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2. A Girl and Her Backpack

As everyone processed Rhysand's words, you dropped your gaze.

For the third or fourth time since you'd woken up, you thought about running away, but you knew it wouldn't solve anything. So like the mature young adult you were, you decided to stay, to work things out . . . Hopefully.

"No offense," you said, "but I barely know him. And I'm not even from this — world? Whatever you call this place." You pinched the bridge of your nose. "This doesn't make any sense."

"We're just as surprised as you are," Cassian said, hitting Azriel good-naturedly. "She's your mate, Azriel. This is awesome."

You scoffed and raised an unimpressed brow. "Yeah. The jury's still out on that."

Everyone looked at you like you'd just casted a spell.

And then something clicked.

"Oh, that—" You cleared your throat, a bit embarrassed. "That's a saying where I'm from. It means . . . Never mind. Forget it."

Feyre cocked her head to the side. "It means never mind and forget it?"

You shook your head, fighting a smile. "No, I just— I'll explain it later."

"Let's talk inside," Rhysand said, gesturing for you to follow him. "I don't want to make a scene."

You looked around. "But we're—"

"The wind whispers," Rhysand said, dead serious. "Come on."

You glanced up at the open sky, the roof, before finally agreeing to go inside. You trailed at the back of the group, Azriel and Cassian in the front. You kept glancing over everyone's shoulders to get a good look at him again — your mate, that is.

The word was so strange, so different, that it didn't sit right with you. But it didn't feel entirely horrible either?

You shook your head to yourself as everyone started upstairs.

"You okay?" Feyre asked, lingering on the stairs for you. "Do you want something else to wear? I guess I should've asked you that first. I'm sorry."

You glanced down at your nightgown. "Um, sure. If you have something that'll fit me."

Feyre waved a hand as you caught up to her. "Don't worry about things fitting or not. Alterations are hassle-free with a little magic."

You nodded. "Right. Of course."

Feyre smiled at your sarcasm, leading you through a marble patio.

Everyone entered someone's study or office through a pair of glass doors. There were enough settees for everyone, but Azriel and Cassian stood by the doorway on the other side of the room. They'd tucked in their wings, mindful of the books and expensive-looking furniture.

As you sat on one of the settees facing the backyard, Rhysand snapped his fingers. A dark blue babydoll dress appeared out of thin air. It was a bit sheer, but you figured you could just wear it over your nightgown.

When Feyre handed it to you, you muttered your thanks and threw it on. As you got comfortable again, Rhysand sat behind the desk. Feyre sat on it, facing you.

"So," Nesta said, sitting across from you, "where do we start? Should I try sending her back?"

"No," everyone said at once.

Well, everyone except for you. You weren't sure what to say, so you kept quiet.

"Why not?" Nesta asked, twisting to look back at Rhysand and Feyre. "She said she wants to go home."