It had been days since Queen Maeve had tricked Rhys into bringing the mirror to Hybern, days since they had been thrown back into the small cell Feyre had occupied before Rhys' arrival. Boots scraped occasionally along the hallway or a door opened and shut, but it was the agonizing moans that shook Feyre to her very core.

Even though Rhys had done exactly what Maeve had wanted, it seemed like she still delighted in torturing Helion. Every day like clockwork multiple guards paraded down the hallway and dragged an already broken Helion to where Maeve certainly waited for him. Sometimes he would be gone for minutes, sometimes for hours, but he always came back, moaning from a pain that pierced deep into her heart.

When the guards came for him, Feyre buried her face deep into Rhys' shoulder, his hand automatically coming up to stroke her hair. Sunshine poked in from a small window high above them, but it did little to lighten up the room. 

It was a little bit after dawn when the footsteps echoed down the hallway and the two of them heard Helion's cell door scrape open. Rhys pulled Feyre as close to him as possible.

"She's going to kill him, Rhys," Feyre whispered into his shoulder. She felt him stiffen with her words.

"He'll be fine. If she wanted him dead, she would have killed him by now," Rhys offered.

"You haven't seen him. He's broken inside. I think I would prefer to be dead."

Rhys gripped her face gently, pulling her chin up so he could look into her eyes.

"Don't you ever say that, Feyre. Never wish to be dead," Rhys said hoarsely. 

"If I was Helion, I would want you to kill me," Feyre answered. 

Rhys sighed and put his forehead against hers, "We're going to get out of here. Amren and Cassian are coming."

Feyre touched her stomach, which was noticeably bigger, "I just hope they come in time." 

The two of them sat in silence, waiting for Helion's agonizing return, but it never came. Instead, another set of footsteps echoed down the hallway, stopping in front of their cell. Feyre's eyes widened, looking up sharply at Rhys, who had jumped up to a crouch, snarling at the guards on the other side of the door. 

"Don't try anything, or we'll kill both of you," a dark male voice commanded through the door. 

Rhys snarled in response, moving between Feyre and the door. 

"Rhys. Stop it," Feyre hissed as the door started to slide open. 

Feyre cringed when Rhys lunged forward, bringing down the first guard in the process. Although he was unstoppable with his magic and above average as a warrior, he was no match for the ten seasoned guards that waited outside of the cell for him. As he moved from the first guard to the second, a third guard hit him hard in the back of the head with the hilt of a dagger, dropping him like a stone. 

"No! Stop!" Feyre yelled, moving across the cell floor towards her unconscious mate. 

One of the guards spoke gruffly and helped her to her feet, "He'll be fine. He's just unconscious. She'll want him chained up for that."

With his words, another guard pulled Rhys to the wall where a set of chains awaited him.

She didn't get a chance to protest before she was yanked out of the room. She couldn't help but notice the small splotches of blood throughout the hallway. One hand went to her stomach as she was led through the dark castle to the large wooden doors that marked the throne room. 

"Come on, Spell-Cleaver! In all of those bloody books you have, there's not one that will restore me to my true form? Or even how to make this godsforsaken mirror work!" an angry female voice raged from within. Feyre let out a breath. At least Helion was still alive. 

"I can't! I've told you. You need to know the name of the mate!" Helion's weak voice answered. 

One of the guards knocked on the heavy wooden door, and he was given leave to enter. The remaining guards pushed her forward into the room with the dark witch. 

"Good morning, Feyre. How are you and your darling baby boy doing today?" Maeve mockingly cooed from her throne. 

Feyre's eyes went to where Helion sat, hunched above the broken mirror. 

"Aww, come now, Feyre. Don't you even want to ask me how I know it's a son?" Maeve continued.

Finally, Feyre's gaze moved to the evil woman, "How do you know it's a boy?"

"I'm all-knowing, my dear," Maeve smiled. 

"Then why can't you work the mirror, Maeve?" Feyre whispered, just loud enough for her to hear.

"That's why I've brought you here. You can show me how to work it."

"No."

"Hmm. Do I need to show you again just how much you have to lose?" 

"I won't show you how to work it."

"Fine," Maeve replied, waving a hand. Instantly, a guard set upon Helion, and Feyre closed her eyes. 

"Are you sure, Feyre?" she cooed again. 

Feyre opened her eyes and saw the pleading in Helion's eyes. He wanted it to end.

"I'm sorry," Feyre whispered to her old friend and then turned to the ancient female. "I will not help you terrorize Prythian anymore." 

"Fine, " she tisked and raised a hand. "I have no use for him anyways."

Before Feyre could even try to change her mind, the guard pulled out a knife and slit Helion's throat. Blood stained his once-white tunic and pooled on the ground below him. 

"If your friend was not enough to sway you, perhaps your mate will be," Maeve smirked as the doors clanged open. 

A stirring Rhys was dragged past her and onto the bottom step of the dais. One of the guards held a knife to her mate's throat to keep him in place.

"Please. Please don't kill him," Feyre choked out, a hand on her growing belly. "Please!"

"Oh, I'm not going to kill him, you stupid girl," Maeve answered. 

"Then what?" Feyre whispered before a guard grabbed her from behind, one knife at her throat and another pointed at her stomach. Rhys had finally awoken and his eyes were wide, a snarl ripped from his lips. 

Maeve smiled down at him, "I want him to swear the blood oath to me. And if he doesn't, I'll kill his mate and his child. I don't think he'll refuse. Will you, Rhysand?"

The guard behind him released the knife just enough for him to speak. He looked back at Feyre, and she shook her head as much as she dared with the knife to her throat. She would rather be dead than have Rhys become a prisoner to a deranged queen once again. 

She saw him swallow hard before reluctantly saying, "I will swear it to you if you promise to release my mate and child as soon as I do. No harm shall come to them."

"Of course not, beautiful Rhys. They shall be taken back to the Night Court as soon as possible."

"I accept those terms then."

"Then, let us begin," Maeve smiled, speaking in an old language that Feyre didn't know. With the ornately carved knife on her hip, she cut into her hand, letting drops of blood stain the floor.

The ancient female walked down the stairs from her throne, stopping in front of Rhys.

"Repeat after me, 'I, Rhysand, High Lord of Night of the Realm of Prythian, do swear...'"

It didn't matter that Feyre screamed for him to stop the entire time he repeated her words, he kept going, not looking at her once. 

Maeve finished, " 'And I shall never serve anyone above my Queen.'"

"PLEASE! RHYS! STOP!" Feyre begged as he repeated the words. 

"Now, you must cut your palm, let the blood mix with my own," Maeve breath, excitement in her eyes as she passed the bloody dagger to him. He took it and finally looked at Feyre, who was fighting against the knife at her throat, begging him not to do it. He looked away quickly.

Feyre stopped breathing as things started to move in slow motion. The dagger in Rhys' hand, the guards, Maeve. The world seemed to stop as a blinding white light exploded through the dark room. 

The first thing Feyre notice was Rhys' dagger clatter to the ground, his hand unscathed.

The second thing Feyre noticed were three new figures, clad in differing colors, sprawled across the ground where Maeve had left the damaged silver mirror.

The last thing Feyre noticed was the grin on Maeve's face as the room exploded into chaos.