A Court of Light and Shadow

Chapter 29

THE HIGH LORD

War had become a common term within Prythian now. And it seemed that no matter how much kindness would lay within me, I shouldn't act on it. I had allowed this female into our home.

I witnessed her brainwash my best warriors into her own personal bodyguards. A strange sight, to watch them bow to her every need. Well—maybe not her every need, but they did listen. Especially Azriel; the only Shadowsinger known to Fae. To our Fae. But despite my initial doubt, I had accepted Maurelle into Illyria. Into the Night Court. Was it my idea? No. No it was not.

But I had given her a siphon, a powerful tool to help her control her powers. To filter it.

Three pairs of wings soon left my tent, and I stood on my own once more. There was something strange about her. I did not know her, I still did not understand her story. But maybe she did not understand it herself. She was vague. A blurry picture unable to focus, and no matter how hard I tried, it only got worse.

A soft, warm feeling filled my mind as another figure stepped inside. Feyre. I slumped into my chair with a sigh, keeping my eyes on her figure as she walked over.

Everybody wore their leathers now, even the females. A strange sight, especially after centuries of misogyny within the camps. But still I did not complain, not once.

She stopped in front of me, leaning her weight back against the table. Her hand reached, and her fingers tangled their way into my hair. Playing along the strands. I smiled weakly at the sensation. "Your mind's heavy." Feyre spoke softly. "What's wrong?"

I loved her voice. I always had. I met her eyes, admiring the humanity inside them. Even as a High Fae, she stayed human. I gently placed my hand on her arm, trailing my fingers along the leather, wishing it was her skin instead.

"Rhysand?" Her voice broke me out of my trance, causing me to hum softly. "Talk to me, darling."

I gently rubbed her arm once more, just to bring both of us comfort. I opened my mind to her, allowed her to see for herself. I could not put it to words, not now. Not today.

That same feeling from before entered my body. My soul. She was reading me, understanding me for as far as I allowed her. Though cold soon re-entered my body as she left, and all I found was her smile. A soft one, but I noticed it.

"You have noticed it, haven't you?" She asked, her touch still soft in my hair.

“Noticed what?” I asked in return.

“Their scent, Rhys.” She smiled down at me, like I was some form of idiot for not noticing something so obvious. But I had. I had noticed, it was hard not to notice.

“I have.” I rested my head back in the chair, and sighed deeply. Things were so overwhelming now. War, culture, mates—it had no end.

Her touch disappeared completely, and her figure moved away from where she had been in front of me.
I slowly stood from my seat, studying her as she moved. There was something about her, something so alluring. She had always been like that.

"Where's Nyx?" Feyre turned at my question, her eyes meeting mine once more. She smiled again.

"With Mor." She said, "Back at the House."

She stood at the other end of the table, picking up one of the many wooden figures spread about the surface. She studied it, tracing it with her finger ever so delicately. She had become more gentle since the birth of Nyx. Gentle and careful, like every small thing in the world was as fragile as porcelain.

"How much longer do you reckon we have out here?" She asked while placing the figure back down. In the same exact place it had been before. I found my hands to lean onto the table, studying the plans me and Cassian had made.

"A day." I said. "Maybe less."

A sigh sounded from her. Things had been rough. The camps were small, almost cramped. Our warriors weren't well rested. But we couldn't put Velaris at risk. Feyre and I both would rather jump off Ramiel than let any harm come to our son.

"Amren will take over for Mor, when it comes down to it." Feyre explained suddenly. She had a plan laid out for Nyx, of course she did. I honestly didn't expect any less of her. "Cassian has a couple of his best guarding the House." She said. I nodded at that.

Cassian was a good uncle. The entirety of our circle was good to that boy.

A mess. This was all one big, giant mess. And yet again, the Night Court would be left to clean it all up.

"Rhysand." Her voice cut through my thoughts. She had a serious tone. "What is going on?" She asked.

If I would tell her my doubts about that female, she'd have my head. Feyre met her once, maybe twice, and she immediately said she loved the girl. How? I did not see how she could possibly enjoy the company of a strange female from an even stranger Court.

"Rhysand?" Her voice was slightly raised. Tension grew rapidly. I stayed quiet.

She scoffed at me, her head shaking in disapproval. "Nevermind."

She turned, and made her leave. But the thing was, I did have time to answer–because the ground was shaking, and loud voices filled then air outside the tent.

A day. Maybe less.

Our eyes met the second the vibations traveled through our legs. They were here. Neither of us hesitated as we rushed out, blinking against the setting sun.

Smoke. Fires ablaze, and voices—so many of them. War was an ancient instinct, an almost common thing. At this point it may be considered a feeling. My eyes darted to my mate, and I began spurting orders.

"Find her, do not let her out of your sight." I commanded.

My back grew heavy as the High Lord left, and the Illyrian replaced him.

Feyre simply nodded, and rushed to get to the girl. If it was true that she was now mated to my brother, then it was up to him to protect the female. She was his now, and god forbid if I so much as laid his hand on her; Azriel would have my head for it.

Though my last concern were my brothers were.

I had to protect my people.

My family.