A Court of Nightmares and Starlight

Chapter fifteen

The remaining session left in our annual summit had followed and ended, for the most part, rather successfully. After Eris had taken his treacherous father back to the Autumn Court, we reassembled the next morning. Each High Lord and High Lady had sat evenly spaced around the reflection pool with our entourages and our human friends as well; Tamlin and his sentry Hart, being the odd ones out. Despite the memory of our first High Lord's meeting, and Tamlin's actions back then looming over us, he continued with his peculiar silence—staring at the reflection pool as our host officially began the meeting and Rhysand began informing the others of our dire situation.

"A coup? In the Night Court?" Tarquin had asked.

I nodded solemnly in return. "Keir, our steward of the Court of Nightmares, has spent the last several years plotting with an Illyrian camp lord named Kallon," I explained.

In the decade of summits we held, Rhys, Cassian and Azriel informed the others more about the Illyrian forces and their ways of life—which they hadn't known much about prior to the war. The latter of the trio emphasized their archaic lifestyle—and his disdain for it, while Cassian and Rhys detailed more on how the armies functioned. I remembered how Cassian's hazel eyes brightened with pride when he announced that he and I had been slowly training more and more females to join their forces over the years. At that moment, however, those eyes had been dulled and matched the grim line of his lips as he and Azriel sat a little taller at my explanation.

"Unfortunately, that camp lord has rallied half of the other camp lords and their armies to his cause," Rhys had continued.

Tension then settled over us as Rhys summoned the reports that Azriel had gathered over the last several weeks in his hands; Helion using his magic to replicate and pass them amongst the group.

"Half of your Illyrian forces have turned against you?" He asked us incredulously, though his gold-flecked eyes were stony.

I nodded grimly, holding my stomach protectively. "Unfortunately. In exchange, Keir has promised to support Kallon in separating the Illyrians from the Night Court," I managed; my throat going unexpectedly tight at the thought.

"Which is why we called this summit early," Rhys continued for me. "Not only does our intel inform us of the traitors in our court, but it also suggests that Beron has joined their ranks as well."

Everyone's resolve had been matched with this news; after the High Lord of Autumn's display having only been hours behind us at that point, we all knew that his newfound alliance was no longer a suggestion.

"What would you have us do?" Kallias asked carefully. His fiercely blue eyes searched for a way to help, but I knew the hesitation was still there as he placed a hand on his mate's knee.

Viviane squeezed his hand in return and trained sympathetic eyes at me. She knew better than the rest that a war brewing on the horizon was the last thing I, nor my mate, wanted to focus on with our youngling on the way.

"We only ask for the same help you offered during the war," I pleaded softly—meeting all of their gazes as Rhys took my hand. "Your armies, should we need them, because if Rhysand and I should fall, then-" my voice cracked a bit, and I squeezed my mate's hand.

"We believe Keir has orchestrated this coup, rallying what Illyrian forces he could through a young and untested camp lord, and now reinforcing old ties with the Autumn Court in order to take over my throne. He's always resented my family ruling the Night Court, even during my father's reign, and now he believes he can take it for himself," Rhys said.

"Make no mistake, my father is ruthless," Mor joined in—voice tight. "And I know he wouldn't just stop with the Night Court. Kallon is an idiot for believing my father would grant the Illyrians independence. The Illyrians, and whatever ties he's formed with Beron, he's using to his advantage. He believes them all to be fools and wouldn't hesitate to bide his time until taking over their court as well. Whatever deal he's struck with the High Lord will ultimately give him leverage in the end. Leverage over them, over the rest of Prythian, and the Mortal Lands as well."

Mor's warning to the others of her father's ambition resounded in my head for the thousandth time since the summit and I groaned quietly as I rubbed at my temples, staring out the window at the wide expanse of the estate's gardens.

"I have to admit, Feyre darling, the rest you've gotten over the last couple of weeks has allowed your mental shields to build back up nicely," came Rhys's warm-tenor voice from behind me. "It's too bad that I can tell just by the look in your eyes what you're thinking of; or rather, remembering."

I glanced at his muted reflection in the library window, mirrored in front of me, and scowled at the taunting smirk on his lips. "You can't even see my eyes from here," I retorted.

"Sure I can," he said easily, his reflection growing closer as he walked towards where I perched on a cushioned seat by the window. "Just like I can see that lovely scowl on your face."

I threw up my hand in a vulgar gesture, knowing he'd see that, and his laughter finally allowed my shoulders to relax as he curled in next to me on the window seat. I adjusted, stretching my back and curving a hand along the ever-growing line of my belly. In the weeks that had followed since the summit, my stomach had only continued with its exponential growth—which left Rhys infatuated. He rested a hand on it now as I moved to recline against his shoulder, returning my stare out the window.

"Your level of stress is beginning to concern me, my love," Rhys said quietly as he ran a hand along my stomach. "I know it's easier said than done, but I wish you would unburden yourself."

I sighed and closed my eyes as I allowed my body to fully relax against him, taking in a few cleansing breaths. He was right; in spite of getting full support from our friends in the other courts and in the Mortal Lands as well, I couldn't shake off my sense of unease. Even Tamlin, our unlikely ally, silently agreed to offer his armies—should we need it. Though he remained speechless as the others asked more and more questions on the intel we had gathered, he listened. At the end when the others offered what they could, he merely stood with Hart and said he and his armies were at our disposal—before they winnowed away without another word.

Perhaps it was his abrupt behavior, along with the lingering question of Eris's true intentions, that weighed on me. After Tamlin's departure, we had all been suspicious of whether or not Eris was truly on our side. There was no doubt that the High Lord of Autumn was our enemy, but we had yet to see if his eldest son was merely using his father as a pawn in this coup for his benefit alone.

"Come back to me, Feyre," Rhys murmured in my ear, knowing my thoughts were once again swirling with anxiety and pulling me away. "Come back to us," he said as he rubbed the swell of my stomach.

"We have the numbers; we have the allies and support we need. Now we wait, and while we wait, we can go back to focusing our attention on him."

I smiled as he kept sending soothing strokes over the fair expanse of my belly and turned my face into his neck. I breathed in his salt and citrus scent, relishing in his touch before I slowly opened my eyes to meet his.

"You're right," I said softly. "I shouldn't worry so much, but I guess I do because…" I trailed off, unable to think of the right words.

"You're nesting," he amended with a smirk.

I raised a brow, "Nesting? Madja said that wouldn't happen until much later."

During one of our previous check-ins with the healer, she expressed that in the last remaining weeks of my pregnancy, I would be overcome with a sudden instinct to clean and organize in preparation for the baby's arrival. This instinct was commonly known as nesting, and every expecting female had experienced it before giving birth. The healer also expressed that males cultivated a form of it as well, something Viviane alluded to when she explained that Kallias's male-bonded instincts would alert him of when her time was approaching and cause him to accommodate her and their youngling's needs on a primal level.

"True, but this could be a form of it," he explained, amused. "As a High Lady simultaneously expecting a youngling, it's only natural that you would want your court in the best condition before welcoming a child into it."

I stared down at my stomach, his hands laying idle on either side of it, "That's still months away…"

Rhys kissed my temple, "Yes, but it's rather transparent that the threat of a coup is what keeps you so troubled." I could feel the shift in his mood as he mulled over his words, but I turned in his arms and carefully straddled him—meeting his gaze so that I could put his mind at ease.

"This isn't your fault Rhys, it isn't anyone's fault," I reminded him. "Like you've told me so many times before, this is still an exciting time for us, and we're coming to a solution. One day at a time, and although I have my moments where I get lost in my worries, I know we're safe."

His returning grin was slow as he held my hips, and I leaned in to press a tender kiss on his lips in an attempt to quell some of the stress he now felt. "Let's concentrate on him," I said.

"And on you," he emphasized as he rubbed the tender spot between my pronounced belly and hip bone. I hissed a bit at the soreness as he massaged the area. "Are you feeling any better after this morning?"

I sighed as I recalled the new aches and pains I had been experiencing as of late. Almost a week ago I woke up with excruciating muscle pain in my hips and out of an abundance of caution, Rhys sent for Madja-who, unsurprisingly, informed us that yet another unfavorable exploit of pregnancy was plaguing me. On top of the lingering nausea spells, dizziness, and fatigue, I was now dealt with the unfortunate side effect of pain in my pelvic area. According to the healer, due to my ever-expanding womb, the hormones being released in order to make room were causing an imbalance in my pelvis bone—thus causing pain in my hip joints and back. Thankfully, there was no cause for alarm in regard to the baby, but it meant another ailment added to the list I already struggled with.

Fortunately, the healer gave us a list of different exercises to try in order to relieve the strain and tautness, and I was more than grateful that my mate was eager to help alleviate it.

"A little," I replied as he kept rubbing soothing circles into either side of my hips. I relaxed as I sat in his lap, allowing him to continue as I laid my hands on his shoulders. "It always feels better when you do that, though."

He offered a sympathetic smile as his hands worked, "I'm sorry you're so uncomfortable, Feyre. I thought this level of discomfort would come at the end stages."

I pouted, "So did I. Now I can't even imagine the mess I'll be then. You'll have to carry me around everywhere because I won't be able to walk." I lamented with a dramatic sigh.

"I'll be happy to oblige you then, and now, my love," Rhys said before placing a kiss on my still pouting lips. "But hopefully you'll have some relief before then."

"Probably not, but it's all right," I said as I glanced down at my stomach. "He'll be worth it…"

He grinned as the glimmer that was our baby fluttered between us, but after a few seconds his lips parted in astonishment as we both felt that flutter turn into a solid bump against his hand. It was small, so subtle that any other lesser being might've missed it, but it was clear as day to us.

"Was that…?" Rhys choked out.

I brightened, "He kicked."

His violet eyes stared at my stomach, amazed, before lining with silver as he beamed. "Our son kicks."

I laughed wetly and rubbed the other side of my stomach, trying to gently coax the movement to continue and we both concentrated on it until we felt another kick in return.

"He's kicking, Rhys!"

"He's strong," he said, voice warm as his hands ran over my stomach carefully. "Try not to kick too hard in there, son, you don't want to hurt your mama."

I smirked, "Are you scolding our son already, Rhysand?"

"Not scolding, just giving him a gentle reminder to take it easy on you," he said.

My heart warmed, but before I could say anything else, something from the window caught in the corner of my eye. I turned to face it, Rhys following my gaze, and gasped as I saw flecks of snow falling outside. Just minutes ago, the sky had been clear and blue, the sun shining as it normally did on a spring afternoon. Now, the expanse of the skies were lined with clouds as it snowed, but I noticed none of it stuck to the ground—still warm enough outside for the snow to melt as soon as it touched the earth. I turned to Rhys, confused at this sudden change in weather—unlike any I had ever experienced in Velaris, or Prythian alone for that matter.

"Viviane has given birth," Rhys answered my silent question. "Whenever a youngling is born into a ruling family's court, it affects all the others in Prythian. In this case, since this child was born into the Winter Court, we have snow."

I brightened as I turned back to the window, a sense of pride swelling in my chest and throat, "So, this means she had her baby today? And they're both okay?"

He stoked my side lightly as he nodded, "Yes, this is a sign that both mother and child are healthy."

I felt my eyes burn at the realization, the relief. Viviane had mentioned that bringing forth a youngling would be difficult, and if fae cycles were any indication for what labor pains might be, I couldn't imagine how excruciating it must've been to endure. But, seeing the light snow shower meant she and her baby had made it through without complication, and were both recovering.

"I can't imagine what it must look like in the Winter Court," I said.

Rhys chuckled, "I'm sure the snowstorm is quite impressive for them, but it'll be nothing compared to what will happen here once you give birth."

I raised a brow, "What happens in the Night Court? A full day of night for all of Prythian?" I quipped.

He flicked my nose with a smirk, "You'll see, smartass."

I giggled, "Wait, but I'm actually curious! What will happen here?"

Just as he was about to retort with another snide comment, Mor and Elain burst through the library doors. Mor squealing in delight as she twirled about the room in excitement.

"Viviane gave birth!" She sang, too distracted to notice when I moved off of Rhys's lap as gracefully as possible, my cheeks warm. Elain was on her heels, but she took in our position and quickly looked away.

"I know, Rhys just explained it to me," I said as I stood, smoothing out my loose long-sleeved tunic.

"Oh, I can't wait to meet her," Mor gushed as she took my hands in excitement. "Did she tell you the name they picked for her?"

I shook my head and Mor grinned, "Eira."

"Snow. How beautiful," Elain chimed as she came to our side.

"It is," I said as I looked out the window again, and it was then that I noticed Nesta standing by the window at the opposite end of the room.

Her arms were crossed over her abdomen as she stared outside, blue-grey eyes actually soft as she watched the snowfall. I was surprised until I remembered the speech she delivered over a decade ago at our very first summit meeting before the war—the condolences she offered on Kallias and Viviane's behalf for the loss of all those younglings at Amarantha's wrath. Her sympathy had surprised me then, and I wondered at the warmth in her eyes now—and what looked to be like a hint of sorrow in them as well.

"Eira," Rhys said as he stood nonchalantly from the window seat. "Seems pretty fitting as well," he said as he took in the sight of the snow falling again before coming to rest a hand on the small of my back. "Looks like we'll have to be equally creative when we pick a name."

I grinned at his insinuation and Mor groaned in exasperation. "Will you at least give me a hint? Are you leaning towards boy names or girl names?"

I shook my head. "Sorry Mor, but my lips are sealed. You'll know the baby's name when he or she is born, just like everyone else," I teased.

"But you already know what you're having, don't you?" Elain asked, and I could see the impatience in her eyes as well.

Though some had implied that our baby was indeed a boy at the summit a few weeks before, Rhys nor I actually confirmed this fact—much to everyone's chagrin; especially Mor and Elain's.

I shrugged and Mor rolled her eyes again. "You know if you don't tell us, we won't know how to decorate the nursery," she tried to argue; and my sister's eyes widened at the idea.

"Then we'll stick to a neutral theme," Rhys suggested.

I laughed at Mor and Elain's equal protests, but my eyes returned to Nesta—who had turned from her place at the window and exited the room as quietly as she had entered.

I later found Cassian staring up at the cloudy sky, wings tucked in tight as he stood in the middle of the training arena as snow continued to fall. I cleared my throat as I approached, and he turned to face me.

"You aren't here to try and insist I train you again, are you?" He asked, hazel eyes sparkling with mischief.

I rolled my eyes, recalling how in spite of Madja's recommendation, there had been days I still wanted to keep up with some of my training while still in the early stages. After seeing the toll my pregnancy was taking, however, Cassian adamantly refused.

"No, not this time," I said and motioned to the sky. "Did you hear the news?"

He nodded and picked up a stray dagger on the ground, "I know what it means. You should've seen the way the trees around here turned when Lucien was born. It was actually nice."

I watched as the lightness in the words he spoke didn't quite reach his eyes, noting the same strange sorrow in them that were in Nesta's. After she left the library, I had excused myself a few minutes later in order to try and find her—curious to know what melancholy suddenly plagued her. I had let Rhys know through the bond that I felt something awry with my sister, and that I was going to talk to her in the hopes that she might finally open up a bit more with me. However, while I searched for her, I instead heard Cassian's grunts as he vigorously sparred in the outdoor training pit. I watched from a balcony as he tore apart a training dummy to pieces, unusually aggressive, and waited until I saw him calm before coming out to meet him. There was something aching inside of him, and inside of Nesta, and though they continued to keep whatever bond between them private—I hoped I could find out why they were suddenly afflicted.

"It's good news then, isn't it? For Kallias and Viviane?" I asked quietly.

He glanced up at the sky again with a quick nod, "Yes, it is."

I softened as I saw the longing in his eyes, "Why do you look so sad then?"

He quickly averted my gaze, "What makes you say that?"

"Because the look on your face is the same look I saw on Nesta's earlier," I said gently.

He sighed and tossed the dagger in his hands into a crate by his feet. "I'm not sad, Feyre, and I can't always speak for your sister."

"No, I guess you can't." I said as I crossed over to a nearby bench and sat on it, wincing a bit at the pain it caused in my hips, but silently invited him to sit beside me regardless.

He obliged and sat on the bench, "You're in pain?" he asked.

I shook my head, "Moving around is just trickier now, because my growing stomach is throwing off...everything, apparently."

His lips widened into a grin. "Figures Rhys's kid would give you hell before it's even born."

We both laughed and I saw that same longing return in his gaze as he stared at my stomach. I hesitated before asking, "Have you ever considered having a child one day?"

Cassian's shoulders stiffened for a second before he sighed in defeat, knowing he couldn't evade this question. "I'll never have any offspring of my own Feyre," he finally said.

I blinked, surprised, and suddenly his look of sorrow and longing made sense—along with the same expression I had seen in Nesta's. Though unofficial, we all knew of the ties that existed between Cassian and my sister. Rhys and I figured that when they were ready to express their feelings—to share their bond, then they would. In the meantime, we all silently acknowledged it, but never said anything to try and coax a confession.

This revelation however, made me recall that in the decade since she'd been made, Nesta had yet to experience a fae cycle. Shortly after experiencing mine for the first time, I had briefly informed my sisters of what to expect. It wasn't long after that Elain had experienced her own and I had been there to coach her through the agonizing process. I expected Nesta to soon follow, but whenever I tried to inquire about it, she brushed me off. For years, I assumed that she just shut me out whenever her time came; until Elain revealed to me that our eldest sister hadn't had a cycle at all since before being made—when she was still a human.

Remembering this, and hearing Cassian's words now, my heart squeezed in remorse for bringing it up. I looked up at the sky as the snow continued to fall around us, "I'm sorry Cassian," I whispered. "I shouldn't have-"

He cut me off with a huff of laughter. "In my centuries of existence, I never gave it much thought. Rhys, on the other hand," he said, his gaze meeting mine again with solid reassurance. "When he came back from Under the Mountain, it was all he talked about,"

"I didn't know why at first, because we had always been too preoccupied to even consider settling down and having offspring. But after Az and I heard about you, met you, I knew you were the reason why. From the moment he came back from that place, when you both made it out of there, he envisioned a future with you."

My eyes burned as I squeezed his hand. "We wouldn't be here, expecting this child, if it weren't in part for you Cassian," I admitted with a sniff.

He laughed and pulled me into a one-armed embrace around my shoulders. "Those hormones of yours are no joke! It's kind of funny," he teased.

I scowled, "I can't help it. It's not my fault he's thrown me completely out of whack." I said, motioning to my stomach.

Cassian grinned. "He?"

I paused. "Don't tell Mor, or Elain. They're dying to know, but between you and me," I began, resting a hand over the apex of my stomach. "It's a boy..."

Cassian's eyes flickered with a mix of yearning and joy, and I noticed his hand twitch towards my stomach, but he stopped himself—hesitant.

I smiled, "Go ahead. You are going to be his Uncle Cassian after all, and according to Viviane he'll be able to distinguish our voices as he grows."

He blinked, "He can hear us talking?"

"Well right now he hears my voice the clearest, and Rhysand's. But over time, he'll be able to hear everyone else's, including yours," I explained.

He balked before touching my stomach cautiously with an open palm, "In that case, you should get used to my voice now, little one. I'll be training you once you're big enough."

I grinned playfully, "If you're going to teach him to fly, just make sure you don't drop him out of the sky."

"It was one time," he said with a roll of his eyes. "And I would never endanger a youngling's life, especially his. You hear that little one? Don't let your mean ol' mom or dad tell you otherwise. Uncle Cassian will take good care of you."

My heart warmed as he went on to have a conversation with my stomach, and I continued to answer any other questions he had about pregnancy and about my growing son—reminding me that this pregnancy was just a wonder to him, and everyone in our inner circle, as it was for Rhys and me. They were living through it for the first time, just like we were, and they loved our son just as fiercely as well. I then silently promised myself that during this period of waiting, I would spend less time worrying and more time with my family.