𝔸 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕎𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕙 (Book 2)

Hundred-Eleven

Because she had known. Amren had known. Everyone but me. Damn irony.

    "Just..." I trailed off, my eyes squeezing tightly shut, as I tightened my grip on his wrist before pulling away. "Give me a minute." My mind was racing. Going so fast I could not keep track of thought after thought. A muddle of blurry words and images. Turning on me as it squeezed and prodded every thought in my head. "I need time." To process; to understand; to think. I needed to be alone with my thoughts. To face them after hiding away for so long.

    I had never really had time to do that. Never had the chance. Sequestered in Spring Court, contained with guards upon guards watching me every second of the day. And here, as much as I loved it, there was so much going on, such things to worry about...I needed to sort it out. To finally face everything I had been hiding away because I was so, so tired of running.

    My boots clicked against the wooden floor as I strode toward the exit quickly. Mor followed, just as I knew she would.

     The cold air nipped at my already warmed skin. The sky clearer than it had been in the passing days, and no more than a gently breeze blowing past. A stark contrast to the harsh winds of yesterday.

    Mor closed the door behind us, and I whirled to her, "I want you to take me somewhere far away." I said, strong as steel. 

    The female scanned my face, eyes flickering to the window of the cabin where Rhys lay. Hesitance glittered in her eyes, and for a moment i thought she wouldn't do it. But she bit her lip and grabbed my hand.

    We vanished into wind and night.

    Brightness assaulted me, and I gobbled up my surroundings: mountains and snow all around, fresh and gleaming in the midday light, so clean against the dirt on me.

    We were high up on the peaks, and about a hundred yards away, a log cabin stood tucked between two upper fangs of the mountains, shielding it from the wind. The house was dark—there was nothing around it for as far as I could see.

    "The house is warded so no one can winnow in. No one can get beyond this point, actually, without our family's permission." Mor stepped ahead, snow crunching under her boots. Without the wind, the day was mild enough to remind me that spring had dawned in the world, though I'd bet it would be freezing once the sun had vanished. I trailed after her, something zinging against my skin. "You're—allowed in,"

    "Because I'm his mate?"

    She kept wading through the knee-high snow, "Did you guess, or did he tell you?"

    "The Suriel told me. After I went to hunt for information on how to heal him."

    She swore. "Is he—is he alright?" she hadn't got a chance to look back at the cabin.

    "He'll live." I said. She didn't ask anymore questions.

    We reached the door to the cabin, which unlocked with a wave of her hand.

    A main, wood-paneled room consisting of a kitchen to the right, a living area with a leather sofa covered in furs to the left; a small hall in the back that led to two bedrooms and a shared bathing room, and nothing else.

    "We got sent up here for 'reflection' when we were younger." Mor said. "Rhys used to smuggle in books and booze for me."

    "It's perfect." I said monotonously. Mor waved a hand, and fire sprang to life in the hearth, heat flooding the room. Food landed on the counters and something in the pipes groaned. "No need for firewood," she said, "it'll burn until you leave." she lifted a brow as if to ask when that would be.

    I sighed, beginning to peel off my jacket and carefully placing it on a hook by the door. "Please don't tell him where I am."

    "He'll try to find you."

    "I know he will. But I do not want to be found. Not yet."

    Mor bit her lip again, "It's not my business—"

    "Then don't say anything." I couldn't handle any more words. There were too many words spoken and unspoken already.

    She did anyway, "He wanted to tell you. And it killed him not to. But...I've never seen him so happy as he is when he's with you. And I don't think that has anything to do with you being his mate."

    I didn't answer. Didn't entirely know how to say coherent things at the moment. I could feel the words she wanted to say building up so I spoke first. "I have three problems at the moment," I said and Mor arched a brow as I turned back to her. "One, I'm angry that he lied. Two, I'm so overwhelmed I feel like I may explode if I have to process anymore talking. And three..." I paused striding into the kitchen and opening every damn cabinet until I found a glass bottle of amber liquid. "And three is that I'm not hammered as hell right now."

    Mor snickered a bit, but the action was half hearted. Likely worried for her High Lod, and maybe worried for me as well. I sighed, giving up on finding a glass for what looked to be my whiskey, and instead twisting the seal off the glass taking a large swig from the bottle.

    The liquid burned as it cascaded down my throat, leaving a trail of welcomed fire in its wake. A good distraction. A lovely distraction.

    I looked to Mor again, bracing my hands on the edge of the counter after I placed the bottle back down. I offered the female a tight lipped smile. "Thank you for bringing me here." A polite dismissal. I had the full intent of getting rip-roaring drunk, and...I was not the most pleasant of drunks, shall we say.

    Mor bowed her head, lips uptilted no more than a fraction, "I'll check back in three days. There are clothes in the bedrooms, and all the hot water you want. The house is spelled to take care of you—merely wish or speak for things, and it'll be done."

    A hot bath sounded like my definition of heaven currently.

    She left the cottage before I could say anything else.

    Alone, no one around for miles, standing in the silent cabin, my whiskey and I stared at nothing. I think I was gonna name the bottle Bob.

A/N: wee lil chapter for ya. Also, I can't believe Feyre just left Rhys in the cold mud, like ouch, dude.