Acotar and Tog [Discontinued, Will be deleted]

Don't You Ever Think That

I assumed that it was no coincidence that Feyre waited until everyone had left before she tip-toed down the stairs to meet me some fifteen minutes after the fact. I hadn’t really done much other than stand there waiting restlessly for her anyway trying to get the blood in my ears to stop from hollering at me as I counted the number of priestesses who were likely now dead in Sangravah.

Priestesses were a fickle, questionable breed throughout Prythian, especially now that Amarantha had fallen. But every drop of fae blood was a waste when slain. Our numbers, despite vast cities and territories, were few compared to the Mortal Realms, which bred like mice.

And besides, those priestesses had been innocent. As innocent as Feyre who approached me now with quiet feet and the same undeserved punishment in her eyes.

I looked her over and swallowed tightly before she could catch my eyes. The cream sweater she wore complimented her pale skin, but it hung low enough on her chest that I could see how sharp her collarbones had become. And while the blue coat she wore, the same color as the crisp clear sky I’d seen outside while talking to Azriel, should have brought out the blue in her eyes, they remained dull - lifeless.

And yet, she was still stunning somehow with her hair artfully braided around her head and a rich brown hue in her pants that reminded me of the dirt and forests I’d first glimpsed her in, where she was home and in her element.

Alive or half-dead, Feyre was perfect. Seeing her look so comfortable in regular clothes my own court had provided even if she didn’t feel okay in her own skin... Cauldron, I just wanted to touch her, to bring her close and hold her until it was okay or less not okay, if such a thing existed anymore.

“Those two certainly like to fuss,” I said instead.

Feyre didn’t react much as she followed me out the door and I couldn’t blame her, not when all of Velaris stood before her to steal her inquisitive attention.

Just as she had when she’d first entered my townhouse, she took in every detail. It was a time before I joined her just outside the little gate running the perimeter of the yard.

Fae - lesser and high alike - strode casually up and down the lanes. Spices wafted richly through the air attracting Feyre with closed eyes as she followed the various scents, until the shouts of children laughing as they played games begged her open her eyes back up and pay attention.

But the sea, stretched out of that snaking river the Sidra that wound through the city, was what really caught her attention, made her see the city as one collective tableau beyond the brushstrokes she initially spotted.

Velaris was such a dynamic, varied city. It was one reason I adored it and thanked the Mother every day my predecessors had seen fit to keep this city secret and safe above all others. There were just as many stretches of even, flat land to roam as there were mountains to climb, and the sea offered a never ending adventure to escape to. I grew up inhaling the salty, fresh scent of it deep into my lungs every morning until it was just as ingrained into my being as the wind and air were at my wings.

Feyre followed the wind as it took her over the many rooftops that clustered the city’s hillsides until she spotted the massive cliff side carved of red stone and her breath hitched.

Her mental shields were shut as I approached, clamped down tightly, so I couldn’t tell if she was impressed or curious or something else entirely.

“The middle peak,” I said softly, trying not to scare her, but she still jumped to face me, “that’s my other home in this city. The House of Wind.” I spotted Cassian and Azriel over Feyre’s shoulder flying toward the topmost reaches of the House, two blurs of black and danger carried on the wind to remind me of what was at stake. “We’ll be dining there tonight.”