@Firefly2006 Since I just read Book 1 my memory is fresh. You said Tamlin "had no reasoning" and he was "selfish reasoning he wants to be cured," yet in the first book he actually let Feyre go free. He put her above his desire to have the curse lifted, even after losing hundreds of sentries and recently one of his close friends (by Feyre's own hand out of hatred).
It's wrong, but he wants to keep her safe in the spring court because last time he let Feyre go free, she ran to the Mountain save him and barely survived. Both Tamlin and Feyre needed a therapist trained in how to deal with trauma (and definitely not this sketchy priestess). The dinners, luncheons, picnics, and hunts are not enough - they are BOTH shutting and suppressing their trauma.
It honestly feels like the author wrote book 1 then only towards the end figured out she wanted to make Rhys and Feyre endgame, she might have tweaked a few scenes in the re-drafting process for Rhys, but ultimately decided to just completely re-write the character Tamlin in book 2. Book 1 Tamlin "I would have. Against slavery, against tyranny, I would gladly go to my death, no matter whose freedom I was defending" and gave Feyre her freedom. Book 2 Tamlin (I read the spoiler): locks Feyre in the house and later joins tyrant.
Sidenote: does anyone else think it is strange Feyre is hyper focused only on the 2 fae she killed in the mountain, but has completely forgotten about the fae she killed in the first book?
Disagree with the Rhys had to stay in character bit - especially in regards to him twisting her exposed bone and physically torturing her into the bargain. Also, if he didn't want to raise any suspicion, he would not have drugged Feyre (without her consent) forcing her to humiliate herself every night by dancing on him, sitting on his lap, etc. That raises way too attention to Feyre being favored by Rhys.
"Swift as lightning, he lashed out, grabbing the shard of bone in my arm and twisting. A scream shattered out of me, ravaging my aching throat. The world flashed black and white and red. I thrashed and withered, but he kept his grip, twisting the bone a final time before releasing my arm. Panting, half sobbing as pain reverberated through my body, I found him smirking at me again. I spat in his face. He only laughed"