"Amatantha will enjoy breaking her," Rhysand observed to Tamlin. "Almost as much as she'll enjoy watching you as she shatters her but by bit." Tamilin was frozen, his arms-- his claws-- hanging limply at his side. You've never seen him look this this. "Please" was all that Tamlin said.

"Please what?" Rhysand said-- gently, coaxingly. Like a lover. "Don't tell Amatantha about her," Tamlin said, his voice strained. "And why not? As her whore," he said with a glance tossed in Lucien's direction, "I should tell her everything."

"Please," Tamlin managed, as if it were difficult to breathe. Rhysand pointed at the ground, and his smile became vicious. "Beg, and I'll consider not telling Amatantha." Tamlin dropped to his knees and bowed his head. "Lower."

You could have wept with rage at the sight of your two boys being forced to bow to him. Rhysand pointed at Lucien. "You too, fox-boy." Lucien's face was dark, but he lowered himself to his knees, next to Tamlin.