Rhys POV

Tamlin was dead. Feyre was injured. And I was falling apart.

What if she dies? What if she doesn't but can't move again? What if-

I was cut from my thoughts when Feyre moaned in my arms. I flew harder, desperate to reach Velaris.

We soared over the border of the spring court, and summer grasslands sprung below us. We had reached the edge of the wards that surrounded the spring court, and winnowed.

We landed outside the townhouse, and saw Madja already waiting, with Amren standing next to her. Clearly she had gotten my message.

"What the hell happened?" Amren growled. Azriel, after setting down Elain and Mor, took her aside to explain.

Cassian, after carrying Nesta back, looked towards Feyre in my arms, as if considering whether or not he was needed, and turned back to Nesta, only to find her gone. She had moved over to Elain, and they were currently talking quietly.

"Put her on the bed." Madja's voice focused me on the task at hand, saving Feyre. I did, placing her as gently as I could, before standing up again, and glancing at Madja.

She bent over, and started moving her hands around, pressing areas of Feyre's skin.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" My voice almost sounded pleading, but I needed to feel like I was helping.

Madja rolled her eyes, but gave me tasks to do. "Light the fire. If she gets cold, infection is more likely."

I did as instructed, lighting the fire, preparing the herbs, sponging her forehead.

"Take off her clothes please, Rhysand." I hesitated, and Madja knew why. I was still overprotective of my mate, and didn't like to have others see her naked. I knew it was stupid, especially now, but it was my instinct.

"We'll cover her with the sheets, but right now I need to see how bad the cuts are and her clothes are getting in the way. Also, if she stays in these clothes she'll be uncomfortable when she wakes up." Her voice was firm, and unyielding.

Satisfied, I moved forward and removed Feyre's clothes. Madja shooed me out of the room, and I poured myself a large glass of wine.

Azriel POV

I found Rhys in the kitchen, downing what was likely his third glass of wine. He was worried sick about Feyre, we all were, but we all knew she had survived worse. Three months of worse, in fact.

He glanced up as the door opened, hope sparking in his eyes, but it died when he realised who it was. He dropped his head, and drank deeply.

"Am I that disappointing to see?" I said. He raised his head and stared at me, before saying dryly,

"No, but Feyre would be a bit more appreciated right now." I raised my eyebrow, and he looked flustered, realising what he said.

"I didn't mean it that way, I just-"

"Want to know that she's alright." He nodded. "We all do Rhys," I continued. "But she's survived worse, I'm sure she'll live. Right now, she is a priority, but remember that Tamlin is now dead. We have to make sure that whoever the High Lord is now, that they don't try and do anything too stupid. Like, for example, trying to get revenge for Tamlin's death."

He processed all of this, and nodded again, then reached for the glass of wine. A red tinted shield blocked his hand, and we turned to see Cassian leaning on the threshold. Rhys raised his brows.

"As much as I appreciate people getting drunk, now is not the time. And if you two have finished flirting, Mor and Amren want to see us, and Amren does not want to be kept waiting."

I rolled my eyes, and moved past him, flaring my wings as I passed, hitting him in the face. Rhys chuckled, and Cassian made a sound of indignation.

I strode into the living room. Amren sat with her arms crossed, Mor slumped next to her. Not willing to sit next to Amren's fury, I sat across from them, Cassian flopping into place next to me. Only Rhys was missing.

Rhys stumbled out of the door from the kitchen, clearly drunk. He sat on the couch next to Amren, and motioned for her to speak. She glared at him, then cleared her throat.

"Now that Tamlin is dead, we need to know who the High Lord of the Spring Court is. Tamlin had no apparent heir, and it could be a rather large problem." Cassian opened his mouth, but I stopped him. Amren still had something to say. "The other courts might find that Tamlin's death can be used us."

I caught on quickly. "And by other courts you mean Autumn." A nod.

Mor paled. "Eris won't fail his deal, if Autumn and Night go to war, he'll back us, but the other courts will take sides. And that could be disastrous."

"And with the Illyrians and Darkbringers suffering such losses in the war, they might not be willing to fight with us." Cassian finished.

We all looked to Rhys. He was still drunk, but he wasn't majorly drunk. He looked at all of us, and said. "These are all good points, and we will be ready for a war if there is one. But, we have to remember that all of the courts will have to acknowledge the fact that Tamlin kidnaped Feyre, Elain and Nesta, which can stop the war before it starts."

"Good point." Amren agreed. "But I have no doubt that if Feyre doesn't recover properly that there will be a war."

Rhys was about to say something else, no doubt something he'd regret, but the door opened to the other room, and Madja walked through, looking very pleased with herself.

"Is she alright. Will she live?" Rhys asked the question before we could.

"She'll be fine, and she can tell you herself." Madja moved aside, to reveal Feyre wrapped in a sheet, looking ready to rain hell on the world.

Thank you for reading. The story is almost finished, and let me know if you want a sequel.

-CrystalShadowStar