*Shows up late with Starbucks and a new chapter*


Nesta stepped into the room with Azriel right behind her. As soon as she entered the room she paused and took it all in.

It was a large and dark chamber with the only light being directed towards the one lonely chair in the middle. She heard a soft click of a door closing and then Azriel's soft grip on her elbow. He gently maneuvered her to the chair and had her sit down. Azriel then bent down, and locked her wrists and ankles to the chair.

Clank, clank, clank, clank.

Nesta felt the walls holding her magic back reappear, and she laughed aloud. After having brought down a wall made of brick, this barrier was glass thin. Nesta could break through it in seconds if she so wished.

"The Lords don't think you can escape from this," Azriel said once he was back on his feet. He looked down at her and Nesta saw the small curl of his lip. He too was amused that the Lords could even think to hinder her.

"Should I test the Lords, Azriel?" Nesta asked in a mocking tone. She leaned her body back into the chair. If she was going to spend however long here for some stupid trial she might as well make herself comfortable.

Azriel tipped his head to one side, the black smoke that always surrounded him curling and disappearing. Nesta wondered once again if he could see the magic she had rolling in her own veins.

"I don't think our High Lord and Lady would appreciate you making a mess of your own trial." He finally said.

Our High Lady. Feyre was going to be here.

Nesta gripped the chair a bit tighter. She hoped that Azriel hadn't noticed her surprise even if it was a silly thought, Azriel noticed everything.

She felt a rumble in the air and knew that her judges had finally arrived. Azriel moved to take his place on her left side.

More lights turned on before her, illuminating a large dark dais that Nesta hadn't realized was there. A door opened at the bottom of the dais and Cassian stepped out.

His eyes rested on Nesta's and he gave her his usual shit eating grin. Nesta rolled her eyes. Leave it to Cassian to find humor in this situation.

"Entering the room," Cassian said in his deep voice, "We have the six war-camp Lords."

At his word six large Illyrian males stepped out from the shadows and into the light. Their large figures and wings created an eerie set of shadows in front of Nesta's chair. There were four on each side of the dais, while a space for two remained in the between them. Nesta guessed it was for the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.

Nesta's eyes ran over each of the men, observing them. Some of the Lords were as large and thick as Cassian, while some of them were thin and lithe like Azriel, but they all radiated that same aura marking them as powerful men. At the very edge of the group she saw her old war-camp Lord, Devlon. She smiled. He would obviously not be on her side.

"Rhysand and Feyre," Cassian continued once all the Lords were situated, "High Lord and Lady of the Night Court."

The war-camp Lords tipped their heads in respect as Feyre and Rhysand came in from the shadows and into the light. They were holding hands and wore elegant black clothes in the style of the court.

Nesta took a moment to relish in the surprise that was written in her sister's face. Feyre wasn't supposed to know that she had been training for the blood rites like this, but then again no one was expecting Nesta to break through whatever enchantment the High Lord had put over the mountain.

Nesta saw as Rhysand squeezed Feyre's hand, and her sister's face turned empty and hard, the face of a High Lady. Together they sat down and once they were properly situated in their chairs the war-camp Lords followed suit. Cassian walked form his position at the bottom of the stairs and towards Nesta. While his back was to her judges he winked at Nesta and she narrowed her eyes at him. He gave her one last grin before taking a spot on her right side and away from her sight.

Nesta looked up at the eight people in front of the dais that would seal her fate. Her eyes rested on her sister and she met her eyes. She hasn't seen Feyre in six months and wondered what she thought of this wild girl in front of her that wore the furs of animals. Nesta felt the blood and dirt on her skin and her unruly hair sticking each way. Nesta wasn't the same girl that had left Feyre with cold bitter words on that balcony.

"What are the charges being put against Nesta Archeron?" Rhysand asked. He had the cold look of the High Lord today.

A war-camp Lord responded, "Conspiracy and defiance."

"Our verdict would be to have her wings clipped," Lord Devlon said, he had a cruel smile on his face and Nesta didn't doubt that it was he that would do the clipping.

"I'm not sure what crime would fit a wing clipping," Feyre said with a growl.

"Her crimes would fit a wing clipping," The first Lord responded. He leaned forward to glance down the table at Feyre, his braided hair brushing along the long table. "Her actions put many men in danger. Can you imagine what would happen if the rest of the men had broken through the enchantment?"

"The Blood Rites were created to test the might of our people," a Lord next to Feyre responded. Unlike the most male Illyrians, he had his hair shorn short, but he still wore an impressive beard. His complexion was dark enough to blend into the dark scales of the fighting leathers and Nesta wondered if the scales has grown as an extension of himself. "Illyrian novices are supposed to get through the Rites without the use of their Siphons or flying. Letting them do either of those things defeats the purpose and we are left with a smaller pool of able-bodied Illyrians. We get left with weak Illyrians with nothing to offer."

"If we clip her wings no one else would dare defy the system," Another Lord said.

"Do I not get a say in my future," Nesta yelled. Her voice reverberated throughout the wide and open room. They turned to look down at her with varying emotions spread throughout their faces. Anger, disgust, and in Feyre's face, pride.

Lord Devlon stood up and pointed a finger straight at her, "You-"

"Let her speak," Feyre said in a soft voice that overpowered Devlon's. she stared down at Lord Devlon and didn't remove her gaze until he had sat down. Feyre then turned back to Nesta and nodded.

"The enchantment on the Blood Rites mountains were put their eons ago by my ancestors," Rhysand said to her, "How did you break through them?"

When I was a human I broke through another High Lord's enchantment, what rule is there that says I can't break through more?

Sometimes Nesta wondered if the Cauldron had enhanced some of her human qualities while it changed her.

She gave them a sly grin, "Because I could." Nesta watched as Rhysand returned her grin and laughed.

"I think that's a solid answer," Feyre said with a smile of her own.

"So, we're just going to let this insubordination go and let her do what she pleases?" Lord Devlon said in an outraged tone. Several of the other Lords nodded their heads in agreement.

The same Lord with the short hair and long beard spoke up, "We should reward her for breaking the enchantment."

The table immediately erupted into chaos as she felt the two Illyrians at her back shuffling around. It seemed as if Azriel and Cassian were as surprised at this turn of events as she was.

Rhysand stood and slammed his fist on the table and the table quieted. They all shuffled in their chairs, preparing for a fight. Nesta balled her hands into fists and tested the walls holding her magic back. Rhysand turned towards the Illyrians who made the comment.

"What do you mean about rewarding Nesta?" Rhysand said in a slow calculating voice.

The Illyrian man let a smile cross his lips as he leaned back in chair and met Rhysand's gaze. "You're the most powerful High Lord in Pyrinthian. In history perhaps. This slip of a girl, a Made Illyrian broke your enchantments." The man looked up and down the table, considering the faces of each of the Illyrian Lords. "Do you not think she is more useful to us than at the High Lord's beck and call?" He turned back to Rhysand and cocked an eyebrow, "Mayhap she can help us get rid of you."

Feyre stood up in a heartbeat and slammed the Lord's face into the table. She growled as he laughed. "You would clip her wings for a small inconvenience but I will slit your throat for treason."

"Feyre," Rhysand said in a soft voice. Feyre still held the Lord's face down.

"Feyre," He said once again in a harder tone. Feyre looked up at him, and saw his small nod. Feyre growled as she pushed the Lord's face in one last time. She walked to her chair and sat down.

Nesta breathed in the power that was radiating in the room. She wondered if she would have to fight for her life one last time or if she could walk out unscathed.

"Nesta keeps her wings," Rhysand said as he looked up and down the table, daring anyone of the Lords to fight his decision. "And she stays away from you and at my beck and call."

Feyre stood and looked down at her sister. "We are the High Lord and Lady of the High Court and this is our final verdict and our word is law."

Rhysand and Feyre walked back into the shadows and into whatever doorway they had available to them. The Lords stood up and left the same way. They seemed to file out but one Lord remained, the Illyrian with the short hair and the beard, the one that had defended Nesta in the same breath that he threatened Rhysand.

He looked down at her and spoke to her, "Your talents are wasted with as the High Lord and Lady's pet."

Nesta heard Cassian growl behind her and the Lord grinned down at her before finally leaving. And finally it was just her with Azriel and Cassian. She breathed a sigh of relief. She was expecting the worst but what happened was better.

Cassian turned towards her and leaned down, unfastening her from the shackles that held her down. "Don't really know why they tied you down like this," He said as he meticulously worked, "We all know you could have torn your way out if you wanted to."

"The Lords requested it like this, Cassian." Azriel answered his friend. Cassian just shrugged and stood up, his work now done. He reached a hand out to help Nesta stand. She took it.

Cassian looked her up and down and as usual, Nesta felt that same want in his eyes and her anger at his forwardness.

"What are you looking at?" She hissed at him and he just grinned in response.

Nesta knew she must've looked like quite a sight, all dirty and covered in mud and blood wearing wolf furs she cut out herself. But she wasn't the same girl that Cassian had met in her father's estate. She was a storm waiting to erupt and the Blood Rites had proven it.

"Feyre is waiting," Azriel said, interrupting Nesta and Cassian's staring contest.

They kept their eyes on each other when Cassian responded to Azriel, "Well let's not keep them waiting."

He stepped back and pointed the way forward for and tipped his head towards Nesta and with a smile said, "Ladies first."

Nesta gave him a sly grin and turned, the footsteps of Cassian and Azriel following right behind her. She opened the door in which she entered, and walked up what seemed to be an endless line of stairs. The only sounds resonating in the stairwell was their footsteps shuffling through the steps, which left Nesta to her thoughts of her sisters.

She wondered if she had escaped the Spring Court yet and how Elain was doing. From what Cassian and Azriel had let slip Elain was helping in the war effort. Nesta was still wondering exactly what Elain was doing to help, but she hoped that she had been kept safe.

For the millionth time Nesta wondered what her sisters would think of the wild and brutal woman she had now become courtesy of the Illyrians. She wondered if they would think any differently of her.

And finally they reached the last step. Only a door stood between her and Feyre. She must have stood there for a moment too long because she felt Cassian rest a hand on her shoulder.

"Are you okay?" Cassian asked in a whisper.

Nesta took a deep breath and swallowed down the fear.

Stop feeling, she told herself as she had told herself millions of other times. She nodded and pushed opened the door.

Nesta walked through and saw as Feyre and Rhysand pulled apart from an embrace. They were still dressed in the same fine clothing they wore to the trial and Nesta wondered if they had been waiting out here long.

Nesta opened her mouth to say something, even if she didn't know what it was, but was cut off by Feyre pulling her into an embrace.

"Oh, Nesta," She heard Feyre sob into her ear, "How I've missed you."

Nesta wrapped her arms around her sister. The sister that had cared for her for so long.

How I've missed you too, sister.


As usual this chapter came out a bit longer than I was hoping to, but maybe that's a good thing since this chapter was such a long time coming.

Thank you for reading and sticking with me.