Another day. Another meeting. Another attempt at convincing myself that I was the cool, confident High Lord of the Night Court, and not the broken shell of a male pining for the love of someone who loves another.
Feyre…
It would be humiliating to admit to my Inner Circle how often I thought of her. In fact, it would be simpler to say when she did not cross my mind, which was little to never.
As I sat in the near-empty throne room in the Court of Nightmares, it was easy to school my face into neutrality as I listened to the ever-droning voice of Kier as he filled me in with the daily ongoing of Hewn City, and any reports of supporters of Amarantha. I nodded along as he listed name after name - some surprising, some note - and glanced as my spymaster whispered commands to his shadows to no doubt track the traitorous fools down to meet their untimely, but necessary demise.
Whilst I despised these meetings, they were needed. Whilst the majority of High Lords and their denizens despised Amarantha and her evil doings over the past half a century, they were an unfortunate number of those who supported her, and a large part of that number resided here, in the Night Court. It was important that they were eradicated - to ease any messages being sent to Hybern, and to send a clear message from myself - I am back as the rightful High Lord of the Night Court. She is no longer in control.
The only benefit of these meetings, apart from the intel of Amarantha’s supporters, was watching Kier sh*t himself whenever I arrived, especially when I was joined by my loyal Illyrian brother. Cassian’s profile was visible to me as he stood at the bottom of the Dias and I took great pleasure in watching him stare Kier down, and watch Kier attempt not to notice the huge, intimidating warrior at his side.
My head lolled back to rest on the throne behind me, and my thoughts drifted to Feyre.
It has only been 13 days since she returned to the Spring Court and in that time I had felt…nothing.
No nightmares. No middle-of-the-night vomiting. No frustrating interactions with that sly Ianthe. Not even any…intimate moments with Tamlin. My shielding lessons had worked remarkably well, but that was because she was remarkable student, I just didn’t expect that I would be locked out so completely and effortlessly. I must admit, it pissed me off and worried me.
My eyes closed as I reached along the bond and gave it a gentle tug, just to make sure she was still alive, even if she was not well.
‘Is there anything else my Lord needs my assistance for?’ Kier’s irritating voice interrupted my thoughts and my eyes snapped open.
‘Yes. Actually.’ I said, with the most unenthusiastic tone I could muster ‘I wish to see the whole of Court - ‘
I stopped and winced. The mask of the High Lord faltering, for just a second, on my face.
Panic, terror, and utter horror flew down the bond.
‘My Lord...’ I vaguely heard Kier say, his eyebrows raising in curiosity and confusion.
Splattered walls that ran rich with red…was that blood or paint?
A room full of bookshelves looked destroyed and a voice…not Feyre’s, but his called out…it was muffled and panicked as he said her name and then,
Nothing.
Shields up, emotion spent, vision gone.
I released my held breath and noticed that darkness had begun to leak out of me, unbidden, a sign that I was beginning to lose control.
I straightened myself upright on my throne, clearing my throat before returning my face into the cool, unbothered facade of the High Lord. At least the darkness that had escaped me had taken Kier by surprise. His face now contorted with fear and concern as the darkness dissipated around him.
‘Soon, of course, lest they forget who is actually in charge of this wretched place. I shall inform you of the date, ensure everyone knows that a meeting is imminent and compulsory. Kier, are you even listening to me?’ His gaze snapped back up to mine
‘Of course, My Lord’ his voice now laced with the wobble of worry for himself
‘Good. Now, leave’ I commanded.
Kier merely nodded his head and departed.
No sooner had the great doors to the throne room slammed shut, did Azriel’s worried face appear in front of me
‘Rhys, what happened?’
There was no time to explain. Plus, this court has too many hidden ears waiting for gossip.
I grabbed them both and winnowed back to the House of Wind.
***
‘Rhys, what the hell is going on?’ An incredulous Cassian said as we landed on the open balcony of the house of Wind
‘You lot are back early, everything go - what’s wrong? What happened?’ Mor’s form appeared in the doorway, her smile faltering as she felt the tension emanating off us all.
‘That’s what we’re waiting to find out’ Cassian explained ‘Rhys practically drowned us in his darkness in front of Kier, for seemingly no reason’.
I said nothing, as I tried and failed to calm my breathing, to stop my racing thoughts and the instinctive, demanding urge to winnow to the Spring Court myself.
‘Azriel’ I managed to say ‘send a message to your spies in the Spring Court. Something has happened. See if you can find out what it is’
A simple nod was all I needed from Azriel to know that the task will be done, and he flew off into the afternoon sky.
‘Cassian, go to your armies. Ensure they’re ready in case war is coming earlier than expected’
‘Like hell I will! What on earth is going on?’ Cassian almost shouted.
The roaring in my ears was beginning to ease as I turned my back on Mor and Cassian and surveyed Velaris. As much as I loved the worry of my brother, I needed space right now to fully return to my senses.
‘Just do it Cass’, I heard Mor murmur, ‘please’.
I heard Cassian mumble grumpily, and then the beat of his wings as he took off from the balcony.
Mor approached and put a hand on my shoulder.
‘Is she okay?’ She asked, quietly, calmly.
Mor, my ever-present shoulder to lean on. The only one who knows the truth of Feyre. The only one who understands the weight of having her so far away from me.
I span around, catching her off guard.
‘Something happened. I haven’t felt her since she returned and then…just then...’ I growled. The territorial instincts that I had buried so well in front of my brothers slipping out.
‘Okay…tell me what happened. Or, show me. Rhys, you’re about to lose complete control’
Mor was right. My magic was now rolling off me, darkness was sweeping around our ankles and cascading over the balcony. I sent Mor the brief glimpses I had of the moment Feyre’s shields went down, along with the emotion attached.
Mor gasped. ‘Oh, Rhys. Can’t you go and get her’ she asked, ‘gods, I’ll go and get her if you’re worried about starting a war!’
I wanted to. I wanted too more than anything else in this entire gods-forsaken world. I wanted nothing more than to bring her here, where she would never feel that terror, or be subjected to.
‘I can’t Mor. The bargain…unless her specifically asks for me, I just can’t’
A silence settled between us. As we both thought the same thing, the one thing I was too afraid, too terrified to say out aloud in case it was true.
‘Rhys, you don’t think Tamlin…Rhys, do you think he’s raised his hands -‘
Another growl slipped my lips. ‘Do. Not. Finish. That. Sentence. I am barely holding myself back from winnowing there right now and I’m even closer to sending you there to fetch her.’
Mor gulped, and reached out her hands to clasp mine. ‘Then, what do you want to do?’
I looked at her joined hands and made a silent and solemn vow that if Feyre ever felt that kind of fear or terror again, the laws be damned, myself and Mor would tear the Spring Court apart to save her, but for now
‘Drink. I want to drink’, to settle my still racing heart, to try and smother the guilt-ridden feeling I had over my mate feeling traumatised and being powerless to stop, so I let Mor lead my useless, broken self into the House of Wind.
