Chapter 5
Rhys waited in the dining room for Feyre to wake. Guilt ate at him for daring to silence her words, and he honestly wasn't sure if he would face her temper when she walked in the room or if she would ignore him entirely.
In a way, it reminded him of that first breakfast with Feyre two short years ago. He'd rescued her from the wedding and brought her to Night for the first time- and that night was just as restful as the one he'd spent on the couch. Against all odds, against all hope, she'd chosen him.
And then… he silenced her. Like those chauvinist males in Spring and Autumn who controlled their females as if they were servants. He shattered the trust she had in him, and with enemies on the horizon once again, Rhys wasn't sure he could make things right in time.
Feyre's mind was closed to him, it had been all night. Not even a whisper of emotion crossed their bond and his heart felt… cold.
Rhys was staring at his hands when long, delicate fingers grabbed his chin and raised his head. Blue-gray eyes met his, but there was no wrath in them. Only a deep, bruising pain.
"I'm sorry," he said to his wife.
Feyre turned and let Rhys pull her down to sit on his lap. She took his head in both hands and forced him to hold her gaze, " Never do that again."
He nodded as best he could, "I swear."
She nodded, then turned so that she could lean against Rhys' broad chest. Feyre pulled his arms around her and interlaced their fingers. "Thank you," she said. Even she wasn't sure what she was talking about- the promise to never silence her, or for stopping her from cutting the withered limb from her family tree.
"Oh good, you two are being gross again," Mor wandered into the dining room and swiped a blueberry muffin for her plate.
Rhys rested his chin on Feyre's shoulder as they both stuck their tongues out at Mor.
"Any updates on our surprise guests yet?"
Feyre cocked her head to listen to his answer as well, so Rhys highlighted the reports from the night before, "Azriel verified beyond a doubt that the Cauldron is still in Cretea." He felt the tension leave Feyre's body as she breathed a sigh of relief, "He's spreading word of the army throughout the camps, but I'm hoping he'll be done soon. Cassian confirmed the army size but-"
He hesitated, which Feyre seized on, "But what?"
"Cassian was followed by an unusually persistent bird. He thinks it might have been a scout for the army. The Darkbringers are on high alert and ready to defend the Hewn City. Once the Camp Lords send word that they are ready, we can try making contact with the army to determine their purpose."
"Is Nesta still here?" Mor asked. She was careful to keep her tone neutral. When Nesta first came to live in Night, Mor hated her because she knew the girl would only hurt Cassian. As Nesta proved her right over and over again, she started feeling… sorry for the Archeron. Not that she would admit it on pain of death.
Feyre looked to Rhys for the answer to that as well. She actually looked surprised as Rhys nodded, "She hasn't realized her door is unlocked yet, but Madja only left a few hours ago. She's probably still asleep."
"She'll disappear again by tonight," Feyre muttered.
Mor looked uneasy, "Actually, if I can make a request there?"
"What?" Rhys raised an eyebrow.
"Lock the door- and tell the guards to do their job and make sure she stays. An army might attack the Hewn City. Feyre, I know you're frustrated, but if that army gets ahold of Nesta-"
"She'd probably join them willingly just to see me put in my place," Feyre growled. Her oldest sister dedicated a large portion of her life to taking or ruining everything she managed to find that made things even a little easier on their family. In the hovel she'd stolen precious coins and even food sometimes. In Prythian she made life a living hell.
Mor didn't want to push and sour the mood so early in the morning, but she had a bad feeling about what might happen if Nesta were to leave. "Call it a personal request from me. Okay?"
"Fine," Feyre searched the palace for a guard's mind and gave him the orders to pass along.
"Thank you," Mor said. "Elain is talking to Cassian right now, but they should be down- what the hell is that?" She pointed to something outside the dining room that Rhys couldn't see from his seat.
Feyre climbed off his lap and walked around to Mor's side. Something was coming out from between the mountains, riding the wind halfway up one of the peaks. It's movements were disjointed and strange. She turned to Rhys.
He was already reaching out to the creature with his mind, but found nothing there. Nor did it trip any of the wards that should have alerted the Hewn City and Palace of Nightmares to its presence as it exited the mountains and flew high over the valley towards them.
"Darkbringers, hold position," Rhy's voice boomed across the land. If this was related to the mountain army, he didn't want them shooting the creature out of the sky and ruining any chance at a diplomatic solution.
Feyre put her hand on Rhys' arm as the creature drew close enough to really see- and she realized it wasn't a creature at all. A peregrin-esque male flew in front of a winged horse bearing two riders. The disjointed appendages on the 'creature' were the legs of the horse, running at a gallop even as it flew.
"How do you want to play this?" Mor asked, flipping out her kilij sword. She cursed herself for leaving the yatagan in her chambers.
"Cassian isn't listening to my summons," Rhys growled and tugged at his friend's mind again. Something was interfering with his ability to speak to Cassian. A building wave of pressure that came ahead of the small group. "Feyre- how do you feel about ruling alone?"
She considered it, then nodded.
It was something they'd played before, as Feyre learned to command the Court of Nightmares. She would enter the Hewn City alone and preside in Rhys' place, forcing Kier to acknowledge her as High Lady, not as some sex-toy for the High Lord, as he was wont to do. The first few times, Rhys would accompany her in the glamour of a simple advisor. He hardly changed his physical form for the ruse to work- no one could have imagined their mighty and cruel High Lord debasing himself with such an act.
In an instant, Rhys' rumpled black tunic was replaced with long blue robes. Feyre's pajamas transformed into a long black gown- tantalizing in its design but wicked in its simplicity. A crown of glittering black diamond completed the image. Feyre nodded to Mor and her husband.
Mor advanced towards the hallway first, her eyes on the figures as they grew larger. Behind her came Rhys as he slipped into the posture and stance of a scholar, not a warrior. The robes hid his corded muscles and made him appear completely nonthreatening.
The peregrin male escorting the pack landed first- and in an instant Feyre knew something was wrong. His skin was a deep, rich brown flecked with a brilliant amber. The male was a head taller than even Rhys- Feyre's crown would barely come up to his chin. Unnaturally tall, unnaturally muscled. He wore a white tunic with a pearl-inlaid collar that opened all the way to his jeweled belt. Beneath it was a high-necked shirt and long, flowing linen pants.
Nothing about his dress or size was peregrin. Feyre almost took a step back at the sheer might of the creature in front of her. It wasn't until he turned his head and his eyes met hers that she realized what manner of creature stood before her- pure, molten gold without iris or pupil. Even his shoulder-length black hair seemed to glow with its own power.
He wasn't fae. Feyre had never learned the name for what that creature was. In all of Prythian there was only one other of his kind-
-Amren.
"Who are you and why do you trespass in the High Lady's palace?" Rhys snapped, hiding his nerves. He'd always feared Amren because, if she wished, she could destroy all of Prythian. Here was a male most likely her equal, and if this was just one of the soldiers in that army then the war was already lost.
As the winged horse drew close enough that Feyre felt the wind stirr beneath its wings, the male pointed to his right, where a book sat upon the sofa Rhys had slept on. Mor and Rhys both moved closer together in front of Feyre as the male slowly stalked towards it.
" Who are you and why do you trespass in the High Lady's palace? " Rhys repeated at a hiss.
The white horse landed, and from its back two males descended. They were- mercifully- cut from a different cloth as their winged friend. A cloth that might be easier to stab in battle.
One male had curly, sand-colored brunette hair and wore a strange kind of painted leather armor studded with bronze and steel. They looked like battle-leathers, but perhaps intended for combat with spears rather than swords. Metal guards protected his fore and upper arms, and his boots contained only a long metal plait on the front that laced intricately up the back of his calves.
The other male was corpse-pale with black hair and eyes. He wore a dark tunic- similar to those Rhys usually favored- embroidered in a shimmering black thread. The man's eyes were sunken and dark from too many sleepless nights. The warrior was corded with muscle much like the giant winged one, but this other male was slight of frame. He would be the more dangerous fighter- fast and agile.
Rhys' eyes were on the winged male as he picked up the book and held it between two hands. He closed his eyes and a pulse of light rippled through the three visitors. The dark one smiled, "Thank you, Zahariel." He looked to Rhys, "And thank you all for your patience. We understand your tongue now."
That voice- Feyre clenched her fist to try and fight the shivers that wracked her body. It conjured memories she'd buried for so long- the sound of her own neck snapping Under the Mountain, and the void in her world during those horrible minutes when Rhys lay still on the battlefield.
"Fine, I'll ask again," Rhys' voice was light, "Who are you, and what do you want?"
The dark-eyed male, presumably the leader of this group, bowed his head, "My name is Hades, and I have come to your land in search of my wife."
"That's nice, however, missing persons cases are handled by the city guard. You are trespassing in the palace of the High Lady."
"High Lady?" The male frowned and looked past Rhys to Feyre. He took in her gown and the crown upon her head with a hint of confusion, "Does that mean you, milady, are a… princess? I'll need to speak with your father."
"Prythian does not have Kings or Queens," Feyre drew on the low, dangerous voice Rhys taught her to use as the Lady of Nightmares. "I am the ruler of this Court, not some child to be dismissed."
The sandy-haired man winced and stepped forward, "Our apologies, High Lady. We do not have that particular title in our lands. No offense was meant. Among our kind many women hold positions of high power."
" Female ," Mor snarled.
"Their ears," the large man- Zahariel- said.
The shorter one looked at Feyre and Rhys more carefully. Mor's hair covered her ears still, but he brightened immediately upon seeing the delicate points, "Oh! You're elves!"
"Fae," Mor said.
"Ooo, fancy elves," sandy-hair sketched a bow, then withered under the glare of Hades. "Sorry, again, no offense meant. My name is Bellerophon, and it's been a long time since I was in polite society."
"We might be more welcoming if you hadn't moved an army into Night," Rhys said.
Hades offered an apologetic smile, "We could not control where we entered this world, and didn't dare send scouts out too far from our camp. No trespass or invasion was intended. As I said- I'm looking for my wife. She is well loved, and many of our people wanted to help retrieve her."
"Not just your people," Zahariel muttered.
"No, not just my people," Hades said with a nod to the huge male. "I don't think Persephone has enemies. Even if the rest of us do…"
Feyre studied them as they spoke. When Rhys opened his mouth to ask another question, she stepped forward, "We should discuss this over breakfast. I've lived in war camps, I'm sure you'll appreciate real food."
' Why?' Rhys couldn't whisper in her mind, but he conveyed the message well enough via a raised eyebrow.
Feyre had actually accompanied two things with her simple invitation: She showed that they were willing to sit down in a more cordial fashion with the visitors, and casually informed the three that she and her people had been at war recently. As an added bonus, based on her own experience, breakfast tended to disarm people. The visitors might speak more freely over coffee than facing an armed Morrigan.
Only when Mor stepped aside to admit the visitors into the dining room did Feyre wink at Rhys. When he stalked in after Zahariel, she noticed Cassian peer around the corner at her. Feyre saw no harm in mouthing, ' Elain?'
'I sent her down to the Hewn Palace to hide, just in case, ' Cassian replied slowly.
'Good,' Feyre breathed a sigh of relief. Elain was the only member of their group with zero fighting ability. ' Wait a few minutes, then join us.' She wanted the chance to see these visitors relatively at ease before they were met by a heavily armed Illyrian.
He nodded and disappeared back around his corner. Feyre was willing to bet that when he did formally arrive, it would be with twice as many weapons as he usually carried and in full armor.
Rhys went to the chair at the head of the table, but instead of taking his seat once more he pulled it out for her. Feyre sat without hesitation and, on the left side of the table, the other three took their seats.
The selection of food was much larger than it had been when Feyre, Mor, and Rhys stepped out. He'd obviously summoned more food for the larger group. Zahariel looked at the spread with disdain and Hades was more interested in her than anything edible. Bellerophon, however, stared at everything with wide eyes.
"Excuse me," he said, "everything looks so good- what do you recommend?"
Feyre stared at him incredulously, then looked at the foods on the table. Various fruits, eggs prepared three different ways, toast, bagels, muffins, cinnamon rolls, bacon, ham, cherry tarts, roasted potatoes, and even a few quiche stretched before her. Granted, she'd never had such a selection at once before, but in the last days of her family's wealth they'd still had many of the same foods. Even living in that cabin they managed eggs once in a rare while.
"Sorry, Bellerophon has been dead for quite some time," Hades explained. He turned to his companion, "Bel, start with the potatoes."
"Alright," Bel leaned forwards and picked up a spoon to ladle some onto his plate, "we didn't have these when I was alive."
"What the hell does that mean?" Mor asked.
Zahariel decided to answer, "Roughly twenty-five hundred years passed between Bellerophon's death and the transplantation of the potato to Eurasia."
"Thanks," Mor flashed a dazzling smile, "that helps a ton."
Rhys choked on the cup of coffee he'd poured himself.
"I think, Hades, it might be better if we started this entire discussion over," Feyre cut in before Zahariel- looking increasingly agitated- could speak. "Who are you precisely, why did you bring an army into my Court, and what are the circumstances around your wife's disappearance? If she left you-"
"It was nothing like that," Hades said quickly. He glanced to Zahariel, and Feyre knew she was only about to get half the truth, "I am an immortal King in our world, Zahariel here is- a rather elite warrior, and Bellerophon is my nephew, an honored hero of man in his own right."
He didn't continue, but instead waited for Feyre to introduce herself and her Court.
"You may call me Feyre, so long as we get along. Lady Morrigan is my third in command, Lord Rhysand, my advisor," there were footsteps from the doorway and Feyre nodded as Cassian entered- predictably in full armor with three swords strapped to his person, "and that would be Cassian, commander of my fae and Illyrian armies."
"We have a people in our world who call themselves Illyrian," Bel watched Cassian as he took his seat. Zahariel snarled at the jet-black wings and his own feathered ones seemed to fan out slightly.
"Fascinating," Cassian nodded in deference to Feyre, playing his part, before turning back to Bel, "If that oversized pigeon on the balcony leaves any presents, I'm making you clean the floor with your tongue."
"Pegasus is a horse, and I promise he's well trained," Bel replied. Even Hades rolled his eyes at the sincerity in his nephew's voice as he continued, "Horses are an excellent means of transportation- but Pegasus is the only one with wings. They're also used by many as beasts of burden. They can cover large distances, pull great loads, and be trained to-"
"We have horses in Prythian," Mor sighed. "Cassian dear, don't try sarcasm with this one. He's a bit slow."
"Play nice," Feyre suppressed her grin.
"Now, tell us the circumstances surrounding your wife's disappearance," Rhys drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair, impatient.
Hades sighed and seemed to wilt in his chair, "That is a long story."
"Well, considering you currently have a small army camped in my High Lady's territory, I suggest you pour yourself a cup of coffee and trust that there is plenty of food for everyone," Rhys looked eerily similar to Kier as he spoke.
Even Hades' temper flared at that. He opened his mouth to snap back at Rhys, but Bel's hand shot out to grab his uncle's arm. The mirth was fading from his face and before he thought to pull his mask back up, Feyre caught a glimpse of the arrogant and prideful hero who evidently perished so long ago.
Hades forced the snarl back and took a deep, calming breath, "We were in hiding. Persephone, myself, and several members of our family. Zahariel's master decided my kind was too powerful and too destructive for the good of humanity. There was some merit to his position, I admit, but Persephone, myself, and those in our kingdom rarely interacted with the outside world. We were innocent of the charges leveled against our kind."
"I was sent as part of a Host to seek them out. They were holed up in two sister-cities, Sodom and Gomorrah. We wiped them off the face of the earth just to get at Hades and his ilk," Zahariel directed his words to Cassian in some kind of attempt at intimidation. Cassian just yawned. "Hades was kept in my Father's prisons with the rest of his kind for millennia. It was only when my Father decided to forgive and release his kind that we realized Queen Persephone was missing."
"I thought she'd escaped, gone further underground," Hades sighed. "But Zahariel's King questioned his Host. Someone saw Persephone fleeing Gomorrah when she disappeared. Persephone is every bit as powerful as I am- but we don't have the ability to simply vanish. Disappear from sight yes- in certain situations- but Zahariel's kind are immune to that skill."
"For decades now, Hades has been amassing a following of their kind- those who loved or respected Queen Persephone." From the way he said her name, Feyre could tell Zahariel was fond of the missing queen.
Bel swallowed hard, "The spell that was cast was done from the exact spot Persephone disappeared- or at least as near as we can tell. It should have brought us through to the exact spot she arrived in. We didn't have any idea what the layout of your lands might be, or what kind of reception we could expect. Our scouts have been venturing out into the woods in search of civilization, but we found none."
"A month ago one of our scouts caught sight of a woman retreating into the forest," Hades said. "We'd hoped she would bring her people back to us."
"She did," Rhys said, "we received the message last night."
"My brother's scout followed a winged creature until it found a road, there isn't much to the south but when it flew north it found this palace."
Cassian growled softly at Hades' words, "Who are you calling 'winged creature'?"
"Well, if it was you then you're aware the scout in question was an eagle," Bel said. "It's never seen something like you before, 'winged creature' was the best it managed."
"I've known Cassian for centuries. 'Winged Creature' is fine," Rhys said.
Feyre was still considering the issue at hand. Something about Zahariel's story sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. The feeling came as he described the cities he destroyed to find Hades and his family.
"High Lady?" Hades interrupted her train of thought, and judging by the looks on Rhys, Cassian, and Mor's faces, it wasn't the first time he'd spoken to her.
"How long ago would Persephone have come to Prythian?" she asked. "You mentioned 'millennia' and 'decades'- I have been High Lady of Night for around two years. Before that, this continent was invaded by a- a female more bloodthirsty and tyrannical than you can imagine. We're still figuring out how many of my people were killed in the past fifty years."
Bel shook his head, "She won't be dead, not permanently at least. It isn't possible for our kind."
"In our world," Hades' was ashen-faced, "we don't know what the laws are here."
Despite his obvious contempt for Hades, Zahariel actually looked sorry for him, "Time seems to pass differently in your world than ours. It took a long time to figure out how to open the door between worlds because of it. Your world is much, much slower. Months here might be seconds there. Persephone's disappearance happened around twenty-five hundred years ago for us. For you, it would be at least five thousand."
"Fifteen thousand, actually," a female voice came from the door. With a wicked grin, Amren stared down Zahariel, "Have you missed me, brother?"
The male went still, then slowly turned to face the door. As much as she'd changed since becoming High Fae, he must have still been able to sense what once lurked beneath her skin. He stared up at her with hope burning in his eyes.
"Azrael?"