Thirty

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"Think of it like trying to pour water. When the Illyrians use their power it's like trying to pour it into a glass without anything to pour it with. Siphons give them a pitcher." I attempted to help my sister understand.

    Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys all nodded their agreement and Feyre made a face of understanding.

Rhys went on, "The Illyrians bred the power to give them an advantage in battle, yes. The siphons filter that raw power and allow Cassian and Azriel to transform it into something more subtle and varied—into shields and weapons, arrows and spears. Siphons allow for the magic to be nimble, precise on the battlefield—when its natural state lends itself towards something messier and unrefined, and potentially dangerous when you're fighting in tight quarters."

Cassian flexed his fingers, admiring the red stones on his hand as they glinted in the golden light. "Doesn't hurt that they also look damn good."

Amren muttered across from me, "Illyrians." My lips curled upward a bit.

Cassian bared his teeth in feral amusement as he raised his wine glass to his mouth.

I let my mind wander, wander to what it might be like to work with these people. To help them. If Hybern was to invade, would they be my best option? Would they go to war before considering if they could prevent it?

Feyre spoke again, "How did you—I mean, how did you and Lord Cassian—" She was interrupted by Cassian spewing his wine across the table. Mor leaped from her seat, quickly grabbing a napkin to wipe the wine that had splattered on her dress, muttering a string of curses as she did.

Cassian was howling with laughter, even Azriel had a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Cassian," Rhys said beside me, "is not a Lord. Though I'm sure he appreciates you thinking he is." my sister's cheeks were flushed but she nodded anyway. Rhys surveyed his inner circle, "While we're on the subject, neither is Azriel. Nor Amren. Mor, believe it or not, is the only pureblooded, titled person in this room." Not even him? He must have noticed the question on my face as he turned to me, "I'm half-Illyrian. As good as a bastard where the thoroughbred High Fae are concerned."

"So you—you three aren't High Fae?" Feyre asked further.

Cassian finished his laughter off with a snort, "Illyrians are certainly not High Fae. And glad of it." He hooked back his shoulder-length hair behind an ear. I almost immediately noticed the stark curve that looked like a human's. Like mine had once been. "And we're not lesser faeries, though some try to call us that. We're just—Illyrians. Considered expendable aerial cavalry for the Night Court at the best of times, mindless soldier grunts at the worst."

"Which is most of the time," Azriel clarified.

I chose to stay silent during all of this. I found it easier to listen than to be heard. Not in this group particularly. I'd always been that way. When you weren't stopped by your own talking, you tended to pick up more than happened around you—that and the fact I was so completely drained of life that the only acting I could muster was a few smiles and laughs here and there.

"I didn't see you Under the Mountain," Feyre spoke. I tensed. Everyone tensed.

Silence fell in the room, washing away the light air that had been there moments ago.

"Because none of us were." Mor was the first to speak.

Rhys' face was cold at my side. Void of everything I'd seen seconds ago. "Amarantha didn't know they existed. And when someone tried to tell her, they usually found themselves without a mind to do so."

Good.

I found the energy to speak then, "You truly kept this city, all these people, hidden from her?"

Cassian was staring at his plate. Not looking up as though he wanted to burst from his skin.

Amren said to me, "We will continue to keep this city and these people have hidden from our enemies for a great many more."

It wasn't an answer. But it was good enough.

    Rhys had been taken Under the MOuntian not expecting to see any of this—any of them, ever again. And yet he'd kept them safe anyway. He'd kept the innocent people that resided here safe.

    And it killed them—the four people that sat at this table with my sister and I. It killed them all that he'd done it. Even Amren.

    Mor's voice was a bit raw as she spoke again, "There is not one person in this city who is unaware of what went on outside these borders. Or the cost."

I didn't ask the price that had been demanded. The pain that radiated at the table told enough, and I had my own guesses.

    I admired them.

    They lived through their pain...and yet they could still laugh. Still smile with each other. Still find each other. It made me jealous.

    I shifted in my seat, clearing my throat as I looked around, "So how did you all meet?"

─── · 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───

A/N: Hi all, so I know this is weird to ask, but can you guys comment on this. Ur comments give me motivation and really needing it rn.

Ok, now I'm going to vent to u guys. So I have like a trio friend group, and the two other people in my friend group don't get along and so I'm always confused on what to do and all that. They're like supperrrrrrrr passive-aggressive people and it's kinda scary ngl. So there's been that. Also, I have a math final coming up and I just know I'm gonna bomb it.

Wish me luck b/c both my friends have my wattpad.

𝔸 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕎𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕙 (Book 2)Where stories live. Discover now