We're trying to get out word count for each chapter up, so from now on, you should be expecting chapters over 4k words XD. It shouldn't impact the amount of time we spend writing too much - after all, summer break is just around the corner. In addition, it's a long weekend in between exams, so there should be another chapter up in less than a week.
And also~ please note that many monumental choices that we make in the story aren't made until we psychoanalyze ACOTAR, ACOMAF, read through theories by other fans on Tumblr and Goodreads, and sift through SJM's Pinterest. Hope you enjoy this chapter^^ we certainly enjoyed writing it :)
Chapter Four — Rhysand
Once again, I was back in my mountaintop home, giving Feyre's sisters the latest updates on the war, and informing them about the meeting in two days, and that their youngest sister would be there.
My mountaintop home was now thoroughly ruined. Nesta had seemingly taken the place for granted and, although I did not mind, had practically smashed every breakable item in sight, most likely in anger of having been Made High Fae. There were claw marks on the walls, although they were from fingernails, not the literal shadowy claws that both Feyre and I could summon. Perhaps claws that Nesta could also summon, with practice.
The pillows were shredded; the stuffing inside scattered throughout rooms. Several couches were upended. There were a few broken floorboards. Porcelain shards crunched under every step I took. The house was a mess.
I cleaned everything up with a wave of my hand, and replaced everything breakable with plastic. The claw marks on the walls disappeared, patched up. I misted the pillow stuffing that seemed to be everywhere, and then just for the sake of showing off, I laid the entire breakfast table where we were sitting at with a gourmet lunch, complete with a flower arrangement, and the entire room modified with enhancements and decorations.
Elain oohed and ahhed while Nesta remained unimpressed, like I had expected. Instead, she picked up a finger sandwich and began to daintily munch on it.
"How's Feyre?" Nesta asked, voice cold. She acted indifferent towards her youngest sibling, but I was sure that under those pounds and pounds of steel, there was love.
At her question, however, I pursed my lips. Feyre and I had passed letters last night, but caught up in our usual banter, neither of us had been cautious enough. I'd wiped the note blank after sensing Lucien through Feyre and my mating bond, but I was sure that he knew at least something. I did not anticipate danger for Feyre—Lucien's mate, Elain, was with my court after all, and Feyre would have sent some sort of signal down the mating bond if something had happened. Still, it had been over sixteen hours, and the Illyrian part of me roared to be let free, to winnow to the Spring Court and snatch Feyre away to safety, to Velaris.
Oh. She would hate that.
Nesta noticed my silence and snapped, "Well? What happened?"
"Feyre's fine. Lucien, however. . ." I glanced toward Elain. She was twisting the iron ring around and around her finger. "I can't be too sure about Lucien." Nesta wrinkled her nose at the name and then nodded, as if she wanted to know more about Feyre's status, but didn't want to ask.
"I've been meaning to ask this." Elain's voice was like a whisper, barely loud enough for even my fae ears to hear, but automatically, Nesta turned to her, angling her body so that it shielded hers. Protecting Elain with her mind, body, and soul. "What of our father? Certainly he will be in danger if Hybern manages to successfully invade the our home." Our. Our, because she still referred to herself as human, and not High Fae.
Nesta hissed at the mention their father. I knew that both she and Feyre hated their him, though Nesta more so.
"Whatever you wish," I said, spreading my hands. "I could have him brought here—"
"Not yet," Nesta breathed, looking at Elain. She did not want their father to know what had been done to his daughters. All of his daughters. Did not want that burden to be placed upon her now of all times.
I bobbed my head. "Of course. Let me know when you change your mind, and I'll have him brought here in seconds."
A quiet silence of a few minutes before Nesta spoke up again.
"And. . . the Illyrians?" Immediately, I sombered. Cassian's condition hadn't gotten any better when I checked in on him this morning. The healer warned me that at this point, an amputation may be the wisest approach before a serious infection leads to his death.
I'd told the healer to do what she needed to do to save Cassian.
"Azriel is healing well. On the other hand, Cassian's not. . . in the best state." I grimaced, remembering what Mor had asked me to do. I looked up, into Nesta's blue-gray eyes. "I need you to come to Velaris with me. Right now. I need your help."
Her eyes narrowed. "What for?"
"There's a situation back in my other household with Cassian."
Her eyes widened slightly at the mention of his name, but she held her ground and glared at me. "Why does it require my assistance?"
I returned the glare and walked up to Nesta so that our faces were inches apart. "Cassian sacrificed his wings for our brother. And I need you to talk to him. Why? Do you really want me to answer that?"
Nesta had the decency to sense the urgency, my desperation, and my underlying tone of rage because she held out her arm. "I'll be back," she promised Elain. The younger sister nodded.
I took Nesta's arm and winnowed us into my townhouse, just outside Cassian's room. Immediately, there was screaming. The sound filled the entire house.
"Mother-damn it! Why won't you just let me die? Just let me go, damn it. I'm useless to this court—to the world—without my wings." At the word "wings", the sobs magnified. So the healer had amputated Cassian's wings. And Cassian was now utterly broken without them.
I peeked inside Cassian's room and swore under my breath.
The bedroom was a mess—there was much more damage than what Nesta had created at my mountain home, if that was possible. The amputation must have sent Cassian into a primal rage, both physically and magically. The windows were broken, and crushed glass and splintered wood lay everywhere. Across the room, there were dents in the wall, and a huge hole next to the bed frame. The only thing intact seemed to be the bed.
Nesta stayed silent, but a glimmer of sorrow seemed to be in her eyes. She immediately followed the source of the sound.
"Fuck off, Mor. Azriel. Amren. None of you understand. My wings. . . my wings. . . they're gone." Angered shouts followed. My own wings tingled. They were hidden under my skin, not having been summoned, but a ghost memory tickled them of when poisoned ash arrows had pierced them. I had thought I'd lost my wings then, but Feyre had saved them. Cassian's sorrow also had me remembering the nightmares from Under the Mountain. Amarantha had tore off so many wings from so many faeries.
"Cassian, stop," Mor begged.
I shuddered, shaking off the stupor of memories, before going after Nesta to check on Cassian, and we entered the room.
"I hope you brought back-up," Amren grumbled through sweat and tears as I entered through the doorway with Nesta and shoved down Cassian's arms again. His biceps flexed as he struggled.
The space here was worse; the peek I'd snuck earlier had not done the room justice. There seemed to be blood everywhere. Blood on the sheets, blood on the floor, blood on the walls, blood on Amren and Mor and Azriel. Blood on the bandages still covering Azriel's chest. They should've been changed hours ago. Frustration boiled in my blood. I'd spent the past hour at my mountaintop home, and before that, taking care of various matters at the House of Wind and throughout the Night Court. I should've been here.
"Cassian," Mor pleaded again. "Please. Stop struggling. You're making it worse."
"Stop?" Cassian gave a cold and vicious laugh. A chill ran up my spine. This Cassian was not the Cassian I knew. "My wings are gone. I am already at my worst."
"Cassian. Look at me," I said, with enough lethal calm that he stopped thrashing. He merely blinked at me. "Are you really going to let the loss of your wings wreck you? After all the things you've accomplished? Five hundred years of memories and friends and savory battles, and you're going to give up now? By the Cauldron, Cassian. You didn't slay an entire legion of Hybern's army by yourself just to die now. You didn't spend all these years defending Velaris and the Night Court for nothing. You didn't survive through prejudice and bloodshed and war and tragedy and everything else in between just to stop, and die, not even on a battlefield, but in bed with all of your friends around you. Your friends, Cassian. You may label yourself as a worthless bastard deserving of no one until the day you die, and today better not be that day, but. Your friends, Cassian," I said, repeating myself. "Me. Azriel. Mor. Amren. Feyre. Hell, even Nesta." I cast the woman in mention a side glance; Cassian hadn't sensed her yet. "Just to boost your ego, if you kill yourself, we're all going to miss you a lot. Maybe even a few centuries. Maybe more." I forced a light-hearted chuckle out. "If you kill yourself now, you stupid, egotistical bastard, I am going to pummel you into eternity whenever we see each other again."
A heartbeat passed before he started chuckling. We were all silent as the chuckling grew and turned into cackling. He did not look good. Bandages went around and around his bare body, tinged with sweat. It took Amren, Azriel, and Mor to hold him down as he thrashed again in bed. It was painful to see him in this state.
"Cass—"
"Just kill me," he repeated, cackling at the same time. I winced. "Because you're right, Rhys. You're always right. I am worthless. Even more so than ever before. Who wants an Illyrian bastard without wings?" He laughed again, a harsh sound that pulled at my heart. Tears stained his cheeks, and blood was seeping through his bandages. Sweat and tears gleamed on my other three court members. My speech had gone completely unheard.
It would only take one well-aimed hit for him to take out one of the three people holding him down, and if that happened, everything in this bedroom would fall to hell.
And that wasn't going to happen—not on my watch, not when my heart was shredding apart as I watched my brother destroy himself. I gently nudged Nesta and nodded at her. Nesta may preach all day about hating faeries, but she looked at Cassian differently. There was still distaste in those eyes, yet deep down—beneath all those layers she wrapped herself in, there was a glint of something else.
"Cassian," she said. Cassian's laughing slowed a bit, and his struggling subsided slightly. "Cassian," she said again.
The air in the room chilled.
"What are you doing here?" he rasped, finally noticing her. Part of me felt like throwing my arms in the air; my heart-touching speech had done practically nothing, while Nesta saying Cassian's name twice had him nearly calming down to a sane man again.
Nesta walked over to his side and took one of his hands in hers—they were
almost twice the size of hers. I nodded slowly at Amren, Azriel, and Mor. Cautiously, their grip loosened, and then, they let go of the parts of Cassian they'd been holding down. Cassian's limbs went limp, he wasn't struggling anymore. Nesta had a queer affect on Cassian, but it wasn't my place to linger, and nor of my court's. I cocked my head toward the dining room, and the three followed me outside.
"I'm sorry," Cassian was saying. Crying. It hurt to see him cry, but it had hurt even more to see him laughing, losing his mind and his kind heart. "I'm sorry. I failed you Nesta. I couldn't defend you. I'm sorry." Nesta ignored his apologies.
"I hope you plan on keeping your immortal ass alive," she said.
I nudged my remaining court away from the doorway, and motioned for them to go downstairs. Let Nesta and Cassian have their moment. Hopefully, enough to keep Cassian from doing something utterly stupid that would leave me ravaged and broken for centuries.
My court was absolutely exhausted. Mor informed me that they'd held down Cassian for nearly two hours—the surgery on his wings had been completed three hours ago. He'd started thrashing, and no amount of magic had been able to keep him down.
We agreed to leave them alone for the time being. Let him get his thoughts organized. Let him get back up on his feet—we needed him on his feet, and soon.
Azriel was unusually quiet, even quieter than usual. I had a feeling he blamed the destruction of Cassian's wings on himself. But despite Cassian's cries for death, I knew he'd be more than willing to sacrifice his wings all over again for Azriel, or any of us.
"We should start building alliances," Amren said, as we sit down at the dining table. Two chairs were empty. Cassian and Feyre.
I laughed, a hoarse laugh, stemming from the simple ridiculousness of the statement, and from sorrow for Cassian.
"No one would want an alliance with the Night Court," I said. "We're on our own." Amren shook her head.
"I've been in contact with Varian. I think. . . I think we can gain an alliance with Summer." Everyone, myself included, showed signs of surprise. Even Azriel blinked.
"Have you told him anything?" I asked. Amren shook her head.
"Tarquin is devastated, though, according to Varian. He really wanted that alliance."
"Then an alliance with Summer Court. Obviously, an invitation to visit won't work, and we can't exactly saunter in either. Everyone in Summer will know that Amren and Rhys, as well as Feyre, should be killed on sight." Mor looked to me as she detailed our current issues with Summer Court.
"Then we kidnap him," I breathed. "Kidnap Tarquin, bring him here, explain everything."
"That could be a declaration of war," Amren reminded me. "As soon as his court realizes he's missing and kidnapped, they'll declare war on the Night Court. Infiltrate Summer Court instead. I can get Varian to help us. We isolate Tarquin in his chambers, get him to listen to us. Less risk of being discovered." I nodded.
"Two days from now, after the meeting with the Archeron sisters. We'll strike."
"Then I'll contact my sources in Summer Court about keeping an eye on Tarquin's movements," Azriel said.
"Then it's settled. I want Feyre with me, and Amren. The blood rubies are meant for us, so it has to be us that has to explain to Tarquin."
"What about Feyre? She's coming to the meeting in two days time, but won't her absence at Spring Court be noted?" Mor asked.
"Not if Lucien wants to see Elain again." I replied, before flashing a smile at my court. "I'm sure Feyre has something up her sleeves."
An hour later, Nesta returned, strolling down the stairway. The others had left as they had other business. Az had left to check with his spies, Amren was going back to her apartment to continue studying the Book, and Mor was still overseeing casualties and reconstruction in Velaris; some of our citizens needed reassurance and a moral boost. I was in the parlor, studying some reports on the current status of the other courts Az had left me. The High Priestesses had heavy influence in several of the other courts, but now that Summer Court might potentially be an ally, I had some slim hopes for at least one more court to befriend and alliance with.
"Take me back" was all Nesta said.
"What did you say to him?" I asked. The house had been quiet for quite some time now. It was rather disorienting.
"You can ask him about it later. Now take me back." Her icy glare pierced my skin, but she seemed strangely unsettled. Perhaps I would ask Cassian what had happened between him and Nesta. Certainly Nesta had done wonders to him, as sharp and cold as she was. Perhaps having him talk about her while she's gone will keep him sane and forgetful about the wings that were no longer attached to his back. Maybe he was the key to thawing her frozen shield. And she the answer to keeping him alive and sane.
I took a closer look at Nesta and noticed a splotch of blood on her forearm. Things have certainly happened in that room.
"It seems to me like Cassian's not screaming obscenities anymore." I glanced toward his room. And then just to lighten the day's events. "Maybe you should stay here. Have him warm your bed."
"I'll do no such thing. Besides, he has you to do that for him." Nesta countered. I merely smiled. "Instead of insulting me, why don't you go help your friend?"
"Worried about him, are you? Was there something I missed between you two?" Cassian never mentioned anything, but I'd noticed the shift in him whenever Nesta was around.
The icy shield faltered for a moment, but she held my gaze. "I wonder what my sister sees in you."
"A handsome, delightful, cunning High Lord. A bit of arrogance too. What's not to see?"
Nesta rolled her eyes. "Take me back. And maybe I'll deign to return tomorrow." I smirked and held out my arm for her to hold on to.
"I'm sure Cassian will tell you that the offer for bed-warming will always stand. But as you wish."
She gave me a vulgar gesture, identical to the one Feyre had more than often pointed at me, before accepting my arm, and then we folded into wind and dust as we winnowed back to the mountaintop.
I needed a break from all the business I was to do, so I stayed at my private home at the mountaintop.
Nesta retreated to her room as soon as we landed. I wondered what exactly happened between them, but Cassian needed space for now and Nesta wouldn't budge.
I'd heard quite a few stories about Illyrians who had lost their wings. Illyrians who had fought fiercely or committed treacherous actions. They all died within minutes after the loss of their wings. My heart broke for Cassian, and I was grateful that Nesta had calmed him down. As Nesta left for her room, I tried to convince myself he was fine, that he would likely start screaming again if I tried to talk to him again, or he'd probably tell me to stop looking after him like an overbearing mother.
Elain stood at the threshold of the room. "What happened?" She was wearing a delicate pink dress that ran down to the floor with sleeves that hung loosely around her elbows.
"Cassian lost his wings." I said. I didn't want to get into detail.
She raised her eyebrows. "Why did Nesta have to be there?"
"He would've committed suicide" is all I said.
"Oh." Her voice became small. "I see." Several minutes pass, and I shift my weight from leg to leg. I wasn't sure what to say to Feyre's older sister, other than curse and yell at her for abandoning Feyre when she—when they were both—human.
"Would you like a tour?" I asked instead, when the silence got unbearable. For the thousandth time, I wished my mate was here.
Elain smiled faintly and straightened. "Yes. I would like that."
I walked Elain throughout the entire house, stopping by each room and tossing around a few facts about each one.
"Your sister threw her shoe at my head here. It was a lovely reunion with her," I tell Elain when we reach the hall where I had first winnowed in with Feyre. She giggled nervously, like she wasn't sure whether I was being sarcastic or actually annoyed.
A few minutes later, I asked, "How do you feel?" Elain seemed to be assimilating into her Fae body, but she seemed extremely out of place, especially with her eyes, which twitched with anxiety, as if expecting someone to jump out of a dark corner and snatch her away.
"Being High Fae?" she sighed. "Everything is so different now. I can't. . . I can't ever go back to the human realm." Once again, she started twisting the iron ring that was still on her finger. "I keep tripping over my feet, sometimes I talk too loud, or Nesta does, and we're left with headaches. And the strength. . . I can't control it. You saw what Nesta did to the house. I'm. . . I'm trying to contain it." I nodded, knowing the feeling from when Feyre had first become High Fae, and I'd felt her struggles through our bargain bond.
"You'll get used to it," I said quietly.
"Perhaps. But I'd rather be human." I stayed silent and led her around the balconies in my home. After showing pointing out some of the views, I spoke up again.
"Are you afraid of me?" I asked. She'd become very quiet, and seemed to stare into space rather than the beautiful mountains lit by an oncoming sunset that loomed ahead.
"I do not want to be," she answered softly. "You are very kind, but it is. . . it is hard to discount decades of rumors." I nodded. "But I am also afraid of Nesta."
"Nesta?" I questioned. Elain glanced toward me, her brown eyes filled with innocence—yet also, sorrow.
"Not in the way you think. Nesta is. . . Nesta is herself. I'm terrified of what she might do to herself, what she might do to the world, to protect me." I nodded again, and that was that.
Elain was quietly polite for the rest of the tour. She asked about gardens, and I showed her the small greenhouse I kept in the house, which she seemed mildly interested in. Perhaps having been Made had destroyed some small, innate part of her. I made a mental note to myself to pick up some special seed packets in Velaris for her to plant in the greenhouse. Gardening would help her state of mind. Otherwise, Elain didn't particularly show interest in any of the other rooms until we got to the library.
"Wow," Elain breathed as she took in the shelves of books. "Do you read often?"
"I used to read a lot when I was young. Now, not so much." A slight pang of sadness.
"There are some books that are out." Elain noticed. "Is there anyone else who uses this library then?"
Indeed, there were a few books scattered around. My heart sunk as I remembered who used them.
"Feyre read these books."
Elain's head snapped up to look at me. "She can read now?" Elain went to one of the tables and picked up a book and started turning the pages. "This is an advanced book. Who taught her?"
I grinned at the memories popping in my mind. "I did."
"Did you also teach her how to write?"
"Yes. Although, it took force." I smiled fiendishly as I remembered what I had Feyre copy down day after day. Rhysand is interesting; Rhysand is gorgeous; Rhysand is flawless. If I could still clearly communicate mind-to-mind with Feyre, I knew what she'd say in response to the phrases I'd just thought. Insufferable, arrogant, Illyrian prick. Quit distracting me.
Elain was now looking at me with wonder. "Thank you. I've—I've always wanted her to learn."
My eyes darkened. "Why wasn't she taught at home?"
Elain cut off her gaze from me and stared at the bookshelves that lined the walls. Her eyes glinted with shame and guilt, and she looked down at her shoes. "She never wanted to learn, wasn't interested in it like she was with painting. And I made the mistake of never pushing her."
"What about Nesta?"
A soft chuckle. "She was too busy making our father feel like trash and had more fun bullying Feyre about it rather than teaching her."
"Wonderful," I drawled.
"I know the mistakes that I made, and Nesta knows of hers," Elain said in defense. She went to one of the shelves and started scanning the titles. "Tell me more about Feyre's stay here. Tell me about Prythian. Tell me about everything." I leaned against a shelf, picking at my nails, slightly amused.
"What do you want to hear about first then? Feyre? Or your mate, Lucien?" Elain's breath caught for half a second before returning to normal.
"Tell me about Feyre. And then I want to know what exactly is between me and. . . and him."
"What about your betrothed?" I asked, curious.
"There's no going back," she answered. After a few seconds, she repeated her request before. "Tell me about Feyre." I conceded, but stayed silent for several moments as I stared forward, looking at nothing and everything as I thought about my mate.
"Feyre is. . . extraordinary." She was more than that. So much more that I didn't deserve her. "She shattered herself to save the high lord she loved to save Prythian and the mortal lands."
Elain's eyes flickered to me. "She doesn't love him anymore." I shrugged.
"I think she still does, deep down. She loves him for what he'd done for her. And she hates him for what he did to her."
"That's not what I mean," Elain said. "She loves you now." I chuckle.
"Is it that obvious?" Other than the facts that our scents were mingled.
"My sister didn't mention that you were obnoxious," she answered, and I smirked as she continued. "In both the human and fae world, the Night Court. . . the Night Court isn't well received. The High Lord of the Night Court. . . they say that you torture for fun, terrify for joy, kill for lust." Again, Elain's eyes flickered to me, as if to gauge my reaction. But I had no reaction. I'd heard these stories, over and over, through the centuries, and they were my armor and shield. "And when Feyre walks into our house with the Night Court, with confidence, of all things, well. . ." She shrugged. "Obviously you either brainwashed her, which is unlikely. I doubt anyone could brainwash Feyre. Or she clearly saw something very special in you."
Elain slid out two books from the shelves. "It didn't take very long for me, or Nesta for the matter, to figure out that it was the second one." She waved the books at me as she left the room. "Tell me about Lucien later. I hope you don't mind me borrowing these books." A flash of a smile, and then she was gone.
And I was left leaning against a bookcase in the library, wondering why anyone ever thought Elain was weak.