A Court of Friends and Family

Part 5: A Joyous Occasion

15 years later. Feyre and Rhys have been mated for 30 years.

"I'm pregnant," Feyre told Mor as they stood in the sitting room, spring air drifting in through the open windows.

"What?" Mor exclaimed. "Feyre, that's amazing!" A smile broke out across Mor's gorgeous face.

"Shhhh, I haven't told Rhys yet," Feyre replied, fidgeting with her sleeve.

"What? Why not?" Mor asked, moving them to the sofa.

"I—I don't know . . . I'm just," she paused, trying to find the right words, "scared, I guess."

"Feyre, you've been mated for 40 years. He'll be ecstatic. Plus you know—" Feyre cut her off, knowing where she was going with her sentence.

"I know how rare it is. I just don't know when to tell him. And you know what happened the last time . . . " Feyre trailed off, Mor looked down thoughtfully as she bit her red painted lip, probably recalling that horrid day 25 years ago.

"Yeah, I bet," she concluded. "Well, when you're ready to tell him—"

"Tell him what?" came Rhysand's low voice from the breezeway. "Oh you're looking dashing today, Mor," he said walking in, and giving Mor a light squeeze on the shoulder before he placed a kiss on his mate's cheek.

"Why thank you, cousin. And none of your concern. I'll see you both later." With a quick look in Feyre's direction, Mor made her exit. Rhys took Feyre's hand and spun her up to standing so that she faced him. The action made her a bit dizzy. Thankfully, Rhys didn't seem to take notice.

"So, I was thinking," Rhys brought Feyre's hand up to his lips so that he was speaking against it. "What if we go eat supper on the Sidra tonight? And then come back here, and have a bath      and . . . " he trailed off, his violet eyes meeting Feyre's with dangerous intent. She took a breath.

"Sure. That sounds wonderful." Rhys lowered her hand, but just to his chest, his brow furrowing together as he assessed her loosed breath and slight hesitation.

"Are you feeling alright, Feyre darling?"

"Fine. Why?" The words tumbled out of her mouth too quickly. She hoped he couldn't sense her lie. In truth, she hadn't been feeling great for the last several days.

"You just look a little peaky," he said, brushing his hand against her cheek. Feyre laughed a bit.

"No, I just haven't eaten anything," she paused, recalling the plain crackers she had barely managed to keep down at lunch time, and Cassian's watchful eye from across the table. "Anything substantial, in a bit. I should be fine when I get some food into me." Rhys seemed satisfied enough with that answer.

"Alright then, I guess that settles it. I'll go change and we can head out." Feyre nodded, and Rhys released her hand.

The Sidra was packed and humming with vitality on that fine spring night. The lights of the Rainbow gleamed as the sky began to fade into night, and the river reflected it all.

After finishing their delicious supper, they walked along the Sidra towards home. The weather was a wonderful springtime cool, and Feyre felt more awake in the night air. She was silently grateful that she had managed to get a whole meal down, and knew she would be better for it. Rhys and Feyre walked in silence for most of their walk, nodding and waving at the people of Velaris as they passed. It was rare that they would have a moment like this, quiet and joyful, amidst the very busy schedules they both kept right now as High Lord and Lady. When they walked in the front door of the house, Rhys led Feyre up the stairs, to the promised bath. The idea of sinking into the hot water with her mate was incredibly appealing to Feyre right now, as she had suddenly started to feel very tired, and not as well as she had when they were out. They slipped into the water, Rhys trailing Feyre's neck with kisses as his strong arms wrapped around her. Feyre could feel her eyes drifting closed as Rhys started to draw little circles on her shoulder. Rhys took notice.

"Feyre," he whispered, "do you want to go to bed?" Feyre breathed in, and nodded against his chest. Rhys lifted her up, and they were dry in an instant as they walked to the bed.

"Tell me what you did today?" Feyre asked quietly, once they lay under the blankets.

"Well, Cassian and Azriel are still working on implementing more training for the Illyrian females, so I was up there with them today. We're still trying to work with Devlon on how we'll work out all that we want to implement. It's honestly still a shitshow. Devlon is so locked in this one mindset. So, once we finally talked to Devlon . . . " Rhys trailed off and looked at Feyre, moving a piece of hair off her face. "Are you okay? You look pale, Feyre." She nodded.

"I'm fine, continue your story." Rhys seemed to hesitate, but continued nonetheless.

"Okay. Where was I?" He took a deep breath, thinking. "Oh right, okay. So after we had made a sort of agreement with Devlon—"

"Sorry," Feyre interrupted as she threw off the blankets and rushed to their bathroom, just getting to the toilet in time before she was thoroughly sick. Rhys was there in an instant, brushing back her hair and rubbing in between her shoulders. Feyre clung to the cool edges of the toilet for a few moments, and once she was pretty sure nothing else was going to come up, she slowly rotated to lean against the tile wall. Feyre let her head rest on the wall and wiped her mouth, as Rhys came to sit beside her.

"You haven't done that in a while," Rhys laughed, but Feyre didn't reply. He was quiet for a moment as he sat next to her, while Feyre waited for her heart to stop racing, eyes closed.

"Feyre, if you're not feeling well, tell me. Was it something you ate tonight? Are you pushing yourself to hard?" She could feel his eyes on her but she kept hers shut.

"I'm pregnant," Feyre stated quietly. She sensed his whole demeanor shift.

"What?" Feyre finally opened her eyes, and lifted her head off the wall to look at him.

"I'm pregnant, Rhys. That's why I haven't been feeling well."

"Oh Mother above, Feyre are you serious?" His eyes looked so young in this moment. So young and yet so scared. They both knew how this had went last time. They had been in almost the exact same spot when they had lost the baby.

"Yes, Rhys. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner I—" but before Feyre could finish Rhys had his arms around her, and she could feel him smiling against her hair.

"Oh my darling," he pulled back to look at her.

"Are you happy?" she asked tentatively.

"Happy? Feyre, I am overjoyed." Tears lined his starry eyes and he placed a long kiss on her forehead. "I can't even believe it. Most fae have to wait at least another twenty-some years after miscarrying to get pregnant again." He smiled with such unadulterated joy that Feyre felt tears creep into her own eyes.

"I am so glad," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. "Because I'm overjoyed too." Feyre tucked her face into his neck and breathed in the scent of him, before she pulled back to look at his beautiful face. "I was so godsdamned scared, Rhys. Hell, I'm still scared, but I am so happy. So happy."