In Chap­ter 8, Feyre wan­dered through the expan­sive estate, her foot­steps light against the mar­ble path­ways that stretched into the man­i­cured gar­dens. The air was thick with the scent of bloom­ing ros­es and damp earth, but despite the tran­quil­i­ty, her mind remained sharp, assess­ing every detail for pos­si­ble escape routes. Though she had been left rel­a­tive­ly unguard­ed, the open fields and dense forests beyond the estate walls posed as much of a threat as the fae who held her cap­tive. Her fin­gers twitched at her sides, long­ing for the famil­iar grip of a bow, the weight of a blade—anything to carve out an advan­tage in this for­eign and unpre­dictable world.

The thought of slip­ping out under cov­er of dark­ness nagged at her, but the sto­ries of what lurked beyond the estate’s pro­tec­tion gave her pause. Lucien’s warn­ing about the blight, a creep­ing sick­ness that dis­tort­ed mag­ic and warped crea­tures into some­thing mon­strous, echoed in her mind. The notion that some­thing could weak­en even pow­er­ful faeries unset­tled her, mak­ing her real­ize that, as much as she resent­ed her impris­on­ment, the estate might be the safest place for now. But safe­ty did not mean free­dom, and free­dom remained her ulti­mate goal.

Deter­mined to take con­trol of her cir­cum­stances, Feyre con­sid­ered her next move. She knew she could­n’t over­pow­er Tam­lin, nor could she out­ma­neu­ver Lucien’s sharp wit and keen per­cep­tion with­out rais­ing sus­pi­cion. Instead, she would have to play a dif­fer­ent game—one of patience, obser­va­tion, and care­ful manip­u­la­tion. If she could con­vince Tam­lin that she was harm­less, per­haps even com­pli­ant, she might earn priv­i­leges, gain infor­ma­tion, or find an oppor­tu­ni­ty to slip away unno­ticed.

That night at din­ner, the ten­sion in the din­ing hall was pal­pa­ble. Tam­lin, seat­ed at the head of the grand wood­en table, exud­ed a qui­et author­i­ty, his mask an ever-present reminder of the secrets he car­ried. Lucien, his gold­en eye gleam­ing in the can­dle­light, smirked as Feyre took her seat, his expres­sion a mix­ture of amuse­ment and mild dis­dain. She ignored his scruti­ny and focused instead on the lav­ish meal before her—roasted meats, steam­ing bread, and ripe fruits, all a stark con­trast to the mea­ger scraps she had sur­vived on for years.

Tam­lin attempt­ed small talk, ask­ing about her home, her fam­i­ly, but his words felt rehearsed, as if he were try­ing to make her com­fort­able despite know­ing she would nev­er tru­ly be at ease. Feyre respond­ed care­ful­ly, offer­ing only what was nec­es­sary, know­ing that reveal­ing too much could be a weak­ness. Lucien, on the oth­er hand, took every oppor­tu­ni­ty to test her resolve, his sharp tongue press­ing her for reactions—mocking her hunt­ing skills, ques­tion­ing her intel­li­gence, prob­ing for the lim­its of her patience.

Just as the meal seemed to set­tle into an uneasy rhythm, an odd sound drift­ed through the open windows—a faint gig­gle, high-pitched and dis­em­bod­ied. Feyre stiff­ened, her fin­gers tight­en­ing around her gob­let as she scanned the room. Nei­ther Tam­lin nor Lucien react­ed imme­di­ate­ly, though she noticed the slight flick­er of Tamlin’s jaw tight­en­ing, the almost imper­cep­ti­ble way Lucien’s pos­ture stiff­ened. She had sensed some­thing in the gar­dens ear­li­er, an eerie pres­ence that danced just beyond her sight, and now she won­dered if it had fol­lowed her inside.

When she final­ly spoke, her voice was low but steady. “What was that?”

Tam­lin hes­i­tat­ed before respond­ing. “Noth­ing to wor­ry about.” His tone was meant to reas­sure, but it only made the unease set­tle deep­er into her bones.

Lucien, ever the insti­ga­tor, leaned for­ward with a smirk. “Curi­ous, aren’t you?” He twirled his gob­let in his hand, as if delib­er­at­ing whether to share what­ev­er knowl­edge he held. “Some things in this house are bet­ter left unseen, girl. You may be safer pre­tend­ing they don’t exist.”

But Feyre had nev­er been one to ignore threats in the dark. She had sur­vived by rec­og­niz­ing dan­ger before it struck, and she would not allow her­self to be blind­sided here. If there were things lurk­ing with­in the estate, watch­ing, whis­per­ing, she need­ed to know what they were—and more impor­tant­ly, whether they could be used to her advan­tage.

After din­ner, she excused her­self ear­li­er than usu­al, feign­ing fatigue, though her mind was alight with thoughts. Slip­ping through the halls, she retraced her steps toward the gar­dens, stop­ping near the hedges where she had first sensed the unseen fig­ures. The laugh­ter had fad­ed, but the air still felt charged, as if some­thing intan­gi­ble lin­gered just beyond the veil of the phys­i­cal world.

She crouched, pick­ing up a small, smooth stone from the grav­el path and rolling it between her fin­gers. If there were crea­tures that thrived on secre­cy, per­haps they could be drawn out with curios­i­ty rather than fear. Clos­ing her eyes, she whis­pered soft­ly, “I know you’re there.”

Silence. Then—a rus­tle, like leaves shift­ing in a breeze.

Feyre’s heart pound­ed, but she kept her breath­ing steady. If she could not see them, then per­haps she could lis­ten. Every sto­ry, every tale of faeries and their tricks came rush­ing back to her, and she won­dered just how much truth lay in the myths humans told of the crea­tures who lived beyond their world.

A gust of wind swept through the gar­den, and in it, she swore she heard a faint, chime-like voice mur­mur, “You should leave while you still can.”

The warn­ing sent a chill down her spine, but Feyre only straight­ened, her fin­gers tight­en­ing around the stone before she let it drop. She would not be fright­ened away so eas­i­ly. What­ev­er dan­gers lurked here—whether fae or some­thing else—she would face them head-on.

As she turned back toward the manor, a plan began to take shape. Tam­lin may hold the key to her cap­tiv­i­ty, but that did not mean he was the only source of knowl­edge. The estate held secrets, whis­pers hid­den in the shad­ows, and Feyre intend­ed to uncov­er them all.

This chap­ter deep­ens Feyre’s strug­gle for con­trol in a world where she is both a pris­on­er and an anom­aly. It weaves togeth­er her defi­ance, intel­li­gence, and instincts for sur­vival, plac­ing her on the precipice of a greater mys­tery. The pres­ence of unseen forces and the lay­ered ten­sion in her inter­ac­tions with Tam­lin and Lucien build an atmos­phere thick with intrigue, lay­ing the ground­work for the chal­lenges that await in the dan­ger­ous realm of the fae.