Amael knew better than to interfere when Rhysand winnowed into the plaza. The darkness that leaked from him was suffocating. Tendrils of the blackest night spider-webbed through the garden like uplifted tree roots, and even Cassian, who had witnessed death in its truest form, winced as his High Lord stormed over the shuddering cobblestones. Rhys dropped to his knees by Celeste, and Amael did not fight him when Azriel gripped his arm and hauled his son to his feet.

The Shadowsinger considered winnowing them away, if only to avoid Rhysand's inevitable explosion, but Amael would not have stood for it. He may have moved from Celeste's side so that Rhys and Feyre could tend to her, but he would not leave his mate. Azriel knew this. He knew that if he tried to whisk him away into the shadows, Amael may very well kill him for it.

Shadows flickered at the clawed tips of Rhysand's wings as he pulled Celeste into his arms. He drew in a breath through his nose, his broad shoulders tense beneath the material of his fighting leathers. His fighting leathers, Amael realized, not the immaculate black jacket and pants that he usually favored.

He had come here ready for a fight; to slaughter who had done this to his child.

Rhysand touched Celeste's cheek with trembling fingers. Perhaps the color had returned to her pallid skin, but she was cold. "Who did this."

It was not a question. Neither Amael nor Cassian could yield to his blatant demand for an answer. The voice of their High Lord, of Death and Night incarnate. Amael had never heard such a thing, but the pure, predatory power in Rhys' tone…he could not fight it. "Nylla," he and Cassian said together. The latter continued, "Devlon's daughter."

Starless midnight rippled through the plaza. The moonflowers surrounding the wrought-iron bench vanished into glistening black dust. "You've been training her how to fight," Rhysand growled. "Why wasn't Celeste able to defend herself? And you," his eyes guttered as they pinned Amael in place. "Where were you? Why weren't you here to protect her? Your orders were to—"

"He was with me," Cassian interrupted. He shifted into a fighting stance, his hands within casual reach of his weapons as Rhysand turned to him. "We were training, and I gave Celeste the morning off. She was tired. She came here with Elain, and I didn't let Amael follow them. If you're looking for someone to blame, blame me. It was my fault."

A lighter darkness flitted through the garden before Rhysand could snap at him. Feyre appeared from a pocket of star-kissed night with Nesta and Mor in tow, their hands clasped tightly together. A cry escaped through her lips, and Feyre staggered across the plaza before falling to her knees next to Rhys.

She reached for Celeste, but Rhysand kept her wrapped in his arms. "She'll be all right."

"Tamlin healed her," Cassian's voice was hardly above a whisper. Nesta stood in front of him, her fingers clenching and unclenching at her sides. She studied him with a lethal calm to determine whether or not he himself had been injured. "I'm fine." Cassian pressed a kiss to her brow, and Nesta noted the way that his bottom lip quivered.

The High Lord was careful as he stood, Celeste balanced in his arms. He cradled her against his chest as though she were nothing more than an infant. Feyre rose with them, her hand on their child's shoulder and squeezing gently. She and her mate turned to face Azriel, who did not balk from Rhysand's wrathful stare. "Winnow me to her room," he said. There was no room for debate, and his tone still held that same demand that Amael could not yield from.

Apparently, his father couldn't either.

Azriel stepped towards them. Instead of reaching for Rhysand, whose power continued to leak from him in rippling waves of darkness, Azriel took Feyre's trembling hand between his scarred fingers. They vanished into mist and shadows, and Amael was left standing in the plaza with Cassian, Nesta, and Mor. He turned just in time to see his uncle whirl on his heels and vomit into the withered bushes.

Nesta, to her credit, coaxed him through it with rough pats on the back.


He did not let himself consider the things that may have happened in this room as he laid his child on the bed. It reeked of Amael's scent, and the blankets and sheets were pulled away from both sides of the mattress. Feyre must have smelt it, too, because she crinkled her nose and perched herself on the edge of the bed. She took Celeste's hand and squeezed it, her brows furrowed with concern.

Rhysand paced along the far wall of the bedroom. Windows that were covered with billowing black sheets stretched from the floor to the ceiling. The curtains blocked out most of the sunlight, and they were perfect for denizens of the Night Court. In another life, perhaps Rhys might have thanked Tamlin for being so considerate.

In this life, however, he would thank him for saving his child.

"We're taking Celeste home," he said. Rhys folded his hands behind his back as he moved. His wings had disappeared to accommodate for the small space inside the bedroom, and he had managed to reign in his power. Feyre did not look at him, but Azriel monitored him carefully. "If that child could hunt her down and break through a High Lord's wards, so could the Mortal Queens. She's no safer here than in Velaris, and I will not—"

"Please," Feyre murmured. Exhaustion pulled at her. "Can you not do this right now? Just—sit down."

Rhysand lacked his usual grace as he spun towards her. "Do what?" he snapped.

Feyre lifted her head and glared at him. She would not shy from that tone, that power. "This," she flung out her hand and gestured towards her mate. "Pace, plot, and rage. She nearly died, Rhysand, and you can't even bother to just sit with her."

"I know that," Rhysand snarled. If he noticed Azriel stalking closer, his spymaster angling himself between them to defend Feyre if need be, Rhys did not acknowledge it. "It's because she nearly died that I can't just sit here and stare at her. I should be hunting Nylla down. I should be carving her into pieces until there's nothing left of her but dust, then dumping her into Devlon's lap and catching them both on fire. I should be ripping off her wings, and—"

"Stop." Feyre begged.

She let go of Celeste's hand and rose from the edge of the bed. Feyre crossed the room in three quick strides, then cupped Rhysand's face between her palms. His nostrils flared at the contact, but she did not pull away. She did not bulk from his fury.

"You are not the only one who loves her, Rhys," Feyre said softly. She felt Rhys wince beneath her hands. "She's my child, too, and if you think for one moment that I don't want Nylla dead, you're wrong. But Celeste needs us, Rhys. She needs you."

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. "Nylla nearly killed her."

"I know," her voice dropped to a whisper as she brushed her thumb across his cheek. "But you can plot her execution later. Let Cassian and Azriel hunt her down. Let them peel the skin from her bones and do with the rest of her what they will, but stay here," Feyre tapped her index finger against his temple. Stay here.

He looked as if he still might argue, but the sudden rustling that came from the bed had them both turning on their heels. Celeste had curled onto her side, her hand gripping her stomach. Her eyes fluttered, and as if they had not just spoken of tearing Nylla limb from limb, Rhysand was at her side only a heartbeat later.

Rhys smoothed back her hair as she stirred, then smiled when she opened her eyes and looked at him. "Hello, my darling girl."

Celeste nuzzled into the palm of his hand. "I missed you."

"If you wanted to see me," he said. "You certainly didn't need to get stabbed."

Her eyes opened even further. "Nylla," she rasped. "Aunt Elain—"

"Elain is fine," Rhys promised. "Lucien is tending to her. As for Nylla, she'll be dealt with."

Celeste turned her head away, her gaze drifting to the patterned blanket she was draped beneath. "She's a daemati," she said, and it was shame that crept into her tone. "She got through my mental shields, and I—I couldn't move. She held me there, and after she stabbed me, she told me to take her name to my grave."

Her father was careful as he slipped into her mind. Rhysand saw and heard every word, insult, and belittlement shared between them. His lips curled back over his teeth. "It was Nylla who attacked you in Velaris, not the Mortal Queens. They sent that army of attor, but only because Nylla's stupidity is what alerted them to your presence in the first place."

She nodded.

Rhysand turned to Azriel. "Find her," he raged. "Take her to the Hewn City. Do with her what you will, but leave enough of her intact for me to—"

Feyre cleared her throat in warning.

The High Lord glanced at Celeste and winced. "Just don't kill her. Not yet. Lock her in a warded cell so that she can't winnow away, and keep your shields up. Take Cassian and Amael with you. It'll be a good learning experience for him."

Celeste cringed. "You'd make him torture her?"

"I don't think I'd need to make him do anything," Azriel countered softly. Shadows curled around his body as he rallied his power to winnow. "His fury rivals your father's." As if an afterthought, Azriel crossed the room and dropped a lingering kiss to her forehead. "I'll tell him you're awake."

He began to vanish through a pocket of shadows, but Celeste sat up and reached out a trembling hand for him. "Wait," she said. Azriel stopped entirely and frowned at her. "I…I'm sorry. Truth-Teller—"

Azriel procured the blade from a summoned tendril of shadow. "It still belongs to you," he told her. "But I'm borrowing it."

She winced. "To use on Nylla?"

"Yes," Azriel murmured. He lightly touched the top of her head before stepping away. "I'll send Amael in to see you before we go. You'll have to excuse him if he's fussy. It's a male thing."

Celeste sank back down into the pillows beneath her. "Don't keep him long," she said. They did not miss the subtle plea in her words. Azriel nodded at her, then vanished into shadows without a word. Celeste curled onto her side. "How come you're not going with them?" she looked up at Rhys and quirked her head.

He shared a glance with Feyre, who was standing at the of the bed. She smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. Rhysand took Celeste's hand and squeezed it. "Because I'm your father," he told her. "I can think like a High Lord later. Cassian and Azriel can handle it."

Celeste wriggled closer. She lifted her head only to rest it on Rhysand's thigh, then closed her eyes as he combed his fingers through her hair. "I like when you're just my father," she mused. "When you're the High Lord, I have to share you."

Rhysand's heart sank, just a bit. "You never have to share me," he said. "I'm all yours, my darling girl. Always."

Feyre's smile turned knowing.


Author's Note: First of all, I'm sorry for the shitty line break right in the middle of this to separate the two scenes; fanfic kept deleting whatever small dashes and stars that I did to make it more subtle. Anyway! So, Rhys kind of spared the garden? Killed some of it, but ultimately left it standing. Lol. Anyway, yay family reunion! I missed Rhys.

Also, I can't recall who brought it up in the comments, but to the person who was confused by how / why Celeste was dying: from what I understand, Fae do heal quickly, but only if the wound isn't life threatening. Celeste was gutted and bleeding to death, and while maybe the wound would have eventually healed on its own, she was still bleeding out. It's been a while since I've read the books, but if I remember right, Feyre had to heal Rhys after he was momentarily kidnapped by Hybern flunkies and was whipped. Cassian also had to be healed after he was gutted in battle, though he later explains to Nesta (or maybe it was before this…) that his injured wrist would heal by morning. I think it just depends on the severity of the wound!

There was also someone who asked me about my book and how they could PM me for a link, and I am so sorry that I didn't address this sooner: you can only send me a message if you have an account, which is crappy and I apologize. I wish it were more like Ao3 where I could respond to your comments directly in a thread and it would alert you that I replied.