Ok…. I was rewatching Beauty and the Beast and I found incredibly fitting parallels between Gaston and Tamlin. Here the scenes that made me think of ACOMAF:
“You’re going to be a High Lord’s wife,” Rhys said. “You’ll be expected to maintain your own correspondences, perhaps even give a speech or two. And the Cauldron knows what else he and Ianthe will deem appropriate for you. Make menus for dinner parties, write thank-you letters for all those wedding gifts, embroider sweet phrases on pillows … It’s a necessary skill.”
“I’m sure there are things to help with around the house. Or you could paint. Try out that new set I gave for you for Winter Solstice.”
There was nothing but wedding planning waiting for me in the house, since Alis refused to let me lift a finger to do anything. Not because of who I was to Tamlin, what I was about to become to Tamlin …
Save me—please, save me. Get me out. End this.
Tamlin took a step toward me—concern shading those eyes. I retreated a step. No. Tamlin’s mouth tightened. The crowd murmured. Silk streamers laden with globes of gold faelight twinkled into life above and around us.
Ianthe said smoothly, “Come, Bride, and be joined with your true love. Come, Bride, and let good triumph at last.”
Good. I was not good. I was nothing, and my soul, my eternal soul, was damned— I tried to get my traitorous lungs to draw air so I could voice the word. No—no.
Tamlin’s face contorted with wrath. “They’re monsters. They’re—” He didn’t finish as he stalked across the floor to grab me. To drag me out of here, then no doubt winnow away.
snarled at him, “I don’t give a shit if she’s your mate. I don’t give a shit if
you think you’re entitled to her. She is mine—”