| BOOK TWO - A COURT OF ASH AND SMOKE | Lovers separated, powers that won't be controlled, a doomed wedding. With the threat of war looming over Prythian, Lucien, You, Tamlin, and Rhysand's Inner Circle must scramble to find allies and prepare thems...
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The first thing that you noticed was the overwhelmingly sweet scent of flowers and fresh grass that hit your nostrils and wrapped around you like a blanket. It was warm and comforting, a smell that you had missed so much in those weeks that you had been away.
The second thing that you noticed was that you were standing at the edge of the garden, hidden behind the rose bushes that Tamlin's mother had planted. Across the grass was the wedding venue. Azriel had taken you closer than you had been expecting considering his hesitation over bringing you at all. Close enough that you could see the individual petals strewn across the grass, and the chaos that seemed to be erupting.
The entire ceremony had been clouded by darkness, a darkness that you knew well enough to know exactly who was behind it. There, in the very heart of the storm, stood Feyre, skin pale and dress white and pure against the encroaching shades of night that circled her.
You caught sight of Tamlin, just as the darkness began to dull slightly, holding his hand out toward Feyre, almost as if he had been begging her to come to him before Rhysand showed up, and was now frozen to the spot. You didn't blame him; for all he knew, Rhysand had stolen you away from the Spring Court already, if he had even connected the dots as to who had shown up in your room all those nights ago, and now he was here to claim Feyre too.
But you couldn't bring yourself to feel sympathy for him. Not after what he had done to you.
And then Rhysand came into view, wearing what you could only describe as the smuggest smirk you had ever seen on him, his lips curling upward as if he knew that the action itself would anger Tamlin more. He certainly knew how to poke a feral cat - or rather, a feral beast - with a stick.
"Hello, Feyre darling."
You frowned in utter confusion, turning to Azriel who hovered just behind you. His lips were a thin line, his brows furrowed ever-so-slightly. "I don't understand," you whispered, blinking at him. "I thought there was something wrong. This is why Rhys had to come rushing to the Spring Court? To interrupt her wedding?"
A flash of your conversation with Rhys from the night before came back to you. 'If you did go, you may not be able to stop yourself from stopping the wedding,' you had said. Rhys hadn't answered, not really, his mere reply being, 'You're a lot wiser than you look.'
Perhaps he had lied when he'd told you he would do nothing to stop Feyre's wedding, nothing to stop his mate from marrying another. Maybe the mating bond was simply so strong that he hadn't been able to stop himself. Azriel's eyes flicked to you slowly, so slowly that you wondered if he was considering taking you back to the Night Court that very second.
"I don't know," he said quietly, and you realised that even he hadn't known Rhysand's plan. You snapped your head back to the wedding, heart pounding. You didn't even know what to think. Should you have been happy that Feyre was getting out of a marriage to someone like Tamlin, someone that would no doubt, at some point, lock her up just as he had you? Should you have felt pity for Feyre that her wedding had been ruined? That she was likely scared? Should you have gone over there to help her?
