𝔸 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕎𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕙 (Book 2)

Eighty-Three

The House of Wind held a slight chill as I walked the halls. I'd remembered exactly where I was headed, granted I'd only been there only once before, and yet it was so fresh in my memory I could have sworn it was just yesterday.

    My steps were slow and leisurely. I wasn't in any rush to get where I was going. I was quite happy avoiding it, actually, as I pretended I didn't remember where my sister's room was.

    Though it was quite hard to avoid it as I stood right in front of it. I had been procrastinating knocking for quite some time now. I stared at the door with furrowed brows. As though it were a great mystery to me.

    I knew I had to do this. I had to set things right.

    My knuckle rasped against the wood of the door. The soft pittering of footsteps came to the door, before it was pulled open. "Back so soon, M—" my sister began, cutting herself off as she found that it was apparently not the person she was looking for. "Oh." was all my little sister said.

    I raised my brows a bit. "Can we talk?"

    My sister's eyes dimmed, a frown marring her features just slightly. I'd be lying if I said it didn't hurt. But even so, Feyre opened the door just a fraction to allow me in.

I gingerly stepped inside. Already feeling out of place as I looked at the room that had gained so much warmth since the last time I'd been there. Tasteful paintings now littered the walls, and different trinkets and designs littered the walls. It wasn't just the physical aspect of the room that changed. The air just seemed...lighter.

    I knew all the decor had been Mor, simply because half of it was an homage to wine.

    I was sad. I didn't know why I was sad. I just was.

    I stalked over toward the two chairs at the edge of the room, quickly turning back my sister and muttering a "May I sit?" she nodded, and I swiftly sat down. I wasn't sure my legs could hold the weight of this conversation anyway.

    For a long moment, Feyre simply stood near the door. As if debating whether she could stomach sitting next to me.

    I understood that I kept this from her. I understood that I did that after I'd said no more secrets. But I couldn't understand why this had been blown to such heights.

    Slowly my youngest sister crossed the room, sitting down in the chair across from me. Her body was tense, so tense I thought her bones might snap.

    I didn't want to rush into things. "How have you been?" I asked.

    "Fine." she replied. "Not that you would know that." her last words were soft, not even an inch of bite to them. So soft I wouldn't have heard them had I not been listening so intently.

    My chest tightened almost imperceptibly at my sister's anger toward me. I shook it away.

    "I'm glad I've heard that—"

    She cut me off. "Let's not do this." She nearly pleaded. "Let's not pretend as if nothing happened."

    I furrowed my brow, so very confused. "And what has happened, Feyre? I don't get it. What have I done that's so terrible you refuse to even see me?"

    My sister blew out a breath, shaking her head, "As if you don't know."

    I scoffed, wondering where all this anger toward me was coming from. "Actually, I don't." I said exasperatedly. "All I know is that moment I was telling everyone...who I was, and the next, you were walking out of the room refusing to look at me."