put two and two together about why they want the book and how they still need the other half. It is kind of sad that Rhys thought he might finally be able to have a High Lord Bro, but alas.
Rhys shows Feyre what the Summer Court has sent them:
“In the Summer Court, when a grave insult has been committed, they send a blood ruby to the offender. An official declaration that there is a price on their head— that they are now hunted, and will soon be dead. The box arrived at the Court of Nightmares an hour ago.”
Damn, Tarquin is apparently so nice that even his death threats are presented as fabulous gifts.
“I should have wiped the minds of the guards and let them continue on. Instead, I knocked them out. It’s been a while since I had to do any sort of physical … defending like that, and I was so focused on my Illyrian training that I forgot the other arsenal at my disposal…”
I was wondering about this, and I don’t really buy the excuse given Lord “Now you’re thinking like an Ilyrian” Rhysand is supposed to be this tactical genius who is always physically training with his buds.
Although Rhys claims that if the guards had their minds wiped, he could have pretended that it was just a coincidence that they were there and totally hadn’t stolen the book. Tarquin is so lucky he did not wind up befriending these people after all.
“Perhaps you could return the Book once we’ve neutralized the Cauldron— apologize.”
Rhys snorted. “No. Amren will get that book for as long as she needs it.” “Then make it up to him in some way. Clearly, you wanted to be his friend as much as he wanted to be yours.”
As usual, South Park offers the best option for making amends when amends seem so out of reach. I couldn’t find the actual clip itself to go with the song, but just know he’s putting together some damn good looking fruit baskets.
Feyre tries to cheer Rhys up with some more clunky flirtation about how she might use the house credit to buy lacy things. Somehow this does not sway him, but now Feyre is not to be deterred for the all the times he annoyed her and it was Just What She Needed Without Knowing it Was What She Needed. She presses on gracefully:
“Maybe you should have slept with Cresseida after all— so you could both be sad and lonely together.”
Well, if this doesn’t cheer Rhys up, I don’t know what will. Feyre again tries to switch back to the lacy undergarment shopping line of conversation and how Rhys can come along with her.
I went on, “Maybe I’ll send a few to Tarquin— with an offer to wear them for him if he forgives us. Maybe he’ll take those blood rubies right back.”
What is even happening here? Do I not understand the art of flirtation and/or cheering people up?
Then Feyre says she doesn’t really know if Rhys finds her attractive or not, which huh?
A thrill went through me as he braced his powerful arms on the table and purred, “Is that a challenge, Feyre?”
I held that predator’s gaze— the gaze of the most powerful male in Prythian. “Is it?”
ALERT ALERT we’ve gone full Fifty Shades/Crossfire/Beautiful Disaster where for some reason the female protagonist must swoon when her love interest is predatory and must emphasize how he is the alpha-iest alpha of them all.
Good news, though, Rhys isn’t sad anymore. Instead, his sorrow has been replaced by “lethal focus” on Feyre, so I guess his plot to murder Feyre was enough to snap him out of it.
“Why don’t we go down to that store right now, Feyre, so you can try on those lacy little things— so I can help you pick which one to send to Tarquin.”
I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I honestly wish someone, anyone, would interrupt this scene. Even Tamlin talking about taxes. Or Amarantha’s ghost offering more lame riddles.
My toes curled inside my fleece-lined slippers. Such a dangerous line we walked together.
There is literally nothing dangerous about this. Just kiss already, and stop trying to awkwardly flirt by telling the other they should bang other people. It’s not cute.
Praise the cauldron, Azriel shows up and Feyre leaves so he can talk to Rhys. Azriel, welcome to being my favorite character. It’s an honor, I’m sure.
Feyre starts feeling guilty that she had been in love with Tamlin and now she was almost lingerie shopping with Rhysand. She has a very vivid fantasy about how this would play out and – oh! It’s just Rhys invading her brain with sexy fantasies. Har har!
It’s actually pretty rude of him to do this while Azriel is presumably speaking to him. Have some manners, man.
The chapter ends with Feyre going to Rhysand while he’s having an awful nightmare but doing so while naked and sexy.
Then a hard, taut male body. But the bed was enormous, and I couldn’t get a grip on him. “Rhysand!
Woah, how big is this bed??
Anyway, Feyre comforts Rhys, and it’s nice, but then at the end she has to go and make it about herself and how she wants to paint him looking sad in the moonlight and how her heart is clearly healing because now she’s thinking about painting again.