A/N this chapter's a bit shorter and ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, it just really didn't want to be written! However, the next one is shaping up to be both bigger and better. Sorry the updates are so slow recently, and thanks so much for reading! Drop a review and I might update faster ;)

Have a good day/night and enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 11

Rhys

Rhysand was stressed. For the past year he had been doing everything in his power to find the mysterious girl. He had spies in every court, informants in almost every town across Prythian, all of them protected from her mind games.

She was dangerous, that much was certain. She had broken his wards while weakened, and had escaped easily during their interrogation, when it should have been impossible for her to escape her bonds. He was worried about what she would do next, where she would strike next, and if her intentions made her a threat to his court and his family.

He paced up and down the hallways of the House of Wind, the smooth red stone a comforting sight, and stopped at the open glass doors. He stepped onto the balcony and breathed in the fresh air, Velaris sparkling below him. Citrus and sea salt caressed his face, accompanied with the scents of roasting meat, comforting and familiar. From his vantage point, the Rainbow was a tiny cluster of sparkling lights, bright as they warded away the darkness.

She had loved the rainbow, his older sister. Raey, was her name, a long time ago. He still missed her. Missed her smile, missed her cheer. She could always make him smile when he was feeling down, could always make him laugh with a well-timed comment, or a hug. They would sneak out together, sometimes with their mother, sometimes without, and they would fly together, propelling each other along, laughing together, just being. When he lost them, he had hunted down their killers, hunted down those Spring Court soldiers who had hurt them. He still blamed himself for trusting Tamlin, for telling him where they would be, for exposing his weakness to the world.

And now this mysterious girl appears. She came from the Spring Court but claims she doesn't work for them. And now for the first time in hundreds of years, he's thinking of Raey. Wondering what she would think of him, if she were still alive.

Wondering if she'd still love him for who he was, or if she would hate him for what he had become. Wondering who she would be, in this bleak world, this mockery of the joy and freedom and peace they once had.

But childhood seemed so long ago, so far away. A foreign country, lost and broken. Torn to shreds by war and death.

Rhys sighed, and jumped onto the railing, shoulders hunched, perched upon the cliff like a forlorn bat, hopeless and dark. His fingers fisted in his dark hair, his wings ruffling in the breeze.

The information from the townswoman six months ago was not helpful. It confirmed his suspicions but gave no new leads on the girl. Millie. A lie, he knew. He wondered what her name was. Where she was. Who she was.

But he had no time to waste. The war was getting worse every day, and no matter how much Cassian and Azriel tried to mitigate, the tide was slowly turning, and not in their favour.

Some Illyrian warlords had formed a resistance some years ago, resisting his leadership, protesting that he was showing weakness and disability by allowing females to train and fight in battles, and to undertake the Blood Rite. The warlords had begun to gain tract and fighters and now waged a full-on war with his remaining forces and loyal warlords.

If he had the girl, and the power she had portrayed, they could turn the tide in the war. The warlords were so far unaware of Velaris, but that put Rhys in a delicate position.

The Court of Nightmares wouldn't fight, and the civilians in Velaris were not warriors. He needed help and he needed it now. The fledgling nation across the sea, Hybern, wouldn't be much help even if they agreed to ally, and the Fae and humans on the Continent wouldn't risk an alliance with the most feared court.

So far, his band of loyal followers outnumbered the rebelling Illyrians, but the rebels followed no laws, and weren't afraid to sacrifice men for the sake of their cause, or so they claimed.

Rhys plonked his head into his hand, sighing. He should be worrying about the civil war. He should be worrying about numbers and battles and other important things, but the only thing in his head was the girl. The odd girl who seemed so strangely familiar, but to utterly alien. Like a broken reflection of someone he once knew. But he was sure he would remember if he'd ever met someone that powerful before.

She might well be the most powerful person in Prythian, and he had no idea where she was. Oh well. No use thinking about it now.

He tipped his weight forward, falling off the banister, falling off the cliff. He snapped his wings open the wind pushing against the membrane, shoving him into the air. He flew above the city, aiming for the townhouse.

He had just landed in front of the building when the door opened. Amren leaned against the doorframe, her head barely reaching his chest, short hair swaying in the night breeze.

"You're late." Her voice was like velvet, but with an edge to it that promised pain and death to anyone who tried anything untoward. "Why are you brooding?"

"Good evening to you too." He pushed past her, strolling into the living room of the manor house. He nodded to Morrigan, sitting on the sofa drinking iced tea. She looked stunning as ever in her flowing red gown, her blond hair spilling in shimmering waves across her shoulders.

"You ready to go yet?" A deep voice rumbled from the kitchen. Cassian stood in the doorway, his wings swept behind him, Az standing a foot behind him, shadows twining over his shoulders, chewing on an apple. Rhys shook his head.

"Yes, I'm ready to go. So sorry I'm late."

Azriel rolled his eyes and chucked the apple core over his shoulder into the bin. Rhys turned around, heading back out the door, expecting them to follow him, when a hand on his shoulder stopped him, spinning him back to face them.

"Wait. Are you ok?" Mor peered at him, eyes full of genuine concern.

"Of course. I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" Rhys was confused. He didn't think he'd been acting very differently recently but apparently they'd picked up on something or other.

"You've been distracted lately. You don't pay attention in important meetings; you don't pay attention in normal moments. It's like you're somewhere else. What's got you so stressed?" Amren cuts into the conversation, a mask of disinterest fixed over her face, but he could see beneath that. She was worried too.

"I'm not sure if you've noticed, but we have a war going on. I'm allowed to be stressed."

"We have a war on, and yet you make time to go to the Rainbow with us for dinner tonight." Cass points out, his two visible Siphons glinting like blood in the dimmed light, the other hidden from sight.

"I'm fine." Rhys insists, turning away, prowling out the door. "Drop it."

He can hear them sigh behind him, but he doesn't turn around, doesn't stop. They may be his friends, his family, but he is still their High Lord.

"Fine. But this isn't over." Amren brushed past him, flicking his shoulder as she goes. Only her, only them, his Court of Dreams, would he allow to be so familial with him. Only with them would he allow himself to be weak. But not today. Maybe they would understand, would help him, or maybe they'd be disappointed by his pointless preoccupation. No point in finding out.

By the time they've reached the Rainbow, Rhys' distractedness is the furthest thing from their minds. Rhys breathes an internal sigh of relief that they've let it go so easily, but he knows it won't last for long.

Mor is laughing with Azriel just ahead of him, Cassian the other side of their conversation, something light-hearted currently focused on what type of lamb is better; roasted in a restaurant or over a fire. Mor is voraciously arguing for restaurant prepared meat while Cass is a strong advocate for campfire cooking. Azriel is staying mostly quiet, watching Morrigan laughing, the ever-present shadows retreating slightly.

Amren walks beside them, short hair swaying in the night air, listening to their conversation but not deigning it with a response. They're heading to Sevenda's tonight, a normal, nice night.

Mor will probably head to Rita's afterwards, they'll all go home, and tomorrow, they'll get up and go to war, fighting their own people. But now isn't for tomorrow's stress. Tonight is for fun, for family.

It's peaceful, beautiful.

His family is happy, he is content, the night still and wonderful.

That's when the first explosion hits.