Chapter 12
Vele Luk was the most incredible- and ridiculous- place Feyre had ever seen.
Flying in from the north, she crossed a towering garden wall covered in row after row of geometric carvings. Behind the wall was a covered walkway that wholly enclosed a massive park. Paths followed the same geometric patterns from the walls and even the plants had been carefully selected and groomed to complement the mosaic-like space. Hundreds- perhaps thousands- of statues were sprinkled amidst intricate water features, and all were painted so brightly that it was hard to tell them from the very real fae wandering through the space.
The entrance to the garden was a gatehouse almost as large as the House of Wind, constructed entirely from white marble free of embellishment. Instead, decoration came from brilliant hues of gossamer curtains which rustled in the soft sea breeze.
And that was just one of the gardens.
Four surrounded the palace of Vele Luk, with another four areas devoted to glass-tiled pools that revealed shimmering underwater designs. More bridges and paths snaked through these spaces, reflections of those in the gardens.
At the heart of that web sat the Grand Palace itself. The garden palace Feyre flew over was as large as the House of Wind, but with the Grand Palace rising behind, it might as well have been a cabin.
The palace was relatively low to the ground- the tallest portion being a series of round structures capped in mighty golden domes. The throne room and private theater would be inside. Behind the public galleries would be a relatively private section that only stood two-floors tall- quarters for honored guests, a sprawling trade library, and offices for commerce and shipping guilds.
The one-storey section, which Feyre circled the structure to reach, was the most secure. The private residence of the High Lord (and now Lady) of Night.
Columns held up a roof tiled in brilliantly colored glass. There were some walls in this new space, but most of it was a honeycomb of intricate screens designed to cut back the light without limiting the flow of air. The layout was more conservative, with each room granted a private space open to the air- either a small garden or wading pool.
Still, no matter how simple the design, there was still far too much wealth on display for Feyre's tastes. Sculptures lined the private trail that wound through the rear gardens and lake- at least, she thought they were statues. All but three were draped in black cloth. Lapis lazuli and other precious stones accented the tops of columns and mother-of-pearl was set into the marble floors. As Feyre angled her flight down to the path that crossed the lake, she realized even the endless screens shading the private palace were edged in white-gold filigree.
"Welcome to our truly ridiculous home," Rhys wandered out from behind the furthest statue from the palace- one of the uncovered ones.
"It's as large as a city," she said. Feyre hadn't even managed to catch a glimpse of Vele Luk itself around the palace.
"Vele Luk is the wealthiest of Night's cities. They never stop hoping to become our capital," he said as he came over to embrace his wife. Rhys wasn't wearing his typical jet-black tunic. Instead he was in a simple linen set that was dyed a midnight blue and had donned silver-embroidered giveh - a traditional Night Court shoe. With his warrior's bulk and muscle it was impossible for Rhys to look non-threatening, but he'd come as close as possible.
Feyre peered over his shoulder at the two uncovered statues nearby and realized with a shock they were marble copies of both Rhysand and herself- complete with name plates at the bottom declaring her statue that of ' Feyre Cursebreaker, first High Lady of Night '.
"What the hell is that?"
Rhys didn't bother looking as he released Feyre, "A statue for every single High Lord- and High Lady- of Night. You knew the artisans had statues made."
"Yeah, but I never thought I'd actually see one," she made a face at her copy. It looked proud, confident, and majestic, and so utterly full of itself she had to repress the urge to knock it over. Shortly after the war with Hybern, Rhysand had shown her the requests from artists to meet with the High Lady for such sculptures.
Most major palaces of Night had statues at the entrance to mark the High Lord. Those who did not think to include Feyre in such displays had received a stern reminder that they now served two masters.
Feyre hated every second of the sitting, but she bowed to the traditions of her Court. Now faced with one of the statues she wished she'd trusted her instincts and refused.
"If you refused, we were going to have to get more creative," Rhys read the distaste on Feyre's face. "The statues mark this Court's legacy. As much as you- and I- may not like being immortalized, I will not let them erase you from our history. Night has a High Lady now, and I will make sure generations to come remember that."
"And if I demanded you destroy the statues?"
"I'd hide them and say I smashed them to pieces," Rhys smiled. He took her hands, "I know you don't like them, but you have no idea how many young females you inspire. They see these and they see a female in power in a world where only males were considered worthy of the throne. You're their hero, and the statues remind them anything is possible."
"Well when you put it that way," she relented. The dead eyes of her statue made Feyre's skin crawl, but Rhys was right. It wasn't about her.
"I'll put a cloth over it," Rhys offered.
" Please ."
He snapped his fingers and black draping fell from above to cover her face. Feyre turned to look down the row of Night's rulers stretching towards the residential side of the palace. These males were no inspiration, and they certainly weren't mighty. They were the ones who'd forced Persephone to produce child after child on behalf of their own sick ambitions.
Even the High Lords who came before her tormentors were shrouded. Considering the darkness Night was known for, Feyre was certain they'd earned the black cloths that obscured them. If she never knew their names or faces that would be just fine.
"Can we smash Leith's statue?" Feyre asked. He was the High Lord who first captured Persephone.
"As tempting as it is, we can't destroy our Court's history. I've thought about wiping his name from all records… but justified as it is, such an action sets a dangerous precedent… I ordered his portraits sealed in a vault, and whenever I am visiting Vele Luk his statue remains covered. That's the best I can do."
Feyre walked away from Rhys down the line. She counted in her head until she saw which belonged to the monster Leith. Even if Feyre never saw his face, he was still a stain on her entire Court.
She didn't ask Rhys who the third uncovered statue was. He was smaller than those around him, but stood proud nonetheless.
High Lord Gildas. Azriel's half-brother who finally freed Persephone from her prison beneath the Hewn Palace. His reign only lasted a couple of weeks before Rhys' grandfather killed him. He succeeded in freeing his mother for at least a few centuries before the Illyrians captured her.
"He looks like Az," Feyre said. The resemblance to Persephone wasn't as strong as in his distant half-brother, but Gildas had the same tight-lipped smile and even carved into lifeless stone, his eyes seemed to pierce her soul.
"One of my first thoughts when I met Azriel was how much he looked like the statue of Gildas," Rhys smiled.
"Yeah, he's adorable. How far out is our favorite Shadowsinger?" Mor called from within the palace. To ease Persephone into being around so many people a decision had been made that only Rhys, Feyre, and Amren would greet them upon arrival. Mor would join them for supper and Cassian for dessert.
Elain had been sent back to Velaris, grumpy at the secrecy, and Nesta was left behind at the Palace of Nightmares.
"You've got plenty of time," Feyre called to the palace.
Moments later one of the wooden screens swung inward, revealing Mor back from her shopping, "We have a situation."
"The good kind or the bad kind?" Rhys hooked an arm around Feyre's shoulders as they walked towards Mor. He threw a shield up around them all, just in case any curious ears might be listening.
"The kind where Hades has decided to not be cool about Amren killing Persephone and plans to attack us tomorrow if we refuse to hand her over. Oh- and they're also going to commit genocide against all of Night's citizens."
Mor was only mildly concerned, and Feyre felt a tendril of fear down the bond from Rhys. They both knew there was no real threat of danger, but the shadow of war was too near to just be brushed aside.
"He won't care about Amren after tomorrow," Rhys shrugged and did his best to keep the nerves from his voice. "Azriel will talk to him and everything will be fine."
Except Azriel wanted to size Hades up before revealing Persephone, and based on what he'd been saying before Feyre left, he seemed to think he could take his time revealing her. If she was ready or not, they now needed to show Hades his wife.
"Everything will be fine," Amren's voice heralded her arrival with Varian. The two came out of the shadows between two columns. He wasn't allowed in Vele Luk once Persephone arrived, and Amren accepted no restrictions from Azriel as Cassian and Mor had. If anything, Persephone needed to be near Amren even more than Azriel to feel comfortable. She could go wherever she wanted, and stand as close to her friend as she desired.
"Who gave you your information?" Rhys asked Mor.
She shrugged, "Azriel isn't the only one with eyes on the ground. By the way- there aren't three hundred of them. There were camps throughout at least Prythian if not the continent as well. My spies estimate over a thousand."
"Again-" Amren said quickly as the color drained from both Rhys and Feyre's faces, "everything will be fine."
"And if it isn't the armies of Prythian will fight to defend the people of Night," Varian said immediately. Feyre didn't tell him the Graecian attack would be the equivalent of one thousand High Lords descending upon them. Summer may very well change their tune in the face of such a foe.
' Everything will be fine ,' Rhys whispered Amren's words across their bond.
' Part of me wishes Hades was coming tonight so we can just- ' the noose tightened around her throat and Feyre left Rhys to read the rest of it. She was going to be on edge every second until Hades saw Persephone- and even then she couldn't relax. He could very well see the state she was left in and declare war on Night anyways.
That thought didn't just give her pause- it made the blood freeze in her veins.
What if the war with Hybern could be counted as 'the good old days'?
"I'm going to take Feyre on a tour of the palace," Rhys said after a moment.
Feyre knew he could feel the misery and stress radiating from her. She was too tired to fly again, and with a tap he convinced her to shift back into her High Fae form. She needed a distraction until Azriel arrived, and hopefully he would give her permission to speak with Rhysand about the meeting with Hades and how to prevent an apocalypse in Night.
Amren just nodded and stepped aside as Rhysand walked into the Grand Palace with Feyre. She barely paid attention as he led her down endless hallways with increasingly ostentatious design and into the public wings of the palace. Talking helped distract him, so she let him babble on about the ghosts of Vele Luk, raids by sea pirates, and conspiracy theories regarding hidden treasure troves.
There was too much gold-leaf brushed onto the endless stone columns and archways. Most rooms were filled with blinding color that should have wholly engrossed her- especially the public entryway and it's chaotic explosion of pigments that her eyes sorted out into thousands of tile peacocks. Feyre's soul should have been singing at the beauty of Vele Luk, but the cold had set in too deeply and woken old evils lurking there.
Rhys was showing her the inside of the largest dome- inlaid with crystals and midnight blue stones to form a night sky that twinkled in the light of even a single candle- when he felt something approaching the city on mighty wings.
Azriel, only an hour or two behind Feyre.
"Hey, ready to head back?"
She nodded and a moment later a tendril of Rhys' mind brushed against hers. Feyre opened the door for him into her soul. He said nothing down their bond, but shared his awe at meeting her on Calanmai, his grief at seeing her emaciated and defeated in Spring, and the hopeful pride he felt in watching her pull herself back from the brink of oblivion. Rhysand gave her the grief and love of a male watching the female who held his heart first break, then heal.
Emotions that hopefully Hades would reciprocate enough to spare Night.
"Thank you," she murmured as they re-entered the private wing of the palace.
Rhysand kissed her forehead gently, and kept his arm around her shoulders as they walked down the main corridor. Rainbow light danced across his face as they headed towards the lake and its High Lord statues. Feyre rested her head on his shoulder and offered her own happy memories to ease his nerves- even tossing in her own memory of Calanmai when she'd first seen him and realized he was the most beautiful male in creation. Rhys chuckled in spite of his worries and squeezed her shoulder.
The wards around Persephone's cabin kept her safe for five hundred years, but it was impossible for Azriel to shield her from sight as he flew. Leith's collar contained her magic and prevented any power that touched her from working. So when Azriel finally did appear, he was so high in the sky that Feyre nearly mistook him for a bird.
He banked and angled for a sharp dive towards the line of covered High Lords. Persephone was tight against his chest- both held in his arms and lashed in place, just in case he were to come under attack. Her face was buried against her son's neck as he angled upward and flapped his wings to slow their descent.
He touched down lightly and Feyre released Rhysand. He would stay by the door while she slowly approached to greet the two. She paused by the statue of Gildas.
"We're here," Azriel murmured as he knelt on the stone. He set Persephone down and curled his wings around them, protecting her from sight. There was some fidgeting as he pulled on the strap to release her. Feyre heard the dull thud of a bag hitting the tile and her chest tightened. It sounded light.
After a few minutes Azriel's wings slowly folded, revealing Persephone neatly situated on her wheeled platform. The pack Feyre had heard was almost empty with the device removed- it held no more than two simple dresses.
She was taking nothing with her. No trinkets from her cabin, no memories of Prythian. It broke Feyre's heart to see the hastily veiled grief in Azriel's face. He knew Feyre had seen what was in the bag. Azriel closed it and shrugged.
' Are you alright?' she asked him silently.
' I'm fine. It isn't like there was anything worth remembering ,' his mind closed to her in an instant… but Feyre felt a flicker of pain. He was afraid his mother would simply walk away from him as well.
"I'm going to ask two very trusted friends to take this bag to our rooms, alright?" Azriel said quietly to his mother. "Their names are Nuala and Cerridwen, and they'll be taking care of you while we are here."
Persephone reached for Azriel's knee and pulled herself closer to him, burying her face against it. He put a hand on her back and nodded.
Nuala and Cerridwen appeared in a whisper of darkness. Cerridwen picked up the bag as if it were something precious. Both twins backed away slowly, keeping their heads bowed in reverence until they passed both Feyre and Rhys and disappeared into the shadows of the palace.
"Welcome to Vele Luk," Feyre said. Persephone slowly turned her face, only so far as to see Feyre from the very corner of her eye.
"It is an honor to see you again, fair Lady," Rhys spoke from his position by the door, but he bowed low.
Persephone's grip on Azriel's leg tightened.
"Once upon a time the King of the Gods himself made the mistake of trying to seduce the gentle and sweet goddess of growth and rebirth," Amren drawled as she came out from the palace hall with her hands on her hips. "She let him come close and bend down for a kiss- then promptly kneed him in the groin so hard that his cock is probably still black and blue. A year later that pretty little thing was crowned Queen of the Underworld."
The goddess in question turned a little more. When Amren passed Feyre, Persephone took a hand off of Azriel's leg and reached out. Amren smiled broadly as she knelt and took her friend's hand. "They're good people, don't worry," Amren's voice was soft, warm. "You raised Azriel and I beat the others into shape."
Feyre's eyes widened as Persephone released Azriel and embraced the archangel who'd chased her into Prythian. "I have the chambers that connect to yours," Amren said once the hug was broken, "I swear you will be safe. And to welcome you properly-"
She snapped her fingers and a moment later three small black things shot out from behind Rhys. The shapes moved quickly and began to squeak as they raced for Amren.
Puppies.
Small, black-furred puppies.
They tried (and failed) to skid to a stop before crashing into Persephone's cart. Only Azriel's hand on his mother's back stopped them from rocking her as they leapt up onto her, stunning the goddess. She waved her hands side to side in a panic and at a loss for how to handle the swarm. Her eyes were closed tight as she pushed back on Azriel's hand, willing him to stop the sudden onslaught.
One puppy managed to climb her chest far enough to begin licking at the column of her throat. Another found a perch that brought it close to Persephone's cheeks. As they licked, squeaked, and even nibbled on her, the goddess' hands slowed. She dared look down at the bundles of fur. After a moment, Persephone's fingers came in range of the smallest puppy and it immediately began to nip, then lick. When it tucked its ears in and rubbed its face against her palm she leaned away from Azriel.
Little by little she gave the puppies more attention. After a moment, she scooped the smallest up in her hand. Its older sibling crawled into the crook of her arm. The third puppy lost its balance and fell backwards into her lap, where it wriggled fiercely belly-up until it managed to get its paws back under it.
"I don't know if Hades brought Cerberus with him, but you can have three one-headed dogs at least. And I think they'll be taller than you when they're fully grown."
The ghost of a smile lit her eyes as Persephone looked up at Amren, then back down to the puppies.
Azriel studied his mother as she began to stroke the little dog in her hand. When he at last turned his gaze on Amren, he bowed his head in gratitude.
"Are you ready to go inside?" Amren asked Persephone. The smile faded from the goddess' lips and she held the puppies a little closer. Feyre could see her trembling.
She looked like she wanted nothing more than for Azriel to scoop her up and fly her back to her cabin.
"Come on," Azriel said softly, "you'll feel better once you're indoors."
Persephone sat up straight, but not to show any confidence. Az put a hand on her shoulder as he stood. Walking hunched over, he lightly pushed her forward. Amren walked a step ahead, so that Persephone could see her easily and know she was still nearby.
Feyre offered a smile as they passed, but Persephone turned her head away and closed her eyes again. She was visibly shaking as they approached- then passed- Rhysand. He was a boy the last time she saw him, and now he had the same title as so many of the males who had abused her.
"It's alright," Rhys came to offer a hug. When Persephone and her guides had all disappeared down a side hall, the pair headed into the palace. "Like Amren said- everything is going to be alright."
Rhys and Feyre rounded a corner, leaving the lake and it's row of High Lords (and Lady) statues behind.
They didn't see the covered sculpture closest to the door turn its head.
They didn't see it step out of place.
They didn't see it enter the palace.