Authors Note: A huge shout out and thank you to CrystalShadowStar for reviews, they're an incredible help for motivating me to keep updating. =)
Feyre
We were late, absolutely late as Rhys hurriedly flew us up to the House of Wind, the sky around us already dipping into darkness as the city lights below dimmed.
I felt the rustle of the wind through my freshly restyled hair, the original curls having been . . . mussed in Rhys and my earlier endeavors. The scant pieces of lace that my mate had bought me were hastily thrown on underneath my matching gown.
Said flimsy negligees that Rhys had slowly eased down and off of my hips, his palm encircling the tender spot at the apex of my thighs-
Heat rushed through me as I slammed down on the images.
I glanced up, shooting my mate a glare. Rhys only grinned in response, a chuckle resonating down the bond as heat stained my cheeks.
Insufferable.
We'd found ourselves . . . briefly side tracked prior to the Starfall celebration. "Briefly" equating to somewhere around three hours, I realized with a wince, if my rough calculations were to be believed.
I watched as the sun dipped beyond the horizon, Rhys's warmth seeping into me as we swept through the chilly night air.
It wasn't as though we'd miss the spirits though, I realized sadly, as the last of the Starfall spirits had disappeared thirteen years ago when Celeste's young life had been snuffed out. A fitting end I supposed since it had been rumored it'd been those very spirits and their magic that had awakened the sacred lilies that had given her to us in the first place.
I felt a familiar hollowness creep into the pit of my stomach as I thought on the fact that she would have been 23. Thirteen years without her and the wound still stung like it was new. I wondered briefly if the spirits would have still been here had she not perished.
My inner musings were interrupted as Rhys landed softly on one of the crowded balconies, the occupants moving out of the way of their High Lord and Lady as we descended onto the stone overhang. Rhys grinned down at me, the smile sending shock waves through my core and forcing my mind elsewhere as he sat me down gently, tugging at one of my loose curls.
Flirtatious ass.
I halfheartedly swatted at his hand, eliciting a warm chuckle before he gently pecked me on the cheek and turned to mosey through the crowd, no doubt looking for our second, needing to discuss matters with her regarding business on the main continent concerning the slavers who'd popped up in recent decades.
A hundred years after the war and things had improved, significantly so, but still pockets of fae and humans alike had taken to trafficking young helpless individuals. We'd deemed that it was our place to step in on behalf of Pyrthian, providing spies and hands to help in nailing down the ringleaders. We were getting closer and closer everyday to shutting down the main trade routes, slowly stitching the rift between humans and fae back together.
I shook my head, a soft smile rising to grace my lips. We were slowly leaving the world a better place than it had been before we'd come into it.
One promise I had been able to keep.
"Well, don't you look lovely this evening," a warm voice chirped to my left, and my gaze drifted over to land on warm amber eyes and green skin dusted with pale powder.
"Ressina," I greeted, smiling at my fellow painting instructor and now long-time friend, happy to have found her so quickly amongst the mulling crowd, "I'm glad to see you made it."
"Considering I had to climb up the lot of those stairs it's a miracle my outfit's in one piece at all." I smiled as I looked her over, the amber colored gossamer gown she'd chosen complimenting her pale green skin nicely, a color combination that could only have be rendered and appreciated by an artist's mind.
"Considering how pretty that dress is, I'm glad it is," I supplied with a smile, offering a hand out to my friend. "Shall we go find drinks? It seems like the party is already well underway."
"Sounds like a plan, partner." Ressina cut me a grin, eyebrows wiggling, "Should I inquire why you and your mate were late this evening or should I refrain from delving into the obvious?"
A blush heated my cheeks.
I gently shoved at her, eliciting a cackle. "You're impossible." I felt my own smile spread across my lips, tonight was indeed about celebration, it had to be so as to not lose myself in the darkness.
"More like incredibly jealous," she chirped happily, reaching her hand out to swipe up a long stem glass of sparkling rose from the refreshments table we'd just approached, "Those Illyrian males are something else, incredible really, you Archeron girls know how to pick them."
"Incredibly sensitive is more like it," I muttered with a snort, my nose now shoved into my own glass of rose as I peered over its edge across the room and its occupants, searching for familiar faces. It wasn't long before I picked out a familiar set of dark wings and a wobbling figure—
"How long has my son been drinking?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow at Cenric as he gripped the table for dear life as Cassian threw his head back cackling.
"Oh he's been at it since the party started," Ressina clicked her tongue, also raising a lovely sculpted brow to her hairline, "The lot of them have. I'm surprised he hasn't ended up on the floor yet."
I refrained from releasing an exasperated sigh. No one had warned me of the joys that motherhood would bring, the life and laughter and new-found desire to protect and cherish. The feeling of absolute devotion and meaning. Yet no one had warned me of the more . . . testing moments either.
Cenric belched loudly enough that I heard it from across the room. Cassian snorted and nearly dumped the bottle of amber liquid in his hands.
Motherhood indeed.
"Don't tell me that's all you can handle, pup," Cassian slurred, a lopsided grin on his face as he slammed down two more shot glasses full of amber liquid. Cenric had lost count at somewhere around thirteen. "I can't give you a proper apology if you can't hold the liquor."
Cenric didn't deign to reply as he felt the world wobble underneath him for the umpteenth time that night and threw his hands out on the table to keep his balance.
The bright lights from the Starfall decorations reflected blindingly around him and the humming and buzzing from the evening's guests were a whir in the back of his mind.
The black suit he'd donned earlier in the evening was now missing its jacket from where he'd slung it off somewhere around seven shots when the heat and sweat had become unbearable, he now only remained in a silk black button down and his pants, his shoes having vanished around shot eleven.
Rule number one of partying with Cassian, Cenric could practically see his father's deep violet eyes twinkling in amusement as he'd prepared to winnow from the Riverside Estate alongside his aunt and uncle, don't let him pour the liquor lest you want to puke your guts up for the following week.
Cassian had snorted and told his father that he was being dramatic and to "let the boy live a little."
That advice had fallen on deaf ears when Cassian had passed him three shots at the beginning of the party in the House of Wind to toast to his "former ass kickings and future successes."
Future successes in vomiting his guts up were more like it.
Cenric gave the amber glass, or rather glasses in his vision, a sidelong glance before snorting and swiping it up and throwing backwards down his throat, the liquid burning like hell as it trailed down his esophagus.
What harm were a few more?
"That's my boy!" Cassian cheered, his uncle's massive hand slamming into his shoulder in acknowledgement, rattling his near limp form. A few shouts of encouragement escaped the small crowd that had gathered around the small table centered between a few cushioned seats. "I knew you had a better tolerance than your siss of a father."
"If I recall correctly," a midnight voice chortled from across the table, Azriel's sharp hazel eyes narrowed on his nephew's wavering form, significantly less drunk than the other two, "you've never beaten our dear High Lord in a drinking contest."
Cassian shot Azriel a killer look accompanied by a less than polite gesture.
Azriel's lips quirked at the corners, his arms propped behind him and one ankle crossed over a knee from where he sat on the large chaise lounge, the spot next to him vacant from where Elaine had trailed off to find more food and spare herself from her nephew's inevitable alcohol poisoning.
Cenric slammed the glass on the table loudly before pushing himself upright and letting out a snort of amusement, consequences be damned. His only goal was to keep his feet beneath him for the remainder of the night, to not think about . . . her.
He barred her memory away in his mind, a delicate ivory box that he would only open when he was in the condition to remember.
"That's cause Dad's the . . . best," Cenric slurred with a hiccup, his shaggy black hair sticking to his skin, what was he doing here again?
Right . . . drinking, Starfall, not falling over-
"Oh my," a rich feminine voice trilled beside him, Mor's red dress flashing in his peripherals, "You left Cassian in charge of the alcohol didn't you." A tentative sniff. "Oh yes, most definitely Cassian's work."
Those bright brown eyes landed on the shadowsinger across the table, mirth brimming over their edges. "And I see you did a wondrous job of keeping it under control." A playful teasing.
Azriel only shook his head and sipped at the amber liquid is his own glass, casting an amused glance at Cenric, "He's an adult, he can make his own choices."
"Choices that are likely to earn him an ass kicking from his mother," Cenric registered a gentle hip bump that nearly sent him tumbling as the room around him blurred. "Not that you're exactly the pinnacle of a role model." Mor cut Cassian a dry look that elicited a snort from the General, then eyeballed the liquor on the table, contemplating, resolving some inner conflict.
"Anyway, you two don't know how this is done," she quipped, pouring herself a knuckles' length before throwing it back in her throat without hesitation. "I'll drink you both under the table."
"You're on!" Cassian produced a broad grin, his teeth flashing in the light as he propped an elbow on the table reaching for the bottle of liquor—
A soft hiss sounded as Nesta approached the table, her onyx gown flowing like liquid night on the floor, the bodice tight and low cut in the back. "Why am I not surprised." She cut Cassian a look. "Though if you're so inclined to drink yourself to death I might as well stay and enjoy the show." Cenric blinked blearily as her icy eyes landed on him, looking him over. "And you, my boy, have had enough."
Cenric snorted, ignoring his hellcat of an aunt and wiggled fingers towards the bottle his uncle had just poured from. "Not your call," he chirped, his voice beyond slurred, whatever he had intended to drink away having slipped away as the alcohol fuzzed his mind.
"He's fine Nes," Cassian replied, waving a hand and shuffling off his mate, "He's the same age Az, Rhys and I were when we started having such binges."
"It's no surprise then really where all of those brain cells of yours went," Nesta responded coolly, watching as Cenric fumbled for a glass, something simmering in her eyes at the sight, "I'd prefer you not drag the rest of the world down with your idiocy."
Cassian ignored her.
Cenric dumped the shot glass.
Nesta only lifted a brow before striding over to the chaise lounge adjacent to the one Azriel occupied and sitting down, her steely gaze remaining on her nephew.
Cassian poured another round of shots and he, Cenric and Mor clinked glasses and threw the liquid back.
Rhysand
I moved through the crowd offering greetings and smiles to the people of Velaris, all dressed in their finery and laughing merrily as they reached out and clasped hands with me or offered small bows.
I caught site of a familiar dark head perched in the lap of a white-haired male, laughing at something the latter must have said.
"Rhysand," Amren greeted with a feral grin, her silver eyes landing on my face as she quirked her head ever so slightly, "I see you deigned to join us."
"Feyre and I were busy attending to Night Court duties," I purred.
"I'd hardly consider fucking Night Court duties," she snorted with sidelong glance, Varian choking on his drink as the words left his lover's mouth, eyes wide. "If you're going to lie about it at least make it more believable."
I could only offer her a grin in response.
She didn't deign to reply, her attention directing to her manicured nails.
"Any news from Lucien?" I inquired, shoving my hands into my pockets. In the time since the war Lucien had been engulfed into the family, though he still claimed himself a part of Spring since his and Tamlin's reconciliation decades prior.
We'd allied with Spring those many years ago when the Queens struck out against the failing borders of Spring and the patchwork human realm south of the wall and we'd had to push back their efforts.
Our ties with Spring were still . . . tense, but civil. Trying to get Feyre and I to remain more than an hour in a room with Tamlin was a miracle but one we somehow managed at the now annual meeting of the High Lords, an alliance that had brokered peace and protection for the newly formed kingdom to the south.
Somehow Helion still had yet to make the connection of Lucien's link to him.
"None," Amren replied, sipping from a long-stemmed glass of the reddest wine, her now favored substitution to her former diet. "Apparently the leads Lucien had picked up on went silent in the Southern Seas, some storm wiped them out on a trip to some remote location."
"Less work for us then," I replied, hearing the murmuring of the crowd begin to quiet. I glanced over my shoulder to see a dark-haired female walk to the far edge of the room where the instruments for the night's musicians stood.
"It appears we're about to have a show," Amren mused, crossing one leg over the other while still in Varian's lap, "I don't believe I've seen her before." Her red-painted lips tilted downwards, eyes squinting.
Something about the woman set off bells in my mind, something familiar about the sharp features and the dark hair.
"I didn't realize you'd invited new musicians," Amren inquired, still staring intently at the female.
"I didn't." I answered, watching the woman step to the center of the room, garnering everyone's attentions. A pale gown flowed down her slender form and her long dark hair flowed over her ears and down her slim back.
"Perhaps she's one of the new apprentices in the artist's quarter," Varian supplied, wrapping a muscular forearm tighter around his lover's waist, watching the woman as she ran a hand down the length of the tall harp erected at the center.
"Maybe," I murmured, my brows knitting at the center of my forehead as I ran through the familiar faces of the local musicians who I interacted with.
"Well," Amren said with a feral grin, the animalistic side of her still prominent as ever, "I guess we'll just have to watch and see."
Feyre
"If I may," A soft sweet soprano voice chimed above the crowd, directing everyone's focus to the front of the room, where a small fae woman stood.
I did not recognize her.
I looked to Ressina, confusion dancing across her jade face.
It seemed as though even she had no idea who the dark-haired female was who now stood beside a large harp, her shoulders back and dark eyes roaming across the room.
The music was not scheduled to have begun for another hour.
The woman turned towards me, her brown eyes nearly black as she bowed once.
All murmuring had stopped as silence permeated the room.
Who is she? I chimed down the bond, the question reverberating between us.
A pause. I'm not certain, Rhys responded, turning his gaze from her to me.
"A gift," she began, locking eyes with mine, her sharp features rough-hewn, before turning her attention to Rhys across the room from us watching her, "for my High Lord and Lady on this lovely evening of Starfall."
She gave a small bow before lowering herself onto the padded stool and plucking at the strings of the harp, the tune slow and haunting.
The bond had gone silent, tense, quaking.
Disbelieving whispers rushed through the crowd but went quiet as the woman began to pick out a more steady, dreary tune.
I noticed from the corner of my eye a shuffling of wings and flowing red as the rest of our family turned their attention to the unexpected performance.
Silence rippled through the crowd as music thrummed through the air, its slow melody tilting and heavy, the thrum of the strings near weeping. The lovely fae woman sat before the harp, delicate fingers plucking as she began to sing-
T'was down in that garden of lilies,
Where he and the little girl did meet,
Eyes of violet stone and hair a night black sheet,
Born of fortune and wealth was that dame,
Oh yes everyone did know 'er name.
Something in my stomach clenched as I heard the sorrowful voice echo across the room, an image of a bright eyed little girl flaring to life in my mind and picking at a puckered wound still healing in my heart.
From heaven said star was graced,
Blessed with beauty was that fair face,
Each a gift to go hand and hand,
A darling lady born to lead the land.
I wasn't sure I was breathing as I felt Ressina's hand slip into my own clammy one.
Something nagged at me, wrong, wrong it repeated.
Something wasn't right.
As they spoke whispers of summer roses and thyme,
Off to slumber the small one did sleep,
A bane bottle in his pocket did he keep,
The small dear one she did not know
So he poisoned that dear little girl
Down under the banks below.
My heart stopped in my chest.
I barely registered Amren rising from her position in Varian's lap and striding to my mate's side, her eyes narrowing as she watched the woman with a predatory intensity.
Rhys had gone utterly still, his eyes wide and lips thin.
Atop her head she bore a heavy crown,
Her sire's sins which weighed it down,
In the moonlight of the night,
Her pale skin not marred by the sun,
Oh the kings brother did know what'd he'd done.
The talons of emotions that I had long since smoothed into submission reared up and slashed at the chains that held my self-control intact, the chains that kept my feelings contained, that prevented me from the full on slaughter of the people who had ripped my youngest away from me.
I felt fire begin to dance in my veins, screaming for release, the sweet caress of eternal darkness demanding to be set free.
Everyone had gone deathly still in the crowd, their faces wan and features pinched as though in pain.
I bit down on the flame and darkness, forcing myself to take control, there were too many innocents that would be caught in the crossfire-
Through her wings a saber drawn,
Severing the ties to right her father's wrong
Into the ocean dropped was she,
That fair little girl taken by he.
Nesta had moved up beside Cassian, her face white with rage as she locked eyes on the singing woman. Elaine was tucked into Azriel's side, her face pale as she gripped the shadowsinger's arm, tears sliding down her cheeks.
The twin to the ones streaming down my own.
Our king spoke the words,
That honor would set us free,
If he would murder that dear little girl
Who named Celeste was she
I heard a sharp crunch and shot my attention to the left; Cenric had crushed the glass in his hand, the sound of his uneven breathing clear across the room.
Mor sent a worried glance towards her nephew, sobriety having already begun to take hold with the sudden change of tone.
My king sits, awaiting our beck and call,
The martyr to rise then take the fall,
Biding his time to rise to the sky,
For only his brother soon shall walk
To yonder scaffold high
Her features, they were so familiar but so unlike anything I'd seen in Velaris—
She bore no wings, but the features, the carefully hidden round ears and sharp cheekbones, I should have known instantly . . .
She was Illyrian.
The scaffold now waits for he
Nesta was moving across the room, a black blur of fabric as she cut through the crowd.
For the prince did murder that dear little girl
Who named Celeste was she.
The woman finished the last note as Nesta's hand wrapped around her arm and jerked her upright, hissing.
"Who in the hell are-" The woman spat in her face, expertly twisting out of my sister's hold and shoving her back. Cassian was at her side in an instant along with Azriel and Mor, creating a protective wall between the woman and the crowd beyond.
The woman stood before squaring her shoulders and staring our Court down.
"My name is Serys. I was the wife of one of the soldiers you let die in the great war," she growled, her dark eyes narrowing as she took in the crowd, "And I am the messenger sent to tell you our King will still rise."
King.
Something oily pooled in my stomach as my mind raced back to a dark-haired young warrior who had challenged Rhys's reign over the Illyrians years ago and had nearly walked out the victor.
A young man who had once been considered an ally, a younger brother of sorts to Cassian and Azriel.
Someone who had vanished into void after Celeste's capture.
I thought this had ended, this rebellion and turmoil that had festered so violently in the Illyrian Steppes, that had cost Cassian countless soldiers and families who had willingly died defending their backwards traditions-
"Your reign of pain and anguish will end," She pointed at Rhys, who stood frozen to the spot, his face drained entirely of color, "and it started with your daughter. THAT was the price you paid for your crown-"
I felt the flinch race down the bond as the words escaped the woman's mouth, like a slap to the face. The guilt seeping violently like a torrent of hell from Rhys.
I bared my teeth.
"You will all pay for the lives you stole," her eyes shifted over to Azriel and Cassian, lip curling in disgust, "even you bastard-born nobodies and the monstrosities you call lovers-"
Out of the corner of my eye, before the woman, Serys, could finish her tirade, I saw Cenric straighten, his cobalt eyes shimmering with rage.
I had only seen fury like that once before, in the eyes of his father.
No one could react quickly enough as a snarl tore from my son's throat and in the blink of an eye, with a wave of unchecked power that sent even my senses reeling, he blasted the wingless Illyrian female to ash.