#acomar

Cassian rolled his shoulders and eyed his High Lord as Rhysand was perched at his desk in his office, the sun setting over the rolling hills outside the River House, and the cooler air was blown onto the office with ease. Cassian leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and his head reeling with questions and scenarios that he wanted to figure out immediately. But Rhysand was remaining calm, too calm for the Illyrian Army Commander's liking. He considered the wounded Illryian who was asleep upstairs, his friend's mate, his family. Someone tried to hurt his family and take away his family, and Cassian was fuming from the inside out.

But he was also a changed Illyrian, just as Rhysand and Azriel were. They were all fathers now: Rhysand with Nyx, Azriel with Alec, and Cassian with his daughter Rose. His daughter, sweet and yet fiery Rose was a splitting image of her mother but had his infectious and playful heart. They all had offspring to protect and think about, no more rash decisions and acting out on a limb. The children had to come first, and Cassian was not willing to do anything that would bring his family harm. Azriel never did that himself, yet that led to Alec almost being killed as a toddler and Azriel's mate now in a bed upstairs hanging between life and death. Nesta would never let Cassian do anything like that, not just for Rose but for Nesta too.

Cassian was the one who found you first, sprawled on the forest floor bleeding from your wing and the arrow still hanging out of your wing. You both were out in the outline border of Velaris, Cassian getting a hunch that there were rogue beings there making their way across the border into Velaris territory. You on the other hand were meeting with some of the farmers and shopkeepers that lived in the cottages there to check on them and talk business in contributing to the Community Center.

Maybe it was fate that he was there and come enough to hear your scream out, but he knew your scream far too well from knowing you since you both were younglings. He flew towards the wail you let out, his heart hitting against his chest far too hard and thinking it was a trick of the mind.

Everything slowed down for him as he gathered you in his arms, you were out cold and the poison already working in your blood. He had to act quickly, time was of the essence, and your time was about to be snuffed out if he didn't get you help in time. 

"The marks on the arrow," Cassian stated, reflecting on the arrow that was piercing your wing and sicking out so harshly that it sickened him to rethink it again, "We need to know where they came from so we get a hunch as to who did this,"

"I already have a big hunch, and I got in contact with the very High Lord that I'm thinking," Rhysand hummed, his cooldemeanor was hiding the anger he had. Cassian raised a brow at him as Rhysand rang his thumb over his fingers back and forth, a tactic he would use when he was thinking deeply, "High Lord Beron has been notified and is coming tonight,"

"What?" Cassian asked in shock, standing up stiffly and no longer leaning against the wall. 

"He knows the utmost importance of this since it does involve my cousin…my fucking family," Rhysand said the last part in a low tone, not a growl but close enough, "We are going to meet at the Townhouse since I know both yourself and Nesta would rather not have the High Lord of Autumn Court in your home,"

Cassian snorted, then gave him a questioning look, "Does Elaine and Lucien know what happened?"

"Feyre reached out and told them to stay at their home here in Velaris for the time being. In fact, I don't want any of the Inner Circle going anywhere outside of Velaris until this is resolved once and for all. We either stay in our homes or at The House of Wind until I say so," Rhysand explained as his violet eyes looked out the window to see the last images of the sun still in the sky before it hid into the horizon.

"Is that an order?" Cassian asked, Rhysand’s eyes shot back to his Commander.  Cassian, though tamer than he used to be when he was younger, was still reckless at heart at times. Something inside of him wanted him to find whoever did this and bring them pain. You were family to him, meeting him through Rhysand when he was a boy and considered him a brother of yours. His rational side was teetering to be pushed aside, and he was fine with it.

"I don't want another member of my family hurt, Cass. I consider you family, long before you became my brother-in-law. You need to think of your wife and daughter and that they need you," Rhysand explained to Cassian, seeing Cassian's eyes soften from the mention of Nesta and Rose, "We need to be smart about this, not reckless. I want you with me when we meet with High Lord Beron,"

Cassian hummed, knowing that Rhysand was right when it came to being reckless. He then gestured his head over to the doors that lead out of the office, "What about Azriel?"

"I don't want him anywhere else but with his wife, she's his priority now. And besides, I would rather not leave Azriel alone in the room with High Lord Beron. That's if Beron, or Autumn Court for that matter, did have something to do with this. He is not in the right frame of mind to be anywhere else," 

Cassian knew he was right about that too. The rage Azriel must be feeling at this moment, not knowing who in factharmed and attempted to kill his mate, must have been explosive. Cassian himself has been Azriel in such a way before, the anger that would fester deep down and be unlashed by either his shadows or his Truth Tellers. Cassian and strength behind him, but Azriel had something deeper.

Something more menacing.

"Alec is also staying here until his mother is well again, though he still doesn't know what precisely happened," Rhysand explained as he got up from his chair and walked around the desk to stand near Cassian with his arms folded in front of him, "I don't want Alec anywhere else but here, he's my nephew and he needs to be protected now more than ever. We all do, but epically him: someone is hunting his mother and father, and I won't let him become an orphan under my roof,"

"None of us want that, Rhys," Cassian reasoned with Rhysand, "He's secure and protected here with you and Feyre, and he's safe with his father, the safest he’ll ever be,”

"Which is why we need to be smart. For now, let's just focus on this meeting with Beron and making sure my cousin is comfortable and safe while she heals and come back to full health," Rhysand stated, then pausing as he gave Cassian a more cornered look, "How is Alec and Azriel now?"

"Alec's okay, he just misses his mother. As for Azriel…it's hard for him," Cassian confessed. Rhysand hummed and rubbed his eyes, already thinking of the next steps that were to come. The meeting tonight would be far too important, life-changing, and yet his cousin was still in the back of his mind and her health was his main concern. 

All he could do now was hold onto his Inner Circle, his family, so close in hopes they wouldn't slip away.

"Alright, buddy. Time for bed, okay?"

"Ok, daddy,"

Azriel softly smiled as he watched his son hop into the massive bed he was going to sleep in, the guest room that wasacross from where you were still sleeping and still healing. He left the door slightly open, being able to see you from where he was in Alec's guest room as Alec was settling into his bed. 

Alec was only told that his mother was sick, severely sick, and he was not able to see her.  Of course, it confused him at first, not understanding that he wasn't able to see his own mother since he had seen her sick before, but he knew better than to question his father.  Seeing Azriel looking worn down and defeated made Alec worry all the more. 

But Feyre was a step ahead, making sure he was well fed at dinnertime and kept him busy with his cousin Nyx until it was time for him to go to bed. Still, his mother was in the back of his mind, wondering what was it that made his mother so sick. He missed his mother, hugging her and hearing her voice telling him goodnight. Azriel tried his best to be present with Alec, but his son caught onto something that was hidden from him. 

Perhaps a trait he inherited from his father.

"Alec, I know this is different from what we're used to," Azriel explained to Alec, who was watching his father with his wide blue eyes as he was snuggled under the soft sheets of the bed, "But you are being such a trooper for going with the flow of it all.  I promise you that things are going to go back to normal soon, okay? As soon as momma is all better, we'll go back to our house and things will be back to the way they were,"

"Is it going to be forever?" Alec asked tentatively as he searched his father's tired eyes. Azriel felt a twinge of pain that his son was still kept in the dark, so speak, when it came to what truly happened to his mother. The last thing Azriel ever wanted to do was to lie to his son like this, to have that trust broken at any moment. 

"No, not forever, baby," He reassured Alec as he pushed the inky black hair out of his son's blue eyes, "This is not forever, I swear to you. You believe me?"

"Yes, Daddy," Alec replied, Azriel smiled at his son and leaned over to kiss the top of his head. He was about to leave his son to sleep, and as Azriel eased himself up from the bed, Alec spoke up again in a gentler tone. So gentle, that it sounded like the curtains were swaying in his room from the night breeze.

"Daddy, is momma gonna be okay?"

Azriel could have cried then, seeing his son watch him for an answer. Azriel never wanted this for his family, the fear of losing someone he loved and another person he loved was filled with fear and worry. Alec was only four years old, far too young for something like this to happen in his life. Nothing could prepare him for this: consoling his son and hoping that his wife would pull through. 

Alec needed his mother, Azriel knew that deep down. There was no greater bond than Alec's bond with his mother, it was thick and filled with so much happiness and love. Inwardly, Azriel wanted that himself with his mother, and he did have that in the blink of a moment when he was young.  To see his mate give that same love to his son was beyond rewarding.

Now his son, looking at his father with worry in his young eyes, was asking about his mother.

"Yeah…yeah she's gonna be okay," he reassured Alec. He had to give Alec hope, the hope that his mother would be herself again. Although he had very little hope, he would at least give some of that hope to his son. He leaned down and kissed his son one more time, "Get some sleep, okay? I'm gonna check on momma and come back to you, I love you,"

"I love you too, Daddy," Alec replied, then curled into the bed under the sheets as Azriel moved away. He felt like he needed to be in two places at once: with Alec and with you. Although you were sleeping and till healing, Alec needed you and needed your warmth. Azriel wished he could change it all, make you all better so you can hold your son. Yet as he watched Alec fall asleep, facing the window with a look of peace on his face, Azriel could breathe a bit easier. 

He kept the door into the guest room open slightly, mostly in case Alec needed him as he walked silently across the hall into the room where you were in. Still asleep, facing the empty chair where Azriel was perched for the past few hours, the moon shining into your room to cast a bluish light along your still wounded wings. Azriel could even see the moonlight shine through the thin membrane of your wings, showing the veins and the damage from the Ash Arrow.

But the way you were snuggled against the body pillow, head against the soft pillow, and your long hair draped over your shoulder, you looked more peaceful than you did earlier when Azriel found you. Azriel sat down on the chair, taking in a long breath as he held his hands together in his lap and watched you. Your deep breathing, the softness that was now slowly coming back along your skin and your cheeks thanks to the medicine from Madja. 

"I might be talking to myself here, but I hope you can hear me," Azriel said aloud in the room, his voice sounding a bit raw as he watched you in earnest, "But I need you to pull through and get better. I….I don't think I can do this without you. I won't have the strength to, no matter how hard I'll have to try. I need you, our son needs you. He needs his momma, and I…I don't wanna do this alone and without you."

He might have sounded silly since he was talking alone in the room, but then again he needed to get it off his chest. Bottling up all his fear that he's had for the past few hours, would have suffocated him. The only person he was ever safe to unload his feelings, to be open and exposed therapeutically, was the one who was asleep in front of him and unable to be fully present with him.

"I'm sorry I failed you and couldn't protect you," Azriel admitted, sinking a bit in his chair as he was fiddling with his fingers, Clutching them together tightly and refusing to let them go, "I promised you when we were mated that I would protect you, keep you safe and never let anything happen to you. I broke that promise, and I know I can never repair that,"

He thought that if you were awake, you would reprimand him for being hard on himself. Azriel could even hear it clearly in his mind, your kind voice scolding him for being immensely harsh towards himself. You've always helped him out of his moods and insecurities, including what he does and how he takes care of others around him. Azriel thought back to a talk that he had with you when Alec was still a young infant, he was voicing his worry about taking care of his family and if he was doing enough. 

He needed you to bring him back to the light, and not have him hide in the darkness.

Azriel reached out and took your hands in his own, feeling the coolness of your skin and yet how soft they were. Healways loved your soft hands, a soothing balm against his calloused and scarred skin. He leaned down and kissed the back of your hand, his lips along your skin had you shift in your sleep and hum.

"Sleep and come back to me, come back to us. Your son and I need you more than anything, so I need you to get your strength and open those eyes for me when you're ready. I'm here when you wake up, I promise.  I love you more than life itself, more than my own life, and if I could trade mine for yours then I would in a heartbeat. Just gather your strength, we'll be here waiting for you," Azriel proclaimed to you and your sleeping form.  He did speak the truth: he would trade his life for yours since at times he felt you had more good for the world than he ever did.

Azriel cannot picture a world without you, without any of your beautiful traits or your tender heart. 

Azriel heard it, almost like a whisper, as he was dead asleep with Alec cradled in his arms in the spare guest room.  His arms were tucked around his son, who was snuggled against his father and snoring softly. It was so soft, like a breeze, which didn't disturb the Spymaster at first.

But it was also distinct, not the sound of the curtains fluttering next to the bed or the very soft ticking of the clock on the fireplace mantle.  This was a shutter of a whisper, and it was calling his name.

Azriel…..Azriel….

His shadows hummed, licking along Azriel's arms as he stirred a bit in his sleep. Alec was thankfully a deep sleeper and stayed in slumber, even though his father was feeling the sensation not just with his shadows but in his mind. It was a familiar voice, so familiar that maybe it was a trick of the mind as Azriel took in a long breath. But he heard it again, a pinch louder and his name being called out as if the source was so far away.  Fighting through a fog that was thick and almost recognizable.

Azriel…Azriel…

Azriel was still asleep, but it was becoming more alert as the voice was getting a bit louder now in his mind. It was no longer a dream, it was something else, something familiar to him.  So familiar like coming through the front door of the small little cottage where he lived, or flying amongst the cloud with his wings stretched. Even the familiar touch of your lips against his own made him feel safe.

But he finally heard it, and his eyes shot open on high alert.

Azriel….I'm here…

It was you, your voice, speaking through the bond.

You were awake.

To Be Continued….

A/N - Part three?!?! Let me know if you want a part three!

The fact that I have been completely and totally spoiled isn’t lost on me. The riverfront home that Feyre and Rhys built is a case study in sprawling but cozy architecture. I can see Feyre’s personality in every choice made in the construction and design of the home. 

High ceilings and wide generous windows. All couches, settees, chairs and pillows are double stuffed with down. The living spaces are designed with warm rich tones - deep emerald green curtains, walnut wood, cream throw blankets and black marble accents. I’m reminded of the woods near our old shack in the summer. Austere but approachable. But then, the master bedroom is lavished in the softest dove grey and oak wood furnishings that give you the distinct impression of a frosty snow peaked getaway. 

I can tell that a sense of openness and freedom are important to Feyre and Rhys. As if all the heaviness they endured in life could be warded off with a defiantly calm space. 

Even the kitchen and the gardens are a subtle testament to their love for me. I know it. I can tell by the types of flower beds they installed that are best suited to the flowers I like to grow. The kitchen is built like a heart: red tile backsplash, terracotta tiled floors, copper pots and deep blue cloth. The main working space in the kitchen is a wide pine counter in the centre of the room, paired with five stools. I can prepare dinner and still chat with whoever ventures in for a bite. I can be alone, while still in good company. This whole house is intended to tell the ones they love there is space here for you to just be. 

I know that they both suffer from nightmares, it’s nice to know I’m not alone. I’ve never had the courage to ask what they see, but after hearing about what Feyre has been through, I can easily guess. My nightmares have taken an odd turn lately. Usually my dreams are nonsensical layers of time and I stumble around in various stages of rage or confusion trying to make sense of it. 

Tonight my dreams have all clicked into focus. I hear a low persistent buzzing noise, and see a wall of silver ironwood trees. Standing in front of me is a figure, almost indistinguishable from the bark behind them. They seem to grow out of the soil, their legs merely a cluster of thick grass, and their torso and face crinkled with bark. But their eyes are a violent shade of orange with no pupils. 

My heart is hammering as I sleep, and its beats echo loudly in my dream. I want to scream, or run, or try to close my eyes, but the figure has pinned me to my spot. Their gaze is neither cruel nor kind. 

Daughter, you will find me. 

In the distance I hear faint musical notes, and when I wake up the simple tune sticks with me. I smell brine. I sit up in my bed and try to breathe deeply, but can’t find my lungs when I see the orange eyes staring at me at the foot of my bed. They start to get fuzzy and I blink hard to refocus my eyes.  

“Is your bed comfortable enough?” 

To my right, Feyre is perched on a kitchen stool balancing Nyx on her knee. 

“My bed?” I ask her. I turn back to the eyes and watch as they fade into empty space. 

“Elain?” 

I turn back to Feyre and find that I’m no longer in bed, but standing at the kitchen counter with a paring knife in my hand. 

“My bed?” I ask again. I look around the kitchen and see a pot boiling with water, and minced lamb meat sizzling in a pan next to it. It must be close to dinner. But when? 

I look back at Feyre and squint to see if any other versions of her peel off to other threads of time. But she’s solid. I’m present, then. But which day?

“You just look a bit tired and I was wondering if the new mattress is making you uncomfortable.” 

“I’m fine.” I say distractedly as I stare out the window. The weather looks to be the same as yesterday, so perhaps no time has passed. 

“Apple pwease.” Nyx’s greedy little fingers reach over the counter and beckon for the apple in my hand. I think I was peeling it for him. I finish cutting the skin off and cut it into small chunks for him to eat. The weight of the blue marble handle is a grounding comfort. I slide the plate over to him and he fists a few apple slices in both hands and begins to gnaw with his two teeth. Feyre helps herself to one of the slices and tries to send a secret look to Nuala who’s been prepping the sauce for the meat. Was she always here? She must have been if Feyre is sending out the Concerned But Not Prying look. 

“I’m fine. Truly. How are things going in the city?” I ask. 

Feyre winces and sends me an apologetic look. “They’re going well, but I thought I should warn you that Lucien is going to be visiting in a few days.” 

A bucket of ice drops into my stomach. Great. Him. All threads lead to the foxhole. 

“Is anyone else joining?” 

Feyre’s shoulders relax a bit, recognizing familiar territory. “Cas, Nesta, Amren, Mor and-” A sly look my way “Az.” 

An avalanche of icy dread dumps in my stomach. Suddenly I’m homesick for the nightmare instead of this moment. I haven’t seen Azriel since his steely rejection. I’m not sure what I hate more; the fact that I’ve not recovered from his blow off, or the fact that I still feel his fingers on my skin. 

I take a steadying breath. “Are you.. Holding the meeting here? Or at the House of Wind?” 

“Here.” 

I nod and pull a large bowl of proofing sourdough towards me. I lift off the cheese cloth protecting it and give the dough a swift punch. It deflates to the bottom and I begin to fold the sides in. With my left hand I take a handful of flour from a bag and sweep it across the surface in front of me. I splat the dough down and begin working it with my hands. Fold, smoosh, rotate. Kneading it feels therapeutic. 

The benefit of the house is that it’s large enough that I can easily avoid everyone if I’d like to. For the most part I’ve been allowed to exist in my cocoon of daily habits. I like them most because keeping a regular rhythm prevents all the endless threads of time from shredding in front of me. There’s only so many ways a rose bush can deviate in time, or food for that matter. Nuala and Cerridwen are so devoted to my little life line that as long as I keep myself tightly knotted to it, time doesn’t spill out.

It’s usually when I see everyone else that my world begins to get foggy. As Feyre sits across from me, trying to casually eat the apple while battling her temptation to ask me about Lucien or Azriel, I see other versions of her ripping away from the moment. They look like half made versions of her, like when you cross your eyes. They exist as ‘possible outcomes’ and so are not fully solid. 

I realize now that it’s been too long since I spoke, and Feyre was hoping for some sort of response. I don’t know what to say. All the things I feel are too big to put into words and I know that if I say anything she’ll meddle in a well meaning way. Still. I owe her something. 

“I can make a roast if you like.” Feyre deflates ever so slightly. I can tell that I’ve disappointed her. I wish she could see what it would mean for me to cook for them. To pour myself into making a meal that will satisfy everyone’s tastes, and then sit at the table and pretend for a few hours. Pretend that I don’t want to crawl out of my skin as I feel the continuous tug of the mating bond on my heart. 

I rotate the dough one last time and fold the sides in to create an oblong shape. I drop it into a bread pan and pull out a razor blade from a drawer. Gently, I sketch a single rose into the top of the dough, the tip of the razor cutting the surface just enough to create the image. When the dough cooks, the flower will be a delicious light tan colour while the rest of the loaf will be a deep golden brown. Feyre looks at me vacantly and I can tell she’s communicating with Rhys. I wonder if I have the same expression when I get lost in time. I hope not. 

“What’s it feel like to you? The bond between you and Rhys.” I ask. Feyre smiles inward and unconsciously places a hand on her chest, as if to pet the bond within. 

“I’m not sure how to describe it. It’s like an added instinct for your senses. An open channel to him. I can feel it within me, I can tug on it, or reach down to feel him. It’s like if you’re in the dark, and you reach for someone’s hand. No matter where you are, you know their hand will always be there.” 

Sounds nice. Sounds safe. Feyre glances at me shyly. “It’s like there’s a part of him that’s alive within me, that I can feel and nurture.” 

I take the loaf over to the oven and place it in. I’m excited to cut the steaming slices and arrange them in a basket with fresh butter. Cas always takes three or more slices, and I enjoy the satisfaction of a loaf well baked. 

“And you?”

I search within and try to sense what it feels like. A rope tied tightly around my ribcage, chafing and pulling me in an imperceptible direction. That aching need to move that doesn’t let up unless he’s here. And the relief from his presence makes me so nauseated I can barely focus. 

“Drowning. It feels like drowning.” 

I look back at Feyre and she nods sympathetically. I suppose she has an idea of what it’s like to be tied to someone like that. I feel a trickle of shame down my back. If the bond feels so good and safe to her, what’s wrong with mine that its existence chafes my soul? Aside from the person the other side of the bond is tied to, of course. 

Feyre opens her mouth to say more, but Rhys enters the kitchen and she snaps her mouth shut. Nyx spins around and raises his arms, his chubby sticky fingers grasping for Rhys who strides forward and picks him up. He extends his small wings to cover Rhys’ eyes. 

“Where dada?” Coos Nyx and swipes his wings away. Rhy’s face is contorted in a silly face that makes Nyx squeal in delight. 

Rhys looks over to me and smiles in greeting. I get an image in my mind’s eye of the stairwell leading to the bedrooms. The landing is bathed in moonlight and he’s standing there with his arms crossed. I blink again and Rhys has turned his attention to Feyre. 

They begin to talk about the upcoming meeting, but I’m distracted by Nyx. He’s staring up at me with larger than life eyes. They’re a violent shade of orange with no pupils. He raises his hand in a solemn salute. I grab the paring knife beside me and raise it off the table. 

Find me

“Who are you?” I ask. 

“Elain?” Rhys is by my side now, gently prying the knife out of my hand. “Gods, was this always ironwood?”

I look down and see that the marble handle of the paring knife is indeed ironwood now. Nyx is back to his usual self with another apple slice getting mushed into his mouth. Both Rhys and Feyre are alarmed and staring at the knife. 

“I didn’t do that.” I stammer. 

Rhys picks up the knife and examines it. 

“Elain are you alright? Who were you speaking to just now?” Asks Feyre. 

I lift my hand to point at Nyx, but he’s nowhere to be seen. “I was... “

“Oooh is that roast I smell?” Cassian booms as he enters the kitchen. Cerridwen emerges from my right and places a large roast on the counter, fresh from the oven. 

All around me I see half formed figures rushing about. My stomach jumps and I stagger. I can’t see any solid shapes in the room anymore and I search trying to find someone who’s actually present. I see Cerridwen and Nuala blurring around the kitchen preparing meals and cleaning up after them. They move in double time and no matter how hard I squint I can’t make them focus. 

Stop. Please stop. An intense pressure builds behind my eyes and forehead. My insides are a constant churn of power and my body can barely contain it. I slam my eyes shut and press the heel of my palms to my eyes. I’m moments away from exploding into fragments in time. Someone grips my upper arms and gives me a shake. 

“Elain. Focus.” 

I open my eyes and see Nesta’s icy gaze boring into me. Around her, everything has settled. The kitchen is mostly empty except for Nuala and Cerridwen, who are hovering close by with identical looks of concern. 

“What did you see?” 

Never one to be delicate, Nesta’s nails are dug deep in my skin. If I didn’t know her so well, I’d think she’s angry. What emanates from her is focused panic. 

“Nothing, I couldn’t see anything.” 

“Okay, what did you feel?” She presses. 

“I don’t know, I felt horrible. I felt pain, like I was being pulled apart.” 

“I felt something too.” She murmurs. I take a deep breath and step back from her. The roast is back on the counter top. Cerridwen is wearing a dark blue dress with a beaded flower pattern on the bodice. The beads are an array of turquoise and teal - it’s Wednesday then. Turquoise on Wednesdays. 

Which must mean that tonight’s roast is for the meeting. I’ve lost two days. 

“I’ve never lost so much time before.” I murmur. 

Nesta’s cold hand is on my cheek and she pushes my face to meet her eyes. “We need to get a handle on this, don’t we?” 

I nod weakly. The power within me feels like a gigantic wave, and I don’t really see how I can get a handle on it. It would be like trying to stop it with a plug. Ineffectual and useless. I note that I’m wearing a simple blue evening dress with my turquoise bracelet and I wonder what my body was doing while I was away. My hair is pulled back in a thick six strand braid. Must have been Nuala’s doing. 

“The others might want to talk about this. They’ve noticed you’ve been off, and with everything that’s happening with Koschei, it might all be tied together.” 

“There’s nothing useful about what’s within me.” I say. 

“But maybe it can be curbed.” Nesta grabs my hand and pulls me out of the kitchen and towards the dining room.

Everyone is standing around the table talking in small groups. Nesta enters the room first and sits down. Cassian follows quickly after, and like dominos everyone finds their seats. I realize that I have two options, and I have to decide quickly before I’m forced. I could either sit between Azriel and Mor, or Nesta and Lucien. I can barely look at either of them. Seeing Azriel in the room seems to suck all the air from my lungs. And Lucien sparks a deep repulsion in my belly. 

Today, I choose repulsion. At least I know how to handle that feeling. A small petty part of me wonders if Azriel would be jealous to see me sit next to my mate. I wonder if he feels ashamed  that I’d rather be near someone I can’t stand than him. 

I take a seat and try to ignore the look of surprise on Lucien’s face. I turn my shoulders towards Nesta only to find her mirroring his expression. “Now that was unexpected.” She whispers. 

I take a deep breath and slowly exhale. The tension in my chest melts away and the blasted bond within me hums happily. Isn’t this nice? It trills at me. From the corner of my eye, I see Lucien take a deep swig of his drink. Nesta is already filling my glass with a generous helping of wine. 

Rhys plunks down in his seat and right on cue Nuala and Cerridwen bring the food out. Everyone begins to help themselves. I like this part the most - for whatever reason, no one ever interrupts my dinners with new threads of time. I’d like to think they all like my cooking enough that even in dire circumstances they’d do me the courtesy of finishing their meal before they go off to save the world. Cassian pulls the bread basket towards him and helps himself to two slices. Azriel stabs a few slices of roast and slides them onto his plate. I pretend for a moment that he’s gripping his knife especially hard because he doesn’t like to see me seated next to Lucien. But even if that were the case, he gave up any right to feeling jealous months ago. 

“Have you decided how you’re going to conduct the search?” Mor asks Rhys. 

“Feyre, Lucien and I go east. Cas and Nesta go south.” He responds. His eyes flick towards me and instinctively I know they’re talking about the fourth item in the Dread Trove. 

“You could come with us.” Murmurs Nesta. She keeps her face neutral and doesn’t look at me. No one seems to have heard her offer. She sneaks a glance at me and already knows I will decline. I don’t know how to fight, I don’t know how to negotiate diplomacy. I don’t know how to seduce or manipulate. 

I think back to the night in the tents when I was taken. I had no defenses, my own power was completely useless in the face of that brutality. 

“I doubt I would be much help.” I reply. I poke the food around my plate. My appetite has disappeared. 

“I know what you mean.” She says. Surprised, I look over to her, and her gaze is soft. “The helplessness is overwhelming isn’t it.” 

I don’t want to cry at the table, so I just nod and stir the gravy around my plate. When I look back up I see Feyre looking on with a slight wrinkle between her brow. I hope she doesn’t say anything right now. Lucien hasn’t touched his food yet and I know that he’s heard. 

I shuffle around in my chair and wonder if I can excuse myself to go help organize dessert. I’m overwhelmed by exhaustion. My brain hurts from all these threads of time winding themselves around me and then spinning me out like a top. I rub my temples and blink hard a few times. I wonder if a bottle of wine would help settle all these threads for a night. I can hear a low hum undercutting the conversation. The same sound I heard in my nightmare. I think it’s going to start again. 

I feel a soft hand on my shoulder and I look up to see Nuala. “Can you help me with the ganache?” 

I heave a sigh of relief and stand up. For a moment my eyes catch with Azriel and he blinks at me. The same purposeful blink he’s given me before in acknowledgement. I see you. I guess he’s to thank for Nuala coming to my rescue. 

Lucien scoffs and it silences the table. No one moves. Azriel looks at Lucien evenly. 

“You think I don’t see what’s going on?” Asks Lucien. 

“And what’s going on?” Azriel fires back. 

“Az.” Rhys shoots a warning look his way. 

The humming gets louder and Azriel, Lucien and Rhysand begin to vibrate with different possibilities. Some after images jump up from the table and throw themselves at each other in a flurry of blood, knives and snarls. Others end in icy tension, and a violent promise for a later date. In one moment in time, Rhys mists Lucien in a desperate attempt to protect Feyre who gets caught in the fray. They all lead to the same outcome, either Lucien dies and Azriel is outcast from his family and war begins. Or Azriel dies and war begins. My heart is hammering and the buzzing is too loud to focus. 

“I see the looks you throw her way. I can sense how you feel about her.” 

Azriels chest rises and falls slowly and there’s a tautness in his mouth. Cassian and Nesta are sat up on the edge of their chairs, both prepping to throw themselves into the middle of the fight. Nesta’s threads always aim to protect me and push me back to the wall. Cassian varies between trying to hold Azriel back, and throwing himself at Lucien. Amren is always happily seated with her glass of blood. Feyre oscillates between focusing on Lucien and calming Rhys down, same with Mor. There’s no walking away from this room without blood being spilled, unless...

There could be a third choice. 

“Do you remember the first thing you said to me the night you took me?” I ask Lucien. For the first time since I came out of the cauldron I face him and look him dead in the eye. I can see the anger gutter away from him and be replaced with a bit of fear. 

“I…. I said that you should come with me.” “And when I hesitated, what did you say next?” My hands are shaking and there are waves of heat rolling through my body. Lucien looks down at his hands and grits his teeth. 

“I...I asked you..” “You asked me ‘do you feel that?’ and you were pointing to your heart. And I did. I did feel that. It was like someone had lit a fire within me. It was like my heart was gilded in gold. What did you say next?” 

The shame is unmistakable on his face. “I told you to trust that feeling. I told you to trust me.” 

“And I did.” 

The room is silent, but all eyes are resting on Lucien. Each glare is filled with varying shades of murder. But no one will move as long as I stay strong. Lucien is looking at me, his mouth slightly agape. He seems lost for words. The threads of time are starting to pull back in. I’m settling time back on one path. The one I’ve chosen. 

“You think you have a right to this bond?” 

He knows better than to argue. The room deflates and now everyone is looking at me. I can’t handle their sorrow. Their sympathy. Sweet Broken Elain. 

I pat my skirt down and take a deep breath. “I’m going to fetch dessert. The rest of you will get your heads out of your asses and focus on the real problem.” 

Nuala and I walk down the hallway to the kitchen. She loops her hand through my arm and gives me a squeeze. 

“Are you alright?” She asks. 

I sigh. “I think I’ve outgrown this.”