𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚎(𝙰𝙲𝙾𝚃𝙰𝚁)

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞-𝖊𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

song of the chapter: midnight sky by miley cyrus

"i was born to run, i don't belong to anyone."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Elain was nestled between Mor and Evelina on the sitting room couch when Nesta, Rhys, and Feyre arrived at the town house. I was sitting in a chair across from them.

Nesta strode to Elain, and took up a seat on her other side, before turning her attention to where they remained in the foyer.

From what I had heard, they beast at the bottom of the library had been disturbed. Nesta and Feyre had been terrorized, and Cassian and Rhys had rescued them.

Lucien, stationed by the front window, turned from watching the street. Monitoring it. A sword and dagger hung from his belt. No humor, no warmth graced his face—only fierce, grim determination.

"Azriel's coming down from the roof," Rhys said to none of us in particular, leaning against the archway into the sitting room and crossing his arms.

And as if he'd summoned him, my brother stepped out of a pocket of shadow by the stairs and scanned them from head to toe. His eyes lingered on the blood crusting Rhys's hands.

Feyre took up a spot at the opposite doorway post while Cassian and Azriel remained between them.

Rhys was quiet for a moment before he said, "The priestesses will keep silent about what happened today. And the people of this city won't learn why Amren is now preparing to hunt. We can't afford to let the other High Lords know. It would unnerve them—and destabilize the image we have worked so hard to create."

"The attack on Velaris," Mor countered from her place on the couch, "already showed we're vulnerable."

"That was a surprise attack, which we handled quickly," Cassian said, Siphons flickering. "Az made sure the information came out portraying us as victors—able to defeat any challenge Hybern throws our way."

"We did that today," Feyre said.

"It's different," Rhys said. "The first time, we had the element of their surprise to excuse us. This second time, it makes us look unprepared. Vulnerable. We can't risk that getting out before the meeting in ten days. So for all appearances, we will remain unruffled as we prepare for war."

Mor sagged against the couch cushions.

"A war where we have no allies beyond Keir, either in Prythian or beyond it."

Rhys gave her a sharp look.

"The queen might come," Elain said quietly. Elain was staring at the unlit fireplace, eyes lost to that vague murkiness.

"What queen," Nesta said, more tightly than she usually spoke to her sister.

"The one who was cursed."

"Cursed by the Cauldron," Feyre clarified to Nesta, pushing off the archway. "When it threw its tantrum after you . . . left."

"No." Elain studied Feyre, then Nesta. "Not that one. The other."

Nesta took a steadying breath, opening her mouth to either whisk Elain upstairs or move on.

But Azriel asked softly, taking a single step over the threshold and into the sitting room, "What other?"

"The queen—with the feathers of flame."

The shadowsinger angled his head.

"Should we—does she need--" Lucien began with concern.