TW: rape Feyre spends four days in her cell before a couple of shadow-y fea come by and shadow-ize her as well to take her out. They paint her body in swirly colors and give her a thin, revealing not-quite-a-dress to wear, while Feyre just mutely lets them. Because when she was starving, fevered, and…

Feyre spends an undetermined amount of time in her cell, getting sicker and weaker as her mud-caked wound continues to bleed and infection sets in and food doesn’t. Rhysand comes in and offers to heal her with magic, but only if she spends half of every month with him. Because…well, what kind of book did…

Feyre wakes up in a dungeon which is the dungeoniest dungeon to ever dungeon. Distant screams and cracking whips and all. Honestly, at this point I’m so numb to this sort of scene in fiction that I just can’t be nervous, or impressed, or whatever it is I’m supposed to feel. Instead of “oh no,…

Feyre arms herself with what weapons she can find in the manor, and they head out to do whatever it is a squishy human can do against all-powerful evil magic queens. Which, in these stories, is somehow always ‘a lot.’ Stay with the High Lord, the Suriel had said. Stay with him, fall in love…