#been able to except to keep her locked up in Velaris where Rhys and Feyre have access to her power | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theladyofdeath · 4 years

Text

The Ranch {20}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @snelbz x @tacmc

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

The Ranch Masterlist

Nesta awoke with a gasp, her hands instinctively reaching for her baby, for her precious, baby girl.

But her arms were tied behind her back.

She looked around, trying to figure out where she was, what time it was, if she recognized anything. And she thought she must be dreaming.

Because she was in the little house on the neighboring property. In Armand and Collette’s home. She could see the sun getting ready to rise over the hills.

She was alone, no one else in sight, but it was obvious who was behind it all. She instantly began crying, silently, knowing who was behind it all, knowing that Cassian was raising hell trying to find her in her absence.

“Hello?” She called.

But there was nothing. No response, no footsteps, nothing.

Nesta tried breaking out of her bonds, but there was no use, they were too tight. The infant within her womb moved, and Nesta let loose a breath of relief. If nothing else, baby girl was okay.

She regretted ever letting Tomas into her life, regretted letting him know anything about her, including that damned property.

She tried to stop the sob that tore from her, but she feared, not for herself, but for her daughter. She didn’t know who to pray to, didn’t know if she should scream or cry or start saying her last rights.

“Tomas, please,” she finally called. “Just let me go and I promise I won’t do anything. I won’t say anything, just…” She sobbed again. “Please don’t hurt my baby.”

The silence was almost worse than if he would have responded.

After a few minutes of no response, a wholly new fear washed over Nesta. Tomas wasn’t here. Yes, he would be coming back, he was the only one, aside from Cassian who knew this house belonged to her. But he wasn’t here and she didn’t know when he’d be back.

Nesta knew it wouldn’t do anything, knew that no one was around to hear her, but she was unable to stop herself as she threw her head back and screamed at the top of her lungs.

——

Azriel was awake at four-thirty like he was every day. He’d made some calls the night before, arranged for some contacts he knew in the ranching community to come take care of Cassian and Nesta’s place, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t getting up early for a reason.

He slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Elain, and got ready, before making his way downstairs. He found Cassian standing at the kitchen island, a mug of black coffee on his left side, a glass of whiskey on his right.

“I can’t decide which to drink,” he breathed, and Az had never heard his brother’s voice so empty.

“Hey,” he said, resting a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to find her.”

Cass swallowed hard, but nodded. Azriel pulled him into a hug and Cassian didn’t try to hide the tears that ran down his cheeks as he embraced his brother. Their family had always been there for each other, lending strength when the other needed it.

They just never imagined they’d need it so desperately.

After a minute, Cass decided on drinking both, tossing the whiskey back and leaning back against the island as he drank his coffee. “Rhys is on his way. He’s been awake since three.”

Azriel looked at the digital clock over the stove and raised an eyebrow. “What’s he been doing to just now be on the way?”

He knew the likely answer involved Feyre, but he couldn’t imagine that they’d be focusing on that at a time like this.

“Same as me,” Cassian said, reaching into the back of his waistband, pulling out the warm metal and removing the magazine before he set the gun on the counter. “Making sure that if we see him, he won’t get away this time.”

Azriel hesitated. Yes, he wanted to make sure Nesta and the baby were safe. It was all he could think about. But what Cassian wanted so desperately to do would only make the situation worse.

“Cass-.”

“No,” he said, voice low. “I know what you’re going to say, so save your breath. When I see him, he’s a fucking dead man.”

“He’ll be locked up, Cass. She’ll be safe, the baby will be safe, you don’t have to-.”

“He fucking took her!” Cassian yelled, his voice echoing throughout the house. Azriel didn’t say a word, wasn’t surprised by his brother’s anger, his frustration. “He deserves a lot worse than a few years behind bars, Az!”

“Yeah, he does,” Azriel said, quietly. “But, so do you, and if you shoot him and he dies, there’s a real good chance you’ll miss quite a bit of your daughter's life.”

Cassian’s jaw locked and he looked away as another tear fell from his hazel eyes.

“Stay armed,” Azriel said. “Use it in self-defense, if it comes to it, but use it wisely. Not out of anger.��

The stairs creaked from the other room and the two men fell quiet as Elain stepped around the corner. Her eyes were red, her cheeks still wet. There wasn’t a jealous bone in Azriel’s body as she walked to Cassian and wrapped her arms around him.

His large frame crumbled in a way Azriel hadn’t seen in years, hadn’t seen since they were children and his mother had died. Regardless of Elain’s arms holding him, his knees hit the floor and he was unable to stop the full-body sob that tore from him. He could hear Elain’s quiet sobs, too, could see her back shaking.

Without a word, Azriel stepped out into the crisp, early day and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his truck. He didn’t smoke anymore, had quit years ago, but his nerves were shot and he needed something to take the edge off. He sat down on the porch and lit it, taking a drag in and blowing it out. He wasn’t sure where the smoke stopped and his breath in the cold air began.

A black truck rumbled down the street and parked behind his own and when Rhys jumped out, Azriel could still see that same anger from last night simmering in his violet eyes. When they saw Az though, they guttered slightly. “I thought you quit.”

He put the cigarette back to his lips and pulled. “Figured no one would care if I made an exception today.”

Rhys nodded and made to step around his brother, but Azriel caught his hoodie sleeve. “Just...give them a minute.”

Rhys looked to the door, knowing what he meant. He inclined his head to the truck, where Az could see a head of golden brown hair in the front seat. “Feyre is… She’s a fucking mess.”

“Elain did well, for most of the night,” Azriel admitted, ashing his cigarette. “But just a few minutes ago, she came downstairs and Cass was awake…”

Rhys nodded, sitting next to Az. They were pissed. They were scared. But the fear that the two of them felt was nothing to that of Cassian, Elain, and Feyre.

“I don’t need to have the gun talk with you, too, right?” Az asked, glancing down to where Rhys’ pistol was holstered at his side, and flicked the cigarette butt into the flower bed. Elain would be pissed at him for that, but he’d deal with that later. “No,” Rhys said, shaking his head. “I’m not an idiot. I told him I was bringing my gun, just in case. He gave me the same shit about giving Mandray what he deserves that I’m sure he gave you.”

Azriel nodded, eyes weary. “He’s never been able to control his anger on the little things, much less…”

Rhysand just nodded in understanding as he checked the time. “I say if the cops don’t call us back with any news in the next thirty minutes, we just go searching alone.”

“I say we go now,” Azriel agreed, then gestured over his shoulder to the house. “As soon as they’re ready.”

Cassian must’ve sensed it, because he appeared in the doorway a minute later, Elain at his heels, zipping up her hoodie.

Azriel stood, and they all stood in silence for a few seconds before Cassian, without saying a word, padded down the front steps and into the cool, eerie, early morning.

————

Nesta wasn’t sure at what point she’d passed out. She wasn’t sure if she’d passed out while she’d be screaming or if it was while she was sobbing or praying or she’d just fallen asleep while she waited and waited for the end.

Whether that was the end of this ordeal or the end of her life or the end of her baby’s, she didn’t know.

She wasn’t sure what had woken her either. Her baby was moving, but no more or less than normal, and she didn’t hear anyone else in the cottage with her.

But as she slowly blinked, trying to pull herself back into consciousness, she felt an ache from within her abdomen.

Nesta sat up, pulling on her restraints as she softly gasped and tried to resituate to stop the throbbing from inside her. But then she heard the soft dripping and felt the wetness beneath her.

Trying to keep her breathing even, Nesta glanced down at herself, down at the floor. She couldn’t even try to convince herself that she’d wet herself, she knew exactly what was happening, especially as a sharp pain from inside took her breath away.

“No, no, no,” she cried, looking around, for something, anything, whatever she could use or do to get herself free, get herself out of here.

Because her water had broken.

Nesta was in labor.

And her baby was coming.

She began to panic, so much more than she had before. She would not give birth in such a hellhole. That damned place would not be the first place her baby sees.

Once again, she tried to break those bonds, but nothing worked. She screamed and screamed and screamed until her voice became raw, broken.

She sobbed.

She called for Cassian.

She prayed to whoever was listening that it would all be over soon.

But it didn’t matter.

She was completely, utterly alone.

A distant pain in her abdomen came again, and although it wasn’t bad, she knew it to be a contraction.

“Not yet, baby girl,” she breathed, sobbed, begged. “Not yet, please.”

A door slammed from somewhere in the house and everything inside her went stil, even the precious life trying so hard to enter the world. She breathed, “No, gods, please no…”

Footsteps sounded on the stairs from the garage and the door behind her opened.

“Look at that,” he crooned, the voice raising the hair on the back of her neck. “Either you pissed yourself or you’re about to have our little girl.”

Our little girl.

“You’re insane,” she gasped, another contraction made her look at the clock above the mantle.

He stepped around until he was looking down at her.

The brutal gash along his face was red and angry, the stitches still fresh. She knew the wound she’d given him on the arm was likely in the same shape. He clearly hadn’t gone to a hospital, the stitches weren’t nearly as neat as they should have been. No, Nesta knew who owed Tomas a favor from years ago, a favor that she’d hoped Tomas had forgotten about.

“I hope you didn’t pull Isaac Hale into this,” she breathed. “He’s a good man, a good vet.”

Tomas head tilted to the side, his eyes showing just how unhinged he’d become. “Would he be as good of a vet if I hadn’t driven his little girlfriend to the clinic in Adriata to have that abortion all those years ago? How’s Claire doing anyways?”

Nesta spit in his face.

She shouldn’t have been surprised when his hand cracked against her cheek. She cried out and he gripped her face in his hand. “How long have you been in labor?”

“Fuck off, Tomas,” she growled, trying to pull from him. He just squeezed tighter.

“When did your water break, Nes?”

The nickname, so familiar, sounded wrong coming from him. She looked back to the clock. “I don’t know. When I woke up, I was having contractions.”

He tilted her head back so she was looking at him. “And that was what? An hour ago, two hours ago?”

She didn’t hesitate. “Forty-eight minutes ago.”

He smiled and it was the most terrifying thing Nesta had ever seen. “Good girl.” He turned and headed behind her into the kitchen. She could hear him opening and closing drawers as he said, “To answer my own question from earlier, by the way, Claire’s doing great. Did you know she’s a nurse?” Nesta felt her blood go cold. “She’ll be here in about fifteen minutes. Turns out she owed me that favor, too.”

She was dreaming.

She had to be.

This was absurd, insane, and no possible way it could be her current reality. No, she had to be dreaming, dreaming of her paranoia, dreaming of ghosts from the past.

And yet, as that pain in her abdomen came again, increased, she knew that this was very much real.

“When Cassian finds me, he’ll kill you,” she breathed, her tears still streaming down her face, silently. “He’ll put a bullet in your head and he won’t hesitate.”

“You always did like threats,” Tomas crooned from where he stood behind the kitchen wall. She couldn't imagine what he was digging around for, didn’t want to know. “Too bad I never took you seriously. Didn’t then, don’t now. I’m not afraid of Cassian Nazari.”

You should be, she wanted to hiss, but remained silent. Instead, she caught herself wondering where her fiancé was, and when the fuck he would find her.

Because he had to.

She couldn’t go out like this.

Their baby couldn’t come into the world like this.

In Tomas’ absence, she closed her eyes and took deep, calming breaths. Stressing and panic would only speed up the process of labor, and she wanted to string it out as long as possible. As difficult as it was, for her daughter’s sake, she did her breathing exercises to the best of her ability. With her eyes closed, she imagined Cassian’s face smiling brightly at her from across the pasture, on horseback.

She imagined him painting the nursery, imagined him picking up the little baby shoes Nesta had bought and tearing up at the sight of them. She imagined the way he looked when he made love to her, imagined his voice whispering those three little words that set her soul on fire every time they came from his beautiful lips.

Tomas began to hum from the other room, the sound the most ominous thing Nesta had ever heard. It only became worse as he came back into the living room, softly singing the words.

Hush little baby, don’t say a word. Daddy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird.

Nesta couldn’t stop the sob, couldn’t stop the tears that fell as she opened her eyes and looked at what he was holding in his hands. Towels. Handfuls and handfuls of towels.

And if that mockingbird don’t sing, daddy’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.

He gripped Nesta’s arm and pulled her engagement ring from her finger. She sobbed, unable to stop him as he walked away, screaming at him to stop. His steps softened as he headed into the kitchen and the garbage disposal turned on.

And then she heard the sound of metal on metal, grinding and snapping.

“What the fuck do you want Tomas?” she cried, the pain in her stomach increasing with every wave. “Please, just let me go. Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you. You know I have money, I can-.”

He appeared in front of her again, for just long enough that she anticipated the stinging against her cheek this time, she just wasn’t expecting to taste blood. “Are you trying to put a price on our relationship, Nesta? After everything I’ve done for us?”

A door opened down the hall, from the direction of the front door and a small voice said, “Hello? It- It’s Claire.”

Tomas’ smile turned Nesta’s blood to ice. “It’s time to meet our daughter.”

____

Cassian had asked everyone in town.

No one had seen Nesta.

Or Tomas.

It made no sense. They had to be somewhere, there were only so many places to go in this little town. Even then, no one had even seen Tomas’ truck, which means they most likely hadn’t left town.

At least, that’s what Cassian kept telling himself.

It was nearing noon and they had been at it, their little group split up all over town, for over six hours. He’d looked everywhere. Even the places he thought were impossible for him to be hiding, he’d looked. The others had, too, desperately. Azriel, Rhys, Feyre, and Elain. And yet, absolutely nothing.

The feeling of hopelessness that had settled into the pit of his stomach was overwhelming.

Once he made it back to the ranch, Cassian figured maybe he was thinking about it a little too hard. The main house was empty of guests now, as he and Nesta had made it their home for their baby, which means they had hardly spent any time in the little houses out back. But when he inspected the cabin and the little modern house at the end of the dirt path, there was no sign of them.

Beau had been with him all day, helping him search for Nesta. With his keen sense of smell, Cassian knew he’d be helpful. With no luck, though, Beau spent most of the day whining at Nesta’s absence, fully aware that something had gone horribly wrong.

His phone rang and it was out of his pocket and held up to his ear before the end of the first ring. “Hello?”

“Isaac Hale gave a horse named Mandrake sixty-two stitches this morning.” He couldn’t recognize the voice on the other side of the phone.

He looked at the number, seeing it had come in from a blocked number. He frantically asked, “Who is this?”

“Mandrake,” the voice said slowly. “Sixty-two stitches.”

“I don’t understand-.”

The line went dead.

His phone rang again, but it was Rhys this time. “Hello?”

“Any luck?” He asked, voice empty, but hopeful.

He sighed, “No, but I just got the weirdest phone call.”

“About Isaac Hale giving some random horse stitches?” Rhys asked.

Cassian froze mid-stride. “Mandrake?”

“No,” Rhys breathed. “Dos More.”

Cassian’s phone began to vibrate in his hand. He looked at his phone and saw that Azriel was calling him. He told Rhys, “I think we need to pay Isaac Hale a visit. Now.”

________

Claire was sniffling as she unpacked the bag of medical supplies she’d raided from Isaac’s veterinary office that morning.

Nesta breathed, tugging on the restraints holding her to the bed, terrified for Tomas to hear her, “Claire, please. Get me out of here.”

Her eyes wouldn’t meet Nesta’s as she whispered, “I can’t, he’s- Nesta, he’ll kill me. He’ll kill Isaac.”

Nesta opened her mouth to reply, but she gasped as the most excruciating of all her contractions so far took her breath away.

She felt hands on the waistband of her leggings, still covered in Tomas’ blood and soaked from her water breaking, and tried to jerk away. “No!”

Claire said, “I need to check and see what you’re dilated to. You’ve been in labor for hours and if I don’t make sure she’s sitting right, she could suffocate.”

Nesta’s face paled and she saw a moment of hesitance on Claire’s face as she glanced over her shoulder, hearing Tomas’ footsteps head towards the garage, then the door opened and closed.

He was leaving again. She didn’t know why, but he was leaving.

“Please, we need to run,” Nesta begged, knowing this could be their only shot.

Claire began tugging her leggings down. “Nesta, if we leave right now, you will bleed out in the woods. There is nothing around this place for miles.”

“My ranch,” she breathed. “My ranch shares a property line, we can make it.”

Claire pulled a pair of gloves on and came around to her side, pressing a hand against her belly and checking her cervix. “No, we can’t,” she said, a worried look on her face. “You’re about at a seven. You’re going to have to start pushing soon.”

Nesta sobbed, and she didn’t care what she looked like, what she sounded like. All that shit was long gone.

All she cared about now was her baby girl.

And making sure Tomas Mandray would pay.

“Claire,” she whispered.

Claire froze, although she didn’t meet Nesta’s gaze.

“Just…” Nesta began, her sobs shaking her body. “Just make sure she’s okay, alright? Make sure Cassian takes care of her, okay?”

Tears were flowing freely down Claire’s cheeks. “Nesta-.”

“If I die, if I don’t make it out of this,” Nesta cried, quietly, “make sure Cassian gets her, please.”

She knew it was a request that Claire probably couldn’t fulfill, but she nodded, nonetheless. “I will. I’m so sorry, Nesta.”

“I know,” Nesta breathed, and Claire took Nesta’s hand, and they sat still for a moment in the silence. She couldn’t stop the scream that tore from her as another contraction, much stronger and much sooner than she was expecting hit her. Claire’s eyes jumped from Nesta’s to their clasped hands, where Nesta was bound to the bed. “Please,” she whispered, seeing the thought in Claire’s eyes. “Please, I won’t run. I’ll stay here. Just please…” Nesta didn’t bother to try and stop the sob. “Don’t make me have my baby tied to the bed. At least give me that.”

Claire hesitated for only a second more before she quickly loosened the knots around Nesta’s wrists.

Nesta sat up a bit, pulling her knees up, and putting her weight into her hands. She felt like she needed to hold her breath, but knew she shouldn’t. She was trying to remember anything and everything she’d learned in that stupid birthing class they’d gone to.

“Do you feel like you need to push?” Claire asked. Nesta had her eyes closed, but she was focusing hard on her breathing. She nodded. Claire said, “Nesta.” She opened her eyes and looked at her, not trying to mask the fear on her face. “That means it's time to push.”

--------

Cassian pushed through the glass doors of Isaac’s Veterinary clinic, locking eyes with the man himself at the front desk. His skin went deathly white the moment he saw Cassian, which confirmed that they needed to have a conversation.

“Where is she,” he hissed, voice low, the moment he reached the desk.

Isaac looked around, even though there was no one else in the small reception area with him. “Cassian-.”

“Where. Is. She.” He repeated, gripping Isaac’s collar.

Isaac just shook his head. “He’s got Claire, and he’s dangerous, Cass-.”

“If you don’t tell me what you know, I’ll smash your head against this desk and I won’t feel bad about it,” Cassian snapped.

Isaac's eyes grew weary. “Please-.”

“She’s carrying my child,” Cassian said, his voice breaking.

Cassian could see the internal conflict going on through Isaac’s eyes. For a moment, Cassian thought he’d have to torture the poor veterinarian, the young man that they’d known their entire lives, but then, in the quietest of voices, Isaac said, “She’s on your land. In a little beaten down cabin.”

She’s on your land.

The cottage.

She had been right there, and he’d never even thought about it. Of course Tomas knew about the cabin, but he probably assumed Cassian didn’t.

Fuck.

He didn’t even realize he’d said the word aloud, much less yelled it until one of the patients across the room looked in their direction.

Cassian was halfway out the door when Isaac called his name. He turned back, seeing a broken man. He repeated, “He’s got Claire, too. Get her, please.”

Cassian nodded once and was out the door.

Rhys and Azriel were waiting in Rhys’ truck, Elain and Feyre with them. Feyre scooted into the middle seat as Cassian climbed back into the passenger side. “Home, go the fuck home.”

“What?” Rhys asked, violet eyes wide. “What do you-?”

Cassian was already dialing the number of the detective that had been assigned to their case. “Those French people she knew, the property next door.”

All four of them stared at her. She hadn’t told them. She hadn’t told her fucking famliy about the people she’d met, the bond she grew with them.

Which means they had no fucking clue where the cottage was.

“Just drive to the fucking ranch!” he yelled, putting the phone to his ear, his hands shaking, his mind whirling.

Rhysand didn’t hesitate as he put the truck in reverse and pulled out of the parking space.

The ride was quiet, and even though it was only a five minute drive, Cassian felt like it took a lifetime. All that time, she was so close. He felt like a horrible person, not even thinking about her being right next door.

“Drive faster,” Cassian hissed.

“I’m driving as fast as I can without running us off the road,” Rhysand snapped.

Tensions were high.

They were so close, now.

They just had to get to her.

“Go past our drive,” Cass said, pointing ahead. “Just go straight to theirs.”

Rhys did as he was told, but Feyre said, “Cass, I can’t think of any other driveway on this road. It just dead ends at the river.”

He knew that was the case, but he had no idea how to figure out where it was.

Actually, he could think of one.

“Get to the house,” he breathed. “We have to catch the horses.”

-------------

The pain was so all consuming, so absolutely mind numbing, that Nesta wasn’t sure how the world managed to repopulate as long as it did before modern medicine and epidurals. She screamed, holding onto the footboard while Claire crouched, her hands held out beneath her.

“You’re almost there, Nesta,” she said, keeping her voice calm, even. It was clear that she was in her element, even in the situation they were currently in. “I need you to take a deep breath, let it out and push one more time.”

She nodded and did as she was told, for what felt like the thousandth time, and ended up sobbing again.

She cried, “I can’t. I can’t anymore.”

It had been nearly an hour since she started pushing, and though Claire was keeping herself collected, she urged Nesta, “You have to push, she’s almost here, Nes. I can see her head, She can’t stay where she is.”

Nesta shook her head, her hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, her tear stained cheeks. She needed Cassian, she needed her rock. But he wasn’t here, couldn’t be here.

Claire gave her a couple more seconds to breathe and said, “Come on, squat back down, and give me one more big, push, the biggest one you’ve got in you, okay?”

Nesta closed her eyes, thinking of Cassian as she breathed in and out, trying to calm herself. She took a deep breath in and braced down as hard as she could. She could feel her nails splitting against the wooden bed frame.

The world went silent for a moment. Her eyes were shut, but all she could see was bright, white light, all she could feel was warmth and comfort and peace. Nesta wondered if she might be dead, if she’d somehow gotten lucky in all of this and spared from Tomas' cruelty.

But then the most amazing sound she’d ever heard had her opening her eyes, bringing her back to the real world.

She heard her baby crying.

Nesta was crying, too. And Claire, even as she held the screaming infant in a bloody towel, had tears streaming down her face.

She cut the umbilical cord, helping Nesta back on the bed.

She handed Nesta her daughter, as well as a clean, wet towel, and said, “Lie back, I have to stitch you up.”

She did as she was told, trying not to think about what was happening as she carefully cleaned her baby’s face up. “Hello, beautiful girl,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry your daddy’s not here to meet you. He’ll be here soon.”

Her voice was becoming weaker and weaker and Claire said, “Nesta, I need you to keep talking to me. You have to stay awake, okay? Everything went awesome, better than some of the births I do every day in the hospital, but I need you to stay awake.”

She nodded, trying to do as she was told.

When Claire finished, she helped Nesta into what could only be described as a glorified adult diaper, pulling the oversized hoodie she wore over it, and helped her lay back on the bed. “I’m going to get her cleaned up,” she said, holding her arms out for the baby.

Nesta’s arms tightened around her daughter, suddenly afraid to trust Claire.

“I promise, I’m just going to clean her off and I’ll bring her right back.” Nesta could see the sincerity in Claire’s eyes, at least she hoped she did as she handed her daughter to her.

Claire hurried out of the room and Nesta heard the sink in the bathroom turn on. The water ran for a solid three or four minutes before it turned off and she returned, the baby wrapped in a soft, white sheet.

She handed the baby back to Nesta, sitting on the bed at her feet. “What’s her name?”

“Sloan,” she breathed, gazing down at the perfect little thing she had somehow managed to bring into the world. “Ilsa Sloan Nazari.”

The tuft of dark hair on her head, it was the same color as Cassian’s, just as her skin was the same rich tan. But when Nesta brushed a finger over her soft cheek, and her eyes fluttered open, those were her own stormy eyes surrounded in dark, long lashes.

They could hear heavy, quick footsteps coming up from the garage and Nesta’s arms tightened around her daughter. Claire stood, turning and standing between Nesta and the hall. When the door finally burst open, Tomas was on his phone, yelling at someone, but Nesta couldn’t figure out who. He’d left the door to the garage open as he hurried up to the second floor of the cottage, going to get the gods knew what.

“Claire,” Nesta said, tears already running down her cheeks. She turned and Nesta was already pressing Sloan into her arms. “You promised. Get out, get to the woods, and run away from the setting sun. You’ll get to my property. Just get her to her father, please.”

Claire was already shaking her head before Nesta finished speaking, but she clutched the baby to her chest. “Nesta, no, I can’t-.

“You can, and you promised,” Nesta said, her voice breaking as she began to sob again. “Get her out of here. I don’t care what he does to me, just go before he comes back.”

For a brief moment, Nesta was worried she wouldn’t honor her earlier word, but then she was off, sprinting out the open door to the garage. Nesta got to her feet, hissing in pain and limped to the window. Claire came from around the side of the house she couldn’t see, but she watched as she ran as fast as she could into the wood, away from the sun, just like Nesta said, and disappeared into the trees. She couldn’t stop the whimper of relief that left her, but she clamped a hand over her mouth as she remembered he was back in the house.

With a deep breath, she crept along the wall and left the room, making her way into the hallway and then out into the open living room. She could still hear Tomas screaming into his phone and she took that as a sign that he was preoccupied. Though it made her vision blur, Nesta hurried into the kitchen and grabbed the tool that had served her well many times before and had served her well enough the night before.

Nesta had come to terms earlier in the day with the fact that her life was most likely going to end tonight, but that didn’t mean she would go out without a fight.

------

Cassian and Rhys were riding as fast as they could through the trees. He knew nothing about the cottage, not where it sat on the property or how big it was, just that Nesta had said she’d always ridden west. So they followed the sun. They rode for what felt like hours but could only have been minutes before Rhys called, “Who the fuck is that?”

But Cassian knew, gods, he immediately knew. He was off his horse before he’d even stopped, calling her name. “Claire!”

She looked towards his voice and the sob that left her could be heard the quarter mile that separated them. He sprinted towards her, slowing down when he noticed the small bundle in her arms. He froze. “No.”

Rhys appeared by his side, and he breathed, “Tell me she’s not holding a fucking baby.”

Cass was moving again and he caught Claire as she met them, crying.

The little bundle in her arms began to cry, too, as Cassian took his daughter into his arms.

“She begged me to take her,” Claire sobbed. “Tomas threatened me, so I delivered the baby, and Nesta asked me to bring her to you.”

Her words were hardly understandable, but Cassian was frozen in place, staring down at the baby in his arms.

She was so incredibly beautiful.

His mind couldn’t fully comprehend that Nesta had just had a baby while being held captive. He couldn’t.

He looked up to Claire, tears streaming down his face as he asked, in a numb, deadly calm. “Are we close?”

Claire looked over her shoulder, then back to Cassian and Rhysand, and nodded. “There’s a small clearing in about half a mile.”

Claire went on to tell him how dangerous Tomas was, but he wasn’t listening. He kissed Sloan on her soft, tanned forehead, and handed her to Rhysand. “Bring her back to the house. Wait there with Feyre, Az and Elain. Take Claire, too.”

Rhysand carefully took Sloan and cradled her against his chest.

Then Cassian mounted his horse and continued west.

#theranchnessian #sharacocllab #shacmc #nessian #fanfic

286 notes · View notes

missbrightsky · 4 years

Text

I didn’t know where else to go

Fics Masterlist

Previous Chapter

Chapter 3: Feyre

The first thing that came back to me was pain. Dull, throbbing pain everywhere. Deep in my muscles and throughout my head. I couldn’t tell if it was the possible mild concussion or the hangover that made opening my eyes so hard.

A hangover.

I forced my eyes all the way open, wincing back from the bright light that forced its way through the curtains. My movement had me pressing into something warm and large that tightened its grip on me.

That thing was Rhysand fucking Noc.

I slept with Rhysand fucking Noc. The crime boss I was currently trying to put behind bars for life.

And it was the best sex of my life.

Fuck.

He mumbled something in his sleepy state, somehow pulling me even closer when there was already no space between us. His breath fanned over my neck, sending shivers that traveled down my body into my core. Shivers that woke him up just barely.

“Good morning, darling, did you sleep well?” he managed to get out, voice rough from last night activities.

I froze, my brain unable to make me move or think or breathe.

He felt me go still and shifted so that he was leaning over me, balancing on his forearms. The pressure he exerted on me finally went away, my bruises sang and protested at the lack of contact. I finally returned to my body, air whooshing out of my lungs.

If I had morning breath, he showed no sign of noticing it, and that was enough to set me off.

How dare he look so damn good in the morning?

How dare he take care of me in my injured state?

How dare he.

Even though you were the one to show up on his doorstep last night.

To shove that thought away, I took it out on him. My self-defense training took over, wrapping one leg to hook behind his knee.

His eyes sparked with violet fire, leaning down in response to what he thought was me trying to pull him closer.

In actuality, I was about to flip him on his ass.

Just before his lips met mine, I placed my hands on his shoulders and bucked my hips up, throwing his balance to the left so that I was able to land him flat on his back with me holding him down. He might have had several inches on me, but I had years of training against guys twice my size. It was almost too easy to keep him pinned down; bewildered eyes boring into mine.

The words “I’m leaving” were on the tip of my tongue and promptly died there when I realized that we were both completely naked. A flush burned its way across my face and down my neck when I felt him twitch under me. At least he had the decency to look mildly embarrassed at their compromised conditions.

Not trusting myself to stay on task, I climbed off of him and turned my back, searching the room for my clothes. When I felt a hand graze my neck, I launched myself on the edge and practically sprinted to the bathroom, grabbing clothes as I went.

The door slammed shut behind me, I twisted the lock for a good measure and held my breath. There was no sound of movement from the other side, I slowly released it and dropped my clothes on the counter, assessing what I had managed to grab.

It was not a pretty or comforting sight; my underwear and bloodied shirt was all that was in the room. Which means that I had been drunk enough last night to strip elsewhere until we made it to the bed.

Lucien was going to have this carved onto my gravestone when I died of my captain skinning me over this. I’ve had my fair share of awkward morning afters but this one really took the cake.

“Feyre? Can we just talk?” came his voice. It sounded distressed but I tried not to read into it too much.

“I left some clean clothes on the bed that I think will fit, I’ll be downstairs.”

I waited until I heard his footsteps retreat and thump down the stairs. I released the breath I had been holding. I needed to stop before I passed out and bring on a whole other mess.

Forcing myself to breathe evenly through my nose, I cracked the door open and peeked out the make sure he had truly gone.

He had laid a soft old t-shirt and sweats, both being too big for me but it was better than walking around half-naked while collecting the rest of my clothing.

I tied the sweats as tightly as possible to stop them from slipping and began to creep down the hallway and stairs. If he was distracted and if I was careful enough, I could get past him and from there I would be home free.

He was in the kitchen facing away from me, messing with something by the stove, the smell of coffee, bacon, and toast made my stomach growl, my own body giving my position away.

My mind ran through every curse word I knew, none of them strong enough for the situation.

Rhys had at least thrown on pants but neglected to put on a shirt. Tattoos that I had somehow forgotten about flowed up and over his shoulders. Delicate red lines crisscrossed his back, the spacing exactly matching my fingers.

I fucking scratched him.

What the fuck is wrong with me.

I need to get out of here now.

I started to turn towards the living room, hoping there was still a chance to make a clean getaway when his voice washed over me.

“I’m not who you think I am, Feyre.”

It sounded tired, exhausted, world-weary. Like he had seen too much and never got the rest he deserved.

I turned back to him, analyzing his posture. He stayed facing away from me, hands braced on the counter, head bowed as if a great weight rested on his shoulders. Like a fallen angel that you saw painted on church ceilings.

“What do you know about me?” he continued.

I hesitated, caught between wanting to know what he meant and getting out of there. Curiosity took over, driving my feet forward to the kitchen.

“Rhysand Noc. Thirty-two. Head of the Veritas Crime Syndicate. Street name: Lord of the Night.” I had repeated this information every time at countless briefings, his profile was burned into my memory. His frustratingly blank profile.

“Your second in command is Amren Monsea, followed by Morrigan Solis. Cassian Noc and Azriel Noc are your adopted brothers, they train your men and generally do your dirty work.” And that was the end of what I knew, it was impossible to get information out of anyone, what they had came to them by common knowledge and pure luck. His men were ridiculously tight-lipped and loyal, making us ask what the fuck they were so loyal to.

“And why do you think I’m a criminal? Why do you think I do what I do?”

The words were hard to admit, “I don’t know.”

He released a sigh of his own, finally turning towards me. I forced my eyes to stay on his face, trying to read the emotions in it and not get distracted by how the tattoos continued down his chest. I knew I would never be able to get them out of my head until I painted or at least sketched them. Another piece of cannon fodder for Lucien.

“All of that is right, except that Amren and Mor are family too, Cas and Az are the only on paper ones.”

“Oh,” was all I could say. He handed me a cup of coffee and gestured to the cream and sugar that was on the counter next to me. Once I had fixed it to my liking, I took a seat at one of the barstools by the sink, putting a counter between us. It was easier to distance myself from him so that I wouldn’t get too caught up in his story.

“I’m not from Velaris, if my accent wasn’t any indication. Me and my family come from a small country across the world,” then quietly, “it doesn’t exist anymore.

“My parents were very private people, wealthy enough that my brothers and I never had to worry about anything. Mor is my cousin on my fathers’ side, Amren is some distant aunt but she’s always been around. Every childhood has its problems, but for the most part, I was happy. We were all… happy.” The sadness in his voice twisted my heart, making me dread what was coming next.

“It all started out very small, random attacks in towns on the border. We knew we were surrounded by warring countries, but they rarely bothered us. But then people started getting sick, a disease that none of our doctors had ever heard of. It killed so many so fast, our government worked to keep it from the outside world, afraid that the other countries would take advantage of our weakness but also afraid of it spreading across the globe. Through harsh military force, we sealed our borders and tried to let the disease run its course.

“Our researchers did their best to find a cure or vaccine, but it was just too devastating of a disease.”

A deep breath racked his chest.

“One night, my parents rushed into my room, demanding me to pack only the necessities. My mother went to my brothers’ rooms, asking the same of them. My father stayed behind, and as he helped me pack, he explained what was really going on in the country.

“Even though he was not involved in politics, he had several friends that were. They were all saying that the attacks were not random and that the disease was a bioweapon. A high ranking official named Amarantha from a warring country had set her sights on ours.

“She was determined to bring us to our knees and then annex our country into hers. It was some bullshit vendetta passed down in her family. She was cutthroat, bloodthirsty, driven almost to madness by her mission. She staged a coup within our government so that she could easily swoop in to take over.

“It was that night that the coup was happening, there was bloodshed in the streets and fires breaking out, it was chaos. My father said that Amren was taking me, my brothers and Mor out of the country, to somewhere safe. I didn’t understand why he and my mother weren’t coming with us, I still don’t to this day.

“The last time I saw them was through a darkened car window as we drove toward the border, away from my collapsing country. I was 15.”

Tears burned in the back of my eyes, but I was determined to not let them fall. His tragic backstory did not absolve him of the crimes that he committed in my city.

The story wasn’t over yet. “Somehow, Amarantha managed to keep the whole ordeal quiet to the world news, only a few statements saying that they had peacefully absorbed my country into hers due to unstable economic conditions. Everyone forgot about it and moved onto the next piece of gossip.

“Me and my surviving family never forgot. Mor’s parents and mine managed to transfer the majority of their wealth to outside shell companies so that we would be able to continue to live in ease. Amren had all of our names legally changed so that no one would come hunting us from escaping Amarantha’s wrath. That’s why you can’t find any official records on us, they’re either all buried back in my home country or you don’t know the name that you’re looking for.”

A twinge of frustration plucked at my nerves, of course a crime boss wouldn’t use their real name.

“This still doesn’t explain why you’ve been kidnapping people and raiding warehouses,” I accused, trying to stay in my detective mindset.

“A year ago, I got word that she was in Velaris, that she had set her sights on taking this city and then the country. That’s when my family and I decided that we would come here and fight back. We knew that the police and government wouldn’t believe a small group of rich people, especially when they came out of nowhere from a country that no longer exists. History had forgotten us, but we haven’t forgotten what she did.

“Our money made it easy to establish a foothold in the underworld and gain supply lines there. We want to try and avoid all-out bloodshed but we’re preparing for the worst. The people that we have taken are researchers in immunology, disease control, and drug development, all top in their field. They are being cared for in a safe facility, they aren’t too happy about it but some of them were quite excited by the challenge of a new disease.” A small chuckle broke through his serious demeanor. “We have them trying to find a cure and/or a vaccine but it’s slow going right now.”

“The warehouses we were raiding was us looking for any supplies we thought she was shipping in for preparation. We did manage to find some crates of weapons but nothing that indicated she was preparing for a bioattack, and that’s somehow more troubling.

“The past few months you’ve been after us have made it hard to move around, so I’ll give you that. You’re a good detective by the way.”

“Thanks, but it seems I’ve somehow been doing a shitty job of it.”

“Don’t get yourself too down, you were good enough to get the whole story in the past few minutes, I’d say that’s pretty impressive.”

“Yeah by showing up bloody and then sleeping with you,” I blurted. Whoops.

He flushed at the reminder, looking away. “Well I hope it wasn’t completely insufferable for you to do your civic duty then,” he muttered, almost sounding upset at the thought that he got used for information.

Fuck, “It was far from the worst night of my life, I’ll give you that,” I admitted. His earnest retelling somehow made me too honest for my own liking. I needed to get out of his radius before I did something stupid again.

He gave a faint smile at my statement, looking slightly redeemed.

“Anytime, darling,” he teased, trying to shake off the awkward silence that was settling around us like a heavy blanket.

I let out a small, exasperated sigh at the nickname, looks like it wasn’t going away anytime soon. I stayed silent, absorbing the new information while he turned back to the stove, putting on more bacon to fry.

I wasn’t about to stick around to have morning after breakfast with my enemy who was maybe no longer my enemy, I’ll have to figure that out soon before it drove me insane.

Spotting my pants draped over the coffee table (ugh), I padded over to pick them up in which revealed my bra (shit) and then, in turn, revealed my phone (fuck). It thankfully still had some battery in it, the screen flashing with 12 text messages and 3 missed calls from Lucien.

Running late today, huh?

Captain’s not here yet so you might get away with it.

Never mind he just showed up.

Hey if you’re getting coffee, grab me a white mocha?

Feyre? You ok?

Missed call.

Are you sick today? I know you stayed late at the office.

The desk sergeant said you only an hour after me, where did you go?

Missed call.

Oooooo captain is getting angry, hurry your ass up, I don’t want to deal with him.

Seriously tho, where did you go last night?

Oh some hot date you want to surprise me with?

Missed call.

If you don’t call me back in the next 10 minutes, I’m putting an APB out on you.

That last one was from 9 minutes ago. I pressed the call button, he answered on the second ring.

“There you are! Where the fuck are you?”

“Hey Luc, it’s been a rough night. I’ll explain to you when I get to the precinct.”

“Uh-huh, ok, well you don’t have to tell me.”

“I’m serious, I’ll be there in less than an hour, I need to go home, shower and change.”

“So you DID have a hot date last night, knew it.”

I cringed, looking over to where Rhys was trying very hard to look like he was not listening.

“Something like that, look I gotta go, I’ll deal with the captain when I get back.”

“Whatever you say, see you soon.”

He ended the call and the screen went black, there went the rest of the battery.

“I need to leave.”

“Ok, you can borrow the shirt, unless you want to take the subway in the bloody one,” he teased.

I narrowed my eyes at him, not really in the mood to be poked at when I was already in so much trouble.

“Sure, thank you.”

I gathered up my belongings to go change. When I came back down, he had wrapped some bacon and toast in foil so I can eat it along the way. Considerate motherfucker.

“So, are you going to help me?”

I paused, shocked at his question.

“What,” I whispered.

“Are you going to help me stop Amarantha?”

I took him in, looking for any hint of anything other the sincerity, and found none. Every logical part of my brain said no, to not believe what he had told me and to haul him in over the confession. He had given me enough to hold him on until I had a warrant to search his place. I know that some of those guns on the wall weren’t legal in Prythian.

But I couldn’t say no. The threat of her was too great, even if he was making it all up. If I stayed close to him, I could gather evidence to arrest him if he was lying. I was smart enough to stay safe, as long as I didn’t get drunk and sleep with him again.

“Yes. I’ll help you take down Amarantha.”

Next Chapter

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjm #sjmaas #sjmaas books #sarah j maas #feyre #feyre x rhysand #rhysand

4 notes · View notes

sarah-bae-maas · 6 years

Text

A Court of Hearts and Darkness Chapter Twenty Seven

It’s been over a century since the epic and bloody war against Hybern, but a new, unprecedented horror lies in wait to threaten everything the Inner Circle holds dear.

At a mere 17, it seems that the only one who can save them is the Heir to the Night Court, Feyre and Rhysand’s daughter Eleana, but as a creature so vile promises to kill everyone she loves, she must combat the urge to succumb to the darkness herself. The key to success lies hidden within her mate, the bastard born Kaden, who is as oblivious to the bond as her Court is oblivious to the war on the horizon.

With the help of her cousin and warrior Felix, the son of the famed Nesta and Cassian, they will try to save everything they hold dear, hopefully before the darkness takes them all.

(This fic was written pre-acowar, so please bear in mind there are some small differences but it can still hopefully be enjoyed!)

Link on Ao3 Masterlist

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26

***

-Chapter 27-

She ran her hand down his hair, enjoying the feather like feel of his brunette locks. Her claws sometimes caught in it, blood making the brown strands stick together. His glassy, lifeless hazel eyes were stuck in the direction of the ceiling, and she was tempted to press the pads of her digits against them to make them look at her, but she didn’t want to accidently pierce them.

He was pretty – not as handsome as the gold one, and that had been his ultimate downfall. Not just that, but the heir just loved his so much.

His death would ruin her.

Which is what she’d wanted – what she needed.

_____

Eleana felt like she was sinking.

Her heart rate had slowed and been overly rapid at unpredictable intervals since it had happened. Since she’d realised her cousin, brother, best friend, was never coming home. She forever felt like she was sinking. Her arms were swords being slid into their sheaths. Her legs were oaks being taken down from the swing of an axe. Her chest was a corset being bound a tight as it could go. Time has slowed from the beat of a hummingbird’s wings to the hesitant last gasp before someone drowned.

She was not ready to face the consequences of Felix not being here. She didn’t know how she would put her smashed, porcelain-self back together if he wasn’t there to pick up the pieces. As he had done so many times before.

And as she looked into the exhausted eyes of her mate, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything other than, “Where have you been?”

He swallowed hard, his hands twitching like he wanted to rest them on her, but didn’t have the courage to.

“It’s been nearly two days,” she continued.

He didn’t answer, so she turned away from him.

He had come to find her, he’d said. Used his magic to bring him to this cabin sequestered so very far away from everything else.

When he’d knocked on the door, Eleana was unsuccessfully trying to sleep. Her mother, wary it was something sinister, opened the door ready to attack, only to pull up short when she saw Kaden.

To give them privacy, she went to Velaris to help the High Lord with Cassian and Nesta, but not before laying wards strong enough to keep out an army.

Her hands were braced on a stained table, her face as limp as her unwashed hair. She observed him, since he wouldn’t speak. He had bathed at some point, his skin clean but wan. He was in a loose shirt and pants, his feet bare. And, trailing down his arms like vines encasing him, were Illyrian tattoos. On his arms, the swirls, flowers and ancient words were so extensive his fingers were even decorated. As severe as it was, it was not harsh – much like the male bearing them. She wondered what tattoos covered his chest.

She took a hesitant step toward him, his face blank. He hadn’t let her in his mind yet, had their bond blocked so strongly that she would have to invade him to see what he was thinking. But… she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to put her grief into him, or to take his away. She wanted them to share, but she didn’t know how she could possibly handle feeling twice as bad as she did now.

“Did you know,” she said to fill the silence, “that my mother can no longer paint her father? As much as she loves him, she can no longer remember his face. He is a blur, with no finer details or anything to distinguish him. She knows his eyes, but that’s all.”

She took another step towards her mate.

“I’m scared that one day I’ll wake up and I won’t be able to picture his face anymore. Or that I won’t remember the exact way his voice sounds.” One more step, and she was close enough to him that he could reach her if he wanted.

He lifted his arm, and trailed his thumb down her cheek, resting his hand on her neck. “Do you blame me for what happened?” he whispered.

She rested her hand over his. “No.”

He moved his hand to her waist, pulling her to him. He wrapped his arms around her, and she leant into his chest and breathed deeply – for the first time in days.

“Good. Because I’ll need your help to eviscerate those creatures and whatever is controlling them.”

_____

“He’s safe, but I wouldn’t say he’s okay. But who of us is?”

Azriel hung onto every word, grateful that Kaden had made an appearance somewhere. Would he have preferred the young one come to him first? Yes. But at least now someone has seen him.

“And Eleana?” he asked Feyre.

“She’s not coping – at all. She hasn’t slept yet, changes between forms unwillingly and without notice, and is constantly either distressed or just… empty.”

“She’ll feel better once we’ve moved into action. The High Lords will be here in four days.” Four days for their family to be in control enough to tell the other courts what had happened, and to devise a plan to eradicate these creatures. Azriel, with all his wisdom and knowledge, didn’t know where to start.

“And the recon teams?”

“Enough survived to get us a specimen, but there are a lot of families who will be in mourning.”

Feyre nodded at his words.

They’re conversation ended with Feyre squeezing his shoulder, leaving the library of the House of Wind to join her sisters in the atrium.

Azriel wanted to help his brother and Nesta, desperately, but he didn’t know how. He himself could barely comprehend what had happened. It had yet to hit him. He had yet to have the breakdown that was expected of him, he hadn’t yet cried, he hadn’t yet stopped being surprised when he walked into a room without Felix in it.

Maybe if he’d had a body his grief would surface quicker, but right now he just felt nothing. Like he was a void. Resigned. Every few minutes, his chest would tighten and his breath would quicken and he’d think, okay now. Now I’m going to cry, get mad, scream. And then the feeling would pass, and he’d blink away the tears that never fell and would continue trying to find justice for his nephew.

He’d dealt with the fallout of the Bloodrite for Rhys. The Illyrians lords were horrified and furious, and had all fortified their camps and doubled patrols to be on alert for any creatures. They were not aware of Felix’s death – no one but the Inner Circle was, and it would remain that way for the time being. It would cause an uncontrollable panic not only among the Illyrians, but also the fae.

Because Felix was dead. Felix Warbringer, set to be the most powerful Illyrian ever born, had been killed by these creatures.

Azriel had been with Cassian when Rhys told their brother of the news. And it was devastating. Cass tried to go into the mountains to try and save his son, had begged his brothers to let him go – he had to go to his boy. He had to. He would be scared if he was alone in the dark. And he would be fine if his father was there with him. Cassian could find a way to bring him back.

He’d thought them tooth and nail until he had collapsed, no strength left in his body.

And then there was Nesta.

Azriel could count how many times he had seen her cry on one hand, and now she had cried more than the amount of leaves in a forest. The most pained, choked wails he had ever heard. She had beaten her fists bloody against the ground in anger and agony, all her fingers breaking at the impacts; the only thing that stopped her from imploding and destroying herself was the sound of Theodosia’s cries as the babe awoke. Nesta wiped the blood off her hands, let Elain heal her broken bones, then calmly walked to the nursey, picking up Thea and cradling her daughter to her chest. Her face had gone gaunt, and the colour had leaked out of her.

Maybe the reason Azriel struggled to show emotion was because even though he loved Felix with all his heart, the boy had come to detest him. Did Azriel have any right to grieve?

Azriel wished he could stay in the library and hide away, but he couldn’t. His family was relying on him.

He dragged his feet as he walked to join the rest of them, Mor summoning them all for lunch. None of them felt well enough to eat, but his wife would force feed them if she had to.

Azriel also needed to start preparing for the onslaught he would get at the High Lord’s meeting, namely, what do you mean you knew about this already? What do you mean you stopped looking for the creatures? How could you let this happen?

Azriel had no choice but to now accept everything his niece and nephews had presented to him about the creatures as fact – which meant they had also been working in other courts. Cauldron, Eleana had been taken by this ‘Colloden’ in another court.

Mor had brought sandwiches and tea on a cart, handing them out on china plates to the family. Quathryn, uninterested in the gourmet treats, had settled for sprinkles on buttered bread. The girl had no idea what was going on – only that everyone was far sadder than usual.

He let her be, not wanting the dark, ghastly shadows that had been haunting him since the death of his nephew to bother her.

He took a seat next to his brothers on a bench overlooking the window facing Velaris, matching their silence. Everyone was here, except Kaden and Eleana. He hoped they were sleeping, he doubted his boy would be able to without his mate there.

The thought of Kaden tore at him – the boy he had come to think of as a son. A boy who had finally gotten a brother that loved and cared for him the way a brother should, only for some sick, twisted turn of events to take him away.

“You’ve heard from Kaden?” Azriel overheard Nesta say in a whisper, the woman squeezing her fingers into Feyre’s arm.

“He’s with Eleana – he showed up out of nowhere,” Feyre replied, covering Nesta’s hand with her own.

“And Felix?” Nesta’s eyes were so wide with hope.

Feyre shook her head. “No, Nesta.”

Her face fell, fresh tears starting to line her cheeks.

Nesta had an insane hope when Kaden didn’t come back, that maybe it was because he had gone back into the mountain to revive Felix, the way he had Thea. Feyre, as soothingly as she could, said she didn’t know much about Kaden’s peculiar magic, but she doubted the circumstances were similar enough for it to happen again. Theodosia had been a stillborn – Felix was…

Mauled.

But that didn’t stop Nesta from hoping.

Cassian didn’t share her belief.

Azriel couldn’t bear to look at Nesta any longer, and turned his head away. Cassian also stayed quiet during the exchange.

He prayed for the moment when Elain and Lucien returned from the Spring Court, from explaining what had happened to Felix to Glaslane – the pair had been close for a time. Elain was still Nesta’s most effective form of comfort.

Azriel’s attention was caught by a tentative knock at the door – an overly loud noise in a room full of very quiet people.

“Who is it?” Rhys called, standing and positioning himself in front of Cassian.

“It’s me, Papa, and Kaden.” Eleana opened the door and peaked her head in.

Azriel flinched at the dark crescents under her eyes and the paleness to her face.

“We didn’t want to disturb anyone.”

Rhys waved her in, greeting her with a tight hug. Behind her, Kaden shuffled in, his head hanging low and his shoulders slumped.

Azriel got to his feet and moved towards him, stopping when he saw the Illyrian tattoos covering his arms.

Kaden noticed his gaze, and self-consciously rubbed at his skin.

Azriel shook his head, not caring that his boy got the tattoos he’d deserved, but he was saddened that the thought of Kaden going through such an emotionally tumultuous experience alone.

“Kaden? Hey, buddy. Want some food?” Azriel approached him with one hand one, gently patting him on the head.

“No, thank you,” he murmured. “I – I have something to tell you.”

“Do you want to go somewhere?”

“No, I – It’s for everyone.”

Azriel led him further inside, letting Kaden choose when to speak, the young man’s black eyes sweeping the room. His stare stopped on Quathryn, fingers stained like a rainbow from her sprinkles, mouth full of bread and books and toys scattered on the floor around her.

His face crumpled, and he strode towards the tot, leaning down and picking her up so he could hug her.

“Kaden!” she cheered, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck.

“Hi, Little One,” he sniffled.

Everyone in the room had stopped what they were doing to look at Kaden and Quathryn.

Quathryn leaned in and whispered something in his ear. It was so faint that Azriel could barely make out what she was saying, but he got the gist of it.

Do you know where Lis is?

Kaden said no, and hugged her closer to him. Quathryn seemed content to just have cuddle time, laying her head on him and not asking any further for her brother.

Cassian had tried to tell her, but Quathryn was too young to truly understand what he was saying – the permanence of Felix being gone.

“What was it you had to tell us?” Azriel prompted him.

Kaden kept a hold of Quathryn while he spoke, swaying her slightly. “I talked to Felix, and there are some things he wanted me to relay to you.”

Everyone flung out of their chairs, surrounding him with pressing questions.

What do you mean you talked to him?

I thought you weren’t there when he died?

What did he say?

How can that be?

Azriel’s family wasn’t as versed in Kaden’s magic as he was, with the exception of Eleana, and he could scarcely remember if he’d ever mentioned Kaden’s ability to connect with the dead.

Kaden recoiled away from there badgering questions, but before Azriel could ask them to give him some space, Eleana butted in, fury scorched in her expression.

“You spoke to Felix? For how long?” Her tone was so scathing the others quietened.

“Until dawn, the day after,” Kaden said nervously.

Eleana gritted her teeth, her voice a low growl when she said under her breath, “You mean to tell me you had hours with him, and didn’t think to summon anyone? To let anyone else say goodbye?”

“Eleana.” Kaden looked stricken.

“You could have told me to come and I would’ve been there in a second-”

“How-”

“You damn well know. You could’ve brought the wall down between the bond anytime you fucking pleased. You could have let me say goodbye to him. You could have let anyone here have their final peace with him. He was my best friend. Through you I could’ve seen him. I could have told him I loved him. You – you – I can’t believe you didn’t tell me to come.”

Azriel believed Kaden would’ve gone to her if he hadn’t been holding Quathryn, who was now alert and looking at Eleana with worry.

“You were in such a bad state-”

She snarled at him, a noise to low and feral that Cassian came forward and grabbed Quathryn from Kaden, scared Eleana might lose control and accidently hurt her. Which was valid, as while Eleana growled her skin changed its form and colour, her teeth elongating and her and her pupils widening.

It never took long for Eleana’s mood to change, and with her exhaustion and despair combined her mood was rapidly changing. Azriel stood back, not wanting to interfere with the mates.

“What did he have to say then, huh? That only you were privy to,” she spat.

“He said he loves you, and that no one here, especially you, is to blame for this.” Kaden turned to Cassian and Nesta. “You told me to tell you that he will forever be indebted to you for raising him with such strength, and for teaching him to be kind. His family is the most important thing to him, and his biggest regret is not being able to see Quathryn grow and become the sassiest little thing Velaris has seen since the High Lord’s last hissy fit.” Kaden turned to Rhys, a sheepish look on his face. “I’m quoting.”

Rhys bowed his head.

“He hopes you’ll tell stories of him to Thea,” Kaden continued. “He doesn’t want to be a stranger to her, even if she’ll never remember any of the time she had with him.”

Cassian, holding Quathryn in one arm, reached the other out to Nesta, circling it around her and Thea. “How did he tell you these things?” His voice deathly quiet.

“I can confer with the dead. It’s how I helped Thea, kind of. That was different, but this I have been able to do my whole life.”

“Is he still there?” Nesta asked, the hope that had vanished reigniting in her eyes.

“No,” Kaden didn’t leave her hanging, not wanted to be a source of false hope.

“Are you sure?” she pleaded with him.

“Yes. I’m sorry. He’s moved on to a place where even I can’t find him.”

Nesta’s breath shook, and she motioned for Kaden to continue.

He told them all the things Felix had shared with him – only withholding the information meant for specific people. He said the funny stories and the melancholy ones. At one point, he looked at the High Lord and Lady apologetically and said, “When Eleana was four months old, Felix dropped her. He said it explains an awful lot.”

Rhys and Feyre had burst out laughing, which immediately turned to tears. At least Quathryn’s twinkling giggles joined in momentarily.

Eleana remained in half in her other form the entire conversation, not looking at Kaden, even when he tried to speak with her.

When he had finished, Nesta was sobbing again, and Cassian took her away to try and calm her, bringing the children with him. Quathryn waved to Kaden as she left, and it was the only thing that could have possibly made Kaden genuinely smile that day.

Mor approached Kaden and took him into her arms, tears of her own falling.

Azriel watched Eleana turn to steal as she watched Mor and Kaden and Feyre and Rhys. Her fists were clenched so tightly her knuckles were stark against her skin, and her face had flushed red in anger. The stories from Kaden had not thawed the sudden anger for her mate, and Azriel wished he was still in a position where she’d want his help.

But maybe it was on him to try harder – to show her more that he was sorry.

He proceeded cautiously towards her, but he wasn’t the only one to have the idea. Kaden separated from Mor, extending his tattooed hands towards Eleana.

Mid-step, Kaden faltered like he’d hit an invisible barrier. Trying again, he hit another wall, and put his hands up, resting them flat against an invisible shield. He banged his hand on the wall, trying to dismantle it.

“Eleana?”

The others watched as he called her name, unable to breach her shield.

“You once used my eyes to save someone we love; I would’ve expected you to grant me the same curtesy to say goodbye to a person I love. You should have called me. You should have let me hear these stories from him.”

Eleana stalked to the window, her wings flaring and preparing for flight.

Rhys and Feyre became immediately alarmed, and stood in her way to stop her.

“Laya, Butterfly where are you going?” Feyre asked, concern lacing her every word.

“Away from here. I can’t think; I can’t breathe – not here.”

Rhys blocked the window, keeping her inside. Azriel walked to his side, knowing it was a bad idea to try and trap her inside but also knowing if she left she would be a loose bomb ready to explode.

“Come with me, let’s go to the townhouse, or back to the cabin if you want.”

“Get out of my way.”

“Laya.”

She growled, a noise far more animal than fae, and disappeared.

Azriel baulked at where she had just been standing, shock palpitating from everyone in the room.

“Where did she go?” Kaden questioned.

“She… she winnowed away.” Feyre’s mouth was agape, her eyes wide.

“She does it all the time – no reason to be surprised. I’ll find her, it won’t take me long.”

“No, Kaden, the wards on the House of Wind mean no winnowing. It is physically, and magically impossible for her to do so.”

“She must have removed the wards.”

“She didn’t, I can still feel them here – intact,” Mor said.

Rhys turned to Feyre and sighed. “Looks like she’s more powerful than we thought. That’s okay, though, I always knew our little Butterfly would be something special. We better go find her.”

Kaden opened his mouth as if to offer his services, but Rhys shut him down with a glare. “You stay here. You’re not what she needs right now.”

The pair left, leaving Azriel with his wife and the closest thing to a son he’d ever had.

“Let’s go home,” Mor exhaled. “Cassian and Nesta need space, and we all need to sleep. The night will bring an unprecedented darkness tonight.”

____

Night had fallen; Kaden had yet to sleep, and Eleana had yet to be found. Mor and Az joined the search for her, only going once Kaden convinced them too. They didn’t want to leave him, but he assured them that he would be okay. He thought he might sleep, but when he tried he felt too light without the weight of Eleana with him.

He had a notebook in front of him, and was trying to write out every word Felix had said to him. His hands were shaking, making his writing messy but decipherable. He would one day give this book to Quathryn and Thea – Felix would be no stranger to them.

As he was writing, there was a quiet knock at the door. Curious as to who it could be, Kaden heaved himself from his seat, padding to the foyer to meet whoever had come over. He opened the door, and was surprised to see Cassian with his two daughters, holding Quathryn by the hand and Thea in his arm.

“Hello, Kaden. Can you get Azriel for me?”

Kaden’s nose wrinkled; Cassian smelt like sweat and grot – like death.

“He’s not here right now. They’re still looking for Eleana.” Which Kaden was bitter he wasn’t invited to. He could find her easily – it was the only thing his body seemed to want to do. Kaden had tried to reopen the bond with her, but now she was the one keeping him away – which he justly deserved. Eleana was right, he hadn’t thought to summon her so she could say goodbye to her cousin, and now he felt retched about it.

Cassian’s chest fell. “Okay.” He nodded, taking a step back.

That’s when Kaden noted the small bag he was wearing on his back. “Did you need something? I might be able to help.”

“I just needed Az for the night, it’s okay though,” Cassian said slowly.

The older male took a step back, Quathryn swaying with the movement, her little body drained of energy.

“Why don’t you come inside?” Kaden insisted. “I’ll make us some tea, and Quathryn can sleep in my bed if she’d like. And I’m sure I could also scrounge up a cot somewhere.”

Cassian looked thoughtful, then nodded his head.

Kaden let them in, picking Quathryn up and taking her to his room. She was asleep before they were even up the stairs, and he tucked her in nice and tight, wanting her to get as much rest as she could.

He couldn’t find a crib, so instead he emptied his biggest basket and made it into a makeshift bassinet. He went back for Thea, and Cassian reluctantly handed her over, the infant also asleep. He made them tea, and it lived untouched from Cassian on the table in front of him.

Kaden didn’t know what to say to him – how could you possibly comfort a father grieving for his dead son?

Kaden sat across from him, averting his gaze from the haggard looking General. Cassian also stayed quiet, an awkward tension rising in the room from lack of words. Kaden wished he had the charm and tact of Eleana or Felix, then maybe he would know what to do. There was a many great thing he wished he had said to Felix before he’d said goodbye, and one of those things should’ve been a demand for Felix to tell him how he was supposed to survive in this damned world without him.

“Do you have any idea when Mor and Az will be back?” Cassian broke through the silence, his voice rough.

“No. Can I help at all?”

His shoulders were hunched, and his feet tapped against the chair leg. “I just-” Cassian cut himself off, shuddering a sigh. “I love my children more than I love anything, but Nesta and I… right now we’re not the best people to be around, and I’m starting to worry that it’ll effect the girls. One night. I swear, I was only going to ask him to care for them for a single night, so Nesta could sleep.” Cassian blinked furiously, his teeth biting at his lip in an effort to hide his tears from Kaden.

Kaden wasn’t the only one feeling retched. It was easy to tell how guilty Cassian felt about giving his daughters to Azriel, even of it was for the best. And Kaden could see that it was. When he had seen Cassian and Nesta earlier, he had been genuinely afraid. Her clothes were frayed at the sleeves from where she had ripped them in her anxiety, and Cassian looked like he could barely stand upright. But however they looked, Kaden could feel how the heartbreak and anger that beheld them had the power to strike through anyone. If turned in the wrong direction, as emotions often were in these times, it could be dangerous. It made him want to grab Eleana and run.

His mind and body yearned for the comfort of his Eleana. To know that she was safe with him – the only place he trusted her to be. Without her here, or knowing where she was, Kaden had an itch in his fingers that made his want to rip at flesh and destroy lives – especially the ones that had caused her so much pain.

“There is no weakness in asking for help, General Cassian.”

Kaden believed, wholeheartedly, that if they all knew how to better ask for help, then none of this would have happened.

____

It took Eleana a while to find the familiar entrance, even though the image was burned in her retinas.

When she had first been here, her stomach had been twisting with nerves, making her more nauseous than she had ever been. She’d been digging into the earth with her feels – the tracks still there – and the only reason she hadn’t stormed inside the mountains themselves was because her parents were there and had forbade her to do so. Their arguments had been logical, so she had listened.

Eleana had come to realise that the moment Kaden had shut her out was the moment he first saw Felix. Before that, he had welcomed her in his mind, telling her he loved her, how much he wanted to see her again. When he’d slammed up the titanium wall between them her sternum felt like it was being crushed.

Then, he walked out unscathed, and she’d run to him. What else would she have done?

She’s wanted to thank her cousin profusely for saving her mate, but when she’d turned to speak to him he was not there.

Eleana stood directly in front of the entrance, not daring to look into its black abyss. Instead, she looked upwards at the stars, her hair scratching her face as the wind lightly blew.

The distant smell of pine blew through the air – jarringly pleasant in this place of nightmares.

With no small amount of courage, Eleana set her eyes on the darkness ahead, her throat tight and dry as she spoke.

“Felix?” she murmured. “Are you still here?”

She knew Kaden had said he was gone, but he had yet to master his magic – much like her. Even if the chance to see her cousin again was minimal, she would take it.

“I don’t expect to see you, I just… I miss you. If you’re here, and Cauldron I wish you are, just give me a sign. Anything.”

Her eyes started to string, and her darkness threatened to lash out again. She could feel it inside her like it was simmering just under her skin, pushing and prodding upwards trying to be free.

She lowered herself to the ground, fisting the dirt that surrounded her. Pulverizing it between her fingers, she lashed out and threw a handful of it at the cave entrance with a scream. She bit her lip to restrain herself, so hard that it drew blood, the red dripping down her chin.

She rubbed at her face, not caring if she smudged herself with dirt, trying to clear her scattered mind.

There were constant knocks in her direction, her parents and Kaden, but she didn’t feel like letting anyone in. In all her times of anguish her only true coping method had been Felix. She didn’t have that now, and all she craved was to hear his voice again – to laugh with him – to get the goodbye that Kaden had.

Was she really mad that her mate hadn’t summoned her, or was she just mad at the world for doing such a horrid thing to such a pure person? She did not know, and she did not mind her fury. Her fury was fuelling her magic, and her magic would help end all this. Once the High Lords and Ladies had met and they formed a plan on how to eradicate these creatures, Eleana would be more than valuable.

That’s if they could ever find the creatures.

There were just so many unanswered questions. Who was doing this? These creatures didn’t just appear out of nowhere, and they acted with such intention that it was impossible to believe that they were anything but puppets to some string master. All attacks had occurred within the past few years, with more and more happening in recent times. What was truly petrifying was that if not for the Impeath attack on Felix so long ago, they never would have known about the creatures at all. Yes, Eleana may have been taken by the Colloden, but she never would have made the connections about the bed time tales.

“Felix,” she whispered to nothing, knowing he was gone, “I love you, and I would sell my soul to see you again. To have a chance to say goodbye.” Her voice broke on the last word, and the tears she had never been able to hold back swelled again. She was lost; she didn’t know where to turn. Her heart ached when she thought of Kaden, and she loved him so damn much but that didn’t mean she wasn’t furious with him for not thinking of her the way she would have him – for not giving her a goodbye.

“You told me to stay safe, Felix, but you were my unfaltering anchor, no matter how rough the seas were. I’ve never had a day where I couldn’t turn to you, since we were children you were my most trusted, most loyal friend.”

Deep in the pit of her stomach, she felt anxiety curling at the thought of forgetting a single detail about her brother. It gripped her like a choke hold, and her breath started faltering and her mind started wondering, her nerves sparking negatives thoughts that further stoked the fire that was her mind.

Eleana recognized to herself that sitting here at night was likely a terrible idea, but she made no effort to move. Rather, she lied down, resting her head on her hands facing the entrance.

Her eyelids drooped, and there was some sick joke in the fact that the only place she could finally sleep was when she was as close to Felix’s body as she could get.

She let her eyes close, only a small part nagging at her that this was dangerous. But a larger part, a part forged by fatigue and woe, told her to stay, because how could something worse possibly happen?

As Eleana drifted, the path into the entrance was eerily quiet. You could not hear the creatures that lurked in the mountains caverns, nor any animals that would usually take refuge in this area. There were no Illyrians, all guarding their homes and trusting the wards of the High Lord and Lady to lock the beasts inside.

Her tears subsided, hiding away for the time being, preserving themselves until her next panic attack or nightmare. She let her body sink into the ground, succumbing to the day, keeping her mind closed and quiet. The air smelt sweet from distant trees and flowers, and she detested how peaceful it was. The wind was a welcoming caress on her skin, and now maybe she would sleep.

And then the snap of a twig breaking, and Eleana’s eyes flew open as she skidded to her feet, watching as a dark figure glided out from the mountain. It was black and languid, claws to rival that of an Impeath. It had a gleaming smile on its face, its teeth like daggers piercing through its mouth. But the most frightening, the thing that made Eleana’s heart quicken and back sweat, was its bright, molten golden eyes.

“Eleana of the Night Court, I’ve been waiting for you. And I can give you what you want.”

#acohad #fanfic #a court of hearts and darkness #acotar #acomaf #acowar #feysand #nessian

156 notes · View notes

illyriantremors · 7 years

Text

ACOMAF Part 2.1 The House of Wind: Chapters 14-27 (Rhys POV)

Chapter 14: Feyre’s First Visit to the Townhouse Chapter 15: Rhys Shows Feyre Velaris & Flies Her to Dinner Chapter 16: Feyre’s Dinner with the Inner Circle Chapter 17: Feyre’s Nightmare Chapter 18: The Bone Carver Chapter 19: After the Bone Carver Chapters 20-21: The Weaver & the Memory of Ianthe Chapters 22-24: The First Visit to the Mortal Realms & Meeting Nesta and Elain Chapters 25-27: Feyre trains with Rhys & the Attor Attacks

AN: Chapters 14-27 of ACOMAF from Rhys’s POV! Chapter 14 is pasted below while the remaining chapters linked above go to AO3. I’ve started work on the next set, but don’t have much yet. Enjoy!

Thank you, as always, to @kitashiwrites, who is my rock, my spirit animal, and my grammar instructor who makes this so much easier. Thank you for always instilling confidence in me when I feel like such utter crap about writing these. Your enthusiasm never ceases to amaze me!

Chapter 14

Summary: Rhys brings Feyre to Velaris after saving her from Tamlin's prison in the Spring Court. His inner circle crashes their brief landing in Rhys's townhouse, sending Feyre upstairs. Downstairs, Rhys chats with his family and learns about another temple raid from Azriel.

You Are Safe Here

"Welcome to my home.”

It was a damned miracle to watch Feyre survey my townhouse, the most private space I occupied. And here she was suddenly inside it.

The moment was so surreal, that I had to lean against the oak threshold separating us from the sitting room to keep myself steady. Feyre, despite what I could tell was a decent amount of surprise at where she’d landed and a considerable amount of concern for what she might find beyond these walls, didn’t miss a single detail. From the plush fabrics lining the furniture to the woven carpets and open windows, to worn bookcases and soft sounds from outside, she saw it all.

And I wondered if some part of her registered that she was really seeing a glimpse of me.

The palace she had spent two weeks in miles and miles away was easily representative of one half of me - the calculating, regal half that delighted in luxury without apology. But that portion was also who I was as a diplomat, the High Lord.

Here, I was home.

And she was still apprehensive.

“What is this place?” she asked and she sounded almost disbelieving, like any moment she might wake up.

“This is my house. Well, I have two homes in the city. One is for more... official business, but this is only for me and my family.”

Feyre kept a sharp eye as her gaze flicked immediately away from me and stared down the hallway behind her questioning. The house replied with a warm, open silence - an invitation of sorts.

“Nuala and Cerridwen are here,” I said. “But other than that, it’ll just be the two of us.”

I waited for her to say something, but her biting commentary never came. Mercifully, it wasn’t the silence I’d come to expect that cried out hatred upon my back when I left the room or slashed at my soul with cuts and sneers to keep me out. Feyre was simply frozen in time and space as she stilled to look at the walls. I only hoped it was more from shock than any actual discomfort. Being here - I needed her to be okay with it, with even just this one small part of me, the most honest and normal portion there was. And also, the most human - the most like her.

Too long a stretch of silence passed. I took a careful step towards her, ready to explain further, when a shock of sound slammed into the fogged glass of the atrium door that led outside. I didn’t have to look to know who was behind it.

“Hurry up, you lazy ass,” Cassian barked behind the glass. Feyre’s head whizzed to the sound. She looked exhausted just by the very idea she might have another guest to deal with let alone two more. I knew for Cassian to be here this early, he wouldn’t be alone.

“Two things, Feyre darling,” I said, interrupted by another pounding.

“If you’re going to pick a fight with him, do it after breakfast.”

Azriel.

Feyre’s brow peaked as if she could feel the shadows that cocooned my brother day and night even with a door between them. Knowing Azriel, he was likely experiencing something similar himself thanks to his smokey friends.

“I wasn’t the one who hauled me out of bed just now to fly down here,” Cassian said tartly before sneering at Az, “Busybody.”

The exchange was so brief, and yet, when Feyre slid her gaze to me at the end of it, it was hard not to laugh - to smile. Even if only a little bit.

The reality of the moment hit me then in full force. Feyre was little more than a handful of steps away from my brothers, my family, my city - people and places I thought she would never see except maybe on a battlefield or in a court room with sentinels from an entirely different court at her side.

And yet, here we were. Cassian complaining about being dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour like I knew he would, Azriel dutifully pushing him here to do it. And Feyre hadn’t even met them yet but she was so close to seeing them, seeing it all.

The thought made me rather... giddy inside.

But she was tired. The hollows under her eyes were a deepening purple and her shoulders sagged at her sides so that her back and neck slumped. One would have thought she’d never slept a day in her life, never mind the hours she’d spent in bed only thirty minutes ago.

“One,” I said, making sure to shirk off the smile threatening to break free so she could understand that she needn’t worry here, “no one - no one - but Mor and I are able to winnow directly inside this house. It is warded, shielded, and then warded some more. Only those I wish - and you wish - may enter. You are safe here; and safe anywhere in this city, for that matter. Velaris’s walls are well protected and have not been breached in five thousand years. No one with ill intent enters this city unless I allow it. So go where you wish, do what you wish, and see who you wish.”

Another pounding sounded at the door and again, it was an effort not to give in to Cassian’s inexhaustible ability to dig at me.

“Those two in the antechamber,” I continued, ready for the snide remark sure to follow, “might not be on that list of people you should bother knowing, if they keep banging on the door like children.”

I didn’t bother lowering my voice so they wouldn’t hear me outside, but I hadn’t raised it either, and all the same, Cassian still pounded relentlessly on the door and added, “You know we can hear you, prick.”

A little thrill went up my spine that I stood solidly firm over to hide it. They were so close - both halves of my life. So, so unbearably close that the anticipation of it was just as much a nuisance to lock down as a happiness to feel.

“Secondly,” I said casually, with just enough emphasis to piss Cass off and with any luck earn a long suffering sigh from Azriel, “in regard to the two bastards at my door, it’s up to you whether you want to meet them now, or head upstairs like a wise person, take a nap since you’re still looking a little peaky, and then change into city-appropriate clothing while I beat the hell out of one of them for talking to his High Lord like that.”

Feyre looked at me in bewilderment. Her shields were in perfect tact. I didn’t want to rifle through her head for every little emotion and thought, not at the cost of her personal space. But I would have been lying if I’d said it would not have been nice for this to have been one of those beautiful moments where she let me in on her mind’s turbulent seas to understand her better. What I would have given to know what she was thinking just then and here I was too scared out of my mind to ask while I waited for a decision, even as the adrenaline begged me to...

Her face appeared easy at first, some of those muscles in her tired body relaxed as she surveyed my face in a way I’d never seen from her before. And then it fell, miserably low and I thought she might yawn or fall over on the spot.

“Just come get me when they’re gone,” she finally said. It was an effort not to let my disappointment show. Part of me wanted everyone I loved to meet then and there and be done with it, but her peace was more important.

Then again, that peace might never be possible if Feyre found my family wasn’t one she could be a part of, if she found them too -

“You Illyrians are worse than cats yowling to be let in the back door.” Amren’s razor thin voice cut the silence between Feyre and I sharply. I heard the handle of the door jingle harshly as she tried it. “Really, Rhysand? You locked us out?”

Whatever was in Amren’s tone today was not one Feyre was ready to face apparently because she immediately dismissed herself without another word and made for the stairs where I knew Nuala and Cerridwen would be waiting to intercept her. I listened for her footsteps, waiting until she was well out of the danger zone, before I opened the door and my entryway was flooded by my hulking brothers and the short, blunt woman who somehow outsized them both.

Cassian clapped me on the back, shaking the chill off of him as he strode past me towards the warmer air. “Welcome home, bastard,” he said by way of greeting. “I sensed you were back. Mor filled me in, but I-”

Amren stepped directly into my path, cutting Cassian off with an annoyed glare. “Send your dogs out in the yard to play, Rhysand. You and I have matters to discuss.”

But while her displeasure had been directed at Cassian, it was Azriel who replied with that cold, deadly insistence, the only one who dared go toe-to-toe with Amren for my attention. When it came to political matters, at least.

“As do I,” Azriel said and there was no mistaking his meaning. Amren didn’t so much as move.

“We were here first,” Cassian said, much more casually than Az. “Wait your turn, Tiny Ancient One.”

Okay, maybe Azriel wasn’t the only one willing to play with Amren. The snarl that ripped from between her sharp teeth was low, but perfectly clear.

Mor startled me when she rounded the corner from the kitchen, a steaming cup of tea between her hands and wearing a lazy set of loose pants and a sweater that said she could have just woken up. I wondered whether she’d stayed the night here after forewarning Azriel of the last day’s events or if she’d met him this morning and winnowed in without bothering to change.

“Why is everyone here so early?” She said, still sleepy. “I thought we were meeting tonight at the House.”

Everyone stared at me waiting and for a second, seeing my house full of people with nothing but complaint while Feyre went through her own mini-hell adjusting upstairs was tiresome. “Trust me, there’s no party. Only a massacre, if Cassian doesn’t shut his mouth.”

Cass blew me off. “We’re hungry. Feed us. Someone told me there’d be breakfast.”

Az’s lips gave a tug as he chose a plush backless seat to lean over, ready as ever to get straight to business.

“Pathetic,” Amren said. Never one to be outdone, she took her own seat across from the shadowsinger. “You idiots are pathetic.”

“We know that’s true. But is there food?” Mor flashed that insatiable grin of hers that won the hearts of men and women up and down Prythian, but Cass cut across her with a derisive snort.

“You’re the one who just came from the kitchen,” he said.

“That was for tea,” she said raising her mug and shaking it faintly in his direction. “And you know I don’t cook.”

“Can’t cook, you mean,” Azriel said. Their eyes met across the room and held some kind of quiet, teasing exchange the rest of us were never privy to.

When the shadows informed him that Mor’s eyes weren’t the only attention he held, Azriel cleared his throat and spoke in that cool stoicism of his. “So what’s the plan?”

“Hold on, hold on,” Cassian said. “I’d like to know what prompted these oncoming plans before we actually get in to them. Some of us don’t have shadows and personal secretaries to inform us of every little movement Rhys makes.” He gestured between Azriel and Mor. It was Mor who replied.

“Some of us,” she said, staring pointedly at Cassian, “need to learn the value of minding their own business and a little patience. And I thought we were eating first?”

“By the Cauldron,” I said, snapping my fingers. The coffee table filled with fruit and muffins. Mor squealed, reaching for her preferred chocolate muffins, Cassian not far behind taking a fat pomegranate, their conflict temporarily forgotten. Amren eyed the food with clear disdain.

“Miserable though this is,” Amren said, “I too would like a full account of recent events and the plans to follow.” Amren gave me half a heartbeat before her eyes lifted slowly to the ceiling above us where Feyre undoubtedly stayed, hopefully fast asleep between the fresh sheets of her new bed.

Everyone followed suit and I sank in to a chair, taking a nut muffin for myself with a few bites, and then let the incident in the Spring Court unfold.

“So she stays here from now on,” Azriel asked. I nodded. “And you’re content to trust her with the knowledge of this city - with Velaris?”

“Obviously,” I said. “She’s here, isn’t she.”

“You know what I mean, Rhys.”

“Azriel isn’t wrong,” Amren said. “This is a considerable step, Rhysand.”

“One that hasn’t been weighed without a great deal of consideration, Amren,” I replied and she eyed me stonily. I didn’t appreciate the full use of my name.

Though I’d only taken a handful of seconds before acquiescing to Feyre’s request to join me here, there had never been a doubt in my mind that she could handle keeping this secret or even that she would if she chose to assume the burden of it. I trusted my mate with that secret - and so much more, really.

“Feyre is now in a period of transition,” I went on. “She has survived a great deal in her return to the Spring Court alone and it has cost her almost everything. For that and because of certain... understandings with her, she is to be afforded the rights of this court until such a time comes where she chooses to no longer be apart of it. And even then, her word is good that she will not betray us.” Azriel’s shadows tightened tensely around his body as if searching for the validity of my statement. “None of you have reason to doubt me on this.”

I didn’t need to add that that was final. “And now?” Azriel asked.

“You’ll meet her tonight and have your fun, and then tomorrow we work. So long as Feyre resides in Velaris, we know she is safe. But if she should leave this city, Tamlin is bound to have every sentinel and guard in his court trying to find her whether she wants it or not. And not just Tamlin.”

Mor shuddered and swallowed the bite of fruit she’d been chewing. “You think others will be looking for her? Our enemies?”

“And Tamlin’s.”

“Because of-”

“Amarantha? Yes. Anyone who sided with her and managed to get out of that mountain alive will almost undoubtedly be looking for her.” My mind flicked through the suspects, from the Attor to creatures of a much darker sort. “If they’ve allied with Hybern, then it’s almost a guarantee. Tamlin might be foolish enough to think no one will suspect Feyre of being more than just another High Fae noble, but I am not.”

“You think she is more than what she appears?” Cassian asked, genuinely intrigued - enough to stop chewing, at least.

“I already know she is, and will discuss it another time. For now...” I looked at Azriel. He had information, but his eyes narrowed, the shadows flickering over his face in a haze that told me to wait. “For now, eat your food and make my life a living hell like you always do.”

Cassian huffed a laugh and swiped another piece of fruit off the table, this time an orange. He threw a blueberry that stuck in Mor’s hair and I thought she might light his leathers on fire.

They stayed for most of the morning. For the most part, we chatted about strategies for keeping Feyre safe from the enemies who might try and snatch her if the time came for her to leave while at the same time scheming how to use that to our advantage if it was Hybern or one of his cronies behind any attacks. And then there was general conversation about the war itself, the Illyrian war-bands constantly harping at me from the North, the temples, Tamlin...

It was exhausting. As excited as I’d been having them arrive and share the same roof as my mate, part of me would rather have joined Feyre upstairs and taken a good, long nap away from the endless chatter about subjects hell bent on killing me.

Amren pulled me aside onto the outdoor patio midway through the discussion to give her own private report. She left as soon as it was over and Azriel took her place.

“Any news yet?” I asked. Azriel didn’t have to ask what I meant as he eyed the balcony to Feyre’s room just above us.

“Nothing,” he said. “Tamlin put the entire court on lock down almost as soon as he realized Feyre was missing. The gap was open for a short time and likely only because he wasn’t home when Mor got her out. I’m not sure he realized right away what had happened.”

“His wards are weak - even for him.” Something that was deeply unsettling. For a High Lord intent on protecting what was owed to him, he sure missed one hell of a show from Feyre for all her trouble should have alerted him to what was happening in his own home. An explosion like that... he should have met Mor and I at the gates.

“Keep an eye on the court,” I said. “Go back tomorrow yourself and see if you can’t get anything out of it. She’s only been here a day and Tamlin’s not going to let this go even if Feyre shows up and puts a knife in his heart herself.”

Azriel nodded. A cruel shadow twisted off his lips as if it spoke the order itself to whatever eyes and ears awaited him tomorrow in the Spring Court - that they should be watching. Azriel didn’t move.

“Spit it out,” I said.

“It’s happened again,” he said with that cold, unyielding blade of a voice he had.

I sighed. “Tell me.”

And I already knew what was coming.

His face cracked just the slightest, knowing the blow he was about to deal.

“There’s been another attack. Same as the rest - priestesses slain, the place ransacked, and something missing even if it’s not apparent what.”

Relentless, icy rage glittered in my veins. Had I not wanted to leave Feyre to possibly meet my little entourage for the first time alone, I would have shot straight up into the skies and flown until sundown.

“Where?” I asked instead.

But just as before, I already knew the answer. Knew the doom it spelt. Knew that another clue to the riddle I suspected I’d already solved was coming.

Azriel’s lips tightened into a hard line before he answered, his eyes cold and screaming with the same rage I felt.

“The Temple at Sangravah.”

Cesere...

Sangravah...

And countless others.

My mind flashed to the war room I’d shown Feyre, and the maps strewn with marks and figures.

War was coming.

Thanks for reading, folks! Hit the links up top to continue reading the next chapter.

#feysand #feyre #rhysand #acomaf #the inner circle #azriel #cassian #morrigan #amren #feysand fanfiction #rhys pov #myfic

305 notes · View notes