Love Is A Curse

TW: This segment will content descriptions of torture.

Cal's PoV:

The moment Cal had landed with Feyre in the woods beside Spring Court, she knew something was wrong.

When Rhys said goodbye, Cal clutched the spell bottle Az had given her tighter; judging by Tamlin's aggressive strides towards them, she would need it.

The next day, Tamlin did the absolute unthinkable thing.

He locked Feyre inside the house.

Just Feyre.

Even Cal could walk out if she wanted to.

But not Feyre.

And it pissed Cal off so much, she knew that faerie or not, Tamlin would surely face her wrath once he returned.

This wasn't protection anymore. This was possession.

And he possessed Feyre, like an object. And this house was his safe where he kept his treasured possession.

That's when Feyre started to panic.

Cal tried to calm her down, to tell her how she would get her out, no matter what it took, when Feyre started to dissolve into the darkness.

That's when Feyre passed out and as Cal and Alis were trying to revive her, a metallic twang rang through the air and the guards suddenly collapsed to the ground.

And Mor walked in.

Mor picked Feyre up in her arms, and started walking out the door.

"Please," said Alis, "please take care of her."

"I will," said Mor. "Cal, you're coming, right?"

"No," said Cal, straightening her shoulders and releasing a deep breath.

"You would rather stay here?" Mor's eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"Yes," said Cal. "If I disappear with her, given that I am Rhys' friend, it will become very obvious that Feyre was taken. Don't worry about me, Mor. Tamlin will send me home in a few days."

Mor nodded understandingly at her and walked out.

As evening droned on, Tamlin and Lucien walked in, Tamlin looking furious.

"WHERE IS SHE?" yelled Tamlin, squarely stepping into Cal's personal space. She calmly put a palm on his chest and pushed him back.

Somehow, even in that anger, Tamlin had the decency to step back; but his eyes were locked on her face.

"She winnowed out," said Cal simply. "You can ask the guards. They saw her disappearing."

"She can't winnow," said Tamlin. "She has never learnt how to do that."

"Is that why you never taught her?" asked Cal. "Is that why you never wanted her to learn how to defend herself? Because you wanted to make sure that she couldn't run from you or fight you?"

"You have no idea what you're talking about," said Tamlin. "Rhysand took her, didn't he?"

"No. Can you even smell him on the grounds? And given the last time, I think you have put up enough wards to keep Rhys away from here."

"I think you are the one who smuggled Tamlin's good bride out of this house," chimed in Ianthe, her eyes looking victorious, as if she was happy that Feyre was out of the way. "You are the one who sent our High Lord's treasure to that whore, who you think is your friend."

"She is not Tamlin's good bride," snapped Cal. "And she is not your High Lord's treasure either. She is Feyre, and she is her own person."

"And she is MINE!" yelled Tamlin.

"You don't own her, Tamlin," said Cal calmly. "What you did was wrong and she just snapped."

"Wrong?" asked Ianthe again. "He was just protecting her. And she didn't snap, she was manipulated, by that lying whore."

"You know Feyre," said Cal, ignoring Ianthe and looking at Tamlin. "She is a strong woman. She wouldn't be manipulated so easily."

Tamlin's eyes narrowed in doubt when Ianthe chimed in again.

"She is strong," said she, "but she is also broken." Tamlin's eyes hardened in realisation and Cal understood how Ianthe succeeded in manipulating him. "Amarantha broke her. And Rhysand is now taking advantage of her broken and fragile mind."

"My sister is not broken and fragile, you bitch!" yelled Cal. If she was going down, she wasn't doing that without a fight. "And you seem less concerned about Tamlin but more spiteful towards Rhys. I wonder why that is."

Ianthe's eyes flashed in anger and Cal smiled at her, showing her the perfect feline smile she had seen on Rhys' face so often.

"Your bride would never betray you," said Ianthe, shifting closer to Tamlin. "I think her sister, who had spent five years with Amarantha had already been broken. And Rhysand used that."

"Will you stop calling Feyre that?" yelled Cal, "she is Feyre, her identity is much beyond being 'Tamlin's bride'."

"So, you're saying that she is not Tamlin's bride?" asked Ianthe, her head tilting. "Whose bride do you want her to be?"

"I don't care whose bride she is! She is Feyre and I think she should be referred to as such."

"She sounds like Rhysand," said Ianthe putting a hand on Tamlin's shoulder. "I think now you know who his eyes and ears in Spring Court are."

"Have you been in contact with Rhysand after he dropped you off yesterday?" asked Tamlin, warily taking a step back from Cal.

"No," said Cal simply. "He dropped us off yesterday and that was it. Me and Feyre hadn't even talked about Rhys after coming back. Now is the first time he has even come up in conversation."

"She cannot be trusted," said Ianthe, her hand now resting on Tamlin's back. "She was with him for five years, maybe her mind isn't really hers anymore."

"Don't talk about me like I am not here!" snapped Cal. "And don't you dare twist my words, you white veiled piece of shit!"

"I told you that I was humiliated by the Night Court," said Ianthe, bringing her lips ever so closer to Tamlin's. "Her words are just like them. She might be Feyre's sister. But I think she is more Rhysand's friend now."

"I think you all are more obsessed with Rhys," said Cal with a chuckle. "That guy has more work to do than set spies all around. And you all have nothing better to do than cook up theories about how Rhys' work is centred around you. I mean, talk about narcissistic pricks!"

"We have never asked you about your visit to the Night Court," said Tamlin, looking at Cal. "And you never really said."

"I think Feyre has said enough," said Cal. "There is nothing to add."

"You remember how Feyre told you that Cal had gone away with Rhysand somewhere twice during their visit?" asked Ianthe, pulling Tamlin towards herself. "I think that is when he planned this entire thing with her. He has just employed her to get to your bride."

"WHY ARE YOU SPEAKING LIKE I AM NOT HERE?" yelled Cal. "I haven't been employed by anyone!"

"You're seeing the anger, aren't you?" asked Ianthe, her voice more frantic than before, almost clinging on to Tamlin's arm. "You remember who has such bursts of anger? She isn't herself anymore."

"JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU VILE PIECE OF SHIT!" yelled Cal. "You think I don't know what you're up to? The way you always politely condescend to Feyre? That is just your way of showing her how you would be a better choice as Tamlin's bride than her, a way for you to show her how you are so much better than her and that you are doing her a favour by letting her marry Tamlin. Your power games aren't a mystery to anyone. You must be really happy to have Feyre out of the way now, you're finally alone with a High Lord. Isn't that what you wanted for a long time? Since you couldn't bag the strongest High Lord, you're going for the stupidest one!"

"Tamlin," said Lucien from the back, "I think we all should calmly talk about this. All of this yelling can't be good for anyone."

"Maybe," said Ianthe, gliding towards Cal with inhuman speed, "we shouldn't keep her in this house anymore."

Ianthe grabbed Cal by her elbows and Cal jerked away sharply.

"Keep your hands off me, bitch!" snapped Cal as she ran to her room and locked the door. She could hear frantic footsteps behind her as she rummaged through her drawers, looking for the vial. She gulped the entire contents down her throat as the door was blasted open.

Ianthe stormed into her room as Cal braced herself against the wall.

Ianthe grabbed her by her jaw and squeezed hard, eliciting a sharp pain.

"You're going to regret every vile thing you said to me," said Ianthe, and squeezed Cal's jaw harder. She heard the bone snap and an excruciating pain arose from the point.

She knew this pain.

This was the familiar pain of a broken bone. And she knew what would follow.

She heard her own scream before even knowing that she had started it.

And Ianthe laughed.

Cal felt the hot tears streaming down her face as Ianthe kept the iron grasp on her jaw, even when Cal scratched against it, trying to pry her fingers away.

After she was done laughing, Ianthe released her, and then slapped her so hard against her face that her world ended in darkness.

Two days had gone by and Cal hadn't been able to sleep at all. Daematis were posted around her who made sure that her every waking moment was filled with torment from Under The Mountain.

There were things she hadn't felt at that time when Rhys had taken away her pain. But the memories of them were still there.

And when the daematis forced her memories to be replayed in full, the pain was there, since Rhys wasn't there to take away her pain then.

This continued until she had passed out.

Lucien had come down thrice everyday with a plate of hot food. And he had fed her.

"I promise you," Lucien had said, "I will get you out of here. Tamlin isn't being himself, he has no idea what he is doing. I will wait till I learn how to deal with Ianthe. And then, I will take you out of here."

But on the third day, when Cal heard footsteps coming down the dungeon, and had expected it to be Lucien, she was gravely disappointed.

Ianthe stood there with a spell in her hand.

"If you're waiting for your friend," said Ianthe, "he isn't coming down today. Tamlin sent him away on some emissary business. And Alis has been relieved of her duties given that Feyre isn't here anymore. And once Lucien returns, I will make sure he doesn't come here."

"Get lost," snarled Cal, "get fucking lost, you hateful slut!"

"Now, that's not so nice," said Ianthe, tightening the chains on Cal's arms and then grabbing her elbow. "Since we are trying to help you get better, lets start by teaching you some manners. Apologise. Now."

"You know there is nothing wrong with me," said Cal, "you are just trying to get back at me. You are just jealous that I still get to be Rhys' friend while you're not even allowed to enter his court. I am not apologising to you, bitch!"

Ianthe's eyes narrowed as she tightened her fingers around Cal's elbow and the bone snapped.

Cal hadn't been able to count how many days had passed. Ianthe had used some spell on her that stopped all of Cal's bodily processes.

She couldn't even eat, even if she was hungry.

One time, when Tamlin had come to see her, she had requested for some food, and Tamlin had immediately obliged. Tamlin still cared for her, and that gave her hope for him.

But the moment she swallowed the food, she vomited. She couldn't keep anything down.

"I need to get you to a healer," said Tamlin, rubbing Cal's back as she hurled her guts out. "I will talk to Ianthe, an-"

"No," Cal had croaked. "No Ianthe. I am dying, Tamlin. Please, get me out of here."

"She is not dying," said Ianthe, suddenly appearing behind him. "She just wants you to let her out of the house so she can escape back to the Night Court, to feed Rhysand all that she has learned here."

Tamlin, impossibly, had believed her and left.

And Cal was left only in the company of the daematis.

Ianthe would see her every once in a while; and everytime she did, Cal would end up with more physical injuries.

She couldn't tell how many days had passed, the dungeon had no light.

The darkness was suffocating.

The daematis didn't let her sleep.

As one of them started making her relive a memory of having her guts ripped out by Amarantha, it suddenly stopped.

The memory had stopped in the middle, alongwith the pain.

There was a new pain suddenly, a sharp stabbing pain in her abdomen.

"Cal?" came the voice, as soft as a light breeze among moonlit plains.

"Az?" called out Cal.

She opened her eyes and saw him looking at her, quietly but firmly removing the chains from her.

The Shawdowsinger.

Azriel talked to her as he removed her chains. Her wrists were burning, but she didn't want to cry.

She had cried so much, that even looking at Azriel was embarrassing.

He was the Shadowsinger for fuck's sake. If he even knew how weak she was, he would probably vomit at the thought of being friends with her.

She wanted to throw her arms around him, to thank him for coming to get her, to reassure herself that he was there and that it wasn't just a hallucination conjured by her dying mind.

But he really was there. She could feel him as he held his hand out to her, helping her get up.

She got up with his help when a terrible cramp took over her. She felt her stomach and the muscles in her legs cramping at the same time and she collapsed.

She vaguely felt Azriel grabbing her before she fell to the floor.

So weak.

So fucking weak.

It made her nauseous.

"Cal? Cal?" Az kept calling for her but she could feel herself drifting away.

Oddly, she gave in to the sensation. As she felt her head hit his shoulder, she hoped that maybe her nightmares were over.

For a while.

The sound of flapping wings woke her up and a light breeze across her face eased the pain on her forehead and lips.

"Oh good," came Azriel's voice and he sounded relieved. "You're up. You were starting to scare me a little."

"What's happening?" asked Cal, the motion of flying oddly comforting to her aching stomach.

She tried to lift her head but then moaned and laid it back again, a throbbing sensation erupting from her temples.

She realised that she was in Azriel's arms, tucked in neatly against his chest, her head rested against his shoulder.

She noticed, with a start, how big Azriel really was against her.

In normal clothes, it was often easy to forget that he too was a faerie, an Illyrian warrior.

She looked around and saw Rhys flying a little ahead of them.

She realised she was covered in a black jacket that probably belonged to Rhys. Her teeth chattered when she registered how cold it was.

"Are you cold?" asked Az.

"It is a bit nippy," said Cal, snuggling in comfortably against his chest.

She felt a rumble within his chest as he laughed.

But the comfort didn't last long as her stomach started to pain again. The muscles in her hands cramped up this time, alongwith her stomach twisting up.

She let out an unintentional cry as Az looked at her in concern, his hands slightly tightening around her.

"There is an area covered by trees ahead," came Rhys' voice from beside her and Az flew towards it. The pain crippled Cal so much that she couldn't even look at her friend.

When she felt Az set her down, she tried to look down at her stomach.

"Hey," warned Az, holding Cal's chin gently and making her look at him. "Look at me."

"But-" whimpered Cal, biting her lip again as another bout of pain racked her body. "It hurts."

Cal saw Az's eyes darkening for a second before his lips trembled. He seemed angry and sad at the same time.

She couldn't really focus enough to formulate a question as another cramp rushed through her body, all of her muscles seizing up painfully for a few seconds, making her cry out again.

She felt Az's fingers gently wiping the tears running down the side of her face.

"It's a poison," said Rhys simply, putting the jacket back on her. "A mortal poison, haemotoxin."

"What ar-" Az started but Rhys cut him off.

"Amren will know what to do," said Rhys. "We need to winnow her back there. Now."

"She wi-"

"She will be fine. Cal?" asked Rhys tenderly, and she felt cold fingers against her cheekbones. She shivered at the contact and Rhys drew back his hand. "Are you cold?"

"Yes," replied Cal, holding back another shiver.

"Just hold on for a little while more, okay? You will be fine."

Cal nodded weakly as she felt Az wrap the jacket tightly around her.

Az's fingers were also very cold, she realised with a shock.

As Azriel lifted her up again, she looked at his hands, one holding her around her rib cage and the other wrapping around her knees.

She realised how big he really was up close.

"Thank you for that observation," said Azriel, a tight smile on his lips.

"What?" said Cal, her head throbbing.

"You said I am big," said Az, "I am taking that as a compliment."

"Did I-"

"She is fever talking," Rhys cut her off. "We need to get her to Amren as fast as possible. And don't jostle her, Az. She doesn't have enough energy to heal."