49 Years, 1 week, 6 days Trapped

“RHYSAND IS BACK!!!” Cassian’s roar echoed across Velaris- helped along by a bit of magic.

Within just a few seconds, the city exploded.

Banners unfurled from their hiding places, wooden facades fell away revealing amethyst streamers up and down the main street in front of the townhouse, confetti blasted into the air, and every single outdoor musician stopped what they were doing to join together into the official Night Court anthem. A few minutes passed and the echo of music throughout the city grew louder still as the orchestras from across the Sidra took to the rooftop of their theater to join in the celebration.

Cassian timed it all.

“Better!” he called out, his voice still amplified, “The response time is getting better! Re-set, my crews will be collecting and redistributing the confetti, and we’ll do this again month after next. Hopefully we can shave off a few more seconds. Street musicians- if at all possible, coordinate who is where amongst yourselves. Most of you are on the eastern side, we want an equal distribution across Velaris.”

Though he couldn’t hear them, Cassian knew there were a few grumbles in response to his announcement- more every time he ran the drill. They’d been doing these rehearsals for over a decade, since before even that fateful solstice night when Rhysand made a surprise visit. 

As the years passed, the people were less interested in humoring the Inner Circle. The first thirty were one thing- the nearly twenty after that were another. They weren’t trapped in Velaris, not in the same way the others were. The citizens of Velaris lived inside its walls their entire lives, they never left. Their life had changed very little, and they weren’t overly fond of the large-scale projects Cassian had busied himself with. They loved him, Azriel, Mor, and even Amren- but rehearsals for a party no one knew would happen was asking a lot.

The growing apathy troubled Cassian. Within a decade more, he doubted even half of Velaris would agree to participate in the drills. Already he’d reduced his schedule to only two fighting classes per day, meaning he’d lost hundreds of students.

It was an odd feeling- knowing the children Rhysand had last seen in Velaris were now fully grown fae. Shasta was no longer sitting on the street corner, monitoring comings and goings. She was the premiere flutist of Velaris’ most prestigious orchestra- monitored by a professional familiar with her different way of processing the world. Some fae in Velaris who were now getting married and trying their hand at starting families had lived their entire lives in a city void of it’s most important resident. Most of Velaris still remembered Rhysand- they weren’t idiots- but that younger generation…

Cassian headed back into the townhouse as an odd chill went through him that had nothing to do with the evening shadows. Today wasn’t a day when the Inner Circle would meet up for dinner, he could afford to take a moment and spend some time with the lantern, until that cold shadow left his heart.

If Velaris stopped worrying about Rhysand- if Cassian had no one to train and no party to plan- he didn’t know what would happen. He’d be lost again, without purpose. That ache in his heart where the Illyrian call still sounded would no longer go ignored.

Another chill crept up Cassian’s spine, and he yanked open the front door as though he could leave that shadow of dread outside.

He went straight for the lantern- not that it had brought much comfort in recent years.

The light that was Rhysand’s mate was no longer the blinding, brilliant red of a new soul. That baby was nineteen years old now- a full grown woman- and her heart had learned what pain was. Eight years after the spell linked her to the lantern, something had rocked her to her core. Bit by bit, her soul had muted. When Cassian touched it, he felt a heavy pain settling over her. The pain of a child learning death for the first time.

When the child was eleven, flashes of black had rippled through her, then spread out over the years until her half of the lantern was as dark as Rhysand’s. Perhaps darker- for his still rumbled with flashes of red as the Inner Circle reminded him who he was and what he had to protect.

Her side though- hers stagnated. No ripples of light shone through her heart and when Cassian touched the lantern he felt a bone-deep hunger that went far beyond just food, and a hopelessness he knew all too well.

Mates are equals, he told himself as that child’s heart had darkened, this just makes them equal.

Still- it wasn’t right that one so young should already find themselves in a world without hope. He tried talking to her as he did Rhysand, offering her strength and hope, but the spell on her side was different- muted by the Wall.

It wasn’t until the summer of their forty-sixth year, the girl’s sixteenth, that something changed. Amren had been studying the lantern at dinner one night when she noticed a thin tendril bridging that gap between Rhysand’s heart and his mate’s- as though he could reach through the lantern to her. A ripple of red lightning had arced between them, giving both some much-needed light in the darkness.

Over the last three years, those tendrils had only grown as Rhysand’s soul wrapped itself around his mate’s, absorbing some of her pain and giving her flashes of precious strength. Whatever it represented between them, it seemed to work- a few months ago the lantern had flashed a brilliant white once more.

 Ever since then, her emotions came through louder and clearer than ever- not that it was much different from what they felt from Rhysand. Everything was still just feeling, never seeing, never hearing. No real way to communicate. Still, the connection was stronger.

Three weeks ago, the Inner Circle had dined at the townhouse the evening after Calanmai. Some time between the morning before- when Mor was studying the lantern- and when they arrived for the dinner, Rhysand’s half of the lantern had begun to swirl around the other. It roiled and rolled through the woman’s slowly waking soul, flickering with red despite his enduring darkness. When Cassian had touched it he just felt giddy.

What the hell had happened with Rhysand on Calanmai?

Rhysand’s soul had darkened once more just eight days later. He was resigned to some horrible fate- that much was clear. His mate’s soul shone all the brighter- then abruptly went dark. When Cassian tried to check on her, the feeling was muted, as it had been before that flash of light months before. Still, he felt a longing, aching sort of pain echoing down from her.

And then three days ago- three days ago something bad happened, to both of them.

She’d been shining brightly, filled with purpose-

And then a blast of dread and fear from both her and Rhysand. A fear so strong, so all-consuming, Cassian was still reeling. It was responsible for that chill in his heart.

What it might mean though, he couldn’t begin to guess.

He had barely left the townhouse since then.

It wasn’t like when he was living there alone- he wasn’t going mad, he wasn’t drowning in his own pain- Cassian simply couldn’t leave the lantern. Not while that dread was echoing from it. Rhysand and his mate- they were terrified at the same time and in equal measure. 

Did it mean- could it mean- that whatever scared them had scared them? Together?

Could she be in Prythian?

If she was, did it mean-

Cassian shut the line of thought down immediately and with as much prejudice as he’d been showing the itch of dread creeping up his spine. When he was fighting, thinking about how many enemies he had left to kill only made it harder to fight. When he trained, thinking about how much time was left before he was done only made his muscles ache more. Being trapped in Velaris- thinking about when it was going to end made every day that much harder to get through.

So, without meaning to, Cassian had simply stopped counting the days. He planned for the future, but never anything specific. The drills for Rhysand’s return were simple preparation. He didn’t question how much longer they would have to do it, just how long the people would be willing to do it.

If Rhysand’s mate was in Prythian that would be interesting, interesting and exciting if the two ever met. It didn’t have to mean anything. It didn’t have to mean they might all be free soon.

Cassian closed his eyes and took a deep breath before heading into the dining room.

There was a storm brewing inside that lantern.

Rhys’ half was swirling around and across his mate’s once more, and hers was flickering and flashing not with red, but with a muted white.

Cassian had learned over the years that meant particularly strong terror.

He quickly touched the female’s half and closed his eyes. He felt horror, and threw absolutely everything he had into trying to sense the source of it. Terror, pain, rage, agony- it was a whirlwind that Cassian imagined he could hear. A distant echo of screams and shouts, jeers and the overwhelming roar of some beast. It was nothing more than his imagination trying to fill in the gaps in what he was feeling, but for some reason his imagination had conjured up the distinct sound of a Middengard wyrm.

Rhysand’s shadows flashed bright enough to get Cassian’s attention. He moved his hand to the bottom of the lantern and again focused as hard as he could.

That spell was a lot older than the other, Cassian’s ears itched with the distant cries of that beast and the crowd who watched it. The monster roared again, then fell silent.

The crowd muted with it.

Cassian strained his senses as far as they would go, he tried desperately to imagine how the pieces might fit together- the sound he’d heard from half, then the other. He grabbed the top half of the lantern in one hand and kept the other on Rhys’ side. Every time he’d tried in the past, nothing had happened.

This time a dream whispered in his ear.

He was underground, at the edge of a muddy maze. There were high fae all around- and more than a few monsters. That crimson whore Amarantha sat on a throne at the edge of the pit, laughable in a gown of white as though she were some pure maiden. Cassian snarled at the sight of Tamlin beside her, the male who helped take Rhys’ mother and sister from them. 

He may not have participated in the attack itself, but he gave his father and brothers the information they needed. For that, Cassian owed him a dagger through each eye.

Rhysand was beside him, watching as something staggered towards Amarantha through the maze. His entire body radiated passive boredom, but Cassian could feel the fear rippling off him through the lantern. The figure stopped within sight of Amarantha.

She was certainly human, as Mor had gleaned in those first moments her soul flickered to life. Small, brown haired, on the thinner side, and her entire being pulsed with fear and strain. She was shaking, panting, and blood dripped down from a severely broken arm. Rhys’ eyes were locked on that arm, all he could smell was her blood as it poured from where bone had split flesh. 

That human was covered in so much mud, Cassian wasn’t entirely sure what she looked like.

“Well,” the evil bitch drawled, “I suppose anyone could have done that.”

The human’s only response was to take a few running steps and hurl a bone-spear at Amarantha. It pierced the ground just before her, splattering mud across the skirt of her white gown.

Despite the fear, despite the horror and pain and agony he felt from both the girl and Rhysand, Cassian had to laugh at the sheer audacity of that human. There was no doubt left in Cassian’s mind that she was Rhysand’s mate.

“If you don’t marry her, you stupid prick, I will.” He was beaming.

“Who are you marrying?”

Cassian jumped, releasing the lantern. He turned to see the source of the voice and came nose-to-nose with Amren.

Not exactly a position he ever wanted to be in.

“WHAT THE HELL AMREN?! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, SNEAKING UP ON PEOPLE?!” Cassian scrambled away from her so fast that he slipped off his chair and fell on the floor.

Amren just gave him a bemused smile as he jumped to his feet, “I came to see if there was anything interesting going on. Please, go back to professing your love.”

“I’m not- I wasn’t-“ Cassian’s face went beet-red, “You have no right to just wander in and-“

“You saw her, didn’t you? The girl with the brown hair?” Amren ignored Cassian’s indignation, “I’ve managed a glimpse of her a few times this month as well. She’s pretty, I think Rhys would like her very much. Just remember that she’s his mate, not yours. I don’t think your friendship would survive you bedding his mate.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Cassian folded his arms, heart pounding, “I was just dusting the lantern and grumbling. I wasn’t saying anything atall, as a matter of fact, and you’d better not try to tell anyone anything you think you saw or heard!”

Amren raised an eyebrow, “Which is it- were you grumbling or not saying anything?”

“I’m not- I wasn’t-“

She rolled those silver eyes, “We already did that part, remember?”

“What do you want?!” Cassian snapped.

“We did that part too- I came to see if there was anything interesting going on.” Amren said slowly.

“WELL THERE ISN’T!”

“Alright,” Amren’s smile was perfectly innocent, “then have a good night.”

“GOOD FUCKING NIGHT!” Cassian shouted. He stormed around the little fae and out of the townhouse.

Amren chuckled and touched the lantern with a single finger, “Rhysand? If you can hear me, your friends are idiots.”

A rumble was the only answer she received.

-------

49 Years, 2 Months, 1 Week, 6 Days Trapped

It started in the middle of the night.

Mor was in bed, arms wrapped around a beautiful caramel-skinned female she’d met at Rita’s that evening, when their fun was interrupted by a vicious quake that ripped through Velaris and beyond. The walls began to shake, a shelf in the living room toppled, and several glass trinkets shattered.

She threw up a shield around her and her companion as the shaking grew stronger and chunks of plaster began to shake loose from the ceiling above them. Mor’s heart wrenched when she heard a startled scream from the street outside- then others as children were woken by the violent quake.

It was nothing like that solstice when Rhys’ mate came into the world. This was something stronger, more definitive. It was the same exact thing she’d felt when Rhysand’s father died and he became High Lord of Night.

Mor covered her mouth and clung to the female (who’s name she’d either forgotten or never learned) as the shaking faded to tremors, the tremors to ripples, and the earth slowly settled once more. Her heart ached with fear as she pushed away from her companion and ran to her wardrobe. She couldn’t show her horror in front of this stranger. She didn’t dare.

“What was that?” the female was shaking.

“I don’t know. I need to go. Wait two minutes, then leave out the back. If anyone asks, you were helping me with something relating to farming.” Mor began to pull on her clothes quickly.

The female slid out of bed and began to retrieve her own clothes from where Mor had thrown them in their passionate haste only a half hour before, “When can I see you again?”

Mor hesitated as she pulled a navy shirt on, the fabric leaving her midriff for all to see, “I told you before we left Rita’s- this was a single night of fun, nothing else. Stress relief. You’re a good female, you seem nice, and I’m sorry this is so rushed, but I have to go right now.”

“That’s fine,” the female smiled and handed Mor her slippers. She grabbed the back of Mor’s head and pulled her in to a quick, hard kiss, “Next time you want a bit of stress relief, come find me and we’ll finish what we started. Until then don’t worry- I don’t even know you.” She winked and stepped back to dress.

Mor was in no mood- not with what she was feeling. The icy cold hooks of dread were firmly embedded in her soul, and while the shield above Velaris was still very much present, she had no way of knowing if Rhys was alive or dead.

But there might be answers at the townhouse.

And between the Rainbow and there, there were probably fae who needed answers of their own, or help.

Mor pulled on her shoes and dashed out of her apartment without another glance to the female. She banged on doors as she went down the steps to the ground floor and did not move on until the inhabitants confirmed that they were alright. 

Azriel and Cassian would undoubtedly be making their way inland from the harbor, but Mor prayed silently that they thought to check Velaris’ blacksmiths and smelting shops along the way. That earthquake could have started a fire, and a fire was approximately the last thing she wanted to deal with right now.

As she ran through the streets, Mor shouted to anyone who came out of their flats or looked out from open windows. None were seriously harmed- though a few were in need of healers after stepping on broken glass in the dark.

Lights were coming on throughout the city, confused chatter and worried cries were everywhere. Mor had to stop on nearly every street to heal one injury or another caused by things falling inside homes. Most of them were splinters or cuts, though there were a fair number of people with bruises or worse from where various heavy things had fallen from the walls and shelves.

He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not dead.

She chanted it as she hurriedly healed Velaris’ citizens and rushed to the Townhouse. Every thundering heartbeat, every ragged gasp for air, Mor chanted that single sentence over and over again. She wouldn’t stop chanting it, not until she knew.

He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not dea-

Something barreled into her from behind and Mor was yanked up off the ground. She felt strong arms around her chest and grabbed hold of the red siphons that glittered there as Cassian angled up and shot for the townhouse. The shield shoved at them both, but he fought it for a little altitude- if it got him there even a second faster it was worth that noose squeezing at his throat.

“He’s not dead,” Cassian growled as his wings strained and he shot them towards that house, “he’s not dead.” 

He was repeating it with the same desperation as Mor.

A silver figure streaking through the streets below was undoubtedly Amren, running for the townhouse as well. She was only a few hundred feet behind them as Cassian came in for a hard landing.

Mor’s feet were moving before they properly touched down.

The crowds filling the streets moved out of their way as the Inner Circle converged on that townhouse. Azriel indeed came from the direction of the forges, landing just behind Amren. Mor vaulted over the gate and up the steps to the front door, ripping it open with Cassian a mere step behind her.

Dark, it was dark and quiet.

She crashed into the archway that led into the dining room and threw a wave of magic to light the faelights inside. Mor used her impact with the doorway to turn herself. The lantern would tell her he was alright. It would confirm that the earthquake was some natural occurrence, not a sign of anything bad.

He’s not dead. He’s not dead. He’s not-

The lantern wasn’t on the table.

It was on the floor-

-and it had shattered.

Cassian ran from the room to the kitchen, where he promptly threw up.

“No, no, no, no, no-“ Mor dove for the shards of broken glass. The rug beneath them was damp where whatever concoction Amren had used to cast the spell in the first place had sprayed out, “NO!”

“Mor, it’s gone.” Azriel, always the realist, whispered as he pulled her back, “I’m sorry.”

“NO!” she fought against him, “It’s our only chance at- it’s not gone! It can’t be gone!”

“A High Lord has come into his power,” Amren was breathless, but her voice was gentle, “that was no echo, Morrigan… I’m sorry.”

“HE’S NOT DEAD!” she shoved Azriel back and slammed her hands into the wet spot on the rug, utterly indifferent to the vicious pain when broken glass slashed her skin. She threw everything she had into that damp puddle, hoping for even a whisper of the spell that had linked them to Rhysand for thirty years.

There was nothing but darkness and cold.

And it had nothing to do with magic.

The spell was well and truly gone.

“HE’S NOT DEAD!” she screamed again and slammed her hand into the glass and liquid, but this time tears were pouring down her face, “HE’S NOT DEAD!”

“We don’t know anything for sure,” Azriel put a hand on her back. He didn’t look at Amren- he knew her face would tell him otherwise, “he could be fine. We don’t know. We survived nineteen years without anything, remember? We can be patient again. He’ll know something happened, he’ll find a way to get word to us- or Nuala and Cerridwen will. I’m sure they won’t leave us wondering.”

Cassian stumbled back. He was white and shaking. When he first saw the lantern shattered- that wave of dread had slammed into him so hard he could barely stand.

Amren waved her hand and the glass vanished. Mor’s own hands were healed, but Amren said nothing. She simply walked out of the dining room and went to the sitting room.

What is this? Amren put a hand over her chest, where she felt a shaking kind of strain, What is happening to me?

She’d lived far, far too long to be a stranger to loss, but this feeling- this devastation- was something wholly unfamiliar. She was eons old, ancient by even the standards of her own kind, and yet it felt like someone had run her through with a dagger of ice.

When did she start caring so much about the snarky little High Lord?

Cassian shook his head and a vicious, lethal rage settled over him, “No. I’m not doing this anymore. Not for another Cauldron-damned day!” He stormed out into the hall where he could just see Amren’s back to one side as well as Azriel and Mor on the other, “We don’t need a fucking lamp to know if Rhys is dead or alive. We have everything we need right here.”

“Cassian, no. Now isn’t the time.” Azriel snapped. He held Mor as she shuddered with sobs.

“Now is exactly the time!” Cassian shouted, “All we have to do is agree to break the shield and it’s gone! We let that asshole lock us in here for forty-nine years! I’m fucking DONE! He could be out there right now, injured or worse, and we’re supposed to play house-sitter?! NO, AZRIEL! THIS IS THE BEST TIME FOR THIS CONVERSATION! FUCK, FORTY-NINE YEARS AGO WAS THE TIME FOR IT!” His voice went quiet, cold, “I’m done playing Rhysand’s game. I want the shield down. I say we break it.”

“NO!” Azriel turned on him, “PROTECT VELARIS- THAT IS THE MISSION RHYSAND GAVE US!”

“FUCK. RHYSAND.” Cassian roared, “IF DISOBEYING HIM MEANS SAVING HIS STUPID ASS, THEN I’M GOING TO DO IT AND HIS ‘MISSION’ BE DAMNED!”

“CASSIAN-“

“Yes.” Mor’s whisper was enough to cut Azriel off. He turned to her, aghast. Tears strained her cheeks, her eyes were red-rimmed. Her voice was pained,  filled with forty-nine years worth of agony, “Cassian is right. We need to know.” She looked at both males before she said, “I agree to break the shield.”

Azriel could feel the shield shiver at her words, “Amren, I need you to help me here,” he said. “Tell them-“

“I agree to break the shield.” Amren said quietly, “I’m sick, I am so sick, of being caged.” When she turned her eyes were filled with the same molten wrath as Cassian.

The shield cracked.

“No.” Azriel hissed. Everything in him wanted to join them, he could feel himself standing at the threshold. It would be so easy to say those words and shatter their prison-

-but Azriel didn’t endure forty-nine years to stop now. Not before they knew for sure Rhysand was gone.

“What did you say?” Cassian’s eyes darkened.

“I said no, Cass.” Azriel readied for a fight, “The last thing Rhysand said to me- to any of us- was that he wanted us to protect this city. He wanted us to protect each other.”

“WE’RE TRYING TO PROTECT HIM!” Cassian roared.

“AND I’M TRYING TO HONOR HIM! TO HONOR HIS WISHES!” Azriel crossed his arms and adjusted his stance, ready to fight Cassian and Mor if it came down to it. His voice went low, “I’m going out into that city right now to heal people and help clean up the damage. I’m not breaking the shield, and without my agreement it doesn’t happen. Kick my ass- kill me if you think it will help- but I will never agree to break the shield. Not until I know for sure Rhysand is dead.”

“And what if I tell you to break the shield?” Amren came back into the dining room. She was pure predator, and everything in Azriel’s body and soul screamed at him to flee now, “I could force you, I could break you in ways you have never even dreamed of little boy.”

“Listen to yourselves!” Azriel hissed, “Look at what you’re doing right now!”

Cassian’s hand was on the hilt of his sword.

Mor’s fists were balled up at her sides, and her magic was at the ready.

Amren’s eyes were glowing.

“We don’t know he’s dead.” Azriel hissed, “We don’t know anything. It’s been minutes! Already you’re willing to rip me apart to get out?”

“It hasn’t been ‘minutes’, it’s been years.” Cassian hissed.

“So what’s another few days?” Azriel shoved past him and Mor- deliberately turning his back on them. Their grief was twisting their minds, but even though he trusted them completely, something in Azriel waited for the slice of a sword through his wings, a ball of magic to slam into his back, or whatever the hell Amren did when she was pissed.

Nothing came.

He felt their glares, he felt the wrath pouring from them, but Azriel kept walking. He didn’t answer the questioning concern in the eyes of the people on the street as he passed. He simply took off into the sky and flew to the poorer areas of Velaris, where buildings were likely more damaged.

He was shaking with rage and grief, but Azriel did as he said he would. He went door to door, asking any who dared answer if they were alright and if there was anything they needed repaired or cleaned up.

It was hours before anyone else came looking for him.

-----

Cassian had raged, screamed, cursed Azriel up and down as he hadn’t done in centuries-

-but anger couldn’t last forever. Not against family.

When it broke, when cold grief pooled in his stomach without anything to set it burning, Cassian hung his head, gave Mor a tight hug, a chaste kiss on the forehead, and even squeezed Amren’s shoulder before going out into the city to find his brother and apologize.

He still felt that he was right- the shield needed to come down- but when he thought of his hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword, a wave of guilt threatened to carry him away.

Azriel was the strong one of them all. He had been the one who carried them throughout the last forty-nine years. He was the one who brought them together in that café, he was the one who dared tell Amren it was time to start acting like Rhys’ second. He’d helped give them all purpose, and asked nothing from them in return.

And Cassian had very nearly drawn his sword against him.

The residents of Velaris largely avoided Cassian’s eyes, not wanting to know if the grief in them was for whatever had happened to their High Lord, or for the row the fae outside the townhouse had overheard. Already gossip was flowing through the city, even as the residents sorted through the minor damage to their homes.

When Cassian crossed the Sidra (where Mor’s floating crops hadn’t been disturbed in the slightest), a few fae here and there simply pointed towards the lower edges of the city. Wordless, they directed Cassian to where Azriel knelt in the street and healed a little girl’s twisted ankle.

“I’m sorry.” Cassian said when he sent the girl skipping on her way.

“I don’t want to know.” Azriel whispered, “As long as I don’t know, he’s still alive.”

“As long as I don’t know, he’s still dead.” Cassian said, “It isn’t an excuse for my behavior, but that’s what I feel.”

“I won’t agree to break the shield.” Weary, Azriel crossed his arms.

Cassian just nodded, “I still want to… but I won’t force you. You want to wait for word? Fine. But eventually we need to face whatever is out there. I’m ready, but I get that you’re not.”

It was an impasse, and Azriel knew that Mor would probably hate him for it. Still… he didn’t want to know. He wasn’t ready to face Rhys’ death. Not after everything they’d been through. Not after Rhysand’s mate had finally walked the earth. Despite his best efforts, he’d started to hope.

“Don’t expect me to get sappy.” A female huffed, “But I shouldn’t have said I would break you. Even though I could and it would be easy if I felt like it... Which I don’t... Right now.”

Amren was scowling at him, but there was more spite in her eyes than that wrath she’d fired at him earlier. It was the closest he’d ever get to an apology.

“Amren, I-“

The words were stolen from Azriel along with the very air in his lungs.

Something slammed into him- a wave of pressure and magic and sheer might that winded him- winded all three of them. The tidal wave passed through them-

-taking the tether with it.

The shield around Velaris shattered.

Azriel’s knees buckled, but he didn’t slump to the ground.

None of them did.

Amren practically pounced on Cassian, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as both Illyrians launched into the air and, for the second time in less than twelve hours, sped for the townhouse. Habit kept Azriel low, skimming just above the rooftops of the city, but there was no pressure pushing them down, no noose tightening around their throats.

The shield was well and truly gone.

The only reason Azriel didn’t winnow there was Cassian and Amren. He wouldn’t leave them behind.

Even halfway across Velaris though, they felt a shuddering explosion from the townhouse and heard the echo of it racing down the slope of the city.

Mor’s wordless scream came a second later as she beheld whatever came with that explosion of sound and pressure. At whatever was unleashed upon the townhouse.

Rhysand is dead, Azriel thought, he’s dead, and his body just came home.

Why did the thought bring him comfort and grief in equal measure?

Azriel knew the answer- because even if he was dead, at least then they had an answer. At least then forty-nine years of fear and worry were over.

If Rhysand is dead though, who just became High Lord? Azriel’s heart faltered and he nearly crashed into a chimney as a new, blinding dread washed over him.

Kier.

Azriel crashed to the ground just behind Cassian and Amren. Again, faeries stood on the street, staring in fear at that townhouse. Again, they parted for the three who hurtled themselves to the front door.

Cassian got there first. He ripped it open and stopped dead at the threshold.

Mor was holding Rhys’ body, a mix of grief and love and concern in her eyes as she knelt on the floor of the townhouse foyer where she’d fallen.

Except-

-except Rhys’ body wasn’t laying limp in her arms.

It was kneeling in front of her, and holding her upright as she held him. As she cried with overwhelming joy.

Cassian held his breath and slammed his hand into the doorframe, blocking both Amren and Azriel. They looked over his shoulder, then froze as well.

Rhys looked as though he had been saying something to Mor, but he turned slowly to look at Cassian, Azriel, and Amren. 

He’d knocked the wind out of them. 

They’d returned the favor. 

A smile slowly replaced the agony and wonder on his face as he looked at them openly for the first time in forty-nine years.

“Ca-“

“Never again.” Cassian cut him off. There was no rage in his voice, no anger, not even mild disapproval. There was nothing there. No emotion whatsoever, “You never pull this shit again- is it a deal?”

“Cassian-“

“Never again. No matter what. Is it a deal?”

Rhysand swallowed hard and nodded, “It’s a deal.”

Cassian used the door, his wings, everything at his disposal to launch himself at Rhysand full-force. Mor barely got out of the way as he crashed into his brother, tackling him across the floor, “YOU CAULDRON-DAMNED PRICK!” Cassian roared. He wrenched Rhys around, pulled him to his feet, and secured him in a head-lock, ”DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW WORRIED WE’VE BEEN?!”

Azriel barreled into the two before Rhys could answer and shoved Cassian’s arms just far enough out of the way to pull his High Lord and best friend into a tight hug, “We thought you were dead!”

Rhysand wasn’t sure if he was being attacked or welcomed home, “Amarantha died last night. I got my power back.” He swallowed hard, “I kept the shield up because I knew you’d all come and I didn’t want to do this in front of-“

“I DON’T CARE!” Cassian bellowed. He released Rhys’ head, spun him, and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, “IF YOU EVER GO ANYWHERE WITHOUT US AGAIN, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU MYSELF!”

Azriel grabbed Rhys the second Cassian let him go, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Az. I’m fine.“ The lie in those words wasn’t even contained well, but Azriel let it go. 

For now.

“I don’t appreciate being put in a kennel like some beast.” Amren snapped when Azriel and Cassian released Rhysand.

He offered a tentative smile, “I’m sorry?”

She huffed, “You’ll be making it up to me for centuries.” Amren shrugged, “I favor pearls now, just so you know.”

Rhysand actually managed a laugh, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Mor put a hand on his back and dared to smile, even though she still wasn’t sure what she was seeing-

“It’s real.” Rhysand reached back and squeezed her hand, “It’s real.”

Even though Amren made a face when Cassian, Azriel, and Mor tackled Rhysand once again, she joined in the hug.

When Nuala and Cerridwen stepped out of the shadows, she even offered the two half-wraiths a rare nod of approval. They also fell victim to the group-hug.

“OH!” Cassian shoved back from the others, “You have to come outside! There’s a party!”

Rhysand forced a smile, but there was a weariness in his eyes, “Cassian, I appreciate it, I do, but I don’t think I’m up for-“

“TOO FUCKING BAD.” there was a hint of danger in his voice as Cassian grabbed the back of Rhys’ shirt and pulled him to the door. He yanked it open and practically threw Rhysand into the streets of Velaris.

Even when he first walked those streets as High Lord of Night, the people of Velaris had never cheered so loudly.

Rhysand didn’t even try to contain his tears as the music began to play and his city- his home- exploded in violet. 

A home he didn’t think he would ever see again. 

Friends he didn’t think he would ever see again. 

He’d stolen a glimpse of the walls that solstice so long ago, just to remind himself what he was trying to save as Amarantha took everything else from him.

Velaris is protected. Everyone is alright. We love you. We forgive you.

Azriel’s words had broken his control for days, but they’d also saved him. He’d been repeating them over and over for the last nineteen years. He was repeating them even when Feyre was dragged into Amarantha’s throne room. He kept repeating them as he sent her the vision of the House of Wind overlooking his home- the last sliver of beauty in a dark and cruel world.

Now that it was laid out before him, welcoming him home with open arms, all Rhysand could do was hold his friends- his family- and weep as they showed him something he hadn’t known in forty-nine long years:

Love.

----

Epilogue: Seventeen Hours Free

Cassian poured himself a cup of strong tea.

Rhys had long since excused himself to “spend some quality time getting reacquainted with my bed”. 

Cassian knew the feeling.

It was too much- the party, the parade, the city-wide jubilation and feasts as word spread that it was no drill- Rhysand was truly home. 

Rhys had smiled through it all- even cried openly at first- but as he walked through his City of Starlight at long, long last, Cassian saw something crumbling inside him. He’d lost so much more than they even knew, he’d suffered in ways that carved out some essential part of his soul, and by the time they returned to the townhouse for hours of drinking and toasting Rhys, Nuala, and Cerridwen’s courage, that smile had faded from Rhysand’s eyes.

It was over, Rhys was free- but he was still broken inside. Memories of horror and pain still dogged his steps, and he couldn’t convince himself it was well and truly over.

... Cassian knew the feeling.

Rhys had been exhausted when he got up from the table and begged their forgiveness for leaving, but it was something else that drew out those purple bags beneath his disturbingly pale skin.

The owner of the café was too happy at the High Lord’s safe return to care that Cassian came in as he was closing up. He’d simply told Cassian anything he wanted was on the house, he could help himself. The fae just asked that he lock up on his way out whenever he chose to leave.

That was shortly after midnight.

Now it was two in the morning.

Exhaustion begged Cassian to go to sleep- but that was where he’d gotten stuck.

The House of Wind was within reach.

All of Prythian was within reach.

So why was he here, still in Velaris, at this little café?

Because something wasn’t right.

Because Rhysand returned alone.

“Mind if I join you?” Amren didn’t wait for an answer. She sat down in the chair next to Cassian and poured herself a cup. Not to drink- but she held the hot mug and breathed deep the scent of it.

Mor appeared a few minutes later. “So I’m not the only one.”

“Not by a long shot.” Cassian poured her a cup of tea, then went to refill the pot.

“We’re free. He’s home…” Mor whispered, “So why don’t I feel good?”

“Because only part of him came back.” Azriel followed her in, took the pot from Cassian, and grabbed a cup of his own, “And this is only the beginning.”

“It’s not fair,” Cassian sat down hard, “after everything, after all of this- why can’t he smile? Why can’t we?” It was a child’s voice that asked the question.

Amren simply put one hand on Cassian’s and took Mor’s in the other. She gave them both a comforting squeeze, and offered Azriel a wan smile, “A piece is missing. There is something we don’t know yet… And someone has been misplaced.”

“She’s in Spring.” Azriel whispered. All eyes turned to him, “She’s high fae, she’s immortal- and she’s engaged to Tamlin.”

Cassian didn’t even have it in him to swear for once. He just closed his eyes and loosed a breath, “It isn’t enough that he helped steal Rhys’ sister and mother from us, now he takes Rhys’ mate?”

“Her name is Feyre.” Mor said quietly, “And now he knows she’s his mate.”

They fell into silence, equally miserable. 

She didn’t belong to Rhysand, no member of the Inner Circle would ever consider anyone to be prize or property, but- after everything- didn’t he deserve a happily ever after? Didn’t he deserve a mate and a love strong enough to shake Prythian to its core? A love to remake the world?

Azriel didn’t even have it in him to feel indignant at how simply, utterly unfair it all was. He was numb- like the last forty-nine years of telling himself he had to be strong, he had to be the rock of the Inner Circle- it finally caught up to him. Mor and Cassian had broken the first four years and slowly gathered the pieces back up. 

Azriel hadn’t let himself break-

-but somehow in the relief of seeing Rhysand again, in knowing it was over, he had snapped at long last. Azriel was wholly, utterly numb inside. Even his shadows were silent.

After forty-nine years of agony and hell, didn’t they deserve to be happy, not sitting in a dark café in the early hours of the morning? 

Didn’t they deserve to sleep easily for the first time? 

Didn’t they deserve to feel something?

At dawn, Azriel flew back to the House of Wind alone while the others went to the townhouse to be there when Rhys woke. Not that the High Lord had actually slept at all that night.

Azriel knew she would be waiting in his old chambers... And he needed her as much as she needed him, a reminder of a happier time, even if those feelings were gone.

He ripped off his shirt, kicked off his shoes, and shed his pants before he even went to his bedroom door. He knew she would already be waiting on the bed.

Something. He needed to feel something. Anything.

She needed it too. More desperately than he could ever know after what she’d been forced to witness, after she too had fought tooth and nail to hold Rhysand together through it all, and be her sister’s strength.

She was as exhausted and lost as he was.

“Just this once.” Nuala whispered as Azriel crawled onto the bed.

“Just this once.” He agreed.

---

Three Months, One Week, Four Days, and Eight Hours Free

Even though he had an entire Court to wrangle back under control, even though Hybern was undoubtedly ramping up to open war and he should be spending every second with the ones he loved most, Azriel kept finding his way here.

Even though it was where he learned exactly what Cerridwen stopped Nuala from telling him nineteen years ago, what Prythian called Rhysand for his sacrifices in Amarantha’s chambers, he couldn’t bring himself to stop coming.

He had to make sure she was safe, alive, and unharmed.

Azriel stood in the shadow of the hallway as Feyre Archeron readied to walk down the aisle and marry Tamlin.

He thought he was going to be sick.

She wasn’t some prize to be won, but even so- Amarantha stole Rhysand from his people for forty-nine years. She stole his body, forced him to pretend he enjoyed it, made him torture, maim, and even kill until only those words they whispered into the lantern kept him sane.

Feyre Archeron wasn’t a prize… but didn’t Rhysand deserve a chance with her? Tamlin claiming the female- it felt like she was being taken not from Rhysand, but from all of the Inner Circle. They’d watched her grow up- even if Feyre didn’t know it. She’d saved them, given them hope in the darkest of times… And if Tamlin got his claws in her, then he stole another female from their family. 

Rhysand’s sister, his mother- now his mate? Where did it finally end?

If she didn’t look more dead than alive, Azriel might have felt differently, but for three months now he’d come to keep an eye on her, to make sure she was safe. For three months he watched as she grew thinner and more pale, as Tamlin and that whore Ianthe smothered her spirit. 

Azriel wasn’t so oblivious that he didn’t recognize the signs of abuse.

Not physical- he’d give Tamlin that much- but she’d been neglected so wholly, so completely, that Azriel’s more lethal instincts told him she was broken as much as anyone he’d ever tied to his table. The darkness Azriel lived hand-in-hand with was smothering her, eating her alive from the inside out, and the worst part was how easy it would be to stop it. If that bastard Tamlin even thought to talk to her, hold her at night when she was crying and moaning in her sleep, then she would have a chance at recovery.

But the neglect had made things so much worse.

Azriel didn’t know if she could survive it.

He kept coming to check on her, to watch her and ruminate over how utterly insane the entire situation was, but it was Nuala and Cerridwen who’d volunteered to keep to the shadows whenever they could, to watch Feyre in case she tried something drastic in her grief and despair.

Now though, now Azriel was watching her ready for a marriage to a male who would never respect her, never truly love her, and never be able to protect her from her own guilt and agony.

If she did the unthinkable, Rhysand would die with her- physically or in spirit. After everything he’d done, after everything he’d suffered, the severing of even an unfulfilled mating bond-

A roaring filled Azriel’s ears and his vision went red.

That kept happening.

Helping Rhys and Cassian slaughter the treasonous Illyrians helped quiet it a bit, but every time he let himself think about Rhys’ mate with Tamlin, what it would do to her and Rhys if she faded any further- that roaring came back.

Azriel looked down at his hands, at what was clutched inside them.

Later, once the rage and grief had passed, Azriel would hurl himself across his chambers and vomit his guts up at what he was about to do.

Though he’d never admit his actions, he would spend his entire life getting Feyre anything she asked for, doing anything she asked him to do, and being the best friend he was capable of being. He would never say ‘no’ to her, never question her, never be anything less than a doting brother to her.

All because of what he was about to do in his broken rage, and all out of disgust at himself.

If Rhysand ever found out, he would probably kill Azriel.

He became darkness, and walked in the shadow of that asshat Tamlin as the male made his way down the wedding aisle. Azriel opened his hand as he followed, leaving something behind mixed with the white and pink flowers. A weakness in Feyre few knew- a weakness even Tamlin didn’t usually acknowledge- though he’d been so careful on this day.

Azriel pushed himself into the shadows of the manor house as the doors opened and Feyre stepped out.

When she saw what he’d left behind, the roaring in his ears fell silent and pure, raw horror washed over Azriel.

Red rose petals.

He’d left crimson rose petals in his wake.

What have I done? Panic rose in his chest as Feyre’s face went white and slack. As her footsteps halted and he could see her silent screams in those blue eyes.

Oh Gods, what have I done? Oh Gods. 

She was traumatized and he’d taken advantage of her. 

Azriel was going to step out of those shadows, he hauled up the mask of the cruel and vicious spymaster. He’d give a wicked smile and come into view just long enough for her to know she was being manipulated, then Tamlin would have someone to rage at after he got off his ass and actually helped her.

Azriel took a step forward-

Thunder cracked beside him, directly behind Feyre and instead of stepping out, Azriel shrunk back. He ripped at his corporeal form until he was pure shadow- and even then he held his breath as a different kind of darkness erupted.

Feyre whirled, and when her eyes met Rhysand’s through the smoke and shadow that he let the wind carry away, Azriel saw a measure of tension easing from her, her ruined soul instinctively responding to the presence of her mate, even if she didn’t know it. Even if her heart beat faster and that naked fear shone on her face.

Feyre didn’t know Rhysand, the real Rhysand. None of those damned fae did. Only Azriel- hidden in the darkness like the coward he was- saw the agony and horror in Rhysand’s eyes as he took in how thin and pale she had become. 

Of those gathered, only Azriel could see the sheer relief on Rhysand’s face that he had found his excuse to stop that farce of a wedding.

Prythian would hear the arrogance and teasing in Rhysand’s voice when he spoke, but Azriel heard the love and concern as he was finally given leave to interrupt a union he’d been mourning since before Amarantha’s downfall.

“Hello, Feyre darling.”