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song of the chapter: a pearl by mitski
"sorry I don't want your touch. it's not that I don't want you."
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I was sitting in the sitting room with a book when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs, accompanied by hushed voices.
I perked up, getting off the couch and going to the doorway. Az, Cassian, and Morrigan were all trying to quietly get out the door.
"Where are you all going?" I questioned. They jumped, turning to face me. Mor's face filled with relief when she saw me.
"We're going to Rita's," she explained in a whisper. I furrowed my eyebrows.
"Why are you sneaking?" I demanded.
"Because Eve would want to go," Azriel mumbled, a bit of guilt flashing on his face. I snorted.
Az never got to go to Ritas because he insisted on staying behind with Eve, who wasn't allowed to go. While we tried to downplay it, Eve really did have an issue with abusing alcohol.
"Can I come?" I wondered. They all exchanged a glance.
"Um, Raea, are you sure you're ready for that?" Az asked me, concern on his face. I rolled my eyes.
"I'm fine," I insisted. "Please? I want to get back to my normal life."
"I don't think life will be normal for a while," Cassian admitted. "For any of us." I grimaced, knowing he was right. With the potential war coming up.
"I'm coming with you," I decided.
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The wine at the bar was very welcoming. While the others were dancing, I sat there, drinking. I glanced over as a male sat down next to me. I tensed.
"I'll buy your next drink," he offered. I stared at him, unsure of what to say. He was blonde, pretty grey eyes.
"You don't have to do that," I promised him, shaking my head.
"Come on, I insist," he smiled. His smile was sweet.
Maybe he was a kind male. Possibly, he would buy me a drink, and we'd talk. Maybe we'd even dance together.
Or he would expect me to go home with him and lash out when I denied him. Or he would say he was going to walk me home, then force himself upon me when we were far away from everyone.
The thought alone made my heart beat out of my chest. I felt my breathing speed up against my will.
"No," I said, more forcefully this time.
"That's fine," he smiled again. "I'll see you around."
I nodded, quickly getting off the stool I was sitting on. It was too loud. My brain was moving too fast, my heart was pounding too hard. It was too crowded. It was so hot in here. I began pushing past the crowd until I was outside.
I gasped in relief, collapsing onto a bench. I hid my face in my hands as I tried to stop my body from trembling.
"Astraea?"
I glanced up at Morrigan, who was staring at me in concern. I bit my quivering lip and grabbed her hand. I needed someone to hold on to.
"Hey, you're okay," she promised, sitting next to me. I nodded. I knew I was okay.
"I thought I would be fine," I mumbled. "It's just a night out. This is so pathetic."
"No, it isn't," she insisted, squeezing my hand. "You're not pathetic. He was."
I collapsed against her, resting my head on her shoulder. She sighed, wrapping her arms around me and kissing my head.
"I'd like to be my old self again," I said quietly.
"You ready to go home?" she asked me. I nodded. "Come on, Raea."
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Dinner at the House of Wind was going to be awkward. I stood off to the side with Rhys while the others greeted one another.
"Did you kill them?" I asked quietly.
"Azriel's working on it," he admitted. I furrowed my eyebrows, turning to him. "They're in his dungeons."
"Oh," I said quietly, not sure how to feel about that.
"Would you like to kill them?" he wondered. "They're barely alive as it is, but you can deliver the final blows."
The idea of seeing them again, even if they were half dead, terrified me.
"No," I shook my head. "I killed Demetri, that's more than enough." He smiled, placing a hand on my back.
"Let's join the party," he said to me. I nodded.
Lucien ran his one eye over Feyre—her casual attire, then the Illyrian males in their leathers, and Amren in her usual gray, Eve in a simple black dress, Mor in her flowing red gown, and me in my light blue gown. "What is the dress code?"
"It's whatever we feel like," Feyre said, passing him a bottle of wine. "What did you do with yourself this afternoon?"
"Slept," he said. "Washed. Sat on my ass."
"I could give you a tour of the city tomorrow morning," Fey offered. "If you like."
I frowned, figuring that we had much more important things to do.
"You dont need to waste your time convincing me. I get it. I get--I get that we were not what you wanted. Or needed. How small and isolated our home must have been for you, once you saw this." He jerked his chin toward the city, where lights were now sparking into view amid the falling twilight. "Who could compare?"
I heard heels clanking against the tile, and I turned, tensing as Nesta stepped into the room.
She was breathtakingly beautiful, in a longsleeved, dark blue gown that clung to her curves before falling gracefully to the ground in a spill of fabric.
Evelina nudged me, and I realized I had been staring like an idiot. I shook my head, looking away from her.
"Where did that dress come from?" Mor said, red gown flowing behind her as she breezed toward Nesta. Nesta drew up short, shoulders tensing, readying to—But Mor was already there, fingering the heavy blue fabric, surveying every stitch. "I want one."
"I assume my mate dug it up somewhere," Feyre said, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Rhys, who was perched on the edge of the dining table.
"He gets all the credit for clothes," Mor said. "and he never tells me where he finds them. He still wont tell me where he found Feyres dress for Starfall." She threw a glare over her shoulder. "Bastard."
Rhys chuckled. Mor only examined the silver combs in Nesta's hair. "Its a good thing we're not the same size—or else I might be tempted to steal that dress."
"Likely right off her," Cassian muttered.
Mor's answering smirk wasn't reassuring. I felt for Nesta. She wasn't used to the teasing or the attention.
"Fortunately for you," Nesta said flatly, "I don't return the sentiment."
Azriel coughed into his wine, and I bit my lip to hide a smile. But Nesta only walked to the table and claimed a seat.
Mor blinked, but confided to Feyre with a wince, "I think were going to need a lot more wine."
Nesta's spine stiffened. But she said nothing.
"I'll raid the collection," Cassian offered, disappearing through the inner hall doors.
Nesta stiffened a bit more. I wanted to take her hand in mine and reassure her that it was all fine. But I didn't.
"They mean well," Feyre told her.
Nesta just ran a finger over her ivory-and-obsidian place setting, examining the silverware with vines of night-blooming jasmine engraved around the hilts. "I dont care."
Amren slid into the seat across from Fey, right as Cassian returned, a bottle in each hand, and cringed. Amren said to Nesta, "Youre a real piece of work."
Nesta's eyes flicked up. Amren idly swirled a goblet of blood, watching her like a cat with a new, interesting toy.
"Why do your eyes glow?" Nesta wondered.
"You know, none of these busybodies have ever asked me that," Amren observed. "They glow because it was the one part of me the containment spell could not quite get right. The one glimpse into what lurks beneath."
"And what is beneath?"
"They never dared ask me that, either."
"Why."
"Because it is not polite to ask—and they are afraid." Amren held Nestas stare, and she did not balk. Did not flinch. "We are the same, you and I. Not in flesh, not in the thing that prowls beneath our skin and bones. But I see the kernel, girl. You did not fit—the mold that they shoved you into. The path you were born upon and forced to walk. You tried, and yet you did not, could not, fit. And then the path changed. I know—what it is to be that way. I remember it, long ago as it was."
Nesta sat there for a few heartbeats, simply staring at the strange, delicate female across from her, weighing the words, the power that radiated from Amren And then Nesta merely said, "I dont know what youre talking about."
"When you erupt, girl, make sure it is felt across worlds."
"Amren, it seems, has been taking drama lessons at the theater down the street from her house," Rhys drawled.
"I mean it, Rhysand—"
"Im sure you do," he said, claiming the seat to Feyre's right. "But I'd prefer to eat something before you make us lose our appetites."
Lucien frowned at the remaining place setting at the head of the table, then at the blank, barren spot across from Nesta. "I—shouldnt you sit at the head?"
Rhys raised an eyebrow. "I dont care where you sit. I only care about eating something right"—he snapped his fingers—"now."
The food appeared across the table in platters and spreads and bowls. Roast meats, various sauces and gravies, rice and bread, steamed vegetables fresh from the surrounding farms
Lucien slid into his seat, looking for all the world like he was perching atop a pincushion.
"You get used to it—the informality," Feyre told Lucien.
I recalled having to get used to the formality in the spring court when I was banished there.
"You say that, Feyre darling, like its a bad thing," Rhys said.
"It took me by surprise that first dinner we all had, just so you know," Feyre said.
"Oh, I know," Rhys grinned. I smiled and Cassian sniggered.
"Honestly," Feyre said to Lucien. "Azriel and Astraea are the only polite ones." A few cries of outrage from Mor, Eve, and Cassian, but my brother and I both smiled. "Dont even try to pretend that its not true."
"Of course its true," Mor said with a loud sigh, "but you neednt make us sound like heathens."
"I would have thought youd find that term to be a compliment, Mor," Rhys said mildly.
Feyre piled some food onto Nesta's plate.
"I understand—what you meant about the food," Nesta said quietly. My heart ached for her.
"Is that a compliment?" Feyre smiled. Nesta didn't answer, so Feyre turned to Cassian. "What time are we back in the training ring tomorrow?"
"Id say dawn, but since Im feeling rather grateful that youre back in one piece, Ill let you sleep in. Lets meet at seven."
"I'd hardly call that sleeping in," Feyre said.
"For an Illyrian, it is," Mor muttered.
"Daylight is a precious resource," Cassian said, his wings rustling.
"We live in the Night Court," Evelina countered, glaring at him.
I found myself laughing out loud at that, causing them all to turn to me. It was the first time I'd laughed in a while.
Cassian only grimaced at Rhys and Azriel. "I told you that the moment we started letting females into our group, theyd be nothing but trouble."
"Excuse me, I was here before you," Eve reminded him.
"As far as I can recall, Cassian," Rhys countered drily, "you actually said you needed a reprieve from staring at our ugly faces, and that some ladies would add some much-needed prettiness for you to look at all day."
"Pig," Amren said.
Cassian gave her a vulgar gesture that made Lucien choke on his green beans. "I was a young Illyrian and didnt know better," he said, then pointed his fork at Azriel. "Dont try to blend into the shadows. You said the same thing."
"He did not," Evelina said sharply, and the shadows that Azriel had indeed been subtly weaving around himself vanished. "Azriel has never once said anything that awful. Only you, Cassian. Only you."
The general of the High Lords armies stuck out his tongue. Eve returned the gesture.
"Youd be wise to leave both of them at home for the meeting with the others, Rhysand. Theyll cause nothing but trouble," Amren said.
"It remains to be seen if theyll be joining us," Rhys said. Lucien looked at him then, the curiosity in that one eye unmistakable. Rhys noted it and shrugged. "Youll find out soon enough, I suppose. Invitations are going out tomorrow, calling all the High Lords to gather to discuss this war."
Luciens hand tightened on his fork. "All?" Rhys nodded. "Can I offer my unsolicited advice?"
"I think thats the first time anyone at this table has ever asked such a thing," Rhys joked.
Mor and Cassian now stuck out their tongues at him. But Rhys waved a lazy hand at Lucien. "By all means, advise away."
"I assume Feyre is going."
"I am."
"Are you planning to hide her powers?"
Silence.
"That was something Id planned to discuss with my mate. Are you leaning one way or another, Lucien?"
"My father would likely join with Hybern if he thought he stood a chance of getting his power back that way—by killing you," Lucien admitted. A snarl from Rhys.
"Your brothers saw me, though," Feyre said, setting down my fork. "Perhaps they could mistake the flame as yours, but the ice--"
"Thats the information you need to gather," Lucien said to Azriel. "What my father knows, if my brothers realized what she was doing. You need to start from there, and build your plan for this meeting accordingly."
"Eris might keep that information to himself and convince the others to as well, if he thinks itll be more useful that way," Evelina confirmed. "Your brothers may be awful, but they hate their father as much as you do. Elio certainly did."
"Perhaps," Lucien said. "But we need to find that out. If Beron or Eris has that information, theyll use it to their advantage in that meeting—to control it. Or control Feyre. Or they might not show up at all, and instead go right to Hybern."
"You and Azriel should talk," Rhys said. "Tomorrow."
Lucien glanced toward the shadowsinger—who only nodded at him. "Im at your disposal."
"There is another meeting that needs to be had—and soon."
"Please dont say we need to go to the Court of Nightmares," Cassian grumbled around a mouthful of food.
"Not in the mood to terrorize our friends there?" Rhys asked.
"You mean to ask my father to fight in this war," Mor said to Rhys, her face paling. I placed my hand on her shoulder.
"What is the Court of Nightmares?" Nesta demanded.
"The place where the rest of the world believes the majority of the Night Court to be," Lucien said. He jerked his chin at Rhys. "The seat of his power. Or it was."
"Oh, it still is," Rhys said. "To everyone outside Velaris." He leveled a steady look at Mor. "And yes. Keir's Darkbringer legion is considerable enough that a meeting is warranted."
"Why not just order them? Dont they answer to you?" Nesta questioned.
"Unfortunately, there are protocols in place between our two subcourts regarding this sort of thing. They mostly govern themselves—with Mor's father their steward," Cassian said. Mor's throat bobbed.
"The steward of the Hewn City is legally entitled to refuse to aid my armies," Rhys explained to Nesta. "It was part of the agreement my ancestor made with the Court of Nightmares all those thousands of years ago. They would remain within that mountain, would not challenge or disturb us beyond its borders and would retain the right to decide not to assist in war."
"And have they—refused?" Feyre asked.
"Twice. Not my father," Mor nearly choked on the word. "But there were two wars. Long, long ago. They chose not to fight. We won, but barely. At great cost."
"We leave in two days," Rhys said.
"He'll say no," Mor countered. "Dont waste your time."
"Then I shall have to find a way to convince him otherwise."
"What?"
"He fought in the War," Rhys said calmly. "Perhaps we'll be lucky this time, too."
"Ill remind you that the Darkbringer legion was nearly as bad as the enemy when it came to their behavior," Mor said, pushing her plate away.
"There will be new rules."
"You will not be in a position to make rules, and you know it," Mor snapped.
"We'll see."
"What do you think?" Mor asked Azriel.
"Its not my call to make," Azriel said.
"Thats a bullshit answer," Mor challenged.
I saw hurt flickering in Azriel's eyes, but he only shrugged, his face again a mask of cold indifference. I shot Mor a disapproving glance.
"Don't speak to my mate that way," Eve nearly snarled at her cousin. Morrigan just narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, leaning back in her seat.
"You dont need to come, Mor," Rhys said.
"Of course I'm coming. It'll make it worse if I'm not there." She drained her wine in one swift tilt of her head. "I suppose I have two days now to find a dress suitable to horrify my father."
Amren chuckled at that, Cassian rumbling a laugh as well.
"Let's train at eight tomorrow. I'll meet you in the ring," Feyre told Cassian, changing the subject.
"Seven-thirty," he said with a disarming grin.
"Eight," Feyre countered with a flat look. She turned to Nesta, silent and watchful through all of this. "Care to join?"
"No."
She gave her sister a casual shrug, reaching for the wine jug that Eve was staring at longingly. Then she said to none of us in particular, "I want to learn how to fly."
Mor spewed her wine across the table, splattering it right across Azriel's chest and neck. The shadowsinger was too busy gawking at her to even notice. Eve made the wine disappear from his leathers with the swish of her hand.
She gestured to Cassian, Rhys, Az, Eve, and me. "I want you to teach me."
"Really?" Mor demanded.
"Well, that explains the wings," Lucien mumbled.
"What wings?" Nesta asked.
"I can—shape-shift," Feyre admitted. "And with the oncoming conflict knowing how to fly might be useful. I assume the battles against Hybern will include Illyrians. Then I plan to fight with you. In the skies."
"I dont know if its technically even possible—time-wise," Cassian warned. "Youd have to learn not only how to fly, but how to bear the weight of your shield and weapons—and how to work within an Illyrian unit. It takes us decades to master that last part alone. We have months at best—weeks at worst."
"Then well teach her what we know until then," Rhys said. "Ill give her any shot at an advantage—at getting away if things go to shit. Even a day of training might make a difference."
"Az should teach you," I spoke up. Azriel nodded his agreement.
"Are you certain?" Feyre asked.
"Rhys, Eve, and Cass were taught how to fly so young that they barely remember it," Azriel pointed out.
"We've taught plenty of younglings the basics," Cassian countered.
"Its not the same," Azriel explained.
"When you're older, the fears, the mental blocks . . . its different," I informed them.
"I'll teach you," Azriel decided. "Train with Cass for a few hours, and I'll meet you when you're through." He added to Lucien, who did not balk from those writhing shadows, "After lunch, we'll meet."
"Thank you," Feyre said, then turned to Nesta."The King of Hybern is trying to bring down the wall by using the Cauldron to expand the holes already in it. I might be able to patch up those holes, but you being made of the Cauldron itself... if the Cauldron can widen those holes, perhaps you can close them, too. With training—in whatever time we have."
"I can show you," Amren clarified. "Or, in theory I can. If we start soon—tomorrow morning." She considered, then declared to Rhys, "When you go to the Court of Nightmares, we will go with you."
"What?" I spoke up, not wanting to expose Nesta to that place.
"The Hewn City is a trove of objects of power," Amren explained. "There may be opportunities to practice. Let the girl get a feel for what something like the wall or the Cauldron might be like. Covertly."
"Why not just kill the King of Hybern before he can act?" Nesta asked.
"If you want his killing blow, girl, its yours," Amren said.
"What happened to the human queens?" she wondered.
"What do you mean?" Feyre asked.
"Were they made immortal?" Nesta questioned.
"Reports have been murky and inconsistent. Some say yes, others say no," Azriel said.
"Why?" Cassian asked.
"By the end of this war, I want them dead. The king, the queens—all of them. Promise me you'll kill them all, and I'll help you patch up the wall. I'll train with her"—a jerk of her chin to Amren—"I'll go to the Hewn City or whatever it is, I'll do it. But only if you promise me that."
"Fine," Feyre said. "And we might need your assistance during the meeting with the High Lords—to provide testimony to other courts and allies of what Hybern is capable of. What was done to you."
"No."
"You dont mind fixing the wall or going to the Court of Nightmares, but speaking to people is where you draw your line?"
"No."
"Peoples lives might depend on your account of it. The success of this meeting with the High Lords might depend upon it."
"Don't talk down to me. My answer is no."
"I understand that what happened to you was horrible—"
"You have no idea what it was or was not. None. And I am not going to grovel like one of those Children of the Blessed, begging High Fae who would have gladly killed me as a mortal to help us. I'm not going to tell them that story—my story."
"The High Lords might not believe our account, which makes you a valuable witness—"
Nesta shoved her chair back, chucking her napkin on her plate, gravy soaking through the fine linen.
"Then it is not my problem if you're unreliable. I'll help you with the wall, but I am not going to whore my story around to everyone on your behalf. And if you even dare suggest to Elain that she do such a thing, I will rip out your throat."
None of us spoke as she left the dining room and slammed the door shut behind her. Mor passed Feyre a bottle of wine.
"Its fine if you drink directly from it," was all Mor said.
"She has a point," Eve mumbled. We all turned to her, Rhys raising an eyebrow at his twin. "I mean, when you go through something traumatic like that. . . it's hard to even speak to people you trust about it. Speaking to a group of strangers like that. Well, I would never be able to do it."
"It could mean saving millions of lives," Rhys countered.
"Would you be able to open up to all of them?" she demanded, getting to her feet. "About everything you've been through? Tell them every detail? I wouldn't. And neither would you, so don't think less of her for it."
Rhys didn't reply, his face softening.
"You're right, Eve," I acknowledged. "I wouldn't be able to do it. Morrigan, Cassian, Azriel, would you be able to? Tell that many people something so personal?" They all looked away from me, which gave me my answer.