None of us slept during the night. Eventually, we'd gone to our rooms and laid in our beds. But, when the sun rose, we gathered silently in the sitting room. My mind hadn't stopped wondering how far Freyja and Odessa had gone, if they'd found shelter or food.
None of us trained, we didn't try to distract ourselves. Now that the truth was out and my brothers knew of what I'd done, there was no peace. We had cried together, emotions running high and worries not yielding.
"Will you tell Alcaeus?" Cassian asked after hours of silence. My head lifted from where I stared at my hands. Rhys didn't acknowledge him for a long moment, bloodshot eyes staring at the morning sun in the window. We waited until his chest rose with a breath and he blinked.
"No. Betrayal or not, I don't want them in his hands anymore."
I didn't blame him, despite it being a treasonous act against his father. Rhys had grown strong enough in the past decade that he could block Alcaeus from searching his mind. He could fight, he could defend. Freyja and Odessa were brave enough to run from him, so Rhys would be brave enough to defend them.
"He's going to look for them, and he's going to blame you," Cassian muttered. Rhysand's jaw clicked as he blinked again.
"That's what you do for family. You fight for them and you die for them."
Why didn't you before? I wasn't stupid enough to ask him that, but I couldn't help thinking it. Rhys stood aside while his sister was being sent there, and he made no move to help her until I did it first.
"When do we go to her?" I asked, unable to stop the tightness to my voice. Both of them looked to me.
"Tomorrow. If they're walking as well as flying, I suspect they'll hit the farming village today. Unless they decided to go throughout the night, then they'd be down by the fishing village along the river."
"They aren't following the river. They're not going South at all, only East until they hit the sea."
Rhysand's jaw moved again. "They have to hit the river. It flows from the sea."
"Not the portion that comes from snow runoff," I argued. Rhysand rolled his eyes and focused back on the window.
"Either way. We will find them and ensure they're safe. We can't spend too much time there, warriors fly those mountains for training on stamina."
I stayed silent, meeting Cassian's eyes briefly. Rhys was on edge no matter what. There would be no arguing with him unless I wished for a dagger in my chest.
"Morrigan is coming to visit us today. There will be no talk of Freyja nor their escape. I trust her, but I can't trust that mine or her father not to interrogate her," Rhys ground out. I nodded, not bothering to speak. He stood anyway and walked over to the door to the training ring.
"Do you think he will tell her?" Cassian asked, leaning back against the settee. I scoffed.
"Of course he will. Rhys can't keep a thing from Mor."
Cassian forced a laugh before the half-smile fell from his face. There was something in the air this morning; a strange haze of sorrow that none of us dared to mention. It was a sickening twist in my stomach like a warning of something terrible to come.
She will die from your deeds.
They will perish cursing your name.
Monster.
You've ruined her.
Monster.
I grit my teeth, looking back to my gloved hands. My shadows had been worse since last night, festering horrid thoughts.
"There they are," Cassian's voice pulled me from the depths of my mind. I looked to the window and indeed, Rhys was carrying Mor as he flew them down. I groaned, rising from my seat. I supposed it would be good to have a distraction, to drink and speak with Mor like we all used to.
"Hi, everyone," Mor's cheery voice filled the grim room. Cassian forced another smile, rising from his seat and wrapping his arms around her. Mor's eyes flickered to me, her lips tugging down. I supposed we didn't have the best interaction the last time I saw her.
"How are you doing, Az?"
"I'm fine," I answered as kindly as I could. It wasn't as kind as I thought, judging by the way she flinched and turned back to Rhys.
"Let's get drunk, yeah? You all seem like you need to relax," Mor suggested, clapping her hands together. Cassian hummed, laying a hand on her back and leading her to the kitchen. I let out a slow breath as I met my brother's eyes.
"Everything will be fine, okay?" He said softly. I nodded, clearing my throat. It didn't feel that way. There was a weight on my chest that told me something was bound to happen, and I knew he felt it, too.
"Here we go," Mor chirped, pouring whiskey into a iced glass. She pushed it across the counter to Cass, who bowed his head with a forced smile and threw it back. He didn't even grimace, nor sip. He swallowed it all and slammed the glass onto the counter.
It felt horrible to be sitting in the House enjoying whiskey while Freyja and Odessa trekked the Illyrian Mountains. Were they safe? Were they warm? Tired? In an inn? I knew nothing, and I didn't send my shadows because- once again- I was a coward. I didn't want to know.
Mor walked behind the chaise and brought a glass filled with whiskey over my head. I took it from her with what I hoped was a grateful smile, but surely it looked as if I bared my teeth to her.
Once each of us had our glasses, the other three settled on the seats. We sipped in silence, Cass swishing the liquid in his mouth before swallowing as he gazed blankly at the window. Rhys stared at his glass as the ice cracked, Mor stared at Rhys.
We all knew something felt wrong. It was in the air, hung between us like dust in the sunlight. It was obvious, but we refused to look at it. We were all cowards, and Morrigan just sat with us without knowledge.
"When will you return to the Spring Court?" Mor asked after a too long stretch of silence. Rhys cleared his throat, violet eyes straining as they looked to his cousin.
"We will be back there in a fortnight," he murmured. Mor swallowed her drink slowly, eyes crinkling as she studied him.
"What is going on? Was Freyja well yesterday? Did something happen?"
It was the question we all wanted to avoid. No, she was not well. Yes, something happened. I didn't bother answering, just letting the spiced alcohol sit on my tongue.
"Everything is fine, Freyja is well. It's just strange to see her there," Cassian chimed in, dragging the attention from Rhys, whose shoulders fell the moment Mor looked away.
"I'm sure it is. She didn't want to wed, but perhaps the Spring Court suits her. She has always enjoyed beauty, and surely the blooms are up to her standards," Mor thought aloud, gazing at the ceiling as she drank again.
I wanted to laugh. The beauty Freyja enjoyed was never flowers. It was the wildness in the mountain ridges, the crushing current of the Sidra, the violence in the training rings that she watched from above. Freyja's desire for beauty was not soft or delicate. It was as wild as her, fueled by the feral nature of these mountains. She'd been forced down to believe what she wanted was soft flowers and pretty smiles, but it was never truly her.
She wanted blood tainted skin and teeth in flesh. She wanted suffocating darkness and painful pleasure. She wanted me.
"Yes, well, we will see her again soon," Rhysand spoke, raising his glass to his lips. I felt it then, a rush of prickling heat down my spine, the scratch of my shadows on my jaw, the racing of my heart. I stilled, my eyes snapping to Rhysand. The glass was still at his lips, mouth open but his hand not moving. His eyes were on the window, brows pulling together.
Cauldron, I knew what the next look was. His shoulders fell, curling in on himself as the glass slipped from his hand, bouncing from the cushion between his thighs and shattering on the ground. His eyes went wide, shaking hand covering his open mouth.
"Rhys?" Cassian spoke, already setting his glass down and rising.
No, no, no. Something happened. I knew something had happened.
"Rhysand?" Morrigan snapped. She, too, rose to her feet.
Rhys's hand closed into a fist at his lips, unshed tears lining his eyes as they fell to the floor. My stomach and chest twisted so painfully, I wouldn't be shocked if I looked down to see a dagger protruding.
"Rhys?" I spoke his name though it sounded far away and it hurt. He turned his head slowly, one tear slipping down his cheek. His shoulders hunched forward with a breath that I knew pained him.
"H-eads," he tried to say but his voice broke. My chest was gone, leaving a cavity of shadows and empty promises. I knew what he meant- fuck- I knew what he didn't say.
My own glass of whiskey hit the floor, my hands falling to the cushions beside myself as though it could steady me. The House rocked me violently, a nausea like I'd never felt tearing through what was left of me.
She was gone.
"What's happening?" Mor shouted, looking between us. She was a muffled sound hidden behind the wall of grief that crashed into me so painfully, I was nothing but the rubble it left behind. I wanted to deny it, but how could I? I felt her absence. A hollowness to my soul, my blood and flesh nothing more than an empty cavern.
"Shit," Cassian hissed, rushing past Morrigan to be between Rhys and I. He reached for our brother, but Rhysand shoved him away and stood. Even in my broken mind, I could see the shift from sorrow to rage in him. I hadn't quite hit that point yet, but I would once I found who was responsible and what happened to them. For now, I was empty.
I hadn't even realized Rhysand was gone until Cassian gripped my arm, hauling me to my feet.
She was gone.
She was gone.
Freyja was gone.
"Tell us what happened. What did you hear?"
I blinked, blurry vision poorly focusing on Rhysand. We were in his room, he was dressing into his leathers with a face of bloodlust.
"My father called to me. Warriors heard their screams and flew down to the farming village. Their bodies were left on the banks. Their... Their heads were found down the creek towards the river. Their wings were cut off. A farmer confirmed their identities and he was killed. My father is going to the Spring Court now, and I'm going to meet him there."
His words hit me in another wave that nearly brought me to my knees. Their heads. Oh, Gods. My Freyja, decapitated and her wings stolen. Why did I not feel the rage? I felt a crippling grief that weighed me down, forcing me to lean on Cassian's arm.
Rhysand strapped his blades on, giving us both one last look. I didn't watch him go. Instead, I found myself following the trail of blood in my love's wake. My shadows brought me to her, to where her body had laid not moment before. My knees fell to the melting snow, the utter metallic stench of blood rising.
There she was, her essence no more than a pool of blood soaking into the earth. I tore my glove off, spreading my palm over the too-cold ground. I saw it then, the imprint of her body pressed into the mud, snow, and wet grass. I spread my arms out, reaching for what looked like the press of her arms. Maybe one, maybe her legs. I didn't know, I didn't care. The desire to feel that connection to her stole any rationality.
A sob tore through my chest, back bowing at the pain it left behind. My love was gone, long before we could truly become one. I'd taken her away to safety, only for her to be torn from me in too violent of a way.
Sounds surrounded me, bouncing from the trees and smothering the trickle of the creek. I realized it was myself, the wall of grief crumbling with each gasp, sob, and scream. I'd shed my tears for her until I was nothing more than a shell of a male who could've been hers. My tears soaked into the ground her blood already occupied, mud and blood crushed beneath my fist.
Love gone too soon, slipping through my fingers before it could've been formed and shaped. It was a clay that crumbled before becoming pottery; it was the seed in the ground, crushed before blooming. My forehead pressed into the cool ground that smelled of her. There was no jasmine, no wind. Only mud, the metallic stench of her blood, and too-quick decay that surely overtook her malnourished body. It smelled of what she was now.
I didn't know how long I laid in what remained of my Freyja. I knew I woke at sunset to Cassian standing over me.
She was gone.
She was gone.
And it was my fault.
I had been so close to something I'd never thought possible for myself. I'd been a coward, foolish, and my mate was dead.