ACOMAF (Rhys's POV)

This Mask Does Not Scare Me (Chapter 42)

I felt sick. For the first time in centuries, power was not my friend accompanying me to the Hewn City - the Court of Nightmares. Though it would have to be my ally if we were going to accomplish this mission.

It wouldn't be like last time, with Tarquin. I wouldn't let it. We would enter, Azriel would swoop in to snatch the Veritas, and we would leave.

But Feyre would see every moment.

I'd once pledged to her that she would not become a weapon nor a pawn so long as she worked with me. Holding her tightly against my chest as we flew through the cold mountain air towards the gates, Cassian and Azriel flying nearby, the memory tasted of a lie on my tongue. I couldn't look at her knowing how Mor would transform her when she received us. So I only held on more tightly instead.

Feyre had sat with me for a long while after I'd explained her role in today's proceedings. When we'd finished and I was certain she understood, would decide it was too vile and demoralizing to go through with and walk out, she squeezed my hand tighter.

And now we flew, all I could think of as I stared at the slowly melting snow and surrounding forests was whether she would forgive me today's grievances only to enter that mountain and see Amarantha anew - and panic.

Panic the way my heart did now, beating away a wild tension rapidly in my chest.

It was an odd contrast to the trees that sat so silently near us as we flew by. Not even the brief stirrings of the wind seemed to ruffle their branches. The birds hiding among their number remained utterly silent.

So cold, my court. So unyielding and stern, and -

"Amren and Mor told me that the span of an Illyrian male's wings says a lot about the size of... other parts," Feyre said in the middle of that great silence. It was an effort not to jerk in surprise through the air currents. Of all the -

Briefly, I glanced at her, and saw a shy, coy face watching me. "Did they now," I said offhandedly. Feyre shrugged as though we were merely discussing the ease into spring the weather had taken.

"They also said Azriel's wings are the biggest."

Of course they did.

I was going to murder my cousin after this trip. Feyre bit her lip in a near smirk and slid her gaze carefully to my brother, flying slightly ahead of us now. My heart sped up for entirely new reasons.

"When we get home, let's get out the measuring stick, shall we?"

Feyre's fingers danced across my forearm and pinched. The grin I flashed her just before tucking my wings in tight was undeniable. Her arms went wild scrambling for purchase around my chest - my neck - as we fell, dropping several feet. But the scream the fall elicited out of her as Feyre buried her face in at the side of my neck was sensational.

My wings fanned out at my back, sending us into a smooth even glide with a few measured pumps. Ahead, Azriel barrel rolled over, his expression questioning at Feyre's cry.

Biggest span, my ass , I thought, as my subsequent grin and laughter sent him back off.

Tilting my chin down, my lips found the little pathway between Feyre's ear and neck. "You're willing to brave my brand of darkness and put up one of your own, willing to go to watery grave and take on the Weaver, but a little free fall makes you scream?"

She didn't even move so I could better hear her reply through the wind whipping about us. Her arms were locked firmly around my neck, fingers gripping at my leathers. I quite liked her clutching at me like this, holding me tight, making her scream -