No, no, no, no, no.
The voice inside his head repeated itself over and over and over.
This couldn't be happening. How…?
Rhysand stood behind the closed door of the cottage he had once shared with his mother as a child. He was still in his training clothes, sweat still running down his back. His eyes were wide. His heartbeat fast.
There was no way…
No...way.
They were scheduled to arrive in an hour. They had to show up right? There was no way anything could possibly have gone wrong.
But he had seen the…
The…
Heads.
The looks of horror frozen on their faces.
The image flashed in his mind and his knees gave out from under him. Rhys landed hard on the wood floor and sagged backwards, against the door. He swept a hand over his forehead, and through his damp hair. When we pulled his hand back, he stared down at it.
Why had this happened? How?
"I should have been there to greet them. This is all my fault."
He dropped his arm and slid his knees out from under him. He slumped against the door again, with a thud.
He could have fought their attackers off. He could have shredded them to ribbons and his mother and sister would still be alive. This couldn't be happening. They were innocent in this.
What kind of person would ever think they were any kind of threat? Sure, his mother was strong of will, but she could not hold her own, physically. He could feel her scent still lingering in the house. It whirled around him, rolled over him, weighing him down in guilt.
His sister...she was still a child. She had not been trained to fight and had a very kind heart. A memory of him watching her as she stared at the sunset of Velaris played through his mind. Her long, black hair, her midnight eyes. The look on her face...Her fascination and wonder about the world. The way she couldn't think ill of anyone.
The faint smile on Rhys's lips turned back to an expression of grief when the image faded away into the empty cabin.
All my fault…
...my fault…
The words echoed in his mind.
I should have just gone to get them like I promised. I failed them so deeply.
He knew of course that the Night Court had many enemies. He would have been ignorant to not realize this. But no one knew where they would be, right? He hadn't told anyone…
Any...
Tamlin.
A thunderous growl ripped out of his throat when it dawned on him. He shot straight up to his feet. Talons out. Night rippling in every corner of the cabin.
Tamlin had been his friend. He had shared things with him. Had confessed things. They had been in the same shoes.
Feared. Envied. Hunted.
He thought they had been...friends.
Now he knew was that smell was.
That smell attached to his family's heads. The stench he failed to recognize in his panic.
Spring.
Betrayal.
He roared again, the sound shaking the entire building. He heard his mother's vases rattling on the mantle.
His entire body shook with the house, and continued on afterwards.
He understood now why his father was the way that he was. Why he trusted no one. Why Velaris had to remain a secret.
All at once, it felt like he understood everything. Placing trust in the wrong person had wounded him and others. This sort of wound could not be healed.
Once he had quieted down, there was a knock on the door behind him.
"What?" he demanded, his voice barely a whisper.
"Lord…," the male on the other side sounded frightened. Rhys was not surprised after what he surely just heard come from inside. "My Lord, your father...your father is here and wishes to speak with you."
When Rhys failed to respond, he continued on with a shaky voice, almost unable to speak the words he had been commanded to say. The sadness in his voice almost unmatched.
"He...they found the bodies. Their wings were…"
At those words, the door swung open and the Illyrian had to almost dive out of the way as his Lord stomped out. Rhysand took off for the medical tent. He knew what the soldier had meant to say.
Their wings had been severed.
He knew what had to be done.
This was unforgivable.
His father...he would help.
Get even, the voices growled in the back of his head.
GET.
REVENGE.