A Court of Friends and Family

Part 4: Apples and Knives

One month after miscarriage.

"For someone Cassian has trained to wield an Illyrian blade, you seem to have a lot of difficulty cutting apples," Rhys's voice came from behind as Feyre stood in the kitchen.

"Busybody," she shot back.

"I mean, I just think that there are better ways to cut apples," Rhys said, leaning on the kitchen island.

"Don't you have something to do?" Feyre said over her shoulder.

"Not really," he replied. Feyre rolled her eyes and smiled. Where did he just come from, she wondered?

"Do you want some apple, Rhys? I mean," she turned to look at him, propping her hand on her hip, "if my cutting style doesn't turn you off."

"Yes please," her mate replied, smirking. "And I came from the library."

"No, but really, don't you have something to do?" she asked him as she put the plate of apple slices between them.

"No, not really," Rhys said, biting into a piece of apple.

"Not really. What does that even mean? Where's Cassian?"

"It means not really. Like if I really looked, I might have something to do, but it's not super blatantly obvious. And Cassian's training some young Illyrian females up at the war camp." He looked up at Feyre.

"Azriel?" she inquired, swallowing a her bite of apple.

"Out scouting for me."

"Okay . . . " she paused. "Morrigan?"

"Out doing something, I'm not sure. I haven't seen her today," Rhys said, twirling an apple slice on the plate.

"Hm, well at least that. Good for her, I guess," Feyre said, watching Rhys push around a piece of apple. She picked up her own slice and bit down. "So it's just us then. Oh wait! Amren?"

"Adriata with Varian," he said knowingly. Feyre nodded, laughing under her breath.

"If Nesta was around, I'm sure she would be up for a rousing argument about any given topic," Feyre looked at Rhys with eyebrows raised. Rhys nodded. "What about the Court of Nightmares? Any dark motives to go and hold court there for a bit?"

"I feel like you're trying to get rid of me," Rhys laughed.

"Okay, no. What about the moonstone palace? Whoever stays there must be longing for a visit from their High Lord," she pointed at him with her apple.

"Nope."

"Why do we even have that palace if we don't go there?" Feyre asked.

"Because I need a place to take my yet unmated females who hate me, that's not my secret city," he stated very matter of fact.

"Oh, and do you have a lot of yet unmated females who hate you?"

"Tons."

"Well obviously you haven't encountered any recently, since you haven't been up there."

"Yeah," Rhys sighed, "as it turns out I prefer just having one mated female who loves me wildly." A cocky grin danced across his face.

"You're insufferable," Feyre replied, flicking his nose.

"Okay, what, pray tell, do you have planned that requires you to be rid of me?" Rhys asked haughtily.

"Nothing actually. I was planning on taking a nap," Feyre said quietly, staring at the plate, and drawing invisible squiggles with her apple.

"Do you want me to join you?" Rhys asked, as Feyre shifted her gaze to the dark counter.

"I think I'd rather be alone, actually," she replied, Rhys watched her carefully.

"Is everything okay?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah, um, it's just," she blew out a breath. "It's been a month since we, uh, lost the baby," she finished with extreme quiet.

"Oh. I—I didn't even realize," Rhys pulled back, brows furrowing together.

"No, no, it's okay," Feyre reached across the counter, but Rhys moved around the counter to her, placing his hands on the sides on her arms.

"No it's not okay," he said, titling his head to look in Feyre eyes. "We're in this together, and I should have realized—" he stopped. "If I've still been off you're probably even more off. No wonder you still haven't been training." He looked down, shame flashing in his beautiful eyes.

"Rhys—" but before she could finish he pulled Feyre to his chest. His chin resting on the top of her head.

"I love you," he breathes. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," Feyre says, eyes burning as he pulled away to study her.

"Feyre, don't cry," Rhys whispered, Feyre's bottom lip quivered, and she took a shaky breath.
"What if that was the son that the Carver had shown me? What if I couldn't bring him into the world? What if," her voice broke, "what if I just can't?"

"Then as I've said before, we'll deal with that. But my darling mate you have to tell me these things. If they weigh on you in the middle of the night, wake me up and tell me. Don't just keep them to yourself. And if you can't voice what you're feeling, show me. I want to go through all of this with you. Because I am yours, and you are mine. And I love you more than I ever thought possible." Feyre nodded, leaning more into him.

"Thank you," she breathed, wrapping her arms around Rhys's waist as his went around her back. And they stood there, together, in the afternoon sun, their breaths falling into the same beat before they went upstairs.