Chapter 9
Tamlin felt her enter the grounds of his estate and found a smile tugging at his lips.
He was cleaning the debris from what was once Feyre's room. After she destroyed his Court- and again once the battle with Hybern was finished- he had taken out his anger on every piece of furniture, clothing, and decoration in the space. Even the windows were blown out- both in Feyre's room and Lucien's across the hall.
For a year he was content to leave that wing of the house to rot. Tamlin was trying to pull his life back together, but cleaning out the space felt too much like forgiving her. Forgiving both of them.
Then Eirene stepped into his life and everything changed.
She came as part of a retinue of strangers from a distant land. Goddesses, if Tamlin's guess was right. Their leader was a woman named Demeter whose powers rivaled even his own.
Initially he was untrusting of the females. They could be spies for the Mortal Queens or an enemy of some other design entirely… but Demeter merely asked for permission to browse the libraries of his Court, and in return she sent her handmaids throughout Spring to help improve the year's harvest.
Eirene was just one of two-dozen in Demeter's camp, but she'd caught Tamlin's eye in an instant. Everything about her radiated peace and light. She was appointed as a sort of emissary between Demeter and Tamlin.
Within a fortnight he was wholly under her spell.
Warm auburn curls fell delicately to her shoulders and resisted her every attempt to bind them back. Her skin was as pale as cream in defiance of the sun's rays and whenever she touched Tamlin he was hypnotized by the sight of her white fingers against his own golden tan.
She was everything he'd ever dreamed of in a female and more. Innocent, kind, soft-spoken, calm, bright- Eirene was the very soul of his Court personified.
Everything he wasn't… and everything he'd always wished to be.
So when he finally threw open the locked doors of Feyre's old room it wasn't because he'd forgiven her for what she'd done to his Court. It was because Feyre Archeron had no power over his heart anymore. In the blistered ruins she'd left behind something new was growing at last.
"High Lord Tamlin?"
He walked over to the windowsill with a wolfish grin on his face and leaned out, "I'm sorry, who are you looking for?"
Eirene stepped around the front corner of the manor and his heart skipped a beat. Her dress was the gray-blue of a summer storm and bound with a golden rope that wound around her toso. The strange fashion of her homeland. She shimmered with a golden light that made his eyes burn to even look on her- a manifestation of her power. There could be no doubt that Eirene was a goddess well and true.
A goddess who looked… lesser somehow.
"Tamlin," she corrected herself with a forced smile, "am I interrupting your work?"
"No I- I'll be right down," he dropped his playful grin and hurried to set his broom against the wall. Eirene was always so bright and full of life- he'd seen her hide a smile more times than he could count, but she never had to force one before.
The corridor seemed too long, and something dark nipped at Tamlin's senses. He sent a wave of his power through the estate grounds. When the echo of his might came back it was with whispers of a gathering presence.
Eirene met him at the base of the stairs and quickly dragged Tamlin towards the kitchens, "Can you affect the weather in this Court?"
"I can."
"Then please summon the rain. A simple spring thunderstorm will do, as if you were trying to drown out curious ears."
"Heavy on the thunder then," Tamlin paused mid-step and sealed the estate buildings from both moisture and unexpected visitors. When Eirene pulled him forward again their footsteps were punctuated by a low, steady rumbling that echoed across the land.
She didn't speak again until they reached the root cellar beneath an old and long-abandoned corner of the kitchens, "We should be safe here."
"Who is following you?" Tamlin put a shield around the room, just to be safe.
"Maybe no one, maybe the nymphs Demeter placed around your home."
He stared at Eirene for a long moment, then swore viciously. How many times did he have to fall into the same trap? How many of the women or females or goddesses he welcomed into his home would turn out to be spies for some force or another? Tamlin turned his back before she could explain how exactly he'd been an idiot this time.
"Tamlin, please listen to me," Eirene grabbed his hand. When he still didn't move, she dared to reach up and place a hand on his cheek, "It isn't what you think- or at least it wasn't."
"What the hell does that mean?" his growl was more beast than fae.
"Nymphs are nature spirits. Demeter put them in place after our first meeting to help the gardens of the estate grow. They were a gift to mark her gratitude."
"Not one she felt I should know about though, right?" he spat.
Eirene did not release his cheek, lest he turn away more, "They were supposed to help bring the plants back under control. A quiet blessing from a major goddess, that is all… but in times of war they become her spies."
Tamlin pushed aside the hand on his cheek and twisted free of the one on his arm, "If your kind think they can invade Spring-"
"Tamlin, stop. Let me explain- and give me some credit for warning you," Eirene was gentle, but she held her ground when pushed.
He glared at her with over five centuries worth of contempt and rage.
She stared back with patience honed over millennia.
"Fine," he growled at long last. "Say whatever it is you came to say, then get out and never come back."
"I hope you won't mean that when I'm done," Eirene said. She turned from Tamlin for a moment, "Persephone is dead. We received word from our leader a few hours ago."
"I'm sorry for your loss," there was very little sympathy in his tone.
She didn't look sad- not as she chewed her lip and faced him once more. "Persephone and I were like sisters. I was there when she found the door to Hades' realm and I was the one who met her every time she came back. When my kind was rounded up, I was among the few who managed to escape. I knew she wasn't captured, and no matter how long or how hard I searched, I couldn't find her. I accepted her loss a long time ago."
"Apparently not, if you came here looking for her with the others."
Eirene sighed and ignored him, "The others have reason to believe she was killed by the archangel Azrael in the territory of Night fifteen thousand years ago… but for us it has only been a few millennia since we were separated."
"Azriel?" In spite of his temper Tamlin frowned, "The Spymaster?"
"I don't know anything about a spymaster, but they mentioned Azrael has chosen to exist in your world as a female. Small, marked by silver eyes?"
"Amren?"
"Whatever name Azrael goes by now, she is third in command of Night. Hades wants her to answer for Persephone's death but- he has also summoned our people to gather back in the north. If the High Lady of Night won't hand over Azrael, he means to take her by force."
Goosebumps rose on Tamlin's arms, "How many of you are there?" He knew of only a couple dozen.
"Nearly one thousand, spread out across Prythian and the continent beyond. More than enough to level Night in a single day."
"Feyre Archeron won't hand over a member of her Court. Not for any reason," he whispered. "There are innocent people in Night-"
"I know, Tamlin- I am a goddess of peace, I don't want a war and I know Persephone wouldn't either. The gods are sworn to follow Hades' leadership but I can't just stand by and let him do this in my friends' name."
Eirene searched his face for any hint of what Tamlin might be thinking. Her blood screamed against the coming slaughter as every instinct told her this was wrong.
"What do you want me to do?" he said at long last.
"Declare blood-rights to the High Lady's head," she said quickly. "There must be some old grievance you can claim. My people will respond to that- they have to. Hades means to make his first move at a meeting with the High Lady and her council day after tomorrow, but if you come forward- and if they survive his strike- he can't attack with our full might until the armies of Spring have marched north. It buys us time- it buys them time."
"Time to do what?"
"I don't know," a tear slipped down Eirene's cheek. "Peace tends to be little more than delaying the next battle."
"Isn't that a little nihilistic for a goddess of peace?"
"Aren't you a bit gloomy for a Lord of Spring?" Slowly, she reached out and took Tamlin's hand once more. He didn't pull away this time, "I don't have a plan, not one that will save those people… but the destruction of an entire kingdom cannot be Persephone's legacy… I can't watch another Troy fall."
He considered his answer for a long time, even though Tamlin knew in his heart what it would be, "Feyre… she was the female who broke my people's faith in me. She's why this Court is splintered into pieces. Is that enough of a grievance to declare a blood-feud?"
"It is," hope flickered in Eirene's blue eyes.
Tamlin sighed, "The last time I played along with an enemy I waited too long to reveal myself. Most of the other High Lords still believe that I was working against them from the start. I can't go through that again and to be honest I think they'll just kill me and take their chances with the next High Lord."
"It's too dangerous to tell anyone else about our plan. Even I don't know where all of our spies are embedded," Eirene said.
He wanted to tell Feyre and Rhysand- if only so that they couldn't put the blame on him later. But if their reactions were to be believed by the gods of another world…
"There's one person we can tell. Someone no High Lord has ever been able to put a spy on. I can't promise they won't try to kill me, but they'll at least hear us out first."
Eirene could see there was no arguing with Tamlin. He needed one of his own kind to know he was a good male, "The Spymaster you mentioned before? Azriel?"
"No," Tamlin rolled his shoulders and tried to push the beast back a little further, "Morrigan."
-0-
-0-
Feyre was squeezing Rhys' hand hard enough to bruise, but he didn't mind. She needed whatever strength he could spare as they walked along the banks of the Tajana river.
They were somewhere on the border of the Illyrian Steppes. Mountains rose far in the distance to the south and west, and to the east thick forests stretched for hundreds of miles until land gave way to ocean.
Azriel told her to keep walking until she found a clearing full of small white flowers. Rhysand had permission to bring his mate to the borders of Persephone's lands, but he couldn't stay once Azriel came for her.
She wanted to tell Rhys how nervous she was, but doing so would be in violation of the oaths she'd sworn to keep Persephone secret. Even with Azriel beside her, she hadn't been able to tell him that she knew the secret. Only one-on-one (or with special permission), could Feyre speak freely.
"I love you," she forced her hand to unclench from Rhysand's and leaned against his side.
"I love you too," he kissed her forehead. "I think you'll like Vele Luk. We still have to be on our best Court of Nightmares behavior, but the palace there is easily the most beautiful in all of Night."
"Better than the House of Wind will be?" Renovations were finally underway in Velaris.
Rhysand laughed, "I took our architect on a tour of the Vele Luk palace. We won't have all the filigree and mosaics that Vele Luk has, but I think I did a good job of guessing what features you'd want replicated."
"I can't wait to see it," Feyre smiled in spite of her nerves.
There was a chance they'd get to the meeting place and Azriel would tell her that Persephone didn't want Feyre in her lands. Honestly, that might be easier to handle than the meeting itself. Amren was unbound by Azriel's oaths, and once Mor brought her back from Velaris, she'd spent the night sitting with Feyre and Rhysand, explaining exactly how to approach the female.
No sudden movements. No bulky clothes that could hide weapons (not that Feyre was armed). All gestures should be made in a fluid, half-paced motion. Do not approach her directly. Do not approach her indirectly either. Go nowhere and touch nothing unless given specific permission. Do not look at her the wrong way. Do not look around in general. Don't stare at her. Don't stay too close to Azriel. Don't be too far from Azriel. Don't stand between Persephone and any sort of exit. Don't breathe too slowly. Don't breathe too quickly.
And finally, the most important rule: Don't look nervous… but also don't seem too relaxed.
Feyre's head was still spinning with the mess of contradictions Amren unloaded on her. Azriel was the one who thought this was a good idea, she had to trust that he would help her avoid any mistakes.
A whiff of something stale and sharp washed over her from somewhere upstream. It was only a hint on the breeze, but she knew the smell well enough: wild garlic. A plant that just so happened to be marked by small white flowers, exactly what Az told her to look for.
The Tajana river had been wide-set and fast for most of their journey, but as Rhys helped Feyre over small brooks and creeks that fed into it, what remained dwindled. They were nearing the source of the river, and already it was just ten feet wide.
"We'll be there soon enough, how about we take a break?" Rhys slowed to a stop. "The rivers in this part of Night are mostly ice-melt from the Illyrian Mountains, the rest of them bubble up from underground springs. It's safe to drink if you'd like." After Azriel came to lead Feyre into the woods she would still have another two hour hike ahead of her.
She nodded, only half listening. She was the one who requested the hours-long walk upstream to help ease her nerves while Azriel spoke with his mother. Now Feyre was tired and thirsty- but even more anxious than before.
Rhys pulled his mate down to sit on the soft green grass of the riverbank. Oak trees provided shade, and the soft trill of forest birds wound through the quiet splash of water as it flowed downstream. It would have been idyllic… but all Feyre could think of was a young Rhysand walking along the Tajana in search of a home for that poor, lost goddess.
"There's something I need to tell you," Rhys took Feyre's hand in his. "Az gave me permission before he left."
"I don't think I can handle any more," Feyre whispered.
Rhys kissed her on the forehead, "I'm sorry… but you should know. Actually, you should have known a year ago when we started trying for children... Put simply, when Fae reproduce the female is implanted with a bit of her partner's genetic code. It is what allowed my father and mother to create me and what helps any fae of two different sub-species produce offspring."
He swallowed before continuing, "Illyrian children are birthed in a sort of sub-womb, like a sack. It helps prevent the wings from… catching. The talons are relatively soft the first year or two of our lives, but they're still dangerous. You won't have anything to worry about because my genetic material will help your body make the necessary alterations to facilitate the birth if our child inherits my wings."
Feyre had a sudden mental image of delivering an egg in need of hatching and shivered.
"Persephone isn't fae though," Rhys said quietly. "She had no protection from the wings. Her two Illyrian children nearly killed her. After the first, when she was captured by the second Camp Lord, a healer was brought to fix the damage. There was no such treatment after Azriel's birth. She was left with extremely limited use of her legs."
"Madja?" It was all Feyre could say as she winced in sympathy. Azriel gave Rhys permission to share the warning, but her noose remained in place.
Rhysand understood what she was trying to say, "We tried, but she wouldn't consent to the treatment and we weren't about to force it on her."
"What does it mean?" Again, the noose threatened to close her throat.
A deep voice answered from behind them, "It means watch where you step once we enter her lands, and it's kind of difficult to get into the house."
Feyre looked over her shoulder as Azriel walked towards them. His face was ash-pale and he'd run his hand through his hair so much that she could see the trail his fingers left. He wasn't as agitated as he'd been when he took her into the old cell, but rather… tired.
Whatever she might have wanted to say to Rhys or Azriel, Feyre merely turned back to her husband, kissed him, and whispered, "I'll see you later."
"See you later," Rhys promised. He stood and helped Feyre to her feet. To Azriel he said, "We only just stopped to rest, so don't push her too hard. You turn into a bit of a taskmaster when you're agitated."
"Don't worry. We'll walk slowly," Azriel said.
"Bye," Rhys squeezed Feyre's hand again, unwilling to send her off with Az just yet. She knew she looked as miserable as she felt. So many things had gone wrong for Persephone in Night, Feyre wasn't sure it was possible for her to even face the goddess.
With only a grimace to let her know that Rhys felt the same, he vanished in an explosion of black mist. Feyre was alone in the woods with Azriel. As soon as the mist cleared, the noose around her throat vanished.
"Come on, the river is shallow near the clearing Rhys was taking you to, we can cross there," Azriel said. He set off immediately- though as promised he was moving a bit slower than normal.
She followed in silence as they walked along the riverbank and the smell of wild garlic filled the air. Azriel glanced back at Feyre a couple times before saying, "Four hundred years ago, on a visit to the Hewn City, Mor found a scrawny little puppy digging through a trash pile. She couldn't just leave it to starve all on its own, but she wasn't interested in keeping a pet. I offered to take it back to Velaris so one of the animal shelters there could find a family for the little female. I decided to visit my mother on the way and-"
Azriel grinned broadly, "I don't know who fell in love first- that puppy with my mother, or she with it. They were completely inseparable, and within five minutes I knew I'd have to get to the pet store to pick up a bed and some toys. The dog never got much bigger than my foot- it was one of those dainty little breeds noble ladies carry around. The wolves in this forest are huge- and by now I think at least half of them are descended from that yappy little furball. My mother still leaves out food for them in the wintertime, and I've caught her playing with wolf pups more than once."
Feyre found herself smiling and Azriel elbowed her gently, "I just thought you might like to hear one of the good stories about my mother."
"Thank you… Will it be alright if we give her some gifts too?"
Azriel's smile faded, "I suppose. I don't know what she'll want to take with her when-" he cleared his throat, "but... lately she likes sea glass from Summer."
"What were you going to say? When she leaves? Or when you both leave?" Feyre's blood went cold. She hadn't even considered that Azriel might be thinking of following her back to her own world.
"I don't want to talk about it," Azriel muttered.
She elbowed him the way he had before his little story, "I just hope you know that you are family and we all love you… Uncle Azriel."
He snorted, "Never call me that again… niece."
It would be the last joke Azriel told before the end-
-and the last time Feyre laughed before Hades ripped out her soul.