Smoke billowed against the starry sky as Feyre watched the blaze consume and split the log in half with a crackle. The day's stifling heat turned into a shivering night as the wind buffeted through the trees.
They'd found the stones, but it didn't matter. Nova wasn't among them, which might be a relief in many perspectives, but the knot in Freye's gut couldn't seem to be undone.
If their daughter wasn't buried in the personal Timmons cemetery, then where was she?
Dead somewhere else…had they never uncovered her body?
Had other fae found her first? She couldn't stomach the thought of her being taken prisoner by Hybern for all this time.
It wouldn't make sense to kill her- genetically, she'd harbor Rhys' and her traits…Nova was too valuable to harm.
There was always the possibility that they had taken her away and raised her as their own. To plot with them with malicious intent- against her own family.
The very thought made Feyre's blood boil. She hadn't realized the swirl of shadows around her until Rhys took her hand in his and squeezed.
Glancing up at him, she sighed.
"I can't feel her," she murmured, eyes swollen from her many silently shed tears, "but I can't leave not knowing what happened. I won't. I…have to know. Even if I don't like the answer in the end."
Rhys nodded and pressed a soft kiss against her temple. "We won't stop looking for answers until we find the truth. I promise you that."
"Nor will I."
Feyre glanced at Azriel, who gave a solid nod. "We'll find the truth."
Nodding in agreement, Cassian and Mor would have offered a smile if their faces hadn't looked so grim.
Silence filled the space, aside from the fire and spoons scraping against the bottoms of empty bowls of rabbit stew. The need to formulate a next step was tangible, but no one knew where to start.
Rhysand finally broke the quiet.
"We'll go into the town in a few hours when more people are awake and moving. There has to be something of the story we're missing. There's always the chance that Anya Timmons went to town after finding Nova- there's no guarantee that she would keep her as her own. She could be in the town, living with another family. Perhaps she hadn't even been near the fire."
"With that said," he turned his gaze on Feyre, "we need to be at our best-asking questions tomorrow, and our best equates to rest."
Feyre pushed out a sigh; any other night, she would argue, but she didn't have the energy after the day they'd had.
"Just a couple of hours." She agreed.
Sleeping bags were set out, and soon, everyone was nestled in as comfortably as possible. Inside their shared bag, Feyre pressed herself against Rhys' solid frame.
His fingers took hold of her chin, and she had no choice but to meet his intense gaze.
"We will make it through as we always do."
Feyre closed her eyes as he pressed a soft, tender kiss against her lips. It wasn't a promise to find her or a declaration they'd find answers, but the words offered enough warmth to help her aching muscles relax.
Feyre felt like she'd barely closed her eyes when opening them again to broad daylight. Turning to her side, she watched Mor roll up her sleeping bag as Azriel shook the debris off his.
"Come on," Cassian sighed as he held up his boots, "really?"
Rhysand groaned as he moved to his knees, shaking his sleep off. Feyre followed suit.
"What?" Rhys asked with a sigh, though not as patient as he otherwise might have been.
Cas rolled his eyes. "Don't get me wrong, I love a good prank, but now isn't that time."
Az looked over at him, then at the boots he held. "What?"
"My laces are gone."
"Nobody took your laces," Mor retorted, "maybe you misplaced them."
"How would I misplace my laces?"
Feyre rubbed her temples as she stood, but Rhysand merely nodded at Cassian.
"Happy?"
New laces were strung through Cassian's boots- he grumbled as he put them on but said nothing else.
"Let's go to town," Feyre said, her stomach lurching with an audible growl, "I'm starved."