A Court of Wind and Song

21: Cracks

Leur

I never wanted this.

Maybe I had blacked out, or maybe I had just keeled over and died. Maybe there was no point to anything anymore.

What a cruel fucking joke.

Suffering for 500 years to ensure that a bargain wouldn't be what killed my brother, all those wars, all the things I did to find my way back to him. Defeating the King of Hybern, putting the Cauldron back together, Azriel's death.

And it was all for nothing.

Because Rhys was going to die.

Rhys was going to die, and I was going to be High Lady of the Night Court.

And I had never fucking wanted this.

Azriel had thrown away the pail I threw up in, currently kneeling in front of me and wiping my face with a damp cloth. Rhys had brought me a rinse for my mouth and a mint, had literally forced it into my mouth as I went into shock. And here I was, sitting on the couch, gripping a sweating glass of chilled water and staring a hole through my brother.

And as if he knew what he was in for, as if he was well aware of the fucking idiocy that this contained, he just sat back down in the chair with his head bowed to me.

Perhaps, I'll just snap his fucking neck. Not that it matters, he is going to die anyways.

The only reason I wouldn't would be for Feyre's sake.

And when I found my voice through the shaking of my entire body and the cold cloth Azriel had left in my hands, I hadn't expected it to be so raw.

"What the fuck were you thinking?"

As if all of this sadness, the grief, the panic, the red red-hot anger had poured out of me and straight into my voice. As if I could not contain my emotions anymore, it was useless to hide them. I was a conduit, breathing fire and ice with every word I spoke.

"It sounded like a good idea at the time."

That was all Rhys had to say for himself.

"It wasn't," Azriel growled.

"You didn't see it." Rhys shook his head, "You didn't hear that scream, or watch your baby sister dissolve into incoherent begging and screaming. You didn't see the look on your face."

"No. I didn't." I growled, my temper like a boiling cauldron about to explode, "I fucking lived it."

Rhys just blinked at me.

"Azriel and I could have made some stupid ass suicide, death pact, but we didn't." I hissed at him, "We have both watched the other die, have sobbed over our mate's dead body, and we still haven't done it."

Rhys looked down at the ground.

"Do you know why?"

He didn't answer or even have the balls to look at me. He just hid his face in his hands, the way he used to do when we were children. And for some reason, it only served to piss me off more.

"Because it would be wholly irresponsible when we are the leaders of a fucking territory, that's why." I hissed, answering my own question, "Because we would never force the people who love us to lose us both in one fell swoop."

Rhys finally glanced up at me, "Don't pretend like you don't understand how we felt."

"Oh, I fucking understand." I shook my head, "I have lost everything, time and time again. I lost my mate twice in my life, and I know exactly how it feels. But I am not some child that does not understand nuance, and you aren't either."