ACOMAF (Rhys's POV)

Lick You Where Exactly? (Chapter 29)

It was like a dream.

I had woken up to a cold, snowy morning in the mortal lands that had resulted in Feyre's body hurtled on top of mine, her face a sea of rage as she hissed at me and said Velaris would never be her home.

Now, only hours later, we were sitting under the night sky at one of my favorite cafes in the city she'd rebuked, enjoying dinner and conversation with my inner circle. And Feyre seemed pleased to be present for it.

We had walked together from my townhouse - all six of us, Amren included. It took nearly an hour with all the stops we made chatting to passerby, shop owners, pausing for a brief dance through a market square playing music Mor couldn't resist. Even Azriel seemed in high spirits.

Velaris was well alive tonight. No corner was left untouched from the magic of life and movement.

Feyre had kept quietly to herself as we made our way to the restaurant, a few casual paces behind us. Unlike our first tour together through the city, however, her silence was not a punishment or an attempt to put any of us off. It was merely contemplative, observant - maybe of all the things she had been missing for several months since Tamlin had been keeping her.

I'd done my best to give her space, let her be, but Mor caught me watching her a few times. My cousin bumped into me with a roguish grin and then skittered off to link her arm with Feyre's when we turned down the street where we'd be eating. Feyre didn't pull away.

And she ate more than her fair share of food at dinner when it was laid out - trays and trays of it. None of us ordered after the owner, an old friend of ours we'd visited frequently over the years, had greeted and sat us. She knew what we liked and I was glad to see Feyre liked it too - liked it so much, that she held back her hair when the curry was set down so she could lean forward and inhale the spices with her eyes closed. And when the meats were set at the opposite end of the table dripping with juices and fixings, she asked Cassian if he could pass it so she could have the first bite. If it had been anyone else of us who'd asked him, Cassian would have told us to piss off because that plate was his . But he just looked at Feyre, a twinkle in his eye, and said, "Of course."

Feyre took the plate and nearly scooped half of it onto her own before exchanging it with Mor, who stuck her tongue out at Cassian to taunt him for not getting the plate back. Azriel chuckled quietly next to me. Feyre didn't notice. She simply looked down, stabbed a tender piece of chicken with her fork, and tried not to smile as she fell into that bite. Overhead, the stars seemed to rattle into brilliant existence.

Dreaming, I'd thought.

I was dreaming.

And Feyre wasn't just eat to eat. She was eating to live.

"The traders were saying the prices might rise, High Lord," the owner said quietly to me behind my chair, after checking that the six of us had everything we needed, "especially if rumors about Hybern awakening are correct."

There was a deep seeded crease across the dark skin of her face. Whatever story Mor had been telling across from me, she paused.

"We'll find a way to keep the prices from skyrocketing," I said as casually as I could, examining my wine goblet as I did so. Amren and I would have a discussion on trade in the morning to make sure I kept my promise.

But the owner wriggled upwards on her feet a little as she replied. "Don't trouble yourself, of course," she said. "It's just... so lovely to have such spices available again - now that... that things are better."

Now that I wasn't locked away in a prison hell pit for near on fifty years, she meant. So many people Amarantha had cursed taking me under. So many people who were well protected and far, far away, but still suffered the effects of that queen's reign of terror.