Disclaimer: All but Lyra belong to Sarah J Maas
After Rhysand and Feyre had allowed the others back in, Lyra had stayed at the townhouse, opting to give Feyre and her sisters privacy for their reunion. Azriel wondered if that was the full reason for staying there or if being around Nesta would be to much for her. Or if she hadn't wanted to be around Lucien, who still watched her cautiously out of the corner of his eye. Either way, she had told them to get her when they were done before heading off into the kitchens with the twins. Azriel had watched her go, that feeling of warmth still lingering in his chest from that smile she had offered.
She had worried for him while he was gone, had searched for him first when they had come back and had smiled, so bright and relieved when she had found him unharmed. And she was glad he was back. She had missed him.
He had missed her. Thought of her often when he had left her so abruptly at that table. Walking away from her that day, even with his High Lady in danger and his brother pleading for his help, had been hard.
Even as Rhysand had ordered him to Amren's apartment, he had thought about fighting the order just to stay with her. With that smile.
It all frightened him. He had tried to chalk it up to concern for her, so upset and raw from her admission, during those days searching for Feyre. Had almost convinced himself of it, until he had gotten back here and saw that smile on her beautiful face. That had been part of it, sure… but mostly it was just her. He simply just missed her.
Mor had seen it too. Seemed to sense it as they sat in Amren's apartment, baby sitting the tiny female and the Book. She had told him almost immediately that she had been doing well this last week, always out of her room, doing Cassian's exercises and workouts in the morning, wondering the Library during the day and how well she had handled the conversation with the Book. He had felt that anger, that irritation and confusion as Mor spoke with him about Lyra… but he had eaten up the information as well. He couldn't help it. It had offered a respite to the worry that had plagued him that whole week.
Even Feyre, who had been back for only a few hours, seem to sense what Lyra meant to him. She was doing as the others, directing questions and concerns about the female to him. Rhysand, damn him, had to of told his mate of the connection that he seemed so sure was there.
"Could Lyra help with repairing the Wall, if my magic fails?" Feyre asked, her eyes on him. He fought to keep his face neutral, to keep that mask in place and not display the irritation of being asked.
"I do not know." He said, wings tucking in tight and he saw Rhysand raise a brow at him. He fought the urge to glare at him. This was his fault after all.
"We don't know what her magic is capable of. What it can even do." Mor answered, seeming to pick up on his irritation, though her face revealed nothing.
"Perhaps she could, with training." Amren said, looking thoughtful as she tore her gaze away from the tomes she was looking over. "But her magic has seemed… destructive."
That room, torn apart and charred, flashed in his mind.
"She has expressed not wishing to wield her power. I do not know if she would agree to it." Mor added, letting out a sigh. "She has accepted she has it, but it will be a long time before she agrees to using it."
"You're sisters, directly forged by the Cauldron itself, might bear the sort of magic we-" Amren started, but Feyre cut her off quickly.
"My sisters play not part in this."
A quick order. No room for discussion.
"I asked them to help once and look what happened. I won't risk them again." Feyre said, her voice firm and giving no room for discussion. It didn't faze Amren, who snorted.
"You sound exactly like Tamlin."
Azriel flinched at the words, the tension they brought to Mor and Rhysand, who had moved to his mate's side so fast Azriel hadn't even seen him.
"Don't you ever say that sort of bullshit again, Amren." Mor said, her voice lined with a deadly anger that Azriel knew meant trouble. He fought the urge to draw closer, to put himself between the two. "I brought you food, drink it if you're hungry. But if you say anything like that again, I will throw you in the gods-damned Sidra."
"I'd like to see you try." Amren taunted, those smokey eyes narrowing. Mor only smiled back. Amren ignored it as she looked to Feyre, making Mor bristle, her anger like lightning in the air. "We need your sisters, as we will Lyra. If not for this, then to convince others to join us, of the risk. Since any would-be ally might have some… difficulty believe us after many years of lies."
"Apologize." Mor demanded and Feyre looked to the blonde nervously.
"Mor."
"Apologize." Mor repeated, taking a step toward her when Amren remained silent.
"She's right. Amren is right." Feyre said, her voice growing more steady as she stepped between them. "I can ask my sisters. See if they have any sort of power. See if they'd be willing to… talk to others about what they endured. But I won't force them if they do not wish to participate. The choice is theirs. As it is Lyra's. We cannot force her to use her powers… or speak to the others."
Again, she looked to Azriel, who shifted under her gaze before looking back to Rhysand. Amren huffed from her seat, though Azriel could tell she was merely posturing.
"Compromise, Amren. It's called compromise." Rhysand said, a bit of amusement in his voice as Amren ignored him.
"If you want to start convincing your sisters, get them out of the House. Being cooped up never helped anyone." Amren insisted.
"Lyra improved once she got out of there." Cassian agreed, leaning back against the wall once the threat of a fight between Mor and Amren had dissipated.
They finished their discussion nearly two hours later after Rhysand had explained to Feyre that they would call a meeting of the High Lords to ask for help in the war. Mor had finally ended the discussion when her stomach had growled and she had demanded that they eat. Cassian took Feyre to the townhouse after for her to change and Azriel had followed to grab Lyra and bring her up to the House to join them for dinner. He had found her in the kitchen, hair tied up atop her head, flour on her face and an apron on as she iced what looked like a small cake. A small, lopsided and very poorly iced cake. He gave her an amused look when she had glanced up, blushing when she caught him, Cassian and Feyre in the doorway.
"Carridwen and Nuala were showing me." She muttered, that blush spreading. Feyre looked just as amused as Azriel and Cassian, though she kept her face straight. Lyra glared at him though, pointing a finger at him when she saw his smile. "Shut up. It's my first one."
"I can tell." Cassian answered, earning a glare from her. Feyre looked like she was struggling not to grin.
"They do not bake in your world?" Azriel asked, lifting a brow. Cassian snorted at his side and Feyre slapped his brothers arm.
"Ha ha." Lyra grumbled, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"It looks edible." Feyre offered and Lyra gave her an appreciative look.
"In my defense, I was a broke college student. I only had money for ramen and Spaghettios, not cakes." Lyra said, pulling the apron off to hand on one of the hooks along the wall. Feyre raised a brow, clearly just as confused by the explanation as he and Cassian were.
"I understood none of that." Azriel muttered, his lips twitching when she just rolled her eyes at him.
"I'm sorry, did you just come to be an ass about my baking skills or…?" She muttered and Feyre coughed, clearly trying to cover a laugh she hadn't been able to hold back.
"We are going to dinner." Feyre said, her blue grey eyes glittering with amusement as she looked between the two of them. "We're going to the House, if you would like to join us."
"Yeah, of course." Lyra said, pushing a few stray hairs out of her face before she looked down at herself and frowned. She looked up at him, brushing a bit of flour from her leggings as she asked, "Can you take me to change?"
"Do you wish to bring the cake?" He asked teasingly and Cassian laughed, the sound echoing around the kitchen as he headed toward the living room to wait for Feyre. Lyra only glared at him again before breezing past him toward the door.
He carried Lyra to the House, landing on the balcony. Lucien was waiting in the dining room, looking slightly awkward sitting in the area by himself and he tensed when he caught sight of Lyra and Azriel landing. Lyra gave him a nervous smile, clearly still remembering how he had reacted to her before she quickly headed toward her new room. Azriel didn't even bother as he followed after her toward his own.
After cleaning herself off and then getting into some of the nicer clothes that Mor had bought her, she headed back out into the dinning room, relieved to see that Cassian, Rhysand, Amren and Mor were now in the dinning room around several open bottles of wine. Lucien and Feyre were on the balcony, a slightly tense conversation seeming to happen between the two, which she saw Rhysand monitoring not so subtly.
"Why can't you just try the dresses I bought you?" Mor whined by way of greeting, letting out a sigh as she took in the shirt and pants that Lyra had put on. "You would look so good."
"I hate dresses." Lyra grumbled as she took the glass of wine Cassian offered her, a grin on his lips. Azriel came moments later, taking his own glass of wine and in his simple leathers. "Azriel didn't dress up, bother him."
"Thank you." Azriel said flatly and she merely gave him a 'sorry about you' shrug.
"They never dress up." Mor sniffed, shaking her head as she looked between Cassian and Azriel. "Rhysand is the only one with any sort of fashion sense."
"Thank you, cousin." Rhysand grinned, offering Mor a nod as he slid his hand into the pocket of his neat black pants.
"It's also why it takes him so long to get pretty." Cassian muttered and Lyra shared a grin with him. Lyra was about to comment, but she then she felt it… that power that felt so similar to the Cauldron and she stiffened, her head jerking toward the doorway where a beautiful, severe looking woman stood, blue grey eyes so similar to Feyre's scanning them all wearily.
Nesta. This was Nesta – Lyra could tell without even being told. Not just from that power alone, but from the way Cassian went stiff, his tan skin paling as he beheld her inhuman beauty. She ignored him though, her eyes only on her sister as she began to head toward her, that blue gown swishing along the ground.
"See, now that is a dress." Mor pipped up, following Nesta with a jealous look on her face. Nesta went tense, her body seeming to coil and for a moment Lyra wondered if the eldest sister would attack Mor. But she merely stood, stiff backed, as Mor touched at the dress with appraising eyes. "I want one."
"I assume my mate dug it up somewhere." Feyre said and Lyra saw that look of gratitude and relief as she looked to Mor. She glanced to her mate then, who had gone back to pouring wine and trying to look as though they weren't hanging on every word that was passing between the women. From the look on Feyre's face, she could also tell that the three were pretending not to pay attention.
"It is beautiful." Lyra offered, giving Nesta what she hoped was a pleasant smile. She was trying to ignore that chill that had ran up her spine when Nesta had come into the room, to push away that feeling of fear at being so close to that power that was so similar to the feel of the Cauldron. Nesta turned her sharp eyes to her, a look of slight recognition coming over her face though she and Lyra hadn't seen each other in this month and a half. Perhaps she could feel her too…
"Like I said, he has good taste." Mor interrupted, drawing Nesta's gaze back to her as she looked over her skirt. "He never tells me where he finds the clothes though. He still won't tell me where he found Feyre's dress for Starfall, the bastard."
Rhysand laughed, flashing Mor a teasing smile. She only gave an annoyed huff in return.
"It is a good thing we are not the same size or else I might be tempted to steal it." Mor said, sipping at her wine.
"Likely right off her." Cassian muttered and Mor gave a sly smile that confirmed his words.
"Fortunately for you, I don't return the sentiment." Nesta said, her voice cold as she ran those eyes over Mor and the beautiful, revealing red dress she wore. Lyra raised a brow, a flash of anger at the dismissive way she looked at Mor and breezed past her without so much as another glance. But Nesta looked at Lyra, as though she could sense that anger, those eyes flashing before she seated herself at the table.
Mor didn't looked fazed by the words though, she only looked to Feyre, who looked upset by the cold way her sister had addressed her friends. "I think we're going to need a lot more wine." Mor muttered to Feyre, her voice a bit teasing and Lyra could tell she was trying to ease her friends worry.
"I'll raid the collection." Cassian said before heading toward wherever the it was stored. Feyre quickly headed to her sister, taking a seat beside her.
"They mean well." She whispered to Nesta, flashing a reassuring smile to her but Nesta didn't so much as look at her.
"I don't care."
Lyra glanced at Azriel as she went to find a seat herself, raising a brow questioningly. He only grimaced, seating himself beside her and she saw his shadows darkening as they often did when he was uncomfortable.
Amren sat herself next to Lyra, straight across from Nesta, those smokey eyes watching her as she said, "You are a real piece of work."
Nesta looked back, clearly unfazed by Amren, her power, that unnaturalness she gave off. "Why do your eyes glow?"
Azriel stiffened next to her, a cautious look on his face as he looked between the two as they stared off. Lyra almost admired how Nesta watched Amren, no fear or restraint on her face at all.
"You know, none of these busybodies have ever asked me that." Amren said and she sounded almost impressed that Nesta had dared to ask. The others did as well, all still and trying to appear as though they weren't all waiting for the answer.
"They glow," Amren said after Nesta had only waited patiently for the answer. "Because it is the one part of me the containment spell could not quite get right. The one glimpse into what lurks beneath."
"And what is beneath?" Nesta pushed and Lyra flinched this time, her stomach twisting nervously. She wasn't sure she wanted the answer to that.
Amren stared at Nesta, who again waited patiently, as she ran her thin finger around her goblet of blood. "None of them have ever asked, either."
"Why?"
"Because it is not polite to ask and they are afraid." Amren answered simply, still staring, still watching Nesta for any sign of weakness. But Nesta did not back down, did not look even the least bit fazed. Despite the attitude Nesta had displayed earlier, Lyra couldn't help but admire that.
"We are the same, you and I." Amren continued, those smokey eyes roaming over Nesta. Lyra recognized that look, like Amren was trying to see inside her to what she held within. "Not in flesh, not in the thing that prowls beneath our skin and bones. But… I see the kernel, girl. You did not fit the mold that they shoved you into. The path you were born upon and forced to walk. You tried, and yet you did not, could not fit. And then the past changed. I know – what it is to be that way. I remember it, as long ago as it was."
Nesta stared back at Amren, that cold indifference still on her face and her body so still it almost looked as though she wasn't even breathing. "I don't know what you're talking about." Nesta answered finally, her face revealing nothing.
"When you erupt, girl, make sure it is felt across worlds." Amren said, a smile on her lips that made Lyra shiver.
Lyra prayed she wasn't around if that ever happened. She prayed her world never felt whatever Nesta held within her.
"Amren, it seems, as been taking drama lessons at the theater down the street from her house." Rhysand said, breaking the tension that had gathered around the table.
"I mean it, Rhysand-" Amren growled, turning those eyes on him.
"I'm sure you do." Rhysand teased, taking a seat next to his mate and the others followed suit, chairs scrapping against the marble floor as they did. "But I would rather eat something before you make me loose my appetite."
Lucien was the only one who remained standing, that metal eye whirring as he looked at the only seat left with a slightly uneasy look on his face. He glanced up at Rhysand, a frown on his face. Lyra didn't understand the look until he said, "I – shouldn't you sit at the head?"
Rhysand only raised his brow in response, clearly uncaring. "I don't care where you sit. I only care about eating something right now."
With a snap of his fingers, plates of food filled the table and Lyra realized then how hungry she actually was. The table became a flurry of activity as Lucien finally sank into the seat, though he looked so uncomfortable it was almost comical.
"You get used to it, the informality." Feyre assured the red head.
"You say that, Feyre darling, like it's a bad thing." Rhys said as he put some of the fish on his plate and then passed it to his mate, who rolled her eyes.
"It took me by surprised that first dinner we all had, just so you know." She said, grabbing some food for both her and her sister, before passing it on.
"Oh, I know." Rhysand assured her with a grin and Cassian gave a laugh.
"Honestly, Azriel is the only polite one." Feyre said, grabbing more food. Mor and Cassian immediately began to protest and Lyra couldn't stop the laugh that escaped her. Cassian threw her a glare and she merely shrugged.
"She's not wrong." Lyra teased and Azriel gave a pleased smile, those shadows curling around his ears.
"Lyra's been here only a short while and she already knows the truth." Feyre said as the two continued to protest.
"Lyra best mean just Cassian." Mor said, giving her a warning look and Lyra only speared some green beans, giving Mor an innocent smile. Azriel snorted into his wine as Mor gave her an affronted look. "You make us sound as heathens."
"I would have thought you'd find that term to be a compliment, Mor." Rhys said, taking a bit of his own food with a sly smile.
"What time are we back in the training ring tomorrow?" Feyre asked, looking to Cassian.
"I'd say dawn, but since I'm feeling rather grateful that you're back in one piece, I'll let you sleep in. Let's meet at seven. The both of you." He added, pointing his fork to Lyra, who scowled at him.
"How generous. One whole hour." She muttered and she saw Azriel trying very hard not to grin next to her.
"Daylight is a precious resource." Cassian answered with a shrug.
"I'm sorry, is this not the Night court?" Lyra asked, earning an exasperated sigh from Cassian.
"I told you that the moment we started letting the females into our group, they would be nothing but trouble." Cassian grumbled, looking to Rhysand and Azriel for back up.
"As far as I recall, Cassian, you actually said you needed a reprieve from staring at our ugly faces," Rhysand interrupted, giving his brother a dry look. "And that some ladies would add some much-needed prettiness for you to look at all day."
"Pig." Amren hissed as Mor made a disgusted noise. Cassian gave Amren the middle finger, which made Lucien cough, nearly choking on his food.
"I was a young Illyrian and didn't know any better." Cassian countered, before he pointed his fork toward Azriel. "Don't try to blend into the shadows. You said the same thing."
"Oh, did he?" Lyra asked, turning to where Azriel was now covered in shadows and was steadily ignoring her gaze. Though his face revealed nothing, the red tinge on his cheeks told her enough and she tried not to laugh at the embarrassment.
"Of course not." Mor interrupted, her lips twitching. "Azriel never once said anything that awful. Only you, Cassian. Only you."
"You would be wise to leave both of them at home for the meeting with the others, Rhysand. They'll cause nothing but trouble." Amren advised, frowning at the lot of them.
"Others?" Lyra asked, looking between the two curiously. Lucien also looked curious, though she could see restraint on his face. She was reminded then that he was a High Lord's son, probably taught to hold his emotions back.
"The other High Lords." Rhysand explained to her, before he looked to Lucien. "You'll find out soon enough. Invitations are going out tomorrow, calling all the High Lords to gather to discuss the war."
"All?" Lucien asked, his face tightening a bit. When Rhysand nodded, Lucien's face smoothed out before he asked, "Can I offer my unsolicited advice?"
"I think that's the first time anyone at this table has ever asked such a thing." Rhysand said, mock surprise lining his voice as Mor gave him a glare. Cassian stuck out his tongue to his brother. "By all means, advise away."
"I assume Feyre is going." Lucien asked, glancing at the High Lady with a curious look.
"I am." Feyre answered simply as Lucien went quiet for a moment, clearly considering this before glancing at Lyra, surprising her.
"And you?" He asked. Lyra glanced to Rhysand, unsure of how to answer. She had heard Rhysand and the others discussing a theoretical meeting between the High Lords before, but she had never been asked to come. She couldn't think of a reason why she would go.
"Lyra can come if she is willing." Rhysand said, dipping his head to her, though those violet eyes flickered over to Azriel next to her. She hadn't noticed until then but he had gone still, slightly tense as he stared down at his plate, though obviously listening. She didn't understand what could have been bothering him about the conversation, considering he had been suggesting what to put in the letters when the subject was discussed.
"If you are planning to go Feyre," Lucien said, looking back to the High Lady and studying her. "Will you hide your powers?"
"That was something I'd planned to discuss with my mate." Rhysand said, glancing to her. "Are you leaning one way or another, Lucien?"
"My father would likely join with Hybern if he thought he stood a chance of getting his power back that way – by killing you." Lucien said and the snarl Rhysand gave sent a shiver down her spine. Lucien, to his credit, didn't even flinch. "And as for Lyra…"
She looked to him, a bit of nervousness building as he studied her with the same frankness he had Feyre. Azriel looked up then, those amber eyes flashing dangerously. Lucien saw it too, though his face remained impassive. "I wouldn't put it past my father to try for her. Hybern wants you back. And returning you would be a perfect gift for Hybern to truly prove he wishes for an alliance."
The words spread an icy fear through her veins and turned the delicious food in her stomach to lead.
With everything else going on, Lyra had pushed the King of Hybern to the back of her mind. Especially here, so far away from him and protected by so many powerful people. When she thought about it objectively, it made sense what Lucien said, that the King would want her back after working so hard to pull her here. And she also knew, deep down, that power she held was substantial enough to make her a threat if she ever wanted to use it. To have her in the hands of Hybern's enemy… it wasn't surprising he was trying to get her back.
Why had that damned Book have chosen her for all of this? Her fingers dug into her hand, shaking as she pressed it into her lap as that thought crossed her mind for the millionth time. Why her?
She started when she felt a hand wrap around hers under the table and found Azriel's scarred fingers atop her enclosed fist. His hand was rough, from those scars and years as a warrior, but his touch was gentle, firm. Calming. Her fingers loosened as she let out a shaky breath, meeting his eyes and hoping that her looked conveyed how thankful she was for that steadying touch. His face betrayed nothing, but his eyes were soft before he squeezed her hand and then withdrew his.
Lyra looked back up, meeting Mor's gaze across the table and was surprised to find the blonde's eyebrows furrowed, an odd look on her face as she looked between her and Azriel. Those brown eyes met hers and Lyra couldn't read what she was thinking.
"Your brother has already seen me, though." Feyre interrupted, breaking Lyra from her thoughts. "Perhaps they could mistake the flame for yours, but the ice…"
Lucien looked to Azriel then, who still had that hard look in his eyes. "That's the information you need to gather. What my father knows, if my brothers realized what she was doing. You need to start from there and build your plan for this meeting accordingly. And how much you wish to reveal of where Lyra came from or the power she holds."
"Eris might keep the information to himself and convince the others to as well, if he thinks it'll be more useful that way." Mor said thoughtfully, tapping a manicured nail against the table.
"Perhaps." Lucien admitted, though Lyra could tell he didn't believe the words. "But we need to find that out. If Beron or Eris has that information, they'll use it to their advantage in that meeting – to control it. Or control you. Or they might not show up at all and instead to right to Hybern."
Cassian let out a low swear, his face going stormy. Rhys though, remained impassive, ever the High Lord as he swirled his wine and thought over his words. "You and Azriel should talk. Tomorrow."
Azriel, despite his threat earlier that day to Lucien, merely nodded toward the red head and said, "I'm at your disposal."
Rhysand leaned back in his seat, his face thoughtful as the rest of the table grew silent. She saw Feyre watching him, seeming to try to read whatever was going on in her mate's head. Finally, after letting out a slightly tired sigh he leaned back up and said, "There is another meeting that needs to be had – and soon."