𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚎(𝙰𝙲𝙾𝚃𝙰𝚁)

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

song of the chapter: black beauty by lana del rey

"you said if you could have your way, you'd make it nighttime all today"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Spring had at last dawned on the human world, crocuses and daffodils poking their heads out of the thawed earth.

Only the eldest and the golden-haired queens came this time. They were escorted by just as many guards, however.

"We appreciate you taking the time to see us again," Rhys said with a nod.

The younger queen merely gave a little nod, her amber gaze leaping over to me, Cass, and Az, and on either side of the bay of windows where Elain and Nesta stood in their finery, Elain's garden in bloom behind them.

Mor stood on Rhys's other side, the onyx box containing the Veritas in her tan hands. The ancient queen, surveying us all with narrowed eyes, let out a huff.

"After being so gravely insulted the last time," A simmering glare thrown at Nesta. The fierce, beautiful girl leveled a look of pure, unyielding flame right back at her. The old woman clicked her tongue. "We debated for many days whether we should return. As you can see, three of us found the insult to be unforgivable."

"If that is the worst insult any of you have ever received in your lives, I'd say you're all in for quite a shock when war comes," Feyre retorted.

"So he won your heart after all, Cursebreaker," the youngest said to her.

"I do not think," Feyre said, "that it was mere coincidence that the Cauldron let us find each other on the eve of war returning between our two peoples."

"The Cauldron? And two peoples?" The golden one toyed with a ruby ring on her finger. "Our people do not invoke a Cauldron; our people do not have magic. The way I see it, there is your people—and ours. You are little better than those Children of the Blessed. What does happen to them when they cross the wall? Are they prey? Or are they used and discarded, and left to grow old and infirm while you remain young forever? Such a pity so unfair that you, Cursebreaker, received what all those fools no doubt begged for. Immortality, eternal youth What would Lord Rhysand have done if you had aged while he did not?"

      Rhys said evenly, "Is there a point to your questions, other than to hear yourself talk?"

A low chuckle, and she turned to the ancient queen, her yellow dress rustling with the movement. The old woman simply extended a wrinkled hand to the box in Mor's slender fingers.

"Is that the proof we asked for?"

Before Mor could so much as nod, Feyre said, "Is my love for the High Lord not proof enough of our good intentions? Does my sisters' presence here not speak to you? There is an iron engagement ring upon my sisters finger—and yet she stands with us."

"I would say that it is proof of her idiocy," the golden one sneered, "to be engaged to a Fae-hating man and to risk the match by associating with you."

"Do not," Nesta hissed with quiet venom, "judge what you know nothing about." Part of me was irritated, but the other part of me understood her need to defend her little sister.

"The viper speaks again," the golden one said. I bjy down the anger that rose in my chest. She raised her brows at Feyre. "Surely the wise move would have been to have her sit this meeting out."

"She offers up her house and risks her social standing for us to have these meetings," Feyre said. "She has the right to hear what is spoken in them. To stand as a representative of the people of these lands. They both do."