CHAPTER VI

The city of Velaris glowed under the afternoon sun as Zivia leaned over the balcony at the House of Wind. The others have left after their discussion earlier, except for Mor.

"Isn't it pretty?" she said as she stepped beside her on the railing.

The wind blew and Zivia closed her eyes, feeling the sweet caress on her face. "It is."

"Sorry about earlier."

She opened her eyes and turned toward Mor who appeared to be looking far into the city, but not really. Her gaze felt lost farther away.

"Do I really look that weak?" She meant it as a joke.

"No! Of course not, no." Mor snapped her attention to her and shook her head vigorously. "I don't doubt your abilities for a second. I know how you're completely capable of handling yourself on your own." She let out a soft chuckle. "The moment I saw how you effortlessly got under Rhys's skin I knew that then."

Zivia lifted her brows as a smile tugged at her lips. It was never her intention to annoy the High Lord, contrary to what her parents probably would have wanted her to do, but she didn't think that it would be so easy. Sure, she was told that the strongest Lord in Prythian's history isn't at all that bad and terrorizing as people perceives him to be but to actually see that soft albeit sensitive side of his, she couldn't help but tease him for it and that it wouldn't take that much effort on her part.

Mor looked back over the balcony. Her golden locks catching the afternoon chill.

"It was a piss-poor attempt to get Azriel to volunteer accompanying you."

"Why?"

"Because I – " She took a deep breath as if trying to snatch her lost words from the air. "You see, my father will be coming here in a week."

The bite in her voice at the word 'father' told her something about their relationship. Her suspicions were confirmed when Mor told her the story of her past with her family and the events that led to him going to the city.

"Az and Cassian would be looking out for him the entire visit. By the cauldron, they've actually been planning security protocols for months now!"

"But you're still skeptical."

"Yes." Mor sighed. "I just have this feeling that it won't go well. I know Keir. He'll think my absence as a sign of weakness and he wouldn't pass an opportunity to mock me in their presence. Azriel, he'd – " She cut herself off and started shaking her head. "It won't end well."

"You care for him."

It was more of a question than a declaration. Zivia noticed the tension between the two every time they get into close proximity with each other. If not for the fact that either of them would intentionally avoid or ignore each other at some times, she'd actually think that they're together.

"It's not like that." Mor said. "I mean I do care for him, but not in that way. It's really complicated."

"Ah. But he cares for you in that way."

Mor paused, puckering her lips as she threw a side glance at her.

"He's really not that good in hiding that, is he? Not as much as he thinks he does, at least."

She shrugged her shoulders and gave her a tight-lipped smile in reply. Anyone would've discerned those occasional glances that the Illyrian sends her way, the way his shadows would disappear in her presence or how his aura changes at the sight of her. How his unreadable face becomes readable; muscles in his jaw relaxing, gaze softening ever so slightly, lips trembling a bit – "

She shook her head at the thought. She's paying too much attention.

"Well good thing you got him to go." She muttered as she scratched her nose, ignoring the heat that crept up her body.

"Good thing that Rhys allowed him to go. He probably knew what I was trying to do. He knew that that visit won't go as smoothly as he wants it to be if Azriel were to be included in the equation, given what happened the last time he and Eris met."

"No worries. I'll keep him occupied."

As soon as the words left her lips, she regretted saying them. The look on Mor's face told her enough how it all sounded so wrong. She should've used a different term. But before she could explain herself, Mor gave her a mischievous smile and said, "I know you would."

Then she left her at the balcony cursing at herself for being flustered.


Stardusts

That's what Zivia thought as she looked at all the lights dancing off the waves of the river. It looked like an extension of the night sky above them – full of stars that are so close to the touch. They just finished eating dinner at a restaurant where the group clearly frequented as the owner blurted "Oh, a newcomer!" as soon as she saw her.

The food they had wasn't anything like she tasted before and as much as she'd like to gorge herself on it, she couldn't help feeling all nervous and awkward infront a large group of people. It was one thing to dine with the High Lord and his entourage at the House of Wind. Eating out with them at a public place like this was definitely out of her comfort zone. Not to mention the addition of two more people – one whose presence reminded her of Jude, her father's general and also the one who trained her. Despite the female's small stature, she looked threatening enough that she felt like standing in attention and ready to obey her every command. The other one made her lament her absolute lack of effort in making herself presentable. Not that it would make her any prettier than the lady who so effortlessly looked like a goddess. She later learned that she's actually the High Lady's older sister.

The Cauldron definitely didn't hold back when it created these beings.

She was deep in thought when Mor slung an arm over her shoulder and giggled in her ear.

"Want to come with us?"

Her cheeks were flushed with alcohol but she doesn't seem too drunk, yet.

"Where? We just ate."

"We're going to Rita's," said Cassian, appearing at their side. "Mor here likes to dance. Join us and we'll show you how great parties are here at the Night Court."

"I have no intention of making a spectacle of myself, thank you very much."

Cassian let out a snort but she ignored it. The thought of going for a dance at this hour wasn't exactly how she envisioned spending the rest of her night. Besides, she already reached the limit of her allotted social interactions for the day. She needed – wanted – to be alone for now. And she couldn't dance.

"Come on. It'll be fun!" pleaded Mor. "Azriel's coming too."

Her head snapped to the shadowsinger who was lounging by the diner's entrance. He was having a conversation with the petite female while Rhysand was busy paying their tab, Feyre and her sister were saying their thanks to the shopowner.

He obviously didn't strike her as the reveller sort but perhaps broody guys also needed to let themselves loose once in a while. Squinting her eyes, she tried to imagine how is he actually going to do that. It seems odd – if not entirely weird and unlikely. He turned and met her eyes, eyebrows shooting up in question. She quickly averted and focused back on Mor.

"Uhh. No. I'm sorry but I'm feeling a bit tired already so I'll have to pass."

She flashed an awkward smile and hoped that they wouldn't press any further because she couldn't think of any more lousy excuses to give.

Thank the Mother they didn't.

They all exchanged farewells as they parted ways. Mor gave her a small wave as she walked up the street to where Cassian was already waiting. Azriel followed behind. The High Lady and her sister headed straight for the river-estate while the other female – Amren – went off on her own. She doesn't seem to be staying with them as she did not see her either at the house the time she went there.

"Don't tell me you're going dancing too?" she said when they were all out of sight and Rhysand remained standing across her at the riverside.

"I might," he chuckled. "But no, I need to retrieve something from the town house."

She considered for a moment before offering to walk with him there, saying something about helping in digestion. Rhys just cocked his head and started walking.

"How are Miraym and Drakon doing?" he asked as they strode over the bridge. Some of the people would pause to greet their lord whenever they passed by them. It still quite unnerves her whenever their attention would fall on her so she threw an illusion to hide her attention-seeking wings.

"They're doing fine now. They've been quite busy since after returning from the war creating various wards and spells to ensure that the Cauldron remains hidden – untouched and safe deep within the island."

"Sorry for putting that burden to your parents."

"I'm sure they don't mind. It wasn't much of an inconvenience for them as you might think. They don't seem to be bothered by anything, really."

"So you think they don't mind sending you here when they know how unstable the situation is and that you could be targeted for knowing where that thing is hidden?"

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm not a youngling anymore uncle."

Rhysand winced at the title and she stifled a laugh at his reaction. It wasn't really his fault for not expecting her to be the one sent as Cretea's emissary.

"Besides," she continued. "I think they're more than willing to have me out of the palace for once. Honestly, it is a mystery how I haven't had any other sibling yet."

The High Lord burst out into laughter and she had to physically stop him to avoid more attention from around them.

"You know," he said in between breaths "I'd actually think that they had put that spell around the island for that sole purpose."

They passed along the street where the sweet shop she bought chocolates from before stood and was tempted to run straight to it. She already feels the weight of the meal she had settle down her stomach.

There's always room for a desert.

Later, she thought. She'd come back later.

She was busy contemplating what to buy that she forgot about what Rhys said.

"Oh that. That may have been because of me actually."

"What do you mean?"

"Three centuries ago, I wandered off the border and got caught in an accident that almost killed me."

All the amusement vanished from the high lord's face instantly. He turned towards her expecting more from her story.

"They had to set up the shield after that." She gave him a wide-toothed smile. "They had no idea that it would be so effective to even deter good-willing people; gave you a hard time calling out for us."

It was an effort to shrug it off like it didn't matter a bit – like it still doesn't affect her to this day. Rhysand, sensing her unease about the topic, was quiet for a moment. He just nodded in understanding and continued walking in silence until they reached the front porch of the town house.

"Don't go telling me now that I don't have to go," she demanded as he turned to face her. "I know the risks. You saved my mother back then, let me return the favour."

"That debt has already been paid. I don't want to endanger the daughter that my friends have done so much to keep safe."

She can see it in his eyes, the desire to protect people. She heard the story of what he did to spare his family from the clutches of Amarantha and of how he died to let them live. He's the kind of person who would rather lay down his life than let those close to him get hurt. It warmed her heart that that devotion extended to her even if they haven't been that close.

"You'd make a really good father."

That took him by surprise. His serious demeanor was gone in an instant and she coughed to cover the laugh rising up her throat. It was a priceless reaction he'd made but she was not going to tease him for that.

"I'll be fine," she insisted as Rhys blinked away any lingering surprise on his face. "I've got one of your famed Illyrian warriors on my side. We're going to be a force to reckon with."

She wiggled her eyebrows at him and a warm hearted smile was the only indication that she was able to sway him.