Chapter 6

I delayed the map lessons with the general for as long as I could. I gave the pleas of aches and healing pains, but soon my wounds were far too healed to be pulling those sorts of excuses. I knew Rhysand saw through those, but he gave me the dignity of keeping his speculations to himself. He did make the jests, as he did forewarn me in all fairness, that he was the reigning favourite. I had the idea that those sort of jests and taunts were a common theme amongst the Inner Circle. The general is the only one who seemed to have any care, other than Rhysand in the play of favouritism and I quickly saw why the High Lord was so eager to rile him up. It had been an admittedly humorous display of 'just you wait's and 'unfair judgment!'. I was promised a very interesting lesson to sway my decision. For the sake of Rhysand's amusement – and my own – I kept to myself that I truly did not favour either of them.

I was given a few selections of clothing choices, which were all dresses similar to the style that Morrigan wore. I had asked her behind closed doors if she could source me more pants and shirts with low backs or long slits to fit through wings.

"You'll have to ask Rhys," she said with a dismissive shrug. "I'm not in charge of buying clothes for people." I nodded and murmured a thanks before retiring to my bedchambers and requesting my old clothes to be washed again so I could wear them the next day. I sat in my room that afternoon in one of the nightdresses, knowing I would be missing dinner. But I couldn't bring myself to wear one of the dresses outside of the chambers. I did try one on, to see if my mind was just still in shambles, but I had to tear it off within moments when the long slit kept shifting to reveal the length of my leg. I would sneak out once true night had fallen and source myself something to eat.

I hadn't needed to when a knock came at my door. My neck perked and my eyes glossed over white as I peeked on the other side of the door. Rhysand stood there with a tray and a steaming bowl perched on it. He looked like a servant. A very elegant one, but a servant, nonetheless. Food. The nightdress was very little better than the other dresses but without the need for fancy display, it lacked the slit and sharp cutouts. Could I ask him to just leave it and go?

"Come in," I found myself saying, eyes morphing back to their usual dark brown. The door opened with a soft click, Rhysand's figure peeking through with his headfirst before his body slithered in behind. I curled my legs closer underneath me as I sat on the foot of the bed.

He meandered towards the vanity, placing the tray down. "I know they say that breakfast is the most important meal, but you shouldn't miss any," said Rhysand with a melodic tune to his words. "Did you have enough of our presence through the day? You didn't even join me in my office."

"I didn't plan on not eating," I retorted before softening my tone. "Thank you, I just didn't feel like eating around others tonight."

Rhysand turned around, crossing his arms and leaning against the vanity. He nodded in my direction. "Your wings are looking good. I'd say you'll be able to fly again soon."

My lips turned upwards and I spread them out with only the slightest ache. "You think?" I wondered aloud. "I can't wait."

"You have more patience than Cassian and Azriel," he snorted. "They would have been flying around like nothing happened two days after."

I hummed in mirth. "I think I just have very developed self-preservation instincts." I curled a wing around my front, tracing my fingers gently across the membrane. "And more patience."

Rhysand was quiet for a while, but the silence was comfortable, and I continued tracing over a scar that was freshly developing over the membrane. "You're dressed for sleep early. The sun has barely set."

My lips dried for I had forgotten, even for the short time, that I was not dressed properly. Especially in the presence of a High Lord. I wasn't sure how to respond, whether in truth or partial lie. "My clothes are being washed," I answered. "I wasn't expecting to leave the chambers or have company inside of them."

Rhysand perked a single brow then frowned. His left arm stretched out to the side where the wardrobe was. He hooked a single finger around the knob and the door swung unlatched. Inside, the dresses hung. I couldn't say anything, so I didn't. I only turned my head away, instead looking out of the window to the right. Shame trickled inside of me. Morrigan could wear it. It was the type of clothing that they wore here at the Night Court and I will have to learn to accept that.

"Not to your taste?"

I forced myself to look away from the window and into my High Lord's eyes. From observation, his face was relaxed, if not verging on curiosity. His arms had returned back to their loose fold and one knee was locked out, holding his weight while the other rested on the point of his shoe. I could be honest with him, couldn't I?

"I will learn to wear them," I promised.

"Would you prefer pants?"

I stared at the closet, willing my mind to be content with the idea of even putting one of the dresses on. My back gave a hard shiver that emerged from the base of my skull. "Yes," I told him. "I'm sorry. I asked Morrigan about it earlier, but she told me to ask you and I didn't want to bother you about it."

Rhysand gave a soft shrug. "It does not bother me what you wear. I would rather you bother me about clothes than whatever uprisings are happening in the camps like Cassian does." He gave a soft chuckle that I returned with a smile. "Mor should have at least told me you were uncomfortable with the selection. I'll have some things delivered in the morning that I think will be more of your taste. But keep the dresses just in case you want to wear them one day."

He was already moving to leave and I leapt from the bed to intercept his path. He stopped and looked me once over. "Thank you," I said with a raspy tinge. "For the food. It must be strange for a High Lord to bring someone food like a servant."

Rhysand grinned and looked over his shoulder at the tray. "Cassian was talking about doing it himself but I had him go down to townhouse to retrieve something important. Have to maintain being your favourite, don't I? Mother forbid I let that winged dog outdo me."

"I heard him bragging about being undefeated in sparing," I sang with a taunting tone that was probably far above my standing but I did so anyway. "Does that include with you?"

Rhysand rolled his head and eyes at the same time. "Unfortunately," he muttered he said, shaking his head. One corner of his lips lifted with another hearty scoff. "He's my general for a reason though."

"He knows how to carry himself," I agreed, remembering the times I peeked out from my homestead to watch him march through my camp.

"He scares you, doesn't he?" I flashed Rhysand a quick look that intended to either give away nothing or disregard his accusation. "He's not the same man that you know from the camps. He has to appear like that."

Now wholly uncomfortable, I folded my arms across my stomach. "They used to threaten me with him," I whispered. "They told me they'd have the general from the Court of Nightmares come down there and deal with me himself. I thought that your court knew about me so I believed their threats. They had tough ways of taking care of problems already and I didn't even want to imagine how much worse it could get."

"He would never touch you. Not it any way that would bring you harm." I nodded at the High Lord, the swollen knot in my throat keeping me from talking any further. "If you haven't noticed, he's rather eager to become the favourite." I choked on a chuckle, pressing the back of my finger between my teeth. "Have that lesson with him tomorrow. I'll be in the House so I'll check in on you discreetly if that makes you feel better."

"I will," I promised him. "He's been very…nice. My head is just trying to put it together that this is the usual him and not the one I've come to know."

"Maybe you should remind him of that," Rhysand suggested. "He knows you've come from the camps, and he knows that he has to be that way when he's there, but we're all used to seeing that switch."

I nodded again and gave a smile that was assurance that I would. I wouldn't, but I did not need to tell that to Rhysand. Cassian had been nothing but nice to me. It is just my own constant fear that he would suddenly lash out and I would be unable to defend myself. That is not a burden that the general has to bear. I do not have to give him the responsibility of how I feel around him, just as I do not have to be responsible for how he perceives me.

In the morning, my clothes were clean and neatly folded on my dresser, but along with them, a large package of brown parchment. I slid from the bed and nimbly tore it away. Inside, there was a number of pants and shirts, suited to winged backs. I murmured my thanks and pulled on a new set of leather pants and a dark blue shirt that was fitted but not skin-tight.

It was breakfast time, which was almost the same every day for me. I would go to the smaller dining room and eat with whoever was there that morning. Sometimes Rhysand was there, sometimes Azriel. Rarely there were both I enjoyed seeing them all together. Amren was due to return very soon and I knew that would upthrow at least a bit of my growing ease so I took the normality with open arms.

But before I could leave my room, there was a hard knocking at my door. I knew it wasn't Rhysand who had a steady, but patterned knock. This one was a heavy constant rapping. I rose from the vanity and strode across the room.

The general stood on the other side of my doorway, dressed and ready for the day. The top half of his hair was pulled into a loose bun, strands framing his sculptured face. "Morning," he greeted with a doggish grin. "Ready for class with the best Illyrian?"

He came with such a comfortable manner that I almost responded with a cheeky taunt of asking where Rhysand was. But instead, I stammered out, "What about breakfast?"

The general un-wavered in his grin gestured to the corridor with his head. "I have it waiting for us." I looked over my shoulder back into the chamber, but I truly did not have anything else left to do in there so I let the male lead me into the corridor. "I hoped you liked your dinner last night," he called. Cassian strode slightly in front of me, his broad shoulders shifting with each step. "The stew was nice, but I was going to bring you a sweet cake with it as well if Rhys hadn't sent me on that useless task." He looked back over his shoulder with a cunning grin.

"You're trying to bribe me with sweet things," I mused softly.

His eye closest to me squinted. "Would it work?"

"I'm not sure," I answered honestly. "I like sweet things, but I also know that you are very competitive in whatever this is against Rhysand. Intention changes opinions very swiftly."

The general regarded my statement, tipping his head from side to side. "Well, I guess I'll just have to try that hard."

In short time, we reached a study chamber that had a few books lying about that looked mostly filled with military history and other non-fictional contents. There was a large table in the middle, that I knew was made of polished wood, but you could no longer see it for sitting on top of the table was indeed, breakfast. Enough to feed a small army of hungry Illyrians. Everything that one could think of was there, from meats and eggs to sweets and fruit. I stuck in the doorway, the general striding right through.

He swayed in front of two chairs which has the only clean space in front of them. "Have I outdone the prat High Lord of yet?"

My hand slid down from the archway. "This is a ridiculous amount of food." Cautiously, almost anticipating it to disappear if I stepped closer, I wandered towards the table. Once it was clear it wasn't going anywhere, I picked up an apple, expecting it to be fake. But it was as real and as fresh as though I had plucked it from the tree myself.

"I did overdo it a bit," Cassian agreed, tossing a piece of bacon into his mouth. "But I figured we'd go into lunch and the leftovers can be used with dinner or tomorrow." He pulled out the two chairs and plopped himself down on the furthest one. "Come on."

I went to place the apple back down, but thought twice and held it tighter, taking it with me to the second chair. I slid into it slowly as Cassian pulled out a map of Prythian, only this one had major land markings. My arm snapped out and I pointed to the very top. "The Night Court," I marvelled.

"Sure is, sweetcheeks." My shoulders slumped only realisation of how stupid that would have sounded to a whatever-hundred-year-old Illyrian who had spent his entire life looking at these maps. Cassian pointed to the northern end of it. "And Velaris is around here, but we don't mark it on any of the maps except the ones Rhysand has in his private office over at the townhouse."

My shoulders lifted again as he delved into explaining the layout of the Night Court, pulling out another map that scaled the territory of the court. I could easily identify the mountains and even pointed out the exact location of Sulwood. The apple disappeared in my hands, but was soon replaced with a fresh slice of buttered bread.

"How is it going?"

I paused my chewing, Cassian's words evaporating in the chamber of my ear. How was it going? I watched Cassian talk fervently about the ways to travel to Hewn City. "Not bad," I told Rhysand. "You should see what he's done to try and outdo your efforts last night." I returned to listening to Cassian when there was no answer, confirming my understanding of the roads, but pointed out the use of flying meant that we didn't need to use them.

Out of nowhere, Cassian stops talking. It took me a few moments to notice, my mind running with the names of places and people. When I did, I was halfway through a bit of bread, my eyes darting to the general who was simply looking at me. I chewed the rest of the bite slowly.

"What?" I asked as soon as I could. Had I said something stupid without realising it?

His voice was gentle, but still the words hit me hard. "You're not from Sulwood, are you?" I lifted the bread to my mouth, wanting to fill it again so I did not have to speak but I couldn't push it past my lips. Cassian was in no hurry for my answer. "I went there with Azriel a few days ago. We wanted to know how they were able to keep you such a secret for so long."

"I am," I spat out before lowering my voice. "That's where I was born and raised. I moved after someone there found out about me. I thought I would be safe somewhere else, but it wasn't long before they found out as well."

"Can you tell me where you're from?" Cassian pressed. I stared at the map, in the exact spot in knew the camp was. "We're not taking you back. But this is part of my job and I need to know what is happening in those camps. Is there a reason you don't want to tell me?"

I was unashamedly terrified. That was my reason. I wasn't about to tell one of the fiercest warriors that. He was handsomely dangerous and pulsed with nothing but power. The carvings of his muscles were almost an art form. I didn't want anything to do with that camp, and I didn't want Rhysand, or Cassian, to find out what I had done.

Cassian leant forward. I didn't know if he was told by Rhysand, or he was just observant, but he stretched his arm out in front of me along the table but left it open and untouching of my own arms. "You're under my protection. You know that, right? Everybody in this court takes care of each other. You haven't been here long and nobody is expecting you to just fit right in immediately, but that doesn't mean we won't take care of you."

I folded my hands over one another. "I can see that," I said. "It's so strange to see. The men at the camps would stick together too, but it was out of survival. They would fight to the death the next day if they had to. And the women kept to themselves and their families."

"Rhysand and I hated each other at first." Cassian chuckled to himself, using the rounded tip of his finger to trace along the pattern of the grooves in the wood. "We'd fight every single day – physically. The only reason we'd stop is because they wouldn't feed us if they caught us. All three of us know what it was like to live there, so don't shut us out on that account. And Azriel knows what it's like to be…like you."

"Yet he barely talks to me," I pointed out.

"Eh," he swatted away an invisible fly. "That has nothing to do with you."

The door swung open, ending whatever our conversation had become. Our heads both snapped around, meeting with a curious Rhysand in the doorway. His lips pressed flatly together. Cassian broke out into a bellowing laugh at the realisation that the High Lord has come to see what he had done to outdo last night's efforts. I chuckled to myself as well, but bowed my head to hide it.

"Game on," the High Lord declared before shutting the door.

I peeked at Cassian's victorious form from the corner of my eye. In an effort to push past my own boundaries, I used my elbow to nudge his arm that was still strewn in front of me. "I think that you won that round."

Cassian's eyes flickered down from the door to me and gave me a firm wink.