Angels Grave

~ Chapter 15 ~

As soon as Zhysa appeared from the bone gates, and returned to above the Prison, Rhysand came over with Feyre, grabbing their arms – hers significantly more tightly – and winnowed them away.

She stumbled as Rhysand threw her arm, letting her slam across the adjacent wall. Rhysand then pinned her, a hand squeezing threateningly on her throat, hard enough to eventually give her bruise but not so hard that she wouldn't be able to breathe.

She lifted her head up, quiet as Rhysand seethed. She had broken that little bit of trust she had gained with Feyre's story. She saw it in his eyes. He saw her as a danger, unpredictable, because of things she knew and he didn't.

"Rhys, let her go now!" Feyre yelled, pulling on his arm. Rhysand didn't budge but loosened his grip as the other faeries that had been waiting patiently for them to return barged in, looking at the scene in confusion.

Rhysand without warning, invaded her mind, no event of tack whatsoever. His magic was alluring, beckoning to reveal all of her secrets, like a black hole waiting to engulf everything.

She recoiled, her mind thrashing at the invasion, and with a consistent wave, washed him out of her mind. Her magic – the Night Court originated ones – sang as it resonated with the High Lord. She panted as her eyes flashed a deeper violet and returned to normal. It was getting harder.

Rhysand had also pulled back, gripping his head. Zhysa rubbed her throat, coughing a little. Feyre ran to her and rubbed her back, trying to help get the oxygen into her lungs. Rhysand looked at her with disbelief.

"You're daemati." He whispered, slightly shocked. Feyre looked in between them confused.

"Of course Zhysa's a daemati, I thought you already knew that?" Feyre questioned. His gaze flickered to Feyre, an apology waiting in his stare. Mor finally decided to interrupt.

"Okay, everyone here is very confused. Please explain what happened at the Bone Carver and ... whatever this is?" She tapped her heeled foot expectantly.

Rhysand snarled and Zhysa flinched from the place she had sat on the floor. Her back was against the wall, feeling distinctively cornered.

"We wasted a trip, that's what happened. Zhysa already knew almost everything that the Bone Carver talked about. So that trip was for your own selfishness, huh?" Zhysa's white hair had fallen over her face, hiding the glassy eyes that had shown up whilst being scolded. She nodded and responded quietly.

"I already knew all of the information. That is why I asked to go on my own. I needed to ask The Carver some questions of my own" Rhysand looked on angrily.

"Well, he got you alone. Did he answer your question?" She nodded again, her white hair dragging across the wooden floors.

"It was a personal concern. He just told me what I needed to hear" She mumbled. Mor was now rubbing her temples. "Please, can we move on to what happened with the Carver and how we will deal with it? We can talk about Zhysa's secrets later."

She thanked Mor silently, even as Feyre sent her a concerned glance and a slight glare at Rhysand.

It's okay. I have many secrets and some of them involve this court. I do not expect them to trust me. She sent to Feyre, Zhysa's voice resonating in her skull as they listened.

Rhysand recounted the trip, telling the people present – Mor, Cassian and Azriel – of what was said about the Cauldron. Surprisingly, Azriel asked the most questions, followed by Mor and then Cassian. Zhysa supposed Azriel needed to know this much as to not implicate his job as spymaster. Once Rhysand was done, Azriel interrupted.