Chapter 32

Beron slammed into Nesta with overwhelming force and tackled her to the ground. She barely managed to roll her hip, protecting the runed jar with Feyre's soul. If it returned to her body here she would die before they could get her out.

If whatever Kier poured into her mouth didn't kill her first.

Nesta thrashed and kicked as Beron's arms wrapped around her. He lowered his body onto hers and squeezed tight enough to cut off her air. Beron was grunting and groaning, the sounds made her stomach twist and bile rise in her throat.

She couldn't breathe, he was choking the life out of her.

"You're going to kill her if you keep that up," Kier's smooth, slick voice came from beside the bed.

Beron suddenly became aware of his bulk. Black spots were exploding in Nesta's vision. Her face turned purple as she tried to gasp for air.

Where was Cera?

Why wasn't Eirene helping?

The High Lord of Autumn rolled off her and hoisted Nesta to her feet. She coughed and choked down precious oxygen before he was on her again, smashing her to his chest. This time he didn't squeeze quite as hard.

Something wet touched Nesta's cheek and she jerked in his arms.

When her head stopped spinning she realized- Beron was… crying.

The grunts and groans were… laughter mixed with sobs.

Nesta looked back at Eirene. The goddess was standing there with a smug grin on her face. A grin matched by Kier.

And as for Feyre's body on the bed- Most of the exposed wounds were bandaged around the black devices left inside her.

Beron pushed Nesta away for a moment to study her face, his own crumpled in wild glee that made her want to vomit. "You- you're safe, you're really safe!" Beron began to sob again.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Nesta finally shoved Beron with all her might. She managed to untangle herself and stumbled back a few steps before falling on her rear (once again protecting the jar). "What the hell is going on?" she looked from Beron to Kier to Eirene.

"Let me give you a hint," Kier held up his hand. A small flame erupted from the tip of each finger. The scent of fae magic filled the air- crackling flames and the musk of aged parchment. Of a warm library hearth. "My mate and I were told you might need some help."

That scent wasn't Kier's. Kier's was rot and darkness and decay. That was Lucien's scent in Kier's power, and if 'Beron' was his mate-

"Elain?!" Nesta's eyes went wide. She scrambled to her feet.

Beron's face crumpled again and he nodded, pulling Nesta in tight. "I knew you wouldn't just leave. I knew it! When Tamlin said you were here-" she started crying again.

Then Nesta was crying too. Elain hadn't spoken to her when Azriel dropped her in the Court of Nightmares to deliver her warning, and hadn't visited her in the Hewn Palace or Palace of Nightmares above it when she was kept there. Back then Elain was waiting to see if Nesta would even bother staying.

But then the world was turned upside down and Nesta vanished to the Greaecian camps and now-?

Now Nesta breathed in the scent of honey and jasmine in Elain's tears and felt an empty place inside her fill with warmth and hope for the first time in well over a year.

"Elain?" Kier's voice was gentle, "We need to get Feyre out of here and I'm sorry, but I'm going to have nightmares for weeks of my father crying like that."

"Me too," Nesta choked a laugh. "You look really ugly."

"Kier talks more than Beron, and since Lucien was a courtier it made more sense for him to do the talking," Elain wiped away her tears. "It feels really gross to walk with a penis."

"I bet it does," Nesta smoothed Beron's hair. "I bet it does."

"He's very small," Elain whispered.

"I guessed."

The humor helped stop the happy tears. Elain nodded and swallowed hard, her lower lip quivering as she squeezed Nesta's hand. They would talk later- when she wasn't a misogynistic bastard.

"What did you give her?" Nesta turned to Kier- to Lucien. The strange new warmth between Lucien and her sister would be explained in safer times.

"A strong healing potion Thesan himself cooked up. We can't get these damned pegs out of Feyre's arms-" Beron shivered and looked away, "-but since she's still breathing it will at least help boost or wake her natural fae functions. Maybe. We think. Have you found Azriel yet?"

"Just got him out of the camp," Nesta said. Elain breathed a sigh of relief. "Can- do you think Thesan can rebuild Illyrian wings?"

Elain blanched.

So did Lucien. "H- he might be able to, if Azriel's healing hasn't permanently set the damage. It can be done for broken fingers so maybe-"

"Not broken," Nesta whispered. It was a fool's hope, one that was dashed by the pain in Lucien's eyes as she said, "amputated."

Elain swayed and Lucien was by her side in an instant, bracing her. For a moment Nesta thought she'd faint. Maybe even Lucien too. He and Azriel weren't friends but he had respect for the Illyrian spymaster, and he knew what it meant to be maimed.

"I- I don't think anyone can fix that, Nesta," he whispered.

No one even looked to Eirene. Nesta certainly wouldn't- she would hold on to the hope that Haniel could fix it somehow. Give Azriel back what was stolen.. Left to rot.. Eaten by divine beasts.

"It'll be alright," she said, mainly to herself. "For now let's just get them back to Night and then we'll figure it out from there. One foot in front of the other."

Elain nodded. Lucien squeezed Nesta's shoulder once, offering his strength. The fact that it looked like Kier and Beron were the ones empathizing with her only felt mildly gross.

"We were just about to put some clothes on her," Elain said, turning back to Feyre. "Lucien and I bound everything so it shouldn't move. And if the healing potion makes her bleed then that will help stanch the flow for now. Tamlin said Persephone has been giving you poison to keep the gods from connecting you two?"

"I- yes, but-"

"She's too weak to lift her. You two will have to do it," Eirene said.

"Good thing we're big, burly males then," Elain rolled up Beron's sleeves.

Nesta blinked. "When did Tamlin arrive?" She looked around as if he'd appear out of thin air.

"I walked in right next to you," Eirene held up her hands as if offended.

She blinked again. "I- um… what?"

"Eirene and I take turns walking around. I was going to declare blood rights to Feyre, but then the Graecians had her and that plan went out the window… I'm sorry, you thought I could only use my beast form? You've seen Feyre shift, you know what we're capable of."

Nesta's head hurt. "You've been here all this time?"

"Surprised?" Tamlin smirked.

"Relieved," Nesta summoned a smirk to hide how shaken she was by everything. "Here I thought the Goddess of Peace was prone to tantrums. I should have known it was just the male-child of Spring."

Tamlin didn't even bristle at the little insult. He just smirked back- a look that faded a bit as he studied her face. "I was the one who offered to take you into Eirene's service after your nose was broken. I'm sorry that happened to you. And I'm sorry we poisoned you. Haniel has the antidote. He'll give it to you when we're all safe. We can't risk anyone realizing the connection between you and Feyre. Even Elain has been drinking it this past week."

Only a week? The headaches wouldn't have started yet at least.

"It's fine," Nesta said. "I understand. Haniel already apologized enough."

He'd broken down in Persephone's tent as they readied to get Azriel. Though Nesta was pretty sure he was more upset his food had been the delivery mechanism than he was for the actual poisonings.

"What do you think," Tamlin said softly, nodding to the bed where Lucien and Elain were carefully pulling a loose-fitting dress over Feyre's head. "Did we do enough to be heroes this time?"

"Depends- where are the real Beron and Kier?"

"In a cell beneath the ruins of the Evergreen Palace, in a dungeon you can only reach by winnowing, under guard by Eris' most loyal soldiers and being fed a strict diet of faebane. They will take the fall for any and all perceived treachery. Even their followers in the Autumn Court and Hewn City will be calling for their executions."

"When the gods realize we're all gone-"

"They'll slaughter the soldiers," Lucien grinned from the bed. "The most loyal and elite of Beron and Kier's armies. They all deserve what is coming."

Elain swallowed hard and focused on dressing Feyre's body. She knew it was a good plan, but she wasn't happy that lives- even horrible ones- had to be sacrificed in order to get her and Lucien into the camp.

"Sorry," Lucien said gently, reaching out to touch her arm. "I know that upsets you."

Elain nodded and pursed her lips.

Together they lifted Feyre's body. Eirene wrapped the other cloak around her shoulders and they eased her into the chair. This cloak hid clasps and ties to help hold Feyre upright as they moved her.

Tamlin stepped forward and touched a hand to Lucien and Elain. Beron and Kier's forms melted away. They twisted and changed, and the air filled with the scent of citrus as the High Lord's magic turned those two loathsome males into clones of himself. Well- herself.

Three Eirene's looked back at Nesta- and she didn't miss the subtle bounce Lucien did to play with his breasts. "Your back with ache inside ten minutes," she said.

"Then we'd better get moving," Lucien only winked and reached up to boldly squeeze his chest. Tamlin growled and he released his breasts immediately.

"Every five minutes, an Eirene leaves this tent," Tamlin said. "Make for the tree line, Cera is standing guard."

"What's a Cera?" Elain-Eirene said.

"You'll love her," Nesta whispered. Her sister smiled.

Tamlin nodded to Lucien and he waved to them all before stepping out into the dark.

Melinoe's poison, the way the gods couldn't suspect their own kind- there was no question they would escape the camp. That was never the part Nesta was worried about. It was what happened once they were out of the camp and the hunters were set loose. How to get to Night without magic while staying ahead of gods.

One step at a time. One foot in front of the other.

One problem solved, one thousand to go.