Hello, friends! I'm sorry for not posting lately, but exams are killing me. This is the shortest the chapters will ever get and the ACOTAR part is coming soon.
Disclaimer: I'm not Sarah J Maas and I do not own either TOG or ACOTAR
Without further ado...
Rhys had always solved the most perplexing of personal dilemmas while flying. Right before he had decided to answer Feyre's plea to be rescued from a marriage with Tamlin, he had taken to the airs. Just as he had done before being crowned High Lord. Something about the way the air stung his eyes and the way everything seemed so small from the clouds calmed him. Cleared his mind. And now was no different as he soared over the city and into the mountains, raging at himself and the hand he had been dealt. Before Under the Mountain, before Feyre and Hybern and everything else, Rhys would have gone. Fulfilled his ancient promise, and answered the plea. But now, with Feyre expecting and the last war still settling down, now… he couldn't go. Even if a piece of his magic, of his very soul, that had long slumbered, was now awake; and, even more unnerving was the fact that his magic yearned north. North towards Pyrathian, and north towards his brother. Maybe he should go. He could bear it, leaving Velaris for war once again. And yet, the baby.
So. Sorry again for the length. Ta Ta For Now!