𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝘾𝙖𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧 

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╰┈˚ · ° .   THAT MORNING I WOKE UP WITH KNOWLEDGE that my sister had left with Rhys, joining him to visit the Bone Carver. Hours later I found myself— alongside Cassian Azriel and Mor in the living room of the town house. The tension was thick in the room, palpable tension that could have been cut with a dull butter knife. We all knew that the visit was not going to be pleasurable, the Bone Carver was an entity, someone— something–– far too powerful to even think that we could ever control the outcome of its actions.

Cassian lounged on the couch before the hearth, an arm slung over the back behind Mor— who restlessly would pace the foyer back and forth before sitting once again. Though everything about Cassian's relaxed stance suggested someone at ease, there was a tightness in his jaw, a coiled-up energy in the powerful muscle in his body that strained underneath the Illyrian leathers that he always wore.

Azriel lingered by the window, a light flurry of snow dusting the lawn and street behind him, showering it in white and creating the perfect background for the darkness of the shadows that wrapped around him like a blanket.

I sat on the armchair, and with the restless energy surging through my body, the tightness of fear that circled around my heart, it was hard to stay completely still. I had taken the habit long ago, in the privacy of my own solitude, to twirl knives around my fingers to release the pent up energy. Now—even if betraying all the learning of my training by showing anything other than perfect control— I found myself doing just that, comfortable enough in the company of the three fae to let it happen in their presence.

One of my blades made of illyrian steel danced between my fingers as drops of blood flowed around my hand. If it was my own, I had no memory of when I had cut myself hard enough to bleed.

Suddenly, a whisper of magic made me straighten up instantaneously as I quickly recognized the essence that it carried. Rhysand's.

"They are back." I said, straightening my posture. And just as the last word left my mouth, Feyre and Rhys appeared in the sitting room.

"Amren's right," Rhys drawled as he eyes landed on us. He was leaning against the threshold of the town house sitting room, Feyre at his side, "You are like dogs, waiting for me to come home. Maybe I should buy treats."

Cassian gave him a vulgar gesture as Feyre didn't waste another second to strode for the other armchair across from the couch, which had been shaped, like so much of the furniture here, to accommodate Illyrian wings.

"Are you okay?" I directed the question to my sister. I could see from the tremble of her fingers how shaken she was even when she gave me her best smile and nod.

"I'm good too, by the way." Rhys deadpanned, mirth sparkling in his gaze for a fraction of a second when I rolled my eyes at him.

"How'd it go?" Mor said soon after, straightening beside Cassian, her fingers tapping on her thigh.

"The Bone Carver," Rhys started, "is a busybody gossip who likes to pry into other people's business far too much."

"But?" Cassian demanded, bracing his arms on his knees, wings tucked in tight.

"But," Rhys said, "he can also be helpful, when he chooses. And it seems we need to start doing what we do best."

When Rhys was done explaining everything, Azriel, who had moved from the window to stand behind the armchair where I was, looming like a shadow, spoke, "I'll contact my sources in the Summer Court about where the half of the Book of Breathings is hidden. I can fly into the human world myself to figure out where they're keeping their part of the Book before we ask them for it."

"No need," Rhys said. "And I don't trust this information, even with your sources, with anyone outside of this room. Save for Amren."

"They can be trusted," Azriel said with quiet steel, his scarred hands clenching at his leather-clad sides taking offense at the words of his High Lord. I had the sudden desire to reach back and clasp his hands with mine. To sooth the rage. It startled me enough that I had to vanish the blood dancing around my fingers before it could fall from my control.

"We're not taking risks where this is concerned," Rhys merely said as he held Azriel's stare.

"So what's the plan now?" I cut in, ending the staring contest between the two.

Rhys picked an invisible piece of lint off his fighting leathers and when he lifted his head, those violet eyes were glacial. "The King of Hybern sacked one of our temples to get a missing piece of the Cauldron. As far as I'm concerned, it's an act of war—an indication that His Majesty has no interest in wooing me."

"He likely remembers our allegiance to the humans in the War, anyway," Cassian said. "He wouldn't jeopardize revealing his plans while trying to sway you, and I bet some of Amarantha's cronies reported to him about Under the Mountain. About how it all ended, I mean."

"Indeed. But this means Hybern's forces have already successfully infiltrated our lands—without detection. I plan to return the favor."

Cassian and Mor just grinned with feral delight at Rhysand's words, "How?" the High Fae asked.

Rhys crossed his arms over his chest, muscle budging from underneath the leathers, "It will require careful planning. But if the Cauldron is in Hybern, then to Hybern we must go. Either to take it back... or use the Book to nullify it."

"Hybern likely has as many wards and shields around it as we have here," Azriel countered, "We'd need to find a way to get through them undetected first."

"Which is why we start now. While we hunt for the Book. So when we get both halves, we can move swiftly—before word can spread that we even possess it."

Cassian nodded, and proceeded to ask, "How are you going to retrieve the Book, then?"

"Since these objects are spelled to the individual High Lords, and can only be found by them—through their power... Then, in addition to her uses regarding the handling of the Book of Breathings itself, it seems we possibly have our own detector."

"Feyre." I concluded, moving my head to look at my sister.

"Perhaps was what the Bone Carver said in regard to me being able to track things. You don't know... "

"You have a kernel of all our power—like having seven thumbprints. If we've hidden something, if we've made or protected it with our power, no matter where it has been concealed, you will be able to track it through that very magic."

"You can't know that for sure,"

"No—but there is a way to test it." Rhys was still smiling.

"Here we go," Cassian grumbled. Mor gave Azriel a warning glare to tell him not to volunteer this time. The spymaster just gave her an incredulous look in return.

"With your abilities, Feyre, you might be able to find the half of the Book at the Summer Court— and break the wards around it. But I'm not going to take the carver's word for it, or bring you there without testing you first. To make sure that when it counts, when we need to get that book, you—we do not fail. So we're going on another little trip. To see if you can find a valuable object of mine that I've been missing for a considerably long time."

"Shit," Mor said, plunging her hands into the thick folds of her sweater.

A memory from a month back surfaced in my mind. It was of an evening where the moon was full in the sky, the sidra river sparkling with the reflection of it. Amber-colored alcohol filled our glasses as we gazed down at the city. It had been a tranquil night filled with stories and memories of his past until we were both too inebriated to keep our eyes open.

His mother and her ring— Rhys's violet eyes had shone with love and mischief when he had recalled his mother's action. Of a ring that only who was able to get, with bravery that surpassed the fear of the creature that heard it, deserved to have a place at his side as his wife.

"Where?" Feyre managed to say even if reluctantly.

"To the Weaver." My eyes met Rhys', unspoken words passed in it. At that moment we didn't even need the Eardreor bond to understand each other. With a tilt of my lips, I nodded in his direction.

She would be able to do it, Feyre could do it I had no doubt.

"The test," he said, "will be to see if Feyre can identify the object of mine in the Weaver's trove. When we get to the Summer Court, Tarquin might have spelled his half of the Book to look different, feel different."

"By the Cauldron, Rhys," Mor snapped, setting both feet on the carpet. "Are you out of your—"

"Who is the Weaver?" Feyre pushed, a confused glaze taking over her features.

"An ancient, wicked creature," Azriel replied to her, "Who should remain unbothered," he added in Rhys's direction. "Find another way to test her abilities."

Rhys merely shrugged and looked at Feyre. To let her choose. Something that not many people had done to her in the past year.

"Maiven!" My name was shouted by the blonde-haired high Fae, "Say something! He can't let her do that."

I shifted my gaze to my twin, her strength was hidden away by months of starvation and emotional neglect. She needed this, not to prove to us that she could find something with the trace of power from the High Lord, but to herself. She needed this so that she could acknowledge the strength that I could see so clearly in her.

"She can do it." I stated, leaving no hesitation in my tone.

Releasing a laugh filled with nerves and anxiety, Feyre spoke, "The Bone Carver, the Weaver... Can't you ever just call someone by a given name?"

Cassian chuckled and Mor settled back in the sofa cushions at her words a bit dejected by how the conversation had ended.

"What about adding one more name to your list?" Rhys said directly to Feyre, "Emissary," he told. "Emissary to the Night Court—for the human realm."

"There hasn't been one for five hundred years, Rhys." Azriel said.

"There also hasn't been a human-turned-immortal since then, either." Rhys met her gaze. "The human world must be as prepared as we are—especially if the King of Hybern plans to shatter the wall and unleash his forces upon them. We need the other half of the Book from those mortal queens—and if we can't use magic to influence them, then they're going to have to bring it to us." Rhys jerked his chin at his mate. "You are an immortal faerie—with a human heart. Even as such, you might very well set foot on the continent and be... hunted for it. So we set up a base in neutral territory. In a place where humans trust us—trust you, Feyre. And where other humans might risk going to meet with you. To hear the voice of Prythian after five centuries."

After a second of pondering on her words, my twin left out a breath, "My family's estate."

Oh fuck. Dread coursed through my body, I was on the verge of screaming my disaccord. It was selfish, that I knew. It was the best place for us to do this, but I couldn't help the shiver that traveled down my spine. I was afraid for them— like always, that much hadn't changed when I did from mortal to Fae— bringing them even closer to this was not what I wanted, but there was a reason even more selfish than that one. I was afraid of seeing them again. I was ashamed. Of myself.

"Mother's tits, Rhys," Cassian cut in, wings flaring wide enough to nearly knock over the ceramic vase on the side table next to him. "You think we can just take over her family's house, demand that of them?"

"The land," Mor said, reaching over to return the vase to its place, "will run red with blood, Cassian, regardless of what we do with her family. It is now a matter of where that blood will flow—and how much will spill. How much human blood we can save."

She was right, that much I knew. It was inevitable, war was coming for us all.

"The wall stretches across the sea. We'll fly in offshore," Rhys said without so much as a blink. "I won't risk discovery from any court, though word might spread quickly enough once we're there. I know it won't be easy, Feyre, but if there's any way you could convince those queens—"

"I'll do it." Feyre said with a sure nod of her head, "They might not be happy about it, but we'll make Elain and Nesta do it."

I felt the shift of the room, how they moved their gaze and focus on me and for a single second, I was ready again to tell them no. I knew that if I was to say the word, they would find somewhere else to meet the queens.

"Mai? What do you think?" Mor asked, "Can you talk them into agreeing?"

I let out a mirthless chuckle. Me? Talking to them? That was a laughable notion."You can't talk Nesta into doing nothing that she doesn't want to do." I said a bit cruelly, gray steel eyes and sneer on perfect rose lips flashing in my mind, "And Elain follows whatever she says. You know that." I catched my sister's eyes talking directly to her, "It's probably best if they don't see me, actually."

"Why?" Mor asked, brows furrowing more and more as the second passed and my reply arrived.

"Because they hate me." I deadpanned, a winch covering the other girl's features.

"I'm sure that's not-"

Cutting her off with a stern look, Feyre spoke, "It's not true."

"Yes it is." I scoffed, "If you want a chance for them to listen, they will do it with you, Feyre. Not me." My heart burned as I said those words, the truth hidden in plain sight. The peak of the mountain at the side of the House of Wind caught my eyes, like a siren call it spoke to me. With a last nod to the group, I winnowed away.

✎

˗ˏˋ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ˊˎ˗

Hello everyone!

Well, ouch. That hurt, honestly.

It's going to hurt even more when we actually meet them. Maiven thinking that her sisters hate her is breaking my heart because she loves them so fucking much.

Not much happened in this chapter I know, but prepare for the next!

Thank you for reading this chapter, I'll see you on Tuesday!

˚ · ° . 𝐔𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐞 . ° · ˚

𝐓𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞!

– 𝐋𝐨𝐥𝐚 ☾