Feyre, darling?
Yes, Rhysand?
Your sister has had another vision.
A small bolt of fear. I’m with Eblis, in Velaris.
Bring her too. We’re at the Estate.
Eblis was at her side, peering up at her face with a small inch of worry, but it was quickly wiped away as her own face cleared and she smiled down at her. Sometimes it was strange to look at the female, being a near identical twin to Rhysand as she was.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, dark hair a softly curled mop on her forehead.
She shook her head. “Elain had a foretelling. We’re to go to the Estate,” Feyre replied. She proffered a hand to the female, and Eblis grabbed it with only a whisper of hesitation. She’d grown since the time she’d first arrived. And she supposed she had Azriel to thank for that.
They winnowed to the Estate.
Feyre realized at the last moment that it was the first time Eblis had been to the beautiful manor on the Sidra, the river’s trickling sound a soft lull in the background of her mind. Elain’s beautiful flower garden decorated the front of the building, the carefully tilled area sweeping to the sides and out of sight. Begonias, tulips, and hydrangeas were bright splashes of color for the otherwise pale exterior of their home. Feyre felt a small inkling of pride for her design work before leading Rhysand’s sister inside.
Marble floors, decadent fur rugs, and paintings on every wall depicting her life, her family’s life, but also the works of other painters she’d helped in Velaris. Two wide staircases unfurled at the sides like wings, a glass-blown chandelier draping into the space in-between where the path led straight to the Sidra in their back courtyard. At the top of one of those beautiful staircases, Rhysand emerged, nothing but a dark lick of night amongst the bright interior. Eblis was still peering around in awe as she swept forward to her mate.
“Where is she?” she asked. Rhysand pressed a kiss to her forehead before beckoning to his sister.
“This way.” He led them down the halls where potted plants reached leafy hands towards the central line of rugs, hand-made sconces lining the walls with faelights. Behind them, Eblis paced forward and cleared her throat.
They turned to her as one. “I’m sorry,” she said, cheeks bright red, “I know this isn’t the most important thing at the moment, but could you...hide this?” She held the carefully wrapped gift forward, the one for Elain. Rhysand raised a dark brow but took it from her with a nod. He slipped it into the pocket between worlds—similar to winnowing—and Eblis sighed with relief.
Feyre grasped Rhysand’s hand, craving his warmth as they continued, footsteps echoing in the softly quiet house. Do you know what she saw?
No, he responded, in the crack of her mental barriers. She would not speak of it until we had gathered. She nodded, taking a deep breath. They entered a wide arch, stepping through to a study of sorts. Oak bookshelves rose around them from floor-to-ceiling, nearly every wall covered by them. The room was a lush darkness despite the windows facing towards the Sidra, everything in rich browns and greens and warm-colored lights. Where they stood was a small sitting area with oakmoss-colored upholstering, lichen green rugs covering the wooden floors. Within the seats, Elain, dressed in gardener’s clothes, Cassian, shirtless and gleaming with sweat from sparring, and Nesta, stiff as a board at his side, were already seated. How Nesta had arrived before them...she glanced at Cassian.
His wings rustled in the lowback chair, some purely male glint in his eyes as Nesta shifted in her seat once more.
Feyre settled on one side of Elain, deciding not to pry into what she saw. It was their business, not hers. Rhysand and Eblis settled into seats opposite them, the latter fidgeting her hands restlessly. She patted Elain’s arm.
“How are you doing?” she asked quietly, the noise almost too loud in the quiet.
Her sister only smiled softly. “I’m alright. I was gardening when it hit me.” Her gaze drew to Eblis and the honey brown eyes lit up as if she just noticed the female was there. “Hello, Eblis.”
“Hello,” Rhysand’s sister replied, dipping her chin. She, too, smiled warmly. A certain amount of kinship had arisen between the two, she could tell. Given the circumstances of their first meeting, Feyre wasn’t that surprised. “How is your shoulder?”
“Fine, thank you,” Elain replied. She picked at her nails, where dirt crusted beneath the white crescents. Her hands were also similarly clad with a thin layer of dirt, her loose shirt tucked into pants and then into boots seeming too hot for the weather. A few of her fingers were coated in a layer of yellow pollen. Feyre stood to get a rag for her hands.
She returned with it moments later, this time entering the room to see Morrigan now sitting there with Amren at her side. Mor was similarly sweaty to Cassian, cheeks flushed with heat from their workout even though she was then dressed in pretty clothes as if she’d changed. Cassian, tattoos dark against his skin, shared a grin with the female despite the circumstances. Feyre sighed and kneeled before her sister, carefully taking her hands in hers. Azriel drifted into the quiet, shadows surrounding his shoulders. She almost hadn’t seen the male.
Elain smiled at him shyly, and he nodded his head in greeting. Elain’s hands in hers, Feyre paused. She’d forgotten her sister had a soft spot for the Shadowsinger, and the thought was enough to have her send a scant glance to Eblis. The female also looked up at him with a smile, one this time the male returned, darkness licking at both of their necks. She’d noticed it before. They were quite close, perhaps even—
Azriel’s eyes shot to hers in warning. He couldn’t read her thoughts, she scolded herself as she checked her mental barriers. It was only his shadows warning him of her watchful eyes.
Elain’s gaze dropped down to their conjoined hands, eyes softly sad. She’d seen it too. The way they looked at each other. She took the rag from Feyre with a strained smile and a nod of gratitude.
“We’re all gathered, Elain,” Azriel murmured to the female. Whether he knew of Elain’s feelings, she did not care to think about.
“Thank you,” her sister replied, brushing her brown-gold hair behind her ear. Her face became solemn and focused. “My vision,” she began with a frown, “I saw...shadows. Stripped away, leaving something bare. The sky was filled with them—and a single person too, in particular. I can’t remember their face, but I feel like I know them.” Her brows furrowed even further, much as everyone else’s did. It was vague. Almost too vague of a vision to mean anything.
“What could this mean?” Nesta glanced at Cassian first, then to the rest of them. “Shadows revealed? In the sky?”
Amren’s silver eyes narrowed, her arms folding as she said, “I don’t know. But I’ll reinforce the barriers and wards tonight just in case. If she saw it now...it must be happening soon.”
Cassian leaned forward in his seat, siphons glittering as he considered her sister. “Would you say it’s an army, Elain?”
“I...I don’t know,” she replied. Her fingers twisted the iron band on her finger as she thought hard. “Several people. But they’re shapes are indistinguishable.” Her eyes were incredibly vacant, seeing things they couldn’t.
“Could it be Hybern?” Mor asked, and the words sent spikes of fear through Feyre. If Hybern was waiting, watching...they were truly in danger. Especially if they hid so close by. So soon.
Rhysand shook his head. “We can’t be certain; it could be any army looking to attack. Eblis?” His sister glanced up, her features carefully still as if she were thinking so seriously she’d forgotten to make an expression. A question was already in her violet eyes. “Do you think Hybern has the ability to mask an entire army from sight for long periods of time?”
“I wouldn’t say it’s impossible,” she replied quietly. Feyre thought it was fear in her voice, but she couldn’t be sure. “I’m sure the King still had plenty of spells left behind, and strong allies who could do such a thing.”
Elain leaned forward, sun-kissed skin ashen. “But—how long could someone hide them?” How long has the army been watching? was the unspoken question behind her words.
“If they had shifts, and several people capable of doing it...awhile, I suppose,” Azriel responded for Eblis, shadows licking at his ears and hair. He very nearly blended in with the darkness along the walls, as if he were itching to leave and find out for himself. Yet, he seemed to unintentionally drift to Eblis’s side, his hand going to the back of her chair.
Feyre saw the movement, but said nothing. “Are you sure it was even over Velaris? You just said it was in the sky?” she then asked, and her sister turned away from where she’d been staring at Azriel’s hand.
“I...I don’t know. It just felt like it was Velaris, like a piece of knowledge in the back of my mind.” Feyre nodded, deeming it useful.
Amren tsked from her seat, petite features bored. “We would’ve felt them through the wards, even if the magic tried to mask that. I’ve been monitoring them relentlessly since I’ve been back.”
“They might have been there before,” Eblis offered. Her eyes seemed to be somewhere far off. To Feyre, she seemed absolutely terrified. It was enough to make her hands curl into fists as her stomach hollowed out. War was coming.
Cassian quirked his head to the side, dark hair shifting with the movement. “That is true. But they could also be waiting in the harbor. Perhaps it wasn’t the sky you saw, but the ocean?”
“No, I’m sure it was the sky. There were clouds.”
“But an army? Just flying in the sky for days and nights on end?” Nesta said, her first words since they’d all arrived. A silver flame burned behind her eyes, a steel within her gaze. It made everyone in the room stiffen at the sight. Except for the male at her side.
Cassian leaned an elbow on the arm of the chairs that separated them, almost intentionally getting into her sister’s space. He grinned at her. “There are such things as shifts, Nes.”
“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?”
“Many, many times,” Cassian said with a sultry wink. The cold fire in Nesta’s face abated, flashing with heat and challenge. Feyre breathed a sigh of relief. Her sister’s magic was...unpredictable at best; Cassian had done them a favor.
“So they have shifts,” Mor continued, even as the pair’s silent battle barely relented. The female’s gaze was hard and unyielding. The face of the Third in Command. “They watch us. Why?”
“I would say for that very reason.” Azriel nodded a head to Elain, who shifted uneasily in her chair. “They know she has the Sight. They wish to irk us.”
Rhysand folded his arms and tapped a finger against one of his strong muscles in thought. Feyre rose to his side, clasping their arms together. “My question is: why have they not attacked yet? They’ve lost the element of surprise.” Rhysand glanced down at her as soon as she finished speaking. His gaze grew very serious as he considered it.
“Perhaps they’re waiting for us to attack first?” Elain offered, though she seemed pale and withdrawn with fear. She regretted joining Rhysand’s side instead of staying to comfort Elain.
Eblis shook her head. “They’re waiting for something, but I do not think it is that.”
“Why? What is it, Eblis?” Azriel asked.
The female shook her head once more, not speaking as her gaze grew distant. This whole situation had seemed to bother her—she was scared, and trying very hard to help in any way she could. Feyre felt sorry for Eblis. She’d already brought trouble since the first day she was there, and then the war nipped at her heels.
“What about the person Elain talked about? Someone she knew?” Amren posed, silver gaze sliding to Eblis. “Someone too new for her to recognize right away.”
Eblis stiffened at the same time Elain frowned. “I do not think it was any of us, though I can’t be sure. What if it is just a General for Hybern?”
“One you recognized, though?” Mor said doubtfully. She shook her head, golden braid shifting along her back. “Either way, it hints at a betrayal of some sort.”
Both Nesta and Amren, the ones Eblis had yet to quite befriend, sent sharp glances to her. Feyre watched as she looked down to her lap with a hardly masked sigh, but she refused to rebuttal the looks of disliking. Feyre didn’t know the history behind Amren and Eblis, but her sister seemed rather on her usual mark. Even despite the way she’d relented and helped share their story with the female.
She stood, and said, “There is not much we can do but wait and prepare.”
Cassian nodded. “I’ll have the Illyrians in the air by tomorrow,” he said, and pushed to a stand in a ripple of powerful muscles.
Feyre glanced at Rhysand, sending him a thought. He considered it before nodding. She turned back to the gathered group.
“Let’s wait another day. If the...war starts as soon as it seems, then we won’t have time to celebrate.” She smiled at Elain as the female glanced up. “Let’s have your birthday party here; today.”
***
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