AN: Thank you all for your wonderful responses to the last chapter! I’m so happy you guys liked it. Every like and reblog makes my day, and when you guys comment or send me asks, truly and honestly, that can pull me out of a bad mood. EX: Yesterday I came home from work, and my guards hadn’t really been listening to me all day and they were rotating very slowly to their spots, and I didn’t get to take a break the entire 5 hours I was working, but someone sent me an ask thanking me for the chapter and my bad mood was completely gone. I hope you enjoy this!
Rhysand was already waiting at the camp by the time Lucien and I managed to convince Tamlin of our good intentions—and that we really, truly didn’t need him to accompany us. We’d tied our horses to a couple of trees and grabbed each other’s hands before winnowing to the war camp.
Rhys was leaning against a tree, but unhitched himself as soon as he caught sight of me.
The pain of seeing him was agonizing. The pain of knowing that I couldn’t get too close to him, couldn’t touch him at all was even more so. Still, I dropped Lucien’s hand and ran to him, my heart pounding in my chest, my mouth still foul tasting from this morning’s bout of nausea.
We ran to each other, close as we dared without catching each other’s scent. I saw my own pain mirrored in his eyes and for a moment, I saw the situation from his point of view. He had spent so many years in agony—most of it before I was even a thought, before I was even born. He spent three more years in even more pain because he knew I existed, but he couldn’t touch me, or see me, or feel me. And when he finally did, I was not his. I loathed him. I spurned him. I was a member of the household responsible for killing his family. His pain was unfathomable.