A Court of Dark and Decay

Chapter 29- The First

ok listen this first part is feyre but please please please read it its so important and deals with serious issues that effect so many women around the world. 

Please dont skip it PLEASE. 

Feyre sat on the floor in the bathroom, her guts twisting in ways that made her face pale. There was some kind of emergency meeting this morning, which Feyre had insisted she attend, but when she fainted not once but twice that morning, Rhys had insisted she stay behind. 

She felt absolutely gutted. She had thrown up twice since he had left.

Feyre was late. Her cycle had become regular since becoming High Fae, but for the first time, she was late. She was never late. 

But if she truly was...

Heat swept up her neck and she turned to lean over the toilet once again. 

Rhys would be able to tell, wouldn't he? The scent should be all over her if it were true. He would know. Everyone would know. 

She thought it would be like a spark inside of her. Like she would know the instant life was growing, the instant thier lives would change. 

Instead, it was the bathroom floor and her own bile and a raging question burning fires in her mind. 

Finally feeling the tide of neasua waning, Feyre uncurled herself from over the toilet, reaching for the towel beside her to wipe her mouth. 

It felt like her life had been a series of misfortunes. When a blessing may finally come her way, it had to come with the worst side effects. 

Only the face of a young boy, eyes peircing and hair like the night, brought her to her feet and spalshed water on her face. 

Only the image of her mate, her love, her life, holding the blanket wrapped baby moved her to the kitchen and poured her a drink of water. 

Only the thought of losing something so precious got her out the door and on her way to the healers. Verra would know how to help. 

Feyre could not stand not knowing. And she wasn't sure which truth would weigh heavier on her heart. 

____________________________________________________________________________

Verra was changing the bandages on a sleeping Iona when there was a light knock on the door. 

It was odd, two knocks, a pause and a groan, and then another knock. 

As Iona was still asleep and Verra was almost done, they stepped off the step stool and walked to the door.

The High Lady of the Night Court was hunched over, back to Verra, arm braced against the door frame and puking into the grass outside. 

Verra spurred to action, thier hand gliding over Feyre's back and holding her hair out of the way.

The High Lady leaning into Verra's touch, the healer letting slip just a touch of golden magic into her. 

Iona was stubborn, refusing to accept the use of any of Verra's magic.

Verra decided she would not give Feyre a choice. 

She spit a few times into the grass, and Verra took a peice of gauze from their waistband and offered it to the High Lady, who accepted it. 

Feyre straightened, standing barely an inch higher the Verra. 

"I'm sorry." She whispered, still wiping her mouth. "About the grass." 

Chuckling, Verra replied, "It's no matter. Come, My Lady."