A Court of Dreams and Promise

Chapter Forty-One

Velaria

They winnowed straight into the camp. As soon as they landed, Azriel hesitated, a shadow crossing quickly across his face, then pressed a kiss softly to her cheek.

Velaria ran, clutching Nyx carefully to her chest, straight to Feyre's tent. Her shadows flew ahead of her, flying back to report that Feyre was in her tent.

Feyre looked up at Velaria as her tent flap flew open, her blue-gray eyes shining with worry. She stood up suddenly, noticing the bundle in Velaria's arms, and let out a rough sob.

Velaria was still moving, placing Nyx in Feyre's outstretched arms before taking a step back.

Feyre instantly began to bounce him, running a slender finger down his tan cheek. Tears rolled down her own cheeks, her gaze set wholly on her son. Nyx babbled, reaching for her, and something immediately shifted in Feyre. Her gaze became softer, her tears stopped flowing, a smile bloomed across her face.

Velaria stood there for a while, watching Feyre interact with Nyx, her High Lady's entire demeanor shifting and brightening. "Feyre," Velaria finally said quietly, "should I stay or should I go?"

Feyre's head snapped up, the expression crossing over her face signaling she hadn't known Velaria was still there. "Stay," she said softly. "Please, stay."

Velaria smiled, moving towards Feyre as they sat on her bed.

"Thank you," Feyre said, her eyes still on Nyx. "For bringing him back to me."

Velaria put a hand on Feyre's shoulder, her brother's mate leaning into the touch.

After a few minutes of silence, save for Nyx's babbling, Velaria waved a hand and produced two steaming mugs of tea.

Feyre looked up as Velaria handed her a mug of tea, beginning to laugh. "Sometimes I forget the extent of your power."

"Really?" Velaria tilted her head, taking a sip. "I used to flaunt it in Rhysand's face when we were younger. He got so agitated."

Feyre laughed. "How did you flaunt it without your father noticing?"

"The little things," Velaria said, hiding her smile behind her mug. "I would make his clothes disappear from their drawers and reappear on his bed, unfolded. Sometimes I would tap him on the shoulder in the hallways between his meetings, winnow away, and reappear where he was going."

"See, now I wish I could do that," Feyre said. "I'm also curious – how did you discover you were a shadowsinger?"

Velaria took another sip before answering, "My mother claimed that she saw the shadows on me three days after I was born. All I know is my father first saw them when he caught me knowing something I couldn't possibly know without the help of someone." Velaria shook her head, chuckling. "That was before I got good at lying to him."

Feyre was quiet for a second, taking in the silent meanings behind what Velaria had said. "Thank you for bringing my son back to me," she said. "I was worried that all the work Rhys and I had done to transform Prythian, that everything he's sacrificed to have a semi-happy life, would be in vain. That I would never see him or my son again."

"We will get Rhys back, Feyre," Velaria promised, reaching out and placing a hand on Feyre's knee. "I will do everything in my power to get my brother back. You did everything to bring me back to my Azriel. I will do the same for you."

"Thank you, Vela," Feyre said. "Really, thank you. I–"

"Sorry," Velaria said, cutting her off. She stood up, striding to the door, a shadow coiled around her neck, its onyx coils gleaming. She pulled back the tent flap, grinning.