Based upon how ACOMAF ended, with Rhysand getting his own POV, my friend and I decided to continue that trend in ACOTAD, especially since the couple is separated right now :)


Chapter Two — Rhysand


I tried not to think about Feyre and what she had to deal with now because of me as I stared at her sisters. Amren was still mad at me for leaving my mate in the Spring Court's hands. She would glare at me now and then, and I would look away from guilt. I hated myself for it, but Feyre was our only chance in having the upper hand in the war.

I stroked a mental finger down the bond hidden deeply inside us, and a glimmer of love and loving was sent along the bond in response.

We were in my private home, in the mountains, where I had first taken Feyre her first few weeks at the Night Court. Mor had winnowed them here just days before, after Feyre sacrificed herself to the Spring Court. I made myself calm as I felt the talons taking shape. My mate. My queen. The High Lady of the Night Court. A smile tugged at my lips as I remembered how quick she was to say yes to my offer. I trusted her. She knew what she was getting into when she started the act.

"I would not help. Even if I wasn't protecting Elain, I wouldn't help your kind ever again," Nesta seethed. Annoyance surged up in me once again.

"Whether you help the cause, and your sister, is only your choice to make, but let me make it very clear to you," I said. "You, are part of our kind now. You are High Fae, and without Feyre, you and Elain would have been at the mercy of the King of Hybern." Nesta didn't react. Her cold eyes locked into my gaze.

"Perhaps. . . perhaps we should help." Elain was sitting in a chair next to her sister. She'd been quiet the past minutes, and had faded into the background while Nesta and I had quarreled. "The king of Hybern plans to invade the human territory. Maybe we are fae now, but we shouldn't leave the humans undefended. Not to mention those backstabbing queens." Nesta and I were still locked in a staring contest. "And Nesta. . ." Elain pleaded. "If you think about it. . . we're not helping the fae. We're helping the humans." Smooth as silk, I slipped into Nesta's mind. Thoughts churned, flashing before me, and then. A sudden wall smashing into place, sending my mentality flying. A dark chuckle arose in me. Cold as ice, hard as steel. Just like Feyre had said. And powerful, very powerful. Ire flashed in her eyes before she glanced away, and flicked an imaginary piece of lint off the gossamer shirt she, and Elain, were wearing, in typical Night Court style.

"Fine," she snapped. "But Elain doesn't get involved. And especially not with that—that male. . ." At that, Elain noticeably deflated a little. She had obviously felt the mating bond, and the strange attraction, to Lucien as well.

"Excellent," I said smoothly. "In that case, would you rather stay here? Or I could winnow you to Velaris instead." Nesta cast me another cool glare.

"We'll stay here." Stay here, in icy solitude, because she had become what she most despised, had failed both her sisters, and doomed them to a war. Five hundred years of practice of reading through the masks others placed on their faces, myself included, had me reading through Nesta's easily.

"Then I'll come for you whenever you change your mind, or if there's a meeting." Nesta nodded, the smallest bit of gratitude, while Elain whispered the ghost of a thanks before I became wind and shadow and winnowed back to the City of Starlight.


I checked how the city was faring after Hybern's attack a few days ago. The city itself had already been mended, but there were some who still needed healing—the attack had been the first bloodshed Velaris has experienced. And it was my fault. If I hadn't told the queens about Velaris, it would've been fine. I had let my people down.

I materialized into a guest room at my townhouse, where Cassian lay on his stomach on a large bed, his shattered wings hanging limply on his back. The sight of him being so vulnerable made me want to unleash my power, but I held back.

He had used the wings he cherished so much to protect Azriel. Azriel was healing rather well considering all the poison that had gotten in his body. It was just the matter of time now that would heal him completely.

I'd already vowed to kill the King of Hybern myself when he decided to use Azriel as his shield. I vowed it once again when Cassian's wings were damaged. And again when Feyre was taken away. Together, we would make him suffer.

But even if it was the King of Hybern who had caused it all, I couldn't help, but blame myself. I shouldn't have dragged them into this.

Cassian merely blinked to acknowledge my presence as I went to sit on the edge of the bed. My brother who had done so much for me in the past, who had made so many sacrifices for the Court of Dreams, and himself, who always knew how to lighten the mood and be there for me. And now I couldn't find the words to help him.

"The healers said I should be prepared for the worst." He spoke in a rough whisper that told me he'd been crying. "Rhys, what am I supposed to do? I'll be truly useless without. . . without my wings."

"You know that's not true. You're the greatest warrior I know. The wings don't change that. You're still the best commander I have."

"How am I supposed to command them without my wings? They'll laugh at me and throw me in a ditch." There was an edge to Cassian's voice.

"That won't happen. And if it does," I growled. "I'll be happy to throw them in the ocean."

Cassian's face was void of any emotion as he just stared at the ceiling. I wondered if he was trying to picture the night sky. "I'd rather die." Any Illyrian would, after losing their wings, but despite that knowledge, I flinched. "If I don't have my wings, what's the point? People will look down on me if they don't already do."

My power chafed my skin. I was about to make a retort when Mor strolled into the room.

"If you kill yourself, I will steal that damned cauldron from Hybern and reincarnate you," she said rather calmly as she walked towards Cassian and handed him a tonic. "The healer said this will help that aching of yours. How do you feel?"

Cassian slowly sat up, wincing a bit and drank the tonic. "Useless. An Illyrian is nothing without his wings. I am nothing."

"If you were nothing, Azriel would be dead right now. Wings or no wings, I expect you to be up and about and participating in our plans in the next few days." Mor took the empty container that had held the tonic and prepared to leave the room. Before she did, she leaned over, and whispered quietly enough so that Cassian wouldn't hear her. "Get Nesta here. There's a. . ." Her voice cracked. She had been trying to hold it together for Cassian's sake before. "There's a chance they're mates. Keep him alive, Rhys." Another layer of guilt over the many that already riddled me. Cassian should have a choice in whether he wanted to live or die. But I was selfish. And I needed him alive. For myself, for my court, for the war.

I nodded solemnly to Mor as she left the room.


Azriel's shadows seemed darker than I have ever seen them when I made my way down the stairs. Mor had told me he was overridden with guilt, although what had happened wasn't his fault at all. Cassian had chosen to sacrifice his wings for him. Next to Azriel sat Amren, who was absent-mindedly twirling a knife around her hand.

"Any news?" I asked as I sat down in a seat across from my spymaster.

"Hybern's on the move," his voice rumbled. He was in mourning over Cassian's tattered wings. As were all of us. "Any news from Feyre?" I shook my head. She hadn't sent a letter in days, and I didn't want to take the initiative, and send one, lest it be at an inconvenient time, and expose her.

"Spring Court had. . .some issues with Calanmai this year," Amren said. Her silver eyes met mine, a simmering sort of rage beneath them—aimed toward me. I'd been met with the promise in those eyes for quite a few days now. A promise that if my mate was hurt at the Spring Court, she'd have my neck.

"I heard." I couldn't help the feeling of relief that ran through me whenever I remembered that Calanmai had already passed, and that Feyre had a better chance of not sleeping with Tamlin. I turned to Azriel. "Wasn't Tamlin devastated over Feyre not being at the Spring Court at the time? Who did the magic lead him to?"

"My sources tell me that the magic led him to Ianthe." Compulsively, I wrinkled my nose. Ianthe. A shame and a mark of disgust to the history of High Priestesses.

"But the magic of the Spring Court is still unstable, even after Calanmai." It was Amren who answered this time.

"Tamlin does get a say in the choosing of the Maiden. I suspect that the Calanmai yielded less magic this year than usual, because Ianthe wasn't supposed to be the Maiden. Rather. . .a substitute. For Feyre." Amren slide a silver eyed gaze at me. "Calanmai may be over, but I do hope you plan on getting her out. Before Tamlin does something to her."

"I plan to," I breathed. I took back what I had whispered to her through our bond just hours before. There was no way I would let Tamlin touch her. She was mine, and I was hers. And I would protect my friend, my mate, my High Lady with my life. "I plan to."