𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 4

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝘿𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 

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╰┈˚ · ° .   THE COURT OF DREAMS— the dreams of a half-breed High Lord, two bastard warriors, and the two females. And now, the dreams of a girl, who was born a mortal but with an immortal soul.

"And you?" Feyre asked, this time the question was directed at Mor and Amren.

"Rhys offered to make me his Second. No one had ever asked me before, so I said yes, to see what it might be like. I found I enjoyed it." Amren merely said.

Mor leaned back in her seat, "I was a dreamer born into the Court of Nightmares," Mor said. "So I got out."

"What's your story, then?" Cassian asked Feyre with a jerk of his chin.

My sister catched my eyes, as if to ask permission to share some parts of our shared history, but I merely shrugged my shoulders, my eyes communicating my decision. It's your choice if you want to talk about it.

Feyre straightened in her seat. "I was born to a wealthy merchant family, with two older sisters and of course, a twin." She started, glancing towards me for a second before continuing, "Our parents only cared about their money and social standing. Our mother died when we were eight; our father lost his fortune three years later. He sold everything to pay off his debts, moved us into a hovel, and didn't bother to find work while he let us slowly starve for years. I was fourteen when the last of the money ran out, along with the food. He wouldn't work—couldn't, because the debtors came and shattered his leg in front of us. Fortunately it was around the time when Maiven came back. We went into the forest and she taught me how to hunt. We kept all of us alive, if not near starvation at times, for five years. Until... everything happened."

"No." I said, correcting her. The story wasn't exactly right. "You did most of the hunting." I looked toward my sister. "If we ate it was because of you. I was too busy killing people to actually go into the woods to hunt most of the time."

The shadows that were still curled around my leg tightened their grip, just like Azriel did with my hand, squeezing it between his own.

Feyre stared at me. The corner of her lips slightly tugged upwards, "At least he paid you."

I freezed for a second, actually shocked that my sister had said that, and then, I started to laugh. Hard. "Braken was a cheap bastard. I won more in a bet with Cassian over who pissed off Rhys faster than from a kill."

Cassian snickered clearly remembering that bet, but it was Rhys who said anything. "Why I'm not surprised that you two betted over that." He mumbled with a roll of his eyes.

"No one is." Mor commented, letting out a breathy chuckle. "Two of the most deadly people I know in a physical fight, and they are like two five-years old children together."

I snapped my head towards the blonde glaring hard, and then, I kicked her in the shin under the table making Mor groan in pain– definitely proving her point, but who cares.

With a look of satisfaction on my face, I rested my back against the chair. A low chuckle sounded on my side smooth like velvet that made me instantaneously whip my head toward Azriel, who was already staring right back at me with a raised eyebrow.

But Cassian talking made me focus again on the others. "Your sister taught you to hunt. What about to fight?" Cassian braced his arms on the table. "Lucky for you, you've just found yourself a teacher."

"You don't think it sends a bad message if people see me learning to fight—using weapons?"

It was Mor who said, with a soft venom. "Let me tell you two things. As someone who has perhaps been in your shoes before. One," She said, "you have left the Spring Court. If that does not send a message, for good or bad, then your training will not either. Two," she continued, laying her palm flat on the table, "I once lived in a place where the opinion of others mattered. It suffocated me, nearly broke me. So you'll understand me, Feyre, when I say that I know what you feel, and I know what they tried to do to you, and that with enough courage, you can say to hell with a reputation." Her voice gentled, "You do what you love, what you need."

Feyre met Cassian's gaze. "I'll think about it." And then she said to Rhys., "I accept your offer—to work with you. To earn my keep. And help with Hybern in whatever way I can."

"Good," Rhys merely replied, "Because we start tomorrow."

"Where? And what?" She sputtered.

"Because the King of Hybern is indeed about to launch a war, and he wants to resurrect Jurian to do it."

Jurian—the ancient warrior whose soul Amarantha had imprisoned within that hideous ring as punishment for killing her sister.

"Bullshit," Cassian spat. "There's no way to do that."

Mor groaned, "Why would the king want to resurrect Jurian? He was so odious. All he liked to do was talk about himself."

"That's what I want to find out," Rhysand said. "And how the king plans to do it."

Amren at last said, "Word will have reached him about Maiven and Feyre's Making. He knows it's possible for the dead to be remade."

"All seven High Lords would have to agree to that," Mor countered. "There's not a chance it happens. And Maiven was brought back thanks to the connection she had with the Night Court. He'll have to take another route from theirs." Her eyes narrowed to slits as she faced Rhys. "All the slaughtering—the massacres at temples. You think it's tied to this?"

"I know it's tied to this. I didn't want to tell the rest of you until I knew for certain. Maiven used her magic on those locations to confirm that they were Hybern soldiers and Azriel confirmed that they'd raided the memorial in Sangravah three days ago. They're looking for something—or found it." Both Az and I nodded in confirmation.

"That—that's why the ring and the finger bone vanished after Amarantha died. For this. But who... They never caught the Attor, did they?" Feyre breathed.

Rhys said too quietly, "No. No, they didn't." He said to Amren, "How does one take an eye and a finger bone and make it into a man again? And how do we stop it?"

Amren frowned at her untouched wine. "You already know how to find the answer. Go to the Prison. Talk to the Bone Carver."

"Shit," Mor and Cassian both said.

Rhys said calmly, "Perhaps you would be more effective, Amren."

Amren hissed, "I will not set foot in the Prison, Rhysand, and you know it. So go yourself, or send one of these dogs to do it for you."

Cassian grinned, showing his white, straight teeth—perfect for biting. Amren snapped hers once in return.

Azriel just shook his head. "I'll go. The Prison sentries know me—what I am."

"He won't talk with you." I said, "I'll go, I'm one of the new beings Made." I shrugged my shoulders.

"If anyone's going to the Prison," Rhys started, "it's me. And Feyre."

"What?" Mor demanded, palms now flat on the table.

"Rhys!" I yelled.

"Like Maiven said, he won't talk to Azriel," Amren said to the others, "or to Rhys. Or to any of us. We've got nothing to offer him. But an immortal with a mortal soul..." She stared at Feyre's chest as if she could see the heart pounding beneath before trading her stare to Mai. "He will be more interested in her. The Bone Carver might indeed be willing to talk."

The thought of my sister going there sent shivers down my back. Not because of the Bone Carver, but because the prison was builded under a mountain.

No, no, no, no.

My hand fell away from Azriel's as I clenched it in my lap. My panic was evident when a red lightning storm flashed in the sky above Velaris as my magic flared, thickening the air around us. The blood in the crystal necklace around my neck pulsed on my chest as if begging to be released.

"Vee." Rhys spoke but it was the way Azriel took my hand back in his, that calmed me down almost instantaneously.

So I clenched my jaw, calling my magic back into myself as I took a deep breath. "Well, that was dramatic." I rolled my eyes at my own actions. "But It's your choice, Feyre. You can choose."

"How bad can it be?"

"Bad," Cassian said.

None of us bothered to contradict him.

──── ⋅⋅•☽⟡☾•⋅⋅ ────

╰┈˚ · ° .   After dinner was finished, Rhys had taken Feyre back to the town house while the rest of us moved to the living room armed with various wine bottles.

I excused herself for a moment, just enough to go into the kitchen to pour in a clean chalice of fresh blood from a box where we stored it, before using her powers to fill it almost to the rim and thicken it just like Amren liked it.

When I walked back to the living room, the fireplace was lit, Cassian sat sprawled lazily on an armchair, Azriel on one end of the couch and Mor on the other side. The three were already passing the bottles of wine between each other. Amren just looked at them, sat on another armchair, sipping from a glass with brown colored alcohol.

"You didn't eat," I said, holding out the chalice to Amren.

"Oh, come on." Cassian groaned with disgust, recognizing the liquid inside.

The silver eyes of Amren sparkled as she took the chalice in her hand, taking a sip and sighing in satisfaction at the taste. "Thank you." She said uncertain. Almost as those words were foreign to her.

I grinned at her, quite proud of hearing those words coming from her before sitting down on the carpet covered floor, resting my back on the couch just in the middle of Mor and Azriel.

"Why do you always sit on the floor?" Mor asked after taking a sip of wine.

"I don't know. I think it's just because I'm more used to it." I answered as I shrugged my shoulders.

"I know the feeling." Cassian said while passing the bottle to me.

"This is getting depressing." Mor groaned, leaning her head on the back of the couch.

"What did you see?" Amren suddenly asked, "When you died. Did you see something?"

"And if before it was depressing..." I joked. But I felt it, they way the silence ripped through the room. The way the two Illyrian and the High Fae stilled at the mention of my death. I took a breath and then my mind traveled back to that day. "Velaris." I said "I saw Velaris." But it wasn't only that, because somehow, I had seen Azriel too— the scars on his hands were unmistakably his— but some part of me wasn't ready to admit it yet. So I didn't. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I remember the knife cutting through the skin of my throat, but nevertheless, I continued, "I started to hear voices first. Rhys, Feyre,Tamlin, Amarantha and then, everything went dark. I couldn't open my eyes, I couldn't move, I could just hear as Amarantha snapped my sister's spine before my eyes opened."

"And then?" Amren asked with curiosity.

My eyes darkened as the memory flashed before my eyes. My voice lowered and dripped with vengeance "And then, I rose from the ground gripping my sword in my hand. Amarantha was fighting against Tamlin but I didn't care. I pierced her heart, and then, I cutted her head off."

"The Slayer." Amren purred with satisfaction, "Covered in blood from head to toe as she killed the demon who infested the land."

"I like the name." I chuckled, "It's better than 'assassin.' "

"Just you would like something like that, Mai." Mor commented, opening a new bottle of red wine.

"It's cool." I replied, "Right, Cass?"

"Don't say anything," Mor declared, pointing her fingers to the General just as he opened his mouth to reply.

A giggle escaped my mouth. Totally unexpected.

"Did you just giggle?" Mor questioned amused, this time, she leaned forwards to look at me closer as if I was an imposter or same rare diamond.

"I probably drank more wine than I thought," I explained, tilting my head back and resting it on the couch behind me, and I grinned at the High Fae.

Amren left almost as soon as the first sign of real drunkenness started to show. The four of us— more like three as Azriel was just slightly buzzed— had drowned so much wine that we had to make it appear from the cellars.

Rhys will surely love that.

Cassian was sprawled on the armchair, completely passed out just like Mor, who now was seated on the other one taking the spot previously occupied by Amren.

I, too, fell asleep— not that I could remember when. I layed on the couch and somehow during the last hours, I ended up half on top of Azriel.

The first thing I felt as I started to wake up was the brush of someone's fingers through my hair. Then, night-chilled mist and cedar drifted up my nose, completely pervading my sense of smell. Azriel's scent. My first instinct was to inch closer to him, to bury my head in the crook of his neck, to feel his body and warmth.

A low chuckle sounded into my ears, echoing in his chest. "Good morning, love." He said. His voice dark and low and still husky from sleep.

I opened my eyes, slowly, not really wanting to, groaning at light as small rays of sun streamed from the windows. My eyes snapped shut again and this time, I did bury my head in the crook of his neck, not in the slightest ashamed or embarrassed by our positions.

"Tell me it's not morning already, please." I mumbled, words barely comprehensible as I spoke them on his skin.

"Barely." He replied, starting again to move his fingers through my hair.

A content sigh left my lips as I felt his touch, "How long have you been awake?"

"Not much."

I shifted again, this time trying to look at him, or be more comfortable, but all it did was earn a low groan from the male that stopped me in my tracks.

"Mai." Azriel said darkly, sucking on a breath, his finger stilling in my hair.

A shiver traveled down my back at the sound of his voice, at what I felt was slowly growing, hardening, underneath me. A smirk threatened to form on my lips but I contained it— barely. My sleepiness was long forgotten—- and I suddenly remembered what he had done with his shadows yesterday.

I moved slightly again, making him still completely, leaving soft touches with my fingers as I traced his tattoos on the neck. I looked up at him, leaning back on the arm of the couch so I could look at him with the most innocent expression that I could master.

"Maiven." It was a warning.

"Yes?"

Azriel's eyes darkened as he willed his shadows to move. They wrapped unexpectedly around my leg— the one that with the dress that I still wore from the night before, remained exposed.

Goosebumps raised on my skin as I felt the icy touch of his shadows. They crawled up and up resulting in my heartbeat speeding up, and slowly, so slowly, it only intensified every feeling, sharpening every nerve.

The air around us dampened with the scent of blood and cinnamon and night chilled mist and cedar. Our arousal mixing together.

His shadows crawled further upwards, grazing above my knee and my eyes shifted there, eager to see them, to feel their touch where I needed it the most. But Azriel's scarred hand gripped my chin, hard, turning my head again towards him and entrapping me in hazel.

Wicked delight shined in his eyes as he moved closer, lips a breath away. The hand on my chin lowered till it reached the side of my neck, from side to side the fingers engulfed it. His thumb caressed the skin before he tightened his grip on me.

"Don't play with me, love." Azriel warned. His voice dripped with pure dominance and raw power.

"Or what?" I challenged back, displaying my sly grin.

His fingers tighten even more their grip around my neck as my thighs clenched together, trying to soothe the aching that was painfully building between them.

But before any of us two could move, or say anything else, a groan echoed in the living room. Not coming from any of us.

"Get a room!" Mor yelled, shifting on her armchair.

Azriel called his shadows back instantaneously as he took his hand away from my neck.

I felt his missing presence almost as soon as it was gone.

I slapped my hand on my lips trying to not laugh out loud and wake up Cassian too. It was funny, I couldn't lie.

"You couldn't even control yourself to go up to one of your rooms, you horny dogs!" Mor continued, now fully standing. "I'm going to have nightmares for centuries about what I heard and smelled." she mumbled, scrunching her nose in disgust while walking away with quick strides.

At the look on Mor's face, I couldn't contain my laugh anymore.

Calming down, and thankfully with a still asleep Cassian, I rose from the couch.

I leaned forward, enough to whisper in Azriel's ear, "This isn't over."

And then I straightened again and with a look of pure delight etched onto my face, I walked away.

I needed a bucket  of cold water. 

✎

˗ˏˋ 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ˊˎ˗

Hello everyone!

Well, Azriel and Maiven are freaky, this is your last warning.

I will not put any TW in the beginning of the chapter for any sex or sexual scenes because it takes off the surprise in my opinion! And most of all, if you want to read something specific (Kinks etc...) , let me know!!

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

˚ · ° . 𝐔𝐩𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐞 . ° · ˚

𝐓𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐲

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞!

– 𝐋𝐨𝐥𝐚 ☾