A Court of Dreams and Promise

Chapter Fourteen

A week. A whole week away from Velaria. Before she had 'died' and he was sent away on missions for her father, he had been away from her for days, weeks at a time. But then at least he had something to occupy himself with. Now, Rhysand refused to put him on any assignments because apparently he was "unpredictable" and "emotional".

She had checked in on him practically daily, giving him constant updates on the mission. He was grateful, and he knew she could feel his gratitude through the bond. He had stopped trying to shield it.

The entire Inner Circle was strained, working to their very brinks, the pressure building up. There had been no sign of any priestess working to fetch a mysterious box from the Court of Nightmares, putting everyone on edge even more.

Rhysand and Feyre had been researching non-stop to figure out what the box was, yielding no results. Keir had neglected to answer any of their letters, so they were planning a trip to his court soon instead of continuing their fruitless efforts thus far.

Mor and Amren had been researching the other end: Tamlin's mysterious ability to possess fae. They had been to the Day Court numerous times, each visit costing a nominal fee until they explained to Helion what was happening.

Cassian had been surveying both Velaris and Keir's court carefully, watching out for the little priestess Tamlin had sent, Azriel's job until Rhysand had taken him off of it.

The mating bond, while accepted by both Velaria and Azriel, was taking a toll on him while he was not around her.

Azriel sighed, his head swimming. He picked up the pastry in front of him with a shaky hand, bringing it to his mouth and taking a bite.

Cassian threw his plate onto the table, the dish clattering and spinning slightly before settling. He collapsed into the chair across from Azriel and next to Nesta, running a hand over his face and groaning loudly. Heavy bags had set underneath the Illyrian warrior's eyes, making him look haggard and sleepless.

Rhysand stumbled in and Azriel's eyes widened. His tunic was messy and crooked, his pants wrinkled and sagging. His hair looked like it hadn't been combed in days, his eyes missing their familiar sparkle of the night sky. Rhysand's gaze snapped to his shadowsinger, the movement dull and less precise than it had once been. "Good morning to you, too, Azriel," Rhysand grumbled.

Azriel winced.

Mor twisted in her seat, looking at her cousin and then at Azriel. "Don't worry about Rhysie. He's just tired, like the rest of us."

"Tired is an understatement, cousin," Rhysand said, sitting down.

Feyre swept over, looking tired but a lot less so than Cassian and Rhysand. She bounced held Nyx in one arm, the babe yawning, handing her mate a cup of steaming coffee with the other.

Rhysand smiled weakly, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you, darling," he said, leaning over to give Nyx a kiss on the forehead.

Mor pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "Do I get one?"

Feyre laughed. "Of course," she said, shuffling back to the kitchen. She came back a moment later, holding two more mugs. She handed one to Mor and took the second for herself. She sat down next to Rhysand, leaning her head on his shoulder. "Azriel is the only one here who looks like he gets any sleep."

"Yes, because your mate took me off of all missions," Azriel grumbled, curling his fingers around his glass of water.

Feyre watched Rhysand, who closed his eyes. "In my defense, he was acting very, very, very moody," Rhysand said, rubbing his eyes. "Did that sound eloquent? I'm tired."

Cassian snorted, holding a mug to his lips that smelled suspiciously of liquor. "So eloquent."

Feyre ignored Cassian. "Rhys. Did you seriously take Azriel, your best spy, off of a spying mission because he was moody?"

"Yes?"

"Rhysand," Feyre scolded. "Who was moody the entire time after our mating bond snapped into place?"

"Me, but–"

"And who was moody during my entire pregnancy?"

"Me." Rhysand furrowed his brows, sipping his coffee while he muttered incoherently.

Nesta chuckled. "What a delightful conversation," she said. "By the way, Rhys, a letter came for you earlier." She picked up a golden letter that had been sitting on the table, waving it in the air. "From the Spring Court."

Rhysand immediately snapped to attention, an unreadable emotion flickering across his face for a second. Nesta handed him the letter, and he opened it, his eyes darting back and forth as he read it.

"What does it say, Rhys?" Cassian drawled. "Don't leave us in suspense." He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his head.

Rhysand looked up, and Azriel could see him thinking. "Tamlin invited us all to Calanmai. Next week."

"This has to be a trap," Mor said. "It's Tamlin."

Az.

Azriel straightened up, looking around before he realized the sweet voice was Velaria's, coming from his head. Hey, Vel.

Can you do me a favor?

Of course. What's up?

Let me take control of your mind for a second.

Hold on a second. What?

It sounds weird, Velaria said, chuckling, but I need to cast a projection of myself with my own power using the mating bond.

I don't understand, but do whatever you need to do.

One second, Azriel was looking through his own eyes, the next he could feel Velaria's presence everywhere. Her scent flooded his senses, the familiarity of it a comfort.

Then a purple projection of Velaria appeared on the table, small and sparkly. She blinked once, twice, scanning her surroundings. Her scent disappeared, leaving Azriel feeling empty once again.

"Okay, cool. It worked," she said, everyone growing quiet to stare at her. "Hi."

Rhysand rubbed his eyes. "This isn't some sort of sleep deprived hallucination, right?" he asked. "You guys can see a tiny Velaria on the table?"

Mor nodded, not taking her eyes off of Velaria.

"How are you doing that?" Cassian gaped.

"A bit of my own magic, the mating bond..." Velaria trailed off. "I can't hold this for long, but Rhys, I need you to accept Tamlin's invitation."

"Why," Rhysand growled. "I thought I made it clear that I want nothing to do with that male."

Velaria put her hands up. "I know, I know, but the things Tamlin's doing, planning? They're utterly terrible. I don't know exactly what they are yet, but from the way he's been talking about them, it likely could make him too powerful, so powerful that we can't stop him from doing anything. Even me.

"And yet I can still see a sliver of good in him. I think the old Tamlin is in there somewhere. If someone from our court gives him a second chance, even if it's fake, then we may be able to convince him to stop." Velaria shook her head. "It's crazy, but it just might work."

"I don't know..." Rhysand started. "Is it worth the–"

"How bad could it be, Velaria?" Azriel interrupted.

Velaria had studied everything in Prythian history, including Merrill's theory of alternate universes stacked on top of each other. She had read almost every novel in Helion's library, had memorized magic and its many uses. She could accurately judge the threat, and Azriel knew it.

The entire table waited with bated breath, no one moving.

Velaria looked Azriel straight in the eye. "Catastrophic."