The Dark Flower (Azriel x OC)

27. Reluctant Peace (Persephone)

Rather than escort them to the bedrooms on the floor above, Rhysand led both Feyre and Percy to the grand dining room. Percy let Feyre be the one to argue with Rhysand. She just... didn't have it in her. Not right now. She felt like a ghost drifting through the palace, here but not.

Rhysand tried to draw her out a few times. "I didn't know that one could get circles so dark beneath their eyes? Nightmares, Persephone?"

Some distant part of her mind had flicked on then, wanting to argue back. But for what? The circles beneath her eyes likely were dark. She hadn't slept in days - hadn't felt safe enough to. Not with nightmares looming in every corner of her mind, waiting to pounce. 

So he'd tried again. "Doesn't your father feed you? You're little more than skin and bones." 

Her dresses were hanging looser on her. Since her father's outburst, she only ever attended dinner. Breakfast was ignored and lunch was left sitting on the little table in her bedroom. Moira had taken to trying to hand feed her, forcing her to eat until Percy inevitably curled away refusing any more. 

Percy silently picked at her breakfast. The food was good, she'd give him that much, and it settled easily in her stomach. He'd filled her plate himself, ignoring the bacon and sausage that would have sat like lead in her empty stomach and instead opting for yogurt and berries and toast. 

"Did you give my offer any thought?" he asked as Percy nibbled on her toast. 

Last month, Rhysand had offered both of them a job working with him and preventing what he believed could be a catastrophic war. Percy had nearly laughed out loud when he'd told her that he wanted her involved. Her. The blind halfling who's only magic manifested in the ability to occasionally see out of the eyes of others. 

What could she possibly have to offer him? She knew next to nothing about the King of Hybern, save that Amarantha had been one of his generals. She knew nothing of war or politics or even geography. None of those things had been included in her lessons, and forget the idea of her being able to fight in a war. 

Father had actually let out a bitter, sarcastic laugh when she'd told him. "He wants you fighting in whatever war he's inventing? And what would he have you do? Put a sword in your hand and toss you out on the frontlines to serve as cannon fodder?"  

She couldn't help but agree. 

Percy just shook her head, once again giving Feyre room to speak for the both of them. 

"I'm not going to work with you," Feyre said quietly. "Neither is Percy." 

"I think Persephone... Percy... can answer for herself," Rhysand told her, voice hard and firm. He was perhaps the one person that wouldn't accept Feyre answering for her. Father was certainly happy enough to take Feyre's responses to questions intended for her, as was Lucien who could scarcely stand to be in the same room as her these days, let alone bother to try to hold a conversation with her. 

Percy's hands stilled. The words were in her throat. No. It was one word, one syllable, but it was trapped within her. She just... she just couldn't. So she just shook her head again.