A Court of Innocents

21: Ice

I awoke in a private room. The walls were lined with shelves, and there were more books in this cramped room than most people could reasonably consume in a century. The chaise lounge beneath me was soft. The midnight blue shade of the fabric was illuminated by the daylight that poured through the window to my left. Outside, Velaris gleamed and glistened beneath the midday sun.

I didn't have to guess what this place was. I already knew. I'd spent a month recovering here before, in what felt like a different lifetime.

I thought I was done with this place. Graduated from its sacred walls of healing. But the fact that I was here again...

A door opened on the other side of the room, and I pulled the blanket higher up my body, even though I was fully clothed. With a halfhearted glance, I noted that these weren't the same clothes I'd last worn. I wondered why—

And then I remembered the fire.

I must have burnt down that entire cabin, my clothes with it.

Now, I wore the loose but conservative robes of the priestesses that resided in this library.

Rhysand stepped into the room, clad in his High Lord black. Those purple eyes scanned the length of my body, worry and concern furrowing his brows. "How do you feel?" That voice—it wasn't the casual, professional voice of the High Lord of the Night Court. It held the sympathy of a friend.

This all felt familiar—too familiar.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. He had questions for me, I knew he did. Questions about things I couldn't even fully process.

What happened?

Did Tamlin hurt you?

How did you start that fire?

Do you have more power than you let on?

Why are you still broken?

I didn't have the strength to think about those questions, let alone provide an answer. So I gazed out the window instead, wishing with everything inside of me that I was somewhere else, someone else.

Movement in the corner of the window. That spec on the horizon that I had mistaken for a fly on the glass was an Illyrian. Dark wings fanned every minute or so, holding their position steady in the sky, at least a mile out. And though I couldn't see their face from here, I had the distinct feeling that they were looking at the library. Looking at me, as if they knew I was trapped inside.

"I spoke with the priestesses," Rhysand tried again. "Their conditions are the same as last time. You can stay as long as you need, find healing however you can, as long as there is no violence within these walls."

My eyes squeezed shut. The same as last time. How did I end up here again? Hadn't I done my time already?

"I can't stay here." It was an effort to keep my voice steady when I finally found it.

"Yara—"

"I have to go to the Day Court. I have to stop the plague." I rose to my feet and turned towards the door, only to realize that Rhysand had placed himself strategically between me and the only way out. "Get out of my way, Rhys."

He just looked at me with that worthless pity in his eyes. As if the mere sight of me...

"I will fight you if I have to."

Again, he didn't budge. Those powerful arms simply crossed over his chest. Fighting him would be pointless. Perhaps I'd stand a chance, hand to hand. But he fought dirty. That's what made him untouchable.