𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 70

Chapter 70

"You're saying there's nothing to be done?" Rhysand asked steadily. He sat in the chair pulled to the bed's edge, his knees spread wide to make room for the proximity as he held a clean cloth to his sister's nose that wouldn't stop bleeding. Feyre stood behind him, massaging his shoulders.

"You are not hearing me, High Lord," the ancient female said. "Physically there is nothing to be tended to. It is something beyond my senses and capabilities."

"You must have something for her."

Cassian grunted in agreement and raised his brows at the healer.

"I can leave some herbs if you'd like," Majda proclaimed. "They won't do much except make a nice tea though." 

Rhysand sighed but nodded and offered his gratitude for the healer's efforts. Madja returned him a grim, wrinkled smile. "She has come back from the dead, High Lord. Perhaps her body knows that it has messed with what ought to be."

Cassian couldn't help his glare at those words. At what it meant. With that, the healer collected her wares and left the bedchamber. Feyre moved from her mate's side to Cassian's, her feet angled to the door. "Would either of you like anything? Something to eat or drink?"

Rhysand shook his head mutely. Cassian smiled at her and gave her arm a light squeeze. "No, but thank you." Feyre nodded and with one last look towards the bed and her mate, left them to be. He sauntered closer to the bed, leaning down and bracing his hands on the end frame. "She doesn't get a damn break, does she?" he remarked through a laugh that was as empty and dry as a barren desert.

"Neither have you," Rhysand said, tearing his eyes away from his sister for the first time since Cassian had hauled her into the town house. His throat bobbed. "Don't think I don't appreciate everything you've done for her."

Cassian wasn't yet over Rhysand's meddling with his memories—a fact which his brother knew would be held over his head for a long time to come. But he couldn't help but wish he never knew the truth. Tamlin, the fight, seeing the aftermath. The memory he had up until a week ago had been hard, but it hadn't been... That. "She's worth fighting for, Rhys. I'll do it every day until I'm dead."

Rhysand turned his head back to her, removing the cloth to check. The bleeding had slowed but was still constant. "Which you will be soon if you don't get that break." Cassian frowned. "I want you to go to the mortal lands for a week. Lucien is down there. You don't have to work, just... Drink, eat, sleep. When's the last time you got a full night of sleep?"

"Last night," Cassian answered truthfully. "I don't need a break."

Rhysand quipped a small, sad smile. "You don't want to leave her," he corrected. "It'll be best for both of you. She's grown dependent on you, Cass. And I have a feeling you have to her as well. How are you going to take being away from her? What if you have to leave for a month? Two?"

His fingers flexed around the wooden frame as his rolled his neck in a moment of thought. "Then I have to leave. You're asking me to leave her when I don't. When she's not well." Cassian shoved off the frame, folding his arms instead. "How's Az?"

Rhys had reached for Azriel in his mind when Cassian mentioned it earlier, but hadn't said anything. "Not in Velaris," Rhys said in answer, which was telling enough. "He's on the border. He'll be back the moment it... If anything changes." Cassian was certain Azriel hadn't exactly said that, but he couldn't imagine his brother abandoning his mate. 

Rubbing a hand over his face, he said, "I don't think he could handle it." It felt cursed to say anything too certain. "If something happens to her again."