It took me a long while to realize that Rhysand, whether he knew it or not, had effectively kept me from shattering completely.

If he hadn’t been kissing me, if he hadn’t shown up and interrupted us, I would have gone out into that throne room covered in smudged paint. And everyone—especially Amarantha—would have known what I’d been up to. It wouldn’t have taken much to figure out whom I’d been with, especially not once they saw the paint on Tamlin. I didn’t want to consider what the punishment might have been.

Regardless of his motives or his methods, Rhysand was keeping me alive. And had done so even before I set foot Under the Mountain.

When you healed my arm...You didn't need to bargain with me. You could have demanded every single week of the year." My brows knit together as he turned, already half-consumed by the dark. "Every single week, and I would have said yes." It wasn't entirely a question, but I needed the answer.
A half smile appeared on his sensuous lips. "I know," he said, and vanished.

Rhysand stared at me for long enough that I faced him.
"Be glad of your human heart, Feyre. Pity those who don't feel anything at all.

Well, good-bye for now," he said, rolling his neck as if we hadn't been talking about anything important at all. He bowed at the waist, those wings vanishing entirely, and had begun to fade into the nearest shadow when he went rigid.
His eyes locked on mine wide and wild, and his nostrils flared. Shock—pure shock flashed across his features at whatever he saw on my face, and he stumbled back a step. Actually stumbled.
"What is—" I began.
He disappeared—simply disappeared, not a shadow in sight—into the crisp air.

They grabbed for me,
but he bared his teeth in a smile
that was anything but friendly -
and they halted.
"No more household chores, no more tasks,"
he said, his voice an erotic caress.
Their yellow eyes went glazed and dull,
their sharp teeth gleaming as their mouths slackened.
"Tell the others, too. Stay out of her cell,
and don't touch her.
If you do, you're to take your own daggers and
gut yourselves. Understood?"
Dazed, numb nods, then they blinked and straightened. I hid my trembling. Glamour, mind control - whatever it was he had done, it worked. They beckoned - but didn't dare touch me.
Rhysand smiled. "You're welcome," he purred as I walked out.