Chap­ter 9, The morn­ing light fil­tered through the sprawl­ing estate, cast­ing long gold­en streaks across the pol­ished floors of the manor. Feyre paced her cham­ber, mind rac­ing as she weighed the risks of her next move. The pre­vi­ous days had taught her that infor­ma­tion was just as valu­able as a weapon, and if she were to nav­i­gate this world of pow­er­ful faeries, she need­ed knowl­edge. Tamlin’s kind­ness was unpre­dictable, veer­ing between indul­gence and dis­tance, leav­ing her uncer­tain of his true inten­tions. But Lucien—Lucien was dif­fer­ent. His sharp tongue and wry humor masked some­thing deep­er, and she sus­pect­ed he might hold the answers she need­ed.

A knock at her door inter­rupt­ed her thoughts, and when she opened it, Tam­lin stood before her, his pos­ture casu­al yet unread­able. “You’ve been cooped up too long,” he said. “Come ride with me. I can show you the land.” His voice was neu­tral, but there was some­thing in his expression—an expec­ta­tion, per­haps. Feyre hes­i­tat­ed before shak­ing her head. “I think I’ll spend the day alone.” She could sense his unspo­ken curios­i­ty, but he did not press her.

Once Tam­lin was gone, she slipped through the manor’s cor­ri­dors, her steps mea­sured as she made her way toward the sta­bles. Lucien was there, strap­ping on leather vam­braces, his expres­sion half-bored, half-amused when he saw her approach. “Final­ly decid­ed to take me up on my gen­er­ous offer of friend­ship?” he drawled, fas­ten­ing his belt. Feyre crossed her arms. “You’re going on patrol. Take me with you.” Lucien’s auburn brows rose. “And why would I do that?”

She hes­i­tat­ed for only a moment before reply­ing, “Because I need answers. And you seem like the type who enjoys play­ing games.” Lucien’s smirk widened, and after a lin­ger­ing pause, he ges­tured toward a horse. “Fine. But if you fall behind, I’m leav­ing you for the wolves.”

The woods loomed ahead, vibrant and unspoiled, yet hold­ing an unnat­ur­al qui­et that set Feyre on edge. Lucien rode beside her, his sharp gaze flick­ing between the tree­tops and the shad­owed path­ways. “These lands weren’t always this still,” he mused. “The blight is chang­ing things.” Feyre’s fin­gers tight­ened on the reins. “The blight,” she echoed. “Tam­lin men­tioned it. What exact­ly is it?”

Lucien sighed, as if debat­ing how much to reveal. “It’s not just some sick­ness, if that’s what you’re hop­ing. It’s—” He cut him­self off, then smirked. “Let’s just say, it’s above your con­cern, human.” His words stung, but she refused to rise to his bait.

The silence stretched, bro­ken only by the dis­tant rustling of unseen crea­tures. Then Lucien glanced at her, amuse­ment flick­er­ing in his rus­set eye. “Tell me, do humans real­ly think we spend our days steal­ing babies and danc­ing in moon­light?” Feyre snort­ed. “Some of us, maybe. Oth­ers believe faeries are lit­tle more than mon­sters with pow­er.”

Lucien hummed. “We can be. But we’re not all the same.”

As they rode deep­er into the for­est, the air grew heav­ier, the shad­ows denser. Lucien slowed his horse, his demeanor shift­ing. “This is far enough.” Feyre frowned. “Afraid of get­ting lost?”

Lucien ignored the jab, instead fix­ing her with a cal­cu­lat­ing look. “If you’re look­ing for a loop­hole in the Treaty, you won’t find one. You belong here now.”

The words set­tled heav­i­ly in her chest, more final than she want­ed to admit. She had always known escape would be dif­fi­cult, but hear­ing it con­firmed only made her more deter­mined. Still, she forced her­self to appear indif­fer­ent. “You talk too much for some­one who pre­tends not to care.”

Lucien chuck­led. “And you pry too much for some­one who shouldn’t be ask­ing ques­tions.”

They lin­gered a while longer, their con­ver­sa­tion weav­ing between teas­ing ban­ter and care­ful­ly guard­ed truths. Feyre absorbed every detail, every scrap of infor­ma­tion Lucien let slip, fil­ing it away for lat­er. When they final­ly turned back toward the manor, she felt no clos­er to free­dom but more aware of the del­i­cate pow­er dynam­ics at play.

Tam­lin was the force that kept this estate stand­ing, but Lucien—Lucien knew its weak­ness­es. And if she was going to find her way out, she need­ed to under­stand both.

This chap­ter unfolds with a sense of qui­et ten­sion, lay­ered with wit, strat­e­gy, and sub­tle pow­er shifts. It paints a vivid pic­ture of a pro­tag­o­nist caught in a realm where knowl­edge is cur­ren­cy and alliances are built on del­i­cate bal­ances of trust and decep­tion. Feyre may not yet have a clear path for­ward, but one thing is certain—she is no longer just sur­viv­ing. She is play­ing the game.