"They should have let us clear their forest," Cassian grumbled bitterly over his breakfast of oats and eggs.
The House of Wind was quiet this morning, aside from Nova, who hummed to herself as she separated her collection of shells into big, medium, and small piles across the coffee table. Since returning to Velaris, the Night Court had extended their lengths of protection around the city.
"It's not our place." Feyre frowned, taking a slow, scalding gulp of her coffee. After revealing the disturbing contents of the journal, courtesy of Nova's perpetual urge to take what didn't belong to her, the ice in Kallias' eyes had melted a little. However, he stayed firm that Nova wasn't to return.
Not for a while, at least.
Everyone's gaze drifted to where Azriel landed softly, and he turned to stare at the group with a worried scowl.
"How's Ana feeling?" Rhysand asked gently.
Azriel pursed his lips. "She intended to come this morning. I insisted she take another day."
"Typical," Nesta scoffed with a roll of her eyes.
"I'm sorry," Rhys grinned a vicious smile, eyes like violet fire, "How many days did you spend sitting on your ass reading books after something traumatic happened to you? While insulting everyone around you? Don't be such a hypocrite, it's a terrible color on you."
Nesta flared her nostrils and curled her lip at him, "I see you're very selective of who deserves your empathy."
"My empathy is extended to those willing enough to accept it. You can't bite the hand reaching out to you and get upset when I learn my lesson."
Feyre rubbed her temples, "Not today, please."
"Not today?" Nesta asked. "When is it convenient for you, then? Before or after your little gremlin starts a war between Courts?"
Rhysand braced his hands on the edge of the table as he stood to his feet, and Nesta followed suit, but at that exact moment, Nova jumped up from the floor where she'd still been separating shells on the table.
"Stop!" She shouted at them, and all wide eyes turned to stare at her. Nova's brow was set into a rigid scowl as she pointed a finger at them. "Be nice!"
Taking a deep breath through his nose, Rhysand slowly lowered himself and clenched his jaw. Staring at Nova, his shoulders slowly eased their tension. "I'm sorry, Nova."
Nesta rolled her eyes, "Of course, you apologize to her." She stormed out, but not before glowering at Nova. Slamming the door to the library behind her, Nova skipped to the table and climbed into the seat Nesta had vacated. She picked up the jelly and cream-covered scone and took a big, messy bite.
Cassian cleared his throat. "I'll uh, I'll be right back." He stood and smiled tightly at Nova as he walked by, ruffling her hair, disappearing through the door Nesta had gone through, and closing it softly behind him.
Glancing at Az, Feyre frowned. "Really, how is Ana?"
"She's on the mend," he answered quietly, "What they…" he clenched his jaw to steady his sudden all-consuming rage, "wanted to do to her has her rattled."
"Maybe she should learn to wield a blade, too," Feyre suggested.
"I discussed it with her and," he slowly shook his head, "I won't force what she doesn't want." Azriel didn't mention, however, that he'd scattered weapons around her cottage in case she ever did come to need one. Az cleared his throat and continued, "The perimeter has a wall of warriors stationed at different posts. I'll patrol now. Let Cas know I'll be focused on the East and South borders. He can take the North and West." With nods, Az started to leave as Nova jumped to her feet.
"I go, too!" She grinned, rushing toward him. Being cooped up all morning had been brutally dull, but as she took her uncle's hand, she was met with his sad smile.
"I'm sorry, Nova. Not this time."
Nova deflated as Az squeezed her hand and let go before leaving the House of Wind. Her lower lip jutted out as Elain walked over.
"Nova, I could use some help in the kitchen. Has Ana taught you how to bake cookies yet? I think we could all use a little sweetness today."
Wiping the stray tear from her cheek, Nova took Elain's hand and followed her to the kitchen with her head down.
Lucien watched them leave with a slight frown before turning to Feyre and Rhys. Mor and Amren had conveniently found their uneaten breakfasts more appealing.
"When are you planning to confront them?"
"In an hour," Feyre replied, wringing her hands as she worried about her lip. "At least we have the book. That will help our case."
Nodding, Lucien eyed the leather-bound journal on the table, "And you know it belongs to the Autumn Court?"
"It mentions it by name."
"Good."
Baking cookies didn't take nearly as long as they would have liked. When the seventh batch was pulled from the stone oven, Nova was itching to exert her muscles. While sitting at the counter, she rested her head on top and stared at the collection of apples inside a neatly woven basket.
Elain glanced over and forced a small smile. "I'm sorry, Nova. I know you want to go outside, but it is for your safety. " She sat down next to her and lightly rubbed the top of her hand. "Why, if it weren't for these extra measures, someone might take you. You don't want to be taken away from the Night Court. I know that much."
Still, Nova looked up at her with gloomy eyes. "Ana?" She asked, and when Elain shook her head, she asked, "Peter?"
"No, Nova," Elain said gently, "You're to stay in the house. Come on, I saw you have a lot of shells now. Can you show them to me?"
With a resigned sigh, Nova slid off the stool and walked with Elain to the main sitting area. Cassian had left a while ago, and Nesta hadn't returned from the library. Lucien and Mor sat conversing at the table while Amren lounged on the couch reading a heavy tome.
Nova sank to her knees before the coffee table and began separating the shells by size again. Broken or chipped pieces of shell, however, were placed in a separate pile.
"Do you want me to throw those away?" Elain asked as she sat down next to her.
"No."
Elain's hands fell into her lap as she nodded and watched. By the time sizes were sorted, Nova began separating by color. After a few more minutes, Elain stood and moved to the rocking chair in the corner, where she picked up her knitting needles and current creation—a scarf the shade of a plum.
"He'll weasel his way out of any consequence," Lucien shook his head with a frown. "He always does.
Mor shook her head as she sipped her wine, "It isn't just our word. Kallias and Vivane have as much to be upset about as we do. Could you imagine?" Her gaze drifted toward Nova, who patiently sorted her shells. "If they'd been in the forest while she was out there with Ana? She could have been taken so many times without us ever knowing."
"How could we not know if someone were so close?" Lucien asked. "Things never so easily slip under the Night Court's noses. So how could they?"
Shrugging, Mor bit her lip and chewed the corner, "Unless they were never here. Maybe they were gathering information on just Hollis before attempting it here. They would know it would be more difficult to get away with it here than the Winter Court."
"I suppose that's true."
"More wine?" Mor asked, arching a brow at his empty glass.
Lucien smiled crookedly and nodded, "I'll take as much as you dare serve me."
They did not meet in the Spring Court. That was a mistake that would never happen again. Instead, the Night and Winter Courts requested their meeting at the Dawn Court. In the same setting as the meeting they'd had years before Hybern's downfall.
Hand-in-hand, Feyre, and Rhysand walked down the sunlit hallway toward the council chamber. The sunny peace around them conflicted with the coils of nightly anxiety inside them. They couldn't hide their disdain from their features as they entered the room.
Looking up, Kallias pursed his lips and gave a curt nod. Not everyone had arrived yet; they imagined most weren't keen. Given that this would be the fourth meeting in the span of a few months.
They quietly took their seats next to Kallias and Viviane, who offered a small smile.
"How is Hollis?" Feyre asked, trying to keep the tremble of guilt from her voice.
Pursing her lips, Viviane nodded, "Shaken up, but better. And Nova?"
There was a part of Feyre that wished she could say the same—a terrible part of her that wanted to let them know Nova was just as shaken and upset by the incident, but Nova was like a springboard. What bothered her one day was nothing the next. Maybe if the guilt or fear lasted longer, she'd learn from the lesson taught.
"She's…Nova." Rhysand was finally supplied with a sheepish smile.
Kallias couldn't help but let out a slight chuckle. "While I may not have expressed it last we met, I do admire her resilience."
Thesan sat at the head of the table. Helion had arrived, and so had Tarquin. It wasn't long before more High Lords filtered in, leaving one remaining.
Beron.
A muscle feather Rhysand's jaw.
"What is this all about?" Tamlin asked, annoyance tinging his tone. "We already voted."
"Yes," Feyre responded, her eyes flashing as she refrained from growling at him, "And the person who needs to be here most hasn't arrived yet."
A frown curved Thesan's mouth as he asked, "What's happened?"
The door swung open, banging against the walls behind as Beron strode wearing a smirk Feyre wanted to slap off.
"Sorry, I'm late." Beron chuckled, taking in the expressions around the table. "I take it you're all experiencing what I said you would?" He asked, taking his seat and leaning back before shrugging his shoulders. "I hate to say 'I told you so,' but…" He smirked.
I think I'm going to kill him, Feyre brushed against Rhys' mind.
I'll watch.
Thesan was the first to speak, his voice a calm caress on the bitten tongues at the table, "What brings us all here?" He asked, turning to the Night and Winter Courts.
Kallias spoke through gritted teeth, "Soldiers from the Autumn Court were found on Winter Court territory. With them was this." He dropped the journal to the table with a heavy thud. His features were seemingly chiseled into blunt ice as he continued, "Inside these pages is a running record of our son by the hour. Everything he does, when he does it, and where. Explain yourself." He demanded of Beron.
No one had ever seen Kallias command the room with such ferocity; even Rhysand was impressed.
"You think I sent my soldiers into your Court?" Beron rolled his eyes. "To watch your boy?" He leaned forward across the table and inclined his head. "If I wanted to take your precious little snowflake, I'd have done it by now. I wouldn't need a record to do it. What defenses do you have, Kallias? The ice bears?" He chuckled cruelly as he sat back and shook his head. "I didn't send anyone into your lands. No, I've been preparing provisions so my Court may live while yours falls."
The fire in Kallias' eyes faded as he shook his head, "You are a liar." He slipped the book open. "See for yourself." He slid it, not to Beron, but to Thesan.
Thesan pulled the book toward him, not meeting anyone's gaze as he peered at the page. He read aloud:
"Location: Winter Court – South East Border.
DAWN
7:15- working in stables
8:00- riding trail around the palace"
Thesan skimmed to the bottom to avoid revealing the Winter Court Prince's schedule and read, "Return to Autumn Court estimated three weeks two days."
All eyes landed on Beron in synchrony.
Beron, looking around the table, narrowed his eyes. "Lies," he spat, spittle landing on the table before him, "I did nothing! Wherever that book came from was not from my Court. Tell me I'm lying."
"He speaks truth…" Helion said, meeting Rhys and Feyre's eyes, then Kallias and Vivane.
Silence fell on the table before everyone looked at Tamlin, whose brow immediately puckered into a scowl. He bared his teeth and hissed, "You can't be serious."
Kallias gritted his teeth. "Did you send your Court to spy on my son?"
"No!" Tamlin snarled. "How dare you insinuate I did!"
"Truth." Helion chimed, then pursed his lips.
"Someone did," Rhysand spoke in a velvety purr that promised violence, "And when we find out who, the threat of a prophecy will be the least of your worries."
Rhys and Feyre appeared in the House of Wind, and everyone looked up from their designated spots.
"What happened?" Mor asked, standing from her spot on the couch.
Feyre shook her head, "Honestly? No idea…"
Lucien and Elain exchanged a confused glance before returning to Feyre and Rhys. Lucien asked, "Was it Beron?"
"No," Rhysand said, crossing the room and picking up a crystal glass. He poured some amber liquid inside and took a heavy gulp before refilling the glass.
"No?" Amren asked, arching a brow.
"That's what I said," Rhysand said, his tongue laced with something that didn't belong there.
"Rhys…" Feyre murmured and walked to him, touching his shoulder as he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the wall. She looked at their waiting expressions. "We have no idea who sent them. Everyone in attendance was asked, and Helion said everyone was telling the truth."
"Maybe it's Helion?" Mor asked. "If we're only to base the truth off his word alone, it would be rather convenient, wouldn't it?"
"Nothing is impossible," Rhys finally said as he pulled his face away from the wall, "But I listened to everyone's heart as they were asked. Either everyone is telling the truth, or Helion is an excellent liar."
"I felt his truth," Feyre whispered. Though she couldn't sense it as well as him, she could still tell when their words rang true in her ears. Finally, taking Rhys' glass and knocking back the remains, Feyre moved to the carpet, where Nova was asleep under the coffee table, curled up into a little ball. She couldn't help but smile before her gaze drifted up and focused on what lay on the table. "What's this?" She asked.
Elain smiled softly. "We think it's us."
Sprawled across the table from left to right were little people made from seashells. Some were whole, and some were broken, but the jagged pieces gave the little shell people the appearance of clothing or accessories.
"There's a lot of them." Rhys chuckled, arching a brow as he smirked.
"Hm," Mor smiled, "She has a lot of people she cares about. Look," she pointed at the tiny little thing with what looked like a tail, "She even made Potato. She isn't finished yet, though."
Lucien grinned, "She gave direct orders for us not to touch it."
"I imagine she did." Rhys chuckled as he lowered himself, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "I don't have the heart to wake her."
Laughing lightly, Feyre sat beside him and took his arm into her lap, "She spent nearly fifteen years living in a tree. I think the floor will be okay for a night."
They stayed like that for a little while, watching Nova sleep peacefully. Was she cuddling a scarf?
"I'm going to head out to the border," Rhysand said gently, squeezing her hand, "I'll be back soon." He pressed a soft kiss against her lips before standing to his full height and winnowed away.
Nesta emerged from the library bleary-eyed with a throbbing headache behind her eyes. Perhaps she'd spent a little too much time reading. She glanced down at the book in her hand and thought, impossible.
As she crossed the sitting room toward the kitchen, she paused and looked to her right. Lucien's head was back, snoring with his arm wrapped around a snoozing Elain's shoulder. Amren and Mor must have left, but Feyre lay on the floor and Nova…Nesta furrowed her brows as she drew closer to watch Nova's shoulders shake quietly under the table. Bending a little, she stared at her tear-stained cheeks.
How was Feyre still asleep with all her sniveling?
Elain gave a little lurch and a whimper in her sleep before curling into Lucien's side. With narrowed eyes, Nesta watched them. Were they sharing another nightmare?
Was that even possible?
Nova's eyes snapped open, her mouth agape as she stared up at Nesta, her features etched in terror. A silent scream was caught in her throat, unable to draw in a breath as she tried to push it out. Nesta's eyes widened as Nova's face began turning purple, and panic set in as she fell to her knees, shaking her vehemently.
"Nova! NOVA! BREATHE!"
Feyre sat up pin-straight and whipped around as Nova let out an ear-piercing scream that turned into ragged sobs. Lucien bolted up with Elain, slamming his knees against the table in the process, but before they could realize what was going on, Nova dove into Nesta's arms and gripped her so tightly that her limbs shook.
Intuition took her over as Nesta wrapped protective arms around Nova, quietly rocking her as she wept against her dress.
"Drowning," Elain finally whimpered, clutching her throat, "We were drowning…"