THE GREAT PRETENDER ¬ ACOTAR

chapter xviii.

* 　　 · . 　  　　✺    　　  ✧　.  　✵  * 　　* 　　 · . 　    　　✵  * 　　　　  ✫  * 　 . 　　·          ⊹ 　  ✺    .  　  ✧　　　  ✦    ✫ 　 .   ✫  * . 　　　　　 　 　　    ·  　 ⊹ 　  ✺ .   　　　  ✧　.　  ✦    ✫ 　 .  .

CHAPTER XVIII

FRESH CUT

"YOU MADE A BARGAIN WITH HER?"

"What could you have done, Callaghan?" Rhys bit back.

Cal stood down, "I would've done nothing, my lord."

The High Lord softened, "Cal, I'm— I apologize."

She waves a hand, ignoring his apology, "What can I do to help?"

"You have suffered enough, Callaghan."

"I don't care about suffering," she said, "I want to help."

He turned around, his back now facing her, "I will call to you when I will need help."

"You don't always have to do things on your own, Rhys," she said before falling back to her timid servant persona and left the room.

──────────────────────────────

WHISPERS SOUNDED AS FEYRE AND RHYSAND ENTERED THE THRONE ROOM. Callaghan frowned at the situation Feyre was in. The mortal was dressed in nothing but paint and a sorry excuse of a dress. Males couldn't keep their gaze off her. The Night Court spy wanted to gauge their eyes out for the way they basically salivated at the sight of the mortal girl.

High Lord Tamlin remained still as stone, showing no emotion whatsoever as Rhysand and Feyre approached them. Rhys told them about his bargain with Feyre, and Amarantha kept a smile on her face, but she was not one bit amused.

When the two settled on his table, Callaghan walked towards them, offering them the drinks. All according to plan. She didn't quite agree with it, but it would have to suffice. Cal didn't have a better plan anyway.

Still going around the room, she kept a steady eye on them, but looked away upon seeing Feyre dancing. Callaghan couldn't bear seeing the girl out of her senses.

"I almost didn't recognize you with your hair cut short," Helion whispered against his own goblet.

Her hair had indeed been cut short, stopping below her ears. Days ago, some of the guards figured she needed a fresh cut, so they took their turns in cutting her hair up, forcefully. Rhysand fumed when he saw what they had done, controlling their minds to cut off their thumbs.

She opened her mouth to speak but Helion cut her off, "It's not for style, I can tell. Don't even try to lie to me."

"They have been dealt with, my lord," she kept her head down as people passed by.

"Good to know."

──────────────────────────────

A SERVANT ARRIVED just as Lucien left her cell. She bowed at the Feyre, "I came to clean you up, my lady."

Feyre was no lady, but she figured Rhysand had told the servants to treat her as such since she was his property. She was in no shape to refuse her so she just let the servant do what she needed to do.

Slowly she walked in and with her gentle hands, she took the coat from her body and began wiping the paint off. The water she used was warm, providing Feyre the heat she needed.

"How are you faring, ma'am?"

"The water is—"

"I did not mean the water, I meant here, in the Mountain."

"Rhysand likes to play his games," the mortal girl said, "He's cruel, almost as cruel as Amarantha."

The servant only hummed as a response to that.

When she was done, Feyre spoke up, "What's your name?"

"I'm just a servant," she stood on her feet, taking the bucket containing the inky water with her, "Rest well, my lady."

This became a pattern for them. Cal would clean her up party after party and ask her how she was, while Feyre continued to ask for her name despite her sluggish state yet never did Cal give her name.

──────────────────────────────

[ notes! ]

wE are nearing the end of UTM sjshsjssj

i cAnt wait

* 　　 · . 　  　　✺    　　  ✧　.  　✵  * 　　* 　　 · . 　    　　✵  * 　　　　  ✫  * 　 . 　　·          ⊹ 　  ✺    .  　  ✧　　　  ✦    ✫ 　 .   ✫  * . 　　　　　 　 　　    ·  　 ⊹ 　  ✺ .   　　　  ✧　.　  ✦    ✫ 　 .  .