A Court of Rage and Wishes

Chapter 3

The following morning, Ariciya woke to warm rays of sunlight streaming into the bedroom. Cassian's side of the bed was cold; he must've left earlier. Barely lifting her head, she strained to listen for the sound of Cassian's footsteps downstairs. Nothing.

Yawning, she kicked off the blankets and padded over to the capacious bathroom. While the interior wasn't as lavish as the bathrooms at the House of Wind, it was definitely made to accommodate wingspans; hence the overhead shower and lack of glass doors encasing the shower. Instead, there was a ledge protruding from the bamboo floor to prevent water from flooding the entire room and trip any unaware users. And, of course, there was a quintessential bathtub in the corner.

Once Ariciya had washed her face and changed into her usual black pants and blue tunic, she made her way downstairs and spotted a note on the counter. She picked it up and scanned the sharp handwriting.

    Got called in by Azriel earlier. He said it was important. I'll see you in the afternoon.

What could've been so urgent that Cassian had to be called in? Normally he wasn't one of the first people notified about political affairs. That is, unless the Illyrian army was needed for something.

She tossed her hair up into a bun and grabbed a woven basket before taking off of his front doorstep, flying toward the market by the Sidra.

𝛀𝛀𝛀

The moment she landed at the front of the House of Wind, she shuddered. Normally, the sight of the edifice towering over her didn't intimidate her. And, normally, when she turned around to take in the view of Velaris, her heart didn't swell with emotion. But, it was the day she'd remember for the rest of her immortal life.

Two years ago, the sparkling city of Starlight risked destruction. Two years ago, the High Lords and her High Lady were the only things protecting the hidden gem from Hybern's ravenous forces. Overlooking the court of dreams, the House of Wind sat on the peak of a mountain, a silent guardian. A promise of protection.

Taking a deep breath, Ariciya blinked back tears and spun back around to face the door.

"This is going to be a long day," she muttered to herself, pushing open the large wooden doors.

Her footfalls echoed loudly, disturbing the silence floating through the chambers. Passing through the lobby, which was devoid of persons, she entered the kitchen. It was silent, too. After setting the basket onto the counter, she grabbed an apron from a nearby cabinet and put it on. Eyes downcast, she organized the array of fruits and vegetables she'd picked out from the market earlier. The vibrant greens and rich purples stuck out against the black-flecked granite, adding life to the cold stone.

The deafening silence magnified every sound she made as she shuffled back and forth across the kitchen. Golden-brown slices of bread lay wide open on a tray, waiting for her to dress them. Ariciya crossed her arms and shifted her weight to her left, cocking her head to the side. No one had arrived yet, and she wasn't about to fully assemble a meal if they didn't show.

She knew where they were. At least, she knew where most of them were. Cassian was with Azriel, and Feyre was with Rhysand; they were most likely with the General Commander and Spymaster instead of in their room.

Two years ago, Rhys had given his life to nullify the Cauldron to end the war. He was alive and well, but memories lingered, as they did for many others. Everyone had gone home that day with scars—some new, some reopened.

The final battle had been a bloodbath; thousands of soldiers on both sides of the field were slaughtered. After the war, Ariciya scrubbed her hands until they were an angry red—even if they were spotless—as if their blood still stained her skin. Sometimes, she still found herself rubbing them together absentmindedly.