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song of the chapter: would've could've should've by taylor swift
"give me back my girlhood. it was mine first"
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
𝖋𝖊𝖞𝖗𝖊
Rhys kept frowning at the amulet as we hiked the slope of the Prison, so steep that at times we had to crawl on our hands and knees.
Higher and higher we climbed, and I drank from the countless little streams that gurgled through the bumps and hollows in the moss-and-grass slopes. All around the mist drifted by, whipped by the wind, whose hollow moaning drowned out our crunching footsteps.
When I caught Rhys looking at the necklace for the tenth time, I said, "What?"
"She gave you that."
Not a question.
"It must be serious, then," I said. "The risk with—"
"Don't say anything you don't want others hearing." He pointed to the stone beneath us. "The inmates have nothing better to do than to listen through the earth and rock for gossip. They'll sell any bit of information for food, sex, maybe a breath of air."
I could do this; I could master this fear. Amren had gotten out. And stayed out. And the amulet—it'd keep me free, too.
"I'm sorry," I said. "About yesterday." I'd stayed in bed for hours, unable to move or think.
Rhys held out a hand to help me climb a particularly steep rock, easily hauling me up to where he perched at its top. It had been so long—too long—since I'd been outdoors, using my body, relying on it. My breathing was ragged, even with my new immortality.
"You've got nothing to be sorry for," he said. "You're here now." But enough of a coward that I never would have gone without that amulet. He added with a wink, "I won't dock your pay."
I was too winded to even scowl. We climbed until the upper face of the mountain became a wall before us, nothing but grassy slopes sweeping behind, far below, to where they flowed to the restless gray sea. Rhys drew the sword from his back in a swift movement.
"Don't look so surprised," he said.
"I've—never seen you with a weapon." Aside from the dagger he'd grabbed to slit Amarantha's throat at the end—to spare me from agony.
"Cassian would laugh himself hoarse hearing that. And then make me go into the sparring ring with him."
"Can he beat you?"
"Hand-to-hand combat? Yes. He'd have to earn it for a change, but he'd win." No arrogance, no pride. "Cassian is the best warrior I've encountered in any court, any land. He leads my armies because of it."
I didn't doubt his claim. And the other Illyrians "Azriel and Astraea, their hands. The scars, I mean," I said. "Where did they come from?"
Rhys was quiet a moment. Then he said too softly, "Their mother was a slave to Astraea's father. When he got her pregnant, he threw her out into the snow. She began working for Azriel's father. Five years later, he got her pregnant with Azriel. He had two legitimate sons. Much older. Both cruel and spoiled. They learned it from their mother, the lords wife. For the eleven years that Azriel and Raea lived in their keep, she saw to it they were kept in a cell with no window, no light. She let them out for an hour every day—let them see their mother for an hour once a week. They weren't permitted to train, or fly, or any of the things their Illyrian instincts roared at them to do."
I thought that over. I hadn't been aware that Azriel and Astraea had different fathers.
"When Azriel was five, his brothers were beating up on him. Astraea was ten, and she had begged them to stop. She said she'd do anything. They took her up on it." He was quiet for a second. "One of them, Demetri, he claimed ownership of her. She was his slave . . . and his whore."
"When she was ten?" I whispered, my eyes wide with horror. He nodded.
"She did it to keep Azriel safe," he sighed. "The tattoo on her arm sealed the arrangment. But when she was thirteen, and Azriel was eight, she disobeyed one of Demitri's orders. So he and his brother decided it'd be fun to see what happened when you mixed Azriel's quick healing gifts with oil—and fire. When Astraea tried to stop them, they burned her hands, too. The warriors heard their screaming. But not quick enough to save their hands."
Nausea swamped me. But that still left them with three more years living with them. What other horrors had they endured before they were sent away?
"I only found any of this out because I was in her head one day," he explained. "As I said, Cass and I made their lives living hell. But that was difficult, because Astraea was protective of Azriel, and my mother was protective of Astraea. So the only way I could mess with them was by getting into their heads."
"You saw it?"
"When we were much older," he explained. "We were fighting over something petty. I don't remember what. So I went into her head because I knew she hated it. I pushed more than I usually did, and I saw everything. She broke down. Confessed everything to me, Cass, and Az. It was one of the only times we've ever seen her cry. Azriel hadn't known what she had been doing to keep him safe. He still blames himself. And she still blames herself for what happened to his hands."
"Were—were his brothers punished?"
Rhys's face was as unfeeling as the rock and wind and sea around us as he said with lethal quiet,
"Eventually." He paused. "Astraea got her revenge on him. She lied to you about her daughter, Luna. She lived to the age of twelve. Demitri murdered her. Raea won't talk about it. She nearly killed him for it. He would've died if it weren't for his father's healers."
There was enough rawness in the words that I asked, "What does Astraea do for you?" He sighed.
"Astraea is extremely talented with planning," he said. "She can make a foolproof battle plan within five minutes." He paused. "Even if she couldn't, I'd keep her around. Most of us have lost our mothers, and she's seemed to fill the role for us."
"It seemed like you and her don't really get along," I observed.
"Astraea and I love each other to death," he assured. "But no, we don't get along. We fight often, and have since we met. But at the end of the day, there's nothing we wouldn't do for each other."
I understood that. That sounded so much like Nesta and me.
"Eve... Cassian mentioned she was married during the war," I recalled.
"Yes," he nodded. "Our father sold her to be married to a male named Elio Vanserra."
"Lucien's family?" I asked.
"Yes, though this was before Lucien was born," he went on. "Elio was 35, Eve was 17. She was happy with him for a while, but after they had children, he grew to be cruel to her. He was abusive and controlling. But Tamlin killed him after what happened with Lucien's lover. She was able to escape back here with her children."
"Where are her children now?" I wondered.
"The twins from her first marriage, Gideon and Diana, are both married," he explained. "Diana is living in Summer, and Gideon is in Winter. Her other daughter, Johanna, is Azriel's. Johanna lives in an apartment a few miles away from ours. You'll likely see her often."
"And Mor—what does she do for you?"
"Mor is who I'll call in when the armies fail and Cassian and Azriel are both dead."
My blood chilled. "So she's supposed to wait until then?"
"No. As my Third, Mor is my court overseer. She looks after the dynamics between the Court of Nightmares and the Court of Dreams, and runs both Velaris and the Hewn City. I suppose in the mortal realm, she might be considered a queen."
"And Amren?"
"Her duties as my Second make her my political adviser, walking library, and doer of my dirty work. I appointed her upon gaining my throne. But she was my ally, maybe my friend, long before that."
"I mean—in that war where your armies fail and Cassian and Azriel are dead, and even Mor is gone." Each word was like ice on my tongue.
Rhys paused his reach for the bald rock face before us. "If that day comes, I'll find a way to break the spell on Amren and unleash her on the world. And ask her to end me first."
By the Mother. "What is she?" After our chat this morning, perhaps it was stupid to ask.
"Something else. Something worse than us. And if she ever finds a way to shed her prison of flesh and bone Cauldron save us all."
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖊𝖆
"Amren's right," Rhys drawled, leaning against the threshold of the town house sitting room. "You are like dogs, waiting for me to come home. Maybe I should buy treats."
Cassian gave him a vulgar gesture from where he lounged on the couch before the hearth, an armslung over the back behind Mor.
Azriel lingered by the window, me by his side, my hand on his shoulder as he stared out the window.
Evelina was visiting their daughter. Azriel was irritated to find out his daughter was living with a male. The idea of her growing up greatly upset him.
"How'd it go?" I asked, smoothing down my gown as I stood up.
"The Bone Carver," Rhys said, "is a busybody gossip who likes to pry into other people's business far too much."
"But?" Cassian demanded, bracing his arms on his knees, wings tucked in tight.
"But," Rhys said, "he can also be helpful, when he chooses. And it seems we need to start doing what we do best."
So Rhys told us of the Cauldron, and the reason behind the temple pillagings, to no shortage of swearing and questions.
Azriel emerged from his wreathing shadows to ask the most questions; his face and voice remained unreadable. Cassian, surprisingly, kept quiet—as if the general understood that the shadowsinger would know what information was necessary, and was busy assessing it for his own forces.
When Rhys was done, his spymaster said, "I'll contact my sources in the Summer Court about where the half of the Book of Breathings is hidden. I can fly into the human world myself to figure out where they're keeping their part of the Book before we ask them for it."
"No need," Rhys said. "And I don't trust this information, even with your sources, with anyone outside of this room. Save for Amren."
"They can be trusted," Azriel said with quiet steel, his scarred hands clenching at his leather-clad sides.
"We're not taking risks where this is concerned," Rhys merely said.
"I swear to the Gods, Rhys," I mumbled. "If Azriel says they're trustworthy, you can believe him."
"I know you don't understand politics, Rae, but—"
"Excuse me?" I cut him off.
"But we need to be careful," he finished, narrowing his eyes at me.
"So what do you have planned?" Mor cut in.
Rhys picked an invisible piece of dirt off his fighting leathers. When he lifted his head, those violet eyes were glacial.
"The King of Hybern sacked one of our temples to get a missing piece of the Cauldron. As far as I'm concerned, it's an act of war—an indication that His Majesty has no interest in wooing me."
"He likely remembers our allegiance to the humans in the War, anyway," Cassian said. "He wouldn't jeopardize revealing his plans while trying to sway you, and I bet some of Amarantha's cronies reported to him about Under the Mountain. About how it all ended, I mean."
"Indeed. But this means Hyberns forces have already successfully infiltrated our lands —without detection. I plan to return the favor."
Cassian and Mor just grinned with feral delight. I rolled my eyes at the two.
"How?" I asked.
Rhys crossed his arms. "It will require careful planning. But if the Cauldron is in Hybern, then to Hybern we must go. Either to take it back or use the Book to nullify it."
"Hybern likely has as many wards and shields around it as we have here," Azriel countered.
"We'd need to find a way to get through them undetected first." A slight nod. "Which is why we start now. While we hunt for the Book. So when we get both halves, we can move swiftly—before word can spread that we even possess it."
Cassian nodded, but asked, "How are you going to retrieve the Book, then?"
"Since these objects are spelled to the individual High Lords, and can only be found by them—through their power. Then, in addition to her uses regarding the handling of the Book of Breathings itself, it seems we possibly have our own detector."
We all turned to Feyre who had an expression that was somewhere between fear and determination.
"Perhaps was what the Bone Carver said in regard to me being able to track things. You dont know--" her words faded as Rhys smirked.
"You have a kernel of all our power—like having seven thumbprints. If we've hidden something, if we've made or protected it with our power, no matter where it has been concealed, you will be able to track it through that very magic."
"You can't know that for sure," she tried again.
"No—but there is a way to test it." Rhys was still smiling.
"Here we go," Cassian grumbled.
I gave Azriel a warning glare to tell him not to volunteer this time. My brother just gave me an incredulous look in return.
"With your abilities, Feyre, you might be able to find the half of the Book at the Summer Court—and break the wards around it. But Im not going to take the carvers word for it, or bring you there without testing you first. To make sure that when it counts, when we need to get that book, you—we do not fail. So we're going on another little trip. To see if you can find a valuable object of mine that Ive been missing for a considerably long time."
"Shit," Mor said, plunging her hands into the thick folds of her sweater.
"Where?" Feyre managed to say.
"To the Weaver," Azriel and I said in unison.
Rhys held up a hand as Cassian opened his mouth. "The test," he said, "will be to see if Feyre can identify the object of mine in the Weavers trove. When we get to the Summer Court, Tarquin might have spelled his half of the Book to look different, feel different."
"By the Cauldron, Rhys," I snapped. "Are you out of your—"
"Who is the Weaver?" Feyre pushed.
"An ancient, wicked creature," Azriel said. "Who should remain unbothered," he added in Rhys's direction.
"Find another way to test her abilities," I demanded.
Rhys merely shrugged and looked to Feyre. She gnawed on her lower lip. "The Bone Carver, the Weaver. Can't you ever just call someone by a given name?"
Cassian chuckled, and Mor settled back in the sofa cushions.
"What about adding one more name to that list?" Rhys asked. "Emissary. Emissary to the Night Court—for the human realm."
"There hasnt been one for five hundred years, Rhys," I recalled.
"There also hasnt been a human-turned-immortal since then, either," Rhys met Feyre's gaze. "The human world must be as prepared as we are—especially if the King of Hybern plans to shatter the wall and unleash his forces upon them. We need the other half of the Book from those mortal queens—and if we cant use magic to influence them, then theyre going to have to bring it to us."
More silence. On the street beyond the bay of windows, wisps of snow brushed past, dusting the cobblestones.
Rhys jerked his chin at Feyre. "You are an immortal faerie—with a human heart. Even as such, you might very well set foot on the continent and be hunted for it. So we set up a base in neutral territory. In a place where humans trust us—trust you, Feyre. And where other humans might risk going to meet with you. To hear the voice of Prythian after five centuries."
"My family's estate," she said.
"Mothers tits, Rhys," Cassian cut in.
His wings flared wide enough to knock over the ceramic vase on the side table next to him. I shot him a look and picked up the pieces with my mind, leading them to the trash.
"You think we can just take over her familys house, demand that of them?" Cassian questioned.
"The land," Mor said. "will run red with blood, Cassian, regardless of what we do with her family. It is now a matter of where that blood will flow—and how much will spill. How much human blood we can save."
"The Spring Court borders the wall—" Feyre began.
"The wall stretches across the sea. Well fly in offshore," Rhys said without so much as a blink. "I wont risk discovery from any court, though word might spread quickly enough once were there. I know it wont be easy, Feyre, but if theres any way you could convince those queens—"
"I'll do it," Feyre said.
"Then its settled," Rhys said. " Once Feyre darling returns from the Weaver, well bring Hybern to its knees."