Velaris's Heir

Part 4

That afternoon, he still seemed concerned and asked several times if I needed a healer.

"Rhys, really, I'm fine. I don't need a healer," I assured him as we got into the third hour of his worrying.

Cassian walked in with a plate stacked with food. "What about a healer?" he asked confusedly.

"Nothing. I wasn't feeling well last night and Rhysand thinks I need to see a healer," I explained.

"Oh. Maybe he's right. Do you still feel sick?"

"No, I'm fine now," I said exasperated.

"Well, Feyre, Fae don't get sick. It's rare. So, if you weren't feeling well, maybe a healer wouldn't be such a bad idea." He said this patiently. Great, now it was two against one.

While he spoke, Mor and Azriel walked in.

"Why does who need a healer?" Mor asked as she plopped down on the couch beside me.

I sent up a prayer to the Mother for patience. This was the problem with having such a big family. You'd have a conversation. Someone would interrupt with questions. You'd explain. Someone else would come in with the same questions. You'd explain again. Over and over.

"No one needs a healer. I'm fine," I emphasised with a glare at an amused and concerned Rhys.

"You know, that is probably the most commonly told lie in the world," Azriel felt the need the to point out.

I was very done with the conversation. "Probably. But I am not a liar. And. I. Am. Fine. And I do not need to see a healer—"

"What's this about a healer?" Elain asked.

"Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me," I slouched into the couch and covered my face with my hands. Someone chuckled.

"Feyre was sick last night, but she doesn't want to see a healer," Rhys explained.

"Because I don't need a healer," I almost growled.

"Oh gods." Nesta walked in annoyed. "Why do you need a healer?"

"Oh mother of fuck!" I cried. "Are there any more of you?"

"No, Amren is still in the Summer Court with Varian and Lucien is in the Spring Court sorting things out with Tamlin. Amren comes back in two days," Rhys explained. I could almost taste his amusement. At least someone's entertained by all this.

"Great! Because I am not going to say this again!" I dropped my hands from my face and sat forward. "I. Do. Not. Need. A. Healer. Because. I. Am. Fine. Got it?" I clapped my hands on each syllable to further emphasize my point.

"Would you repeat the whole thing again; I wasn't listening," Cassian said.

I stood up abruptly. "I am going for a peaceful walk alone in this beautiful city to get some fresh air and step away from the urge to cause any bodily harm to those I LOVE  the most. Good. Bye." I winnowed away before anyone could object and let out a frustrated sigh.

I walked and walked and found myself in a better mood. I went into the Rainbow to look at the beautiful art that covered the walls and ground, adding to it here and there. I painted a mural in the small blank space on a wall.

As I strolled leisurely back to the townhouse, covered in paint, I used a different, longer route that took me passed Rosieda's shop. Mor liked to look at the baby things occasionally; she thought they were so cute and small. Rosieda was opening the door to let in the breeze when I passed by. I glanced inside at all the tiny clothes and toys, and she asked me if I was going to do some shopping inside.

I laughed. "No, thank you."

"Right, you won't be needing any baby clothes for another few months. But I do have vitamins and books about pregnancy that you might want to look at."

I was taken aback. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Well, I have—Oh! Oh goodness you didn't know! Oh gosh! I'm sorry I just assumed that—" She sighed, exasperated with herself. She looked around at the other fae passing by. "Come inside, Feyre. Gods, I'm so foolish," she chastised herself.

Baffled, I followed her into the shop.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again as she headed to the back with me in tow. "If I had known that you didn't know, I never would have said that so openly. It's not my business to share and—well I doubt anyone was listening, but if you don't even know neither does Rhysand and you two should be the first, of all people, to know—"

"Rosieda, Rosieda," I interrupted. "Hold on. Take a breath, for gods' sake. What do I not know?"

We went through a doorway in the back and into another room. There was a big widow to replace part of the ceiling. It was small and had a small, high bed in it. There were a couple medical things and a few shelves with different bottles of different colors and plants.

When the door fell shut, she whirled on me, face full of residual anxiety and fresh excitement.

"You are pregnant, Feyre."