A Court of Ash and Necromancy

22. The High Lord's Wrath

The artwork above is not mine.

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The sun was already sinking low in the western sky when Rhys winnowed them to the Autumn Court. Estelle's stomach churned with anxiety as she recalled everything she'd just heard. Melantha. Necromancy. Shapeshifting. Wynter and Evren's disappearances. They couldn't be coincidences. None of it could be a coincidence.

She knew Mikael had picked up on her feelings. His confusion drifted across the Bond, though he asked no questions. She was grateful for that. She knew that any questions he had would have to be answered eventually, but not right now.

Mikael stuck close to Estelle, his presence a steady comfort. Estelle reached for his arm and gripped it for support as they walked through the trees towards the Forest House, Eris and Evren's private residence. She fought to keep her legs steady, even as they threatened to give out beneath her.

It couldn't be a coincidence. Her dreams. The book Mikael had found. Melantha. Whatever Wynter discovered. His disappearance. Melantha. The attack in the torture chamber. Evren's disappearance. Estelle's Cauldron damned dreams. Melantha. Her head was spinning.

"Batsy," Mikael murmured, catching her attention. "Deep breaths. Let's handle this and then sort through everything else."

Estelle nodded, forcing herself to suck down long, even breaths. The shadows curled around her arms, whispering soothing words. She couldn't believe how slowly this day was passing. Her morning with Mikael felt weeks away, rather than a few hours.

Guilty thoughts pricked her conscience. While she had been spending time with her mate, Wynter was trapped Mother knew where, and Evren Vanserra had been snatched right out of her home! Stop it, Estelle scolded herself. What could I have done to prevent any of this? For all I knew, it was just a dream. Not a vision that would come true.

That made her feel slightly better, but only slightly. They reached the Forest House and Elain greeted them at the door. "They're upstairs," she said, beckoning them inside. "Eris isn't doing well."

"Who can blame him?" Feyre replied.

Estelle gritted her teeth. It's not my fault. It's not my fault. It's not my fault.

They entered a hallway filled with paintings. A door hung open and muffled voices drifted from beyond it. Elain stepped into the room and they trailed in after her. Estelle couldn't stop the waves of guilt that rolled over her.

Eris Vanserra looked the most un-High Lordlike she'd ever seen him. His short red hair was an uncombed mess. There were dark circles beneath his angry, yet sorrowful, golden amber eyes. His undershirt was only half tucked into the waistband of his pants. His tunic was unbuttoned and hung from his shoulders at an odd angle. He paced the length of the room, pausing occasionally to run his fingers over the keys of a small pianoforte.

Larilis was nearby, balancing Eris' young son, Castiel, on her hip. The boy's sea green eyes, a perfect replica of his mother's, were shining a little too brightly. Lucien paced alongside Eris, trying desperately to calm his half brother.

"Eris, what happened?" Rhys asked, joining him and Lucien at once.

"I don't know." Eris raked his fingers through his hair. "I don't know. One minute she was here, and the next..." He blinked rapidly, scraping his nails over tender red lines on one of his wrists. Estelle's lips parted in shock.

"Stop." Lucien grabbed his wrist and forced his hand down. Eris' head snapped towards him, fury flashing through his eyes. "Stop. Do you think Evren would be happy if she knew about this?"