The Heir of Night

55

They would be going to the Hewn City in just hours. Theia was sat in the bench against the window in her bedroom, head resting against the bookshelf. She felt empty, guilty. Nyx had every right to care about his mother, and Theia threw her every worry into his face. He hadn't returned to her bedroom since that night, two days of solitude and mind-numbing emptiness.

She wallowed in her own self-pity and self-hatred. This morning, Feyre woke her up by knocking on her door and announcing that they would be going to the Court of Nightmares and that she would be in this evening to help her get ready. The sun was set, the time was now. Theia repeatedly knocked her head against the wooden shelf, counting down the minutes as she watched the sun fall.

In just these two days without Nyx, Theia had begun to realize how much she relied on him, needed him. However, she'd be going to the feared Hewn City tonight. Theia lifted her chin, eyes watching the sun disappear behind the mountain ridge. It was the night to pull on the face she'd done so much in the past, the one where she was entirely capable of taking care of herself.

A knock sounded, Theia's breath rushing out as she turned her head. She called for them to enter, and Feyre walked in. Nyx hadn't lied about Feyre's outfit when going to the Court of Nightmares. The High Lady strode in with fabric hung over her arm, tall shoes between her fingers.

Her face was painted with rouge and black pigment, lips a bloody red and stretched into a smile. Theia certainly noticed the sheer fabric strewn over her breasts and gathered at the front between her thighs. Held together with what looked to be silver chain was half a skirt to conceal her rear, leaving the front open to reveal her slender legs.

"Time to get dressed. I brought a few options," Feyre chirped, tossing the fabric and shoes onto her bed and placing her hands on her hips. Theia blinked as she glanced between the High Lady and the dresses, brows pulled down. With a sigh, she pushed off from the bench and strode to the bed to pick through the fabric.

"Are these expected of me?" Theia grumbled, using two fingers to lift a dress quite similar to Feyre's. While the High Lady's was a midnight tone with shimmering silver throughout, this one was opaque and a flat black shade. Feyre shrugged with a twist of her red lips.

"It's what we all wear. There's more conservative options if you prefer."

The conservative options were not much better. Another black gown, this one stopped at the chest with no sleeves or straps. As Theia ran her fingers down the skirt, she noticed how the fabric was more sheer than Feyre's. She'd have to layer something beneath to stop her most intimate places from being seen. The skirt was cut with two slits that looked to stop at the bodice, leaving both legs completely bare.

"I can't wear pants?" Theia complained, dropping the skirt and turning with folded arms.

"You will come to see that every female in the Hewn City is one breeze away from being naked. That is the front of our court: evil, wicked, and debaucherous. The gentleness of Velaris is hidden away, wiped from the minds of anyone who is not meant to know about it. That is why Rhys is seen as cruel, because of who he becomes at the Court of Nightmares."

Theia chewed on the inside of her lip as she stared at Feyre, discomfort rising in her belly. She knew well enough that she was walking into a place where she would be seen as a breeding mule, and the thought of dressing so provocatively was sickening. She'd practically be offering herself as a piece of meat to the males there.

"There's no way I can wear pants?"

Feyre sighed, reaching her hand up to rub her eye in frustration but pausing when she remembered the pigment painted on. Her hand slapped her thigh as she dropped it down.