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Sarah J. Maas

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“I want to draw you,' I said. 'As my birthday present to me.' His smile was positively feline. I added, flipping open my sketchbook and turning to the first page, 'You said once that nude would be best.' Rhys's eyes glowed, and a whisper of his power through the room had the curtains parting, flooding the space with midmorning sunshine. Showing every glorious naked inch of him sprawled across the bed, illuminating the faint reds and golds of his wings. 'Do your worst, Cursebreaker.”

“Whatever he said or did, Tamlin decided he wishes to remain in solitude.' His russet eye darkened. 'Your mate should have known better than to kick a downed male.' 'I can't say I'm particularly sorry that he did.' 'You will need Tamlin as an ally before the dust has settled. Tread carefully.' I didn't want to think about it, consider it, today. Any day. 'My business with him is done.' 'Yours might be, but Rhys's isn't. And you'd do well to remind your mate of that fact.”

“Cassian elbowed his way past Amren, earning a hiss of warning, and began chucking presents. Mor caught hers easily, shredding the paper with as much enthusiasm as Amren. She grinned at the general. 'Thank you, darling.' Cassian smirked. 'I know what you like.' Mor held up- I choked. Azriel did, too, whirling on Cassian as he did. Cassian only winked at him as the barely there red negligee swayed between Mor's hands. Before Azriel could undoubtedly ask what we were all thinking, Mor hummed to herself and said, 'Don't let him fool you: he couldn't think of a damn thing to get me, so he gave up and asked me outright. I gave him precise orders. For once in his life, he obeyed them.' 'The perfect warrior, through and through,' Rhys drawled. Cassian leaned back on the couch, stretching out his long legs before him. 'Don't worry, Rhysie, I got one for you, too.' 'Shall I model it for you?”

“I know High Ladies are probably supposed to wear a new dress every day,' I mused, smiling at the gown, 'but I'm rather attached to this one.' He ran his hand down my thigh. 'I'm glad.' 'You never told me where you got it- where you got all my favourite dresses.' Rhys arched a dark brow. 'You never figured it out?' I shook my head. For a moment, he said nothing, his head dipping to study the dress. 'My mother made them.' I went still.' Rhys smiled sadly at the shimmering gown. 'She was a seamstress, back at the camp where she'd been raised. She didn't just do the work because she was ordered to. She did it because she loved it. And when she mated my father, she continued.' I grazed a reverent hand down my sleeve. 'I- I had no idea. His eyes were star-bright. 'Long ago, when I was still a boy, she made them- all your gowns. A trousseau for my future bride.' His throat bobbed. 'Every piece... Every piece I have ever given you to wear, she made them. For you.' My eyes stung as I breathed. 'Why didn't you tell me?' 'He shrugged with one shoulder. 'I thought you might be... disturbed to wear gowns made by a female who died centuries ago.' I put a hand over my heart. 'I am honoured, Rhys. Beyond words.' His mouth trembled a bit. 'She would have loved you.' It was as great a gift as any I'd been given. I leaned down until our brows touched. I would have loved her. I felt his gratitude without him saying a word as we remained there, breathing each other in for long minutes.”

“I linked my arm through his, nestling into his warmth. 'It's strange,' I murmured. Rhys angled his head. 'What is?' I smiled. At him, at the Rainbow, at the city. 'This feeling, this excitement to wake up every day. To see you, and to work, and to just be here.' Nearly a year ago, I'd told him the opposite. Wished for the opposite. His face softened, as if he, too, remembered it. And understood.”

“So the three of them are just in there. Naked. Sweating.' Mother above. Interested in taking a look? The dark purr echoed into my mind. Lech. Go back to your sweating. There's room for one more in here. I thought mates were territorial. I could feel him smile as if he were grinning against my neck. I'm always eager to learn what sparks your interest, Feyre darling.”

“He grinned at me over the giant tiered cake in his arms- over the twenty-one sparkling candles lighting up his face. Cassian clapped me on the shoulder. 'You thought you could sneak it past us, didn't you?' I groaned. 'You're all insufferable.' Elain floated to my side. 'Happy birthday, Feyre.' My friends- my family- echoed the words as Rhys set the cake on the low-lying table before the fire. I glanced toward my sister. 'Did you...?' A nod from Elain. 'Nuala did the decorating, though.' It was then that I realised what the three different tiers had been painted to look like. On the top: flowers. In the middle: flames. And on the bottom, widest layer... stars. The same design of the chest of drawers I'd once painted in that dilapidated cottage. One for each of us- each sister. Those stars and moons sent to me, my mind, by my mate, long before we'd ever met. 'I asked Nuala to do it in that order,' Elain said as the others gathered round. 'Because you're the foundation, the one who lifts us. You always have been.' My throat tightened unbearably, and I squeezed her hand in answer. Mor, Cauldron bless her, shouted, 'Make a wish and let us get to the presents!”

“Rhys opened my present carefully, lifting the painting so the others wouldn't see it. I watched his eyes rove over what was on it. Watched his throat bob. 'Tell me that's not your new pet,' Cassian said, having snuck behind me to peer at it I shoved him away. 'Snoop.' Rhys face remained solemn, his eyes star-bright as they met mine. 'Thank you.' The others continued on a tad more loudly- to give us privacy in that crowded room. 'I have no idea where you might hang it,' I said, 'but I wanted you to have it.' To see. For on that painting, I'd shown him what I had not revealed to anyone. What the Ouroboros had revealed to me: the creature inside myself, the creature full of hate and regret and love and sacrifice, the creature that could be cruel and brave, sorrowful and joyous. I gave him me- as no one but him would ever see me. No one but him would ever understand. 'It's beautiful,' he said, voice still hoarse. I blinked away the tears that threatened at those words and leaned into the kiss he pressed to my mouth. You are beautiful, he whispered down the bond. So are you. I know. I laughed, pulling away. Prick.”

“Accidents happen in the Rite, I'd only suggested when Cass's face had tightened with the news. We won't dishonour the Rite by tampering with it, was his only reply. Accidents happen in the skies all the time, then, Azriel had coolly countered. If the whelp wants to bust my balls, he can grow a pair himself and do it to my face, Cassian had growled, and that was that.”

“Azriel straightened a sagging section of garland over the windowsill. 'It's almost like you two tried to make it as ugly as possible.' Cassian clutched at his heart. 'We take offense to that.' Azriel sighed at the ceiling. 'Poor Az,' I said, pouring myself another glass. 'Wine will make you feel better.' He glared at me, then the bottle, then Cassian... and finally stormed across the room, took the bottle from my hand, and chugged the rest. Cassian grinned with delight. Mostly because Rhys drawled from the doorway, 'Well, at least now I know who's drinking all my good wine. Want another one, Az?' Azriel nearly spewed the wine into the fire, but made himself swallow and turn, red-faced, to Rhys. 'I would like to explain-' Rhys laughed, the rich sound bouncing off the carved oak moldings of the room. 'Five centuries, and you think I don't know that if my wine's gone, Cassian's usually behind it?' Cassian raised his glass in a salute. Rhys surveyed the room and chuckled. 'I can tell exactly which ones you two did, and which ones Azriel tried to fix before I got here.' Azriel was indeed now rubbing his temple. Rhys lifted a brow at me. 'I expected better from an artist.”

“A present. Wrapped in black crepe paper and tied with silver thread. And beside it, smiling down at me, was Rhys. He'd propped his head on a fist, his wings draped across the bed behind him. 'Happy birthday, Feyre darling.' I groaned. 'How are you smiling after all that wine?' 'I didn't have a whole bottle to myself, that's how.”

“Your turn. A thought for a thought. He pressed a kiss to my stomach, right over my navel. 'Have I told you about the first time you winnowed and tackled me into the snow?' I smacked his shoulder, the muscle beneath hard as stone. 'That's your thought for a thought?' He smiled against my stomach, his fingers still exploring, coaxing. 'You tackled me like an Illyrian. Perfect form, a direct hit. But then you lay on top of me, panting. All I wanted to do was get us both naked.' 'Why am I not surprised?' Yet I threaded my fingers through his hair. The fabric of my dressing gown was barely more than cobwebs between us as he huffed a laugh onto my belly. I hadn't bothered putting on anything beneath. 'You drove me out of my mind. All those months. I still don't quite believe I get to have this. Have you.' My throat tightened. That was the thought he wanted to trade, needed to share. 'I wanted you, even Under the Mountain,' I said softly. 'I chalked it up to those horrible circumstances, but after we killed her, when I couldn't tell anyone how I felt- about how truly bad things were, I still told you. I've always been able to talk to you. I think my heart knew you were mine long before I ever realised it.' His eyes gleamed, and he buried his face between my breasts again, hands caressing my back. 'I love you,' he breathed. 'More than life, more than my territory, more than my crown.' I knew. He'd given up that life to reforge the Cauldron, the fabric of the world itself, so I might survive. I hadn't had it in me to be furious with him about it afterward, or in the months since. He'd lived- it was a gift I would never stop being grateful for. And in the end, though, we'd saved each other. All of us had. I kissed the top of his head. 'I love you,' I whispered onto his blue-black hair.”

“Just so you're aware,' Mor chirped from the other side, 'We do have to go soon.' ... 'We have thirty minutes,' he said with remarkable smoothness. 'And it takes you two hours to get dressed,' Mor quipped through the door. A sly pause. 'And I'm not talking about Feyre.' ... 'Go terrorise someone else,' he called to Mor, rolling his neck as his wings vanished and he stalked for the bathing room. 'I need to primp.”

“Do you know what an inconvenience it is to need to find a place to relieve myself everywhere I go?' A fizzing noise came from Cassian's side of the table, but I clamped my lips together. Mor gripped my knee beneath the table, her body shaking with the effort of keeping her laugh reined in. Rhys drawled to Amren. 'Shall we start building public toilets for you throughout Velaris, Amren?' 'I mean it, Rhysand,' Amren snapped. I didn't dare meet Mor's stare. Or Cassian's. One look and I'd completely dissolve. Amren waved a hand down at herself. 'I should have selected a male form. At least you can whip it out and go wherever you like without having to worry about spilling on-' Cassian lost it. Then Mor. Then me. And even Az, chuckling faintly. 'You really don't know how to pee?' Mor roared. 'After all this time?' Amren seethed. 'I've seen animals-' 'Tell me you know how a toilet works,' Cassian burst out, slapping a broad hand on the table. 'Tell me you know that much.' I clapped a hand over my mouth, as if it would push the laugh back in. Across the table, Rhys's eyes were brighter than stars, his mouth a quivering line as he tried and failed to remain serious. 'I know how to sit on a toilet,' Amren growled.”

“You're fussing.' 'It's my job to fuss. And besides, you fuss plenty. Over far more trivial things.' 'Your cycle isn't trivial.' 'I was in a little bit of pain-' 'You were thrashing on the bed as if someone had gutted you.' 'And you were acting like an overbearing mother hen.' 'I didn't see you screaming at Cassian, Mor, or Az when they expressed concern for you.' 'They didn't try to spoon-feed me like an invalid.' Rhys chuckled, finishing off his food. 'I'll eat regular meals if you allow me to turn into an overbearing mother hen twice a year.”

“It was Spring, and yet it wasn't. It was not the land I had once roamed in centuries past, or even visited almost a year ago. The sun was mild, the day clear, distant dogwoods and lilacs still in eternal bloom. Distant- because on the estate, nothing bloomed at all. The pink roses that had once climbed the pale stone walls of the sweeping manor house were nothing but tangled webs of thorns. The fountains had gone dry, the hedges untrimmed and shapeless. The house itself had looked better the day after Amarantha's cronies had trashed it. Not for any visible signs of destruction, but for the general quiet. The lack of life. Though the great oak doors were undeniably worse for wear. Deep, long claw marks had been slashed down them. Standing on the top step of the marble staircase that led to those front doors, I surveyed the brutal gashes. My money was on Tamlin having inflicted them after Feyre had duped him and his court. But Tamlin's temper had always been his downfall. Any bad day could have produced those gouge marks. Perhaps today would produce more of them.”

“I suppose you think I should be thanking you, for stepping up to assist in reviving me.' 'I have no illusions that the day you thank me for anything, Rhysand, is the day the burning fires of hell go cold.' 'Poetic.' A low snarl. Too easy. It was far too easy to bait him, rile him. And though I reminded myself of the wall, of the peace we needed, I said, 'You saved my mate's life on several occasions. I will always be thankful for that.' I knew the words found their mark. My mate. Low. It was a low blow. I had everything- everything I'd wished for, dreamed of, begged the stars to grant me. He had nothing. Had been given everything and squandered it. He didn't deserve my pity, my sympathy. No, Tamlin deserved what he'd brought upon himself, this husk of a life. He deserved every empty room, every snarl of thorns, every meal he had to hunt for himself.”

“I don't know if I can do this. Rhys went quiet for a moment. Do you want me to come with you? To paint? I'd be an excellent nude model. I smiled, not caring that I was by myself in the street with countless people streaming past me. My hood concealed most of my face, anyway. You'll forgive me if I don't feel like sharing the glory that is you with anyone else. Perhaps I'll model for you later, then. A sensuous brush down the bond that had my blood heating. It's been a while since we had paint involved. The cabin and kitchen table flashed into my mind, and my mouth went a bit dry. Rogue.”

“Tamlin answered the door himself. I wasn't sure what to remark on: the haggard male before me, or the dark house behind him. An easy mark. Too easy of a mark, to mock the once-fine clothes desperate for a wash, the shaggy hair that needed a trim. The empty manor, not a servant in sight, no Solstice decorations to be found. The green eyes that met mine weren't the ones I was accustomed to, either. Haunteed and bleak. Not a spark. It would be a matter of minutes to fillet him, body and soul. To finish what had undoubtedly started that day Feyre had called out silently at their wedding, and I had come. But- peace. We had peace within our sights. I could rip him apart after we'd attained it.”

“You brought every bit of this upon yourself,' I said, my voice still soft. I didn't need to yell to convey my rage. I never had. 'You won,' he spat, sitting forward. 'You got your mate. Is that not enough?' 'No.' The word echoed through the library. 'You nearly destroyed her. In every way possible.' Tamlin bared his teeth. I bared mine back, temper be damned. Let some of power rumble through the room, the house, the grounds. 'She survived it, though. Survived you. And you still felt the need to humiliate her, belittle her. If you meant to win her back, old friend, that wasn't the wisest route.' 'Get out.' I wasn't finished. Not even close. 'You deserve everything that has befallen you. You deserve this pathetic, empty house, your ravaged lands. I don't care if you offered that kernel of life to save me, I don't care if you still love my mate. I don't care that you saved her from Hybern, or a thousand enemies before that.' The words poured out, cold and steady. 'I hope you live the rest of your miserable life alone here. It's a far more satisfying end than slaughtering you.' Feyre had once arrived at the same decision. I'd agreed with her then, still did, but now I truly understood.”

“I'm not afraid of them.' 'I know you're not.' 'I just- being near them, together...' She shoved her hands into her pockets. 'It's probably what it feels like for you to be around Tamlin.' 'If it's any consolation, cousin, I behaved rather poorly the other day.' 'Is he dead?' 'No.' 'Then I'd say you controlled yourself admirably.' I laughed. 'Bloodthirsty of you, Mor.' She shrugged, again watching the river. 'He deserves it.”

“You brought weapons to Solstice?' I asked, leaning against the door frame. ... Cassian shrugged, plopping onto the bed, which was better suited to a child than an Illyrian warrior. 'Some might be gifts.' 'And the rest?' Cassian toed off his boots and leaned against the headboard, folding his arms behind his head as his wings draped to the floor. 'The females bring their jewelry. I bring my weapons.' 'I know a few females in this house who might take offense to that.' Cassian offered me a wicked grin in response.”

“I believe everything happens for a reason. Whether it is decided by the Mother, or the Cauldron, or some sort of tapestry of Fate, I don't know. I don't really care. But I am grateful for it, whatever it is. Grateful that it brought you all into my life. If it hadn't... I might have become as awful as that prick we're going to face today. If I had not met an Illyrian warrior-in-training," he said to Cassian, "I would not have known the true depths of strength, of resilience, of honor and loyalty." Cassian's eyes gleamed bright. Rhys said to Azriel, "If I had not met a shadowsinger, I would not have known that it is the family you make, not the one you are born into, that matters. I would not have known what it is to truly hope, even when the world tells you to despair." Azriel bowed his head in thanks. Mor was already crying when Rhys spoke to her. "If I had not met my cousin, I would neer have learned that light can be found in even the darkest of hells. That kidness can thrive even amongst cruelty." She wiped away her teas as she nodded. I waited for Amren to offer a retort. But she was only waiting. Rhys bowed his head to her. "If I had not met a tiny monster who hoards jewels more fiercely than a firedrake..." A quite laugh from all of us at that. Rhys smiled softly. "My own power would have consumed me long ago." Rhys squeezed my hand as he looked to me at last. "And if I had not met my mate..." His words failed him as silver lined his eyes. He said down the bond, I would have waited five hundred more years for you. A thousand years. And if this was all the time we were allowed to have... The wait was worth it. He wiped away the tears sliding down my face. "I believe that everything happened, exactly the way it had to... so I could find you." He kissed another tear away.”

“Lucien had been prepared to take me against my will. Fae males were territorial, dominant, arrogant—but the ones in the Spring Court … something had festered in their training. Because I knew—deep in my bones—that Cassian might push and test my limits, but the moment I said no, he’d back off. And I knew that if … that if I had been wasting away and Rhys had done nothing to stop it, Cassian or Azriel would have pulled me out. They would have taken me somewhere—wherever I needed to be—and dealt with Rhys later. But Rhys … Rhys would never have not seen what was happening to me; would never have been so misguided and arrogant and self-absorbed. He’d known what Ianthe was from the moment he met her. And he’d understood what it was like to be a prisoner, and helpless, and to struggle—every day—with the horrors of both.”

“I told you that the moment we started letting females into our group, they'd be nothing but trouble.' 'As far as I can recall, Cassian,' Rhys countered drily, 'you actually said you needed a reprieve from staring at our ugly faces, and that some ladies would add some much-needed prettiness for you to look at all day.' 'Pig,' Amren said. Cassian gave her a vulgar gesture that made Lucien choke on his green beans. 'I was a young Illyrian and didn't know better,' he said, then pointed his fork at Azriel. 'Don't try to blend into the shadows. You said the same thing.' 'He did not,' Mor said, and the shadows that Azriel had indeed been subtly weaving around himself vanished. 'Azriel had never once said anything that awful. Only you, Cassian. Only you.”

“How many games had Cassian played as a child with Rhys an Azriel, where a long stick had been a stand-in for Gwydion? How many adventures had they imagined, sharing that mythical sword between them as they slew wyrms and rescued damsels? Never mind that Rhys's particular damsel had slain a wyrm herself and rescued him instead.”

“I went into her nightmare,' Rhys peered up at Cassian. 'Why didn't you tell me you attempted a scrying today?' 'It didn't work.' And Nesta's fear and guilt had been so heavy in the room that his chest had ached. He'd left her alone afterward knowing she'd want privacy. Rhys let out a shuddering breath. 'The scrying was a trip wire. For the memories. I caught that as I went in.' His throat worked, as if he'd heave, but he held it odnw. 'She was dreaming of the Cauldron. Of... of when she went in.' Cassian had never seen Rhys at such a loss for words. 'I saw it,' Rhys whispered. 'Felt it. Everything that happened within the Cauldron. Saw her take its power with her teeth and claws and rage. And I saw... felt... what it took from her.' Rhys rubbed his face and slowly straightened. He met Cassian's stare unflinchingly, his eyes full of remorse and agony. 'Her trauma is...' Rhys's throat bobbed. 'I know,' Cassian whispered. 'I guessed,' Rhys breathed, 'but it was different to feel it.' 'What is her power?' Azriel asked. 'Death,' Rhys whispered, hands trembling again as he got to his feet and aimed toward the window, which was now repairing itself shard by shard, as if a careful, patient hand worked upon it. He gazed at the female sleeping in the bed, and fear clouded the face of the High Lord of the Night Court. 'Pure death.”

“You're going to make me look like that?' His low laugh rippled over her body. 'No one can look like this but me, Nes.' Arrogant ass. 'Rhysand and Azriel do,' she said sweetly. 'I've got one or two muscles on them.' 'I don't see it.' He winked. 'Maybe they're in other places.' She couldn't help it. Couldn't stop it. Not the flash of desire, but the smile that overtook her face. She huffed a laugh. Cassian stared like he hadn't seen her before. His shock was enough that Nesta dropped her smile.”

“Cassian angled his head. 'What happened before the disaster that was last night?' ... When Rhys didn't answer, Cassian said, 'Rhys.' Rhys didn't look at him as he whispered, 'The baby has wings.' Joy sparked through Cassian- even as the broken whisper and what those words meant made his blood go cold. 'You're sure?' 'We had an appointment with Madja this morning.' 'But he's only a quarter Illyrian.' It was possible, of course, for the baby to have inherited wings, but unlikely, given that Rhys himself had been born without them, and only conjured them through whatever strange unearthly magic he possessed. 'He is. But Feyre was in an Illyrian form when he was conceived.' 'That can make a difference? I thought she only made the wings- nothing else.' 'She shape-shifts. She transforms her entire self into the form she takes. When she grants herself wings, she essentially alters her body as its most intrinsic level. So she was fully Illyrian that night.' 'She doesn't have the wings now.' 'No, she shifted back before we knew.' 'So let her change back into an Illyrian to bear the babe.' Rhys's face was stark. 'Madja has put a ban on any more shape-shifting. She says that to alter Feyre's body in any way right now could put the baby at risk. On the chance that it could be bad for the baby. Feyre is forbidden to so much as change the colour of her hair until after the birth.' Cassian raked a hand through his hair. 'I see. But, Rhys- it'll be all right. It's not that bad.' Rhys snarled. 'It is bad. For so many gods-damned reasons, it is fucking bad.' Rhys was as close to being beside himself as Cassian had seen him since he'd returned from Amarantha's court. 'Breathe,' Cassian said calmly. Rhys's eyes simmered, the stars within them winked out. 'Fuck you.' 'Take a breath, Rhysand.' Cassian gestured to the window behind him, the lawn sloping down to the river. 'You want to go fight it out, I've got energy to burn.' The study doors opened, and Azriel walked in. From the grim expression etched on his face, he already knew. Azriel claimed the seat beside Cassian. 'Tell us what you need, Rhys.' 'Nothing. I need to not fall apart so my mate doesn't pick up a whiff of this when she comes home for lunch.' Rhys narrowed his eyes, and power rumbled in the room. 'No one says a word about this to Feyre. No one.' 'Didn't Madja warn her?' Azriel asked. 'Not strongly. She only mentioned an elevated risk during labour.' Rhys let out a harsh laugh. 'An elevated risk.”

“Azriel asked, 'And Feyre still doesn't know?' 'No. She knows the birth will be difficult, but I haven't told her yet that it might very well claim her life.' Rhys spoke into their minds, as if he couldn't say it aloud, I haven't told her that the nightmares that now send me lurching from sleep aren't ones of the past, but of the future. Cassian squeezed Rhys's shoulder, 'Why won't you tell her.' Rhys's throat worked. 'Because I can't bring myself to give her that fear. To take away one bit of the joy in her eyes every time she puts a hand on her belly.' HIs voice shook. 'It is fucking eating me alive, this terror. I keep myself busy, but... there is no one to bargain with for her life, no amount of wealth to buy it, nothing that I can do to save her.”

“I'm going in,' Azriel said. 'No,' Rhys snapped. But Azriel was spreading his wings, the sunlight so stark on the new, slashing scars down the membrane. 'Chain me to a tree, Rhys,' Azriel said softly. 'Go ahead.' He began checking the buckles on his weapons. 'I'll rip it out of the ground and fly with it on my damned back.”

“Rhys looked them each in the eye, even my sisters, his hand brushing the back of my own. 'Do you want the inspiring talk or the bleak one?' he asked. 'We want the real one,' Amren said. Rhys pushed his shoulders back, elegantly folding his wings behind him. 'I believe everything happens for a reason. Whether it is decided by the Mother, of the Cauldron, or some sort of tapestry of Fate, I don't know. I don't really care. But I am grateful for it, whatever it is. Grateful that it brought you all into my life. If it hadn't... I might have become as awful as the price we're going to face today. If I had not met an Illyrian warrior-in-training,' he said to Cassian, 'I would not have known the true depth of strength, of resilience, of honour and loyalty.' Cassian's eyes gleamed bright. Rhys said to Azriel, 'If I had not met a shadowsinger, I would not have known that it is the family you make not the one you are born into, that matters. I would not have known what it is to truly hope, even when the world tells you to despair.' Azriel bowed his head in thanks. Mor was already crying when Rhys spoke to her. 'If I had not met my cousin, I would never have learned that light can be found in even the darkest of hells. That kindness can thrive even amongst cruelty.' She wiped away her tears as she nodded. I waited for Amren to offer a retort. But she was only waiting. Rhys bowed his head to her. 'If I had not met a tiny monster who hoards jewels more fiercely than a firedrake...' A quiet laugh from all of us at that. Rhys smiled softly. 'My own power would have consumed me long ago.' Rhys squeezed my hand as he looked to me at last. 'And if I had not met my mate...' His words failed him as silver lined his eyes. He said down the bond, I would have waited five hundred more years for you. A thousand years. And if this was all the time we were allowed to have... The wait was worth it. He wiped away the tears sliding down my face. 'I believe that everything happened, exactly the way it had to... so I could find you.' He kissed another tear away. And then he said to my sisters, 'We have not known each other for long. But I have to believe that you were brought here, into our family, for a reason, too. And maybe today we'll find out why.' He surveyed them all again- and held out his hand to Cassian. Cassian took it, and held out his other for Mor. Then Mor extended her other to Azriel. Azriel to Amren. Amren to Nesta. Nesta to Elain. And Elain to me. Until we were all linked, all bound together. Rhys said, 'We will walk out onto that field and only accept Death when it comes to haul us away to the Otherworld. We will fight for life, for survival, for our futures. But if it is decided by that tapestry of Fate or the Cauldron or the Mother that we do not walk off that field today...' His chin lifted. 'The great joy and honour of my life has been to know you. To call you my family. And I am grateful- more than I can possibly say- that I was given this time with you all.' 'We are grateful, Rhysand,' Amren said quietly. 'More than you know.' Rhys gave her a small smile as the others murmured their agreement. He squeezed my hand again as he said, 'Then let's go make Hybern very ungrateful to have known us, too.”

“So he'd waited. Counted the minutes. It had been worth it. Seeing her claw her way onto the landing, panting, hair curling with the sweat sliding down her face- completely worth his generally shit day. Nesta was still sprawled on the hall floor when she hissed, 'Whoever designed those stairs was a monster.' 'Would you believe that Rhys, Az, and I had to climb up and down them as punishment when we were boys?' Her eyes shimmered with temper- good. Better than the vacant ice. 'Why?' 'Because we were young and stupid and testing boundaries with a High Lord who didn't understand practical jokes regarding public nudity.' He nodded toward the stairs. 'I got so dizzy on the hike down that I puked on Az. he then puked on Rhys, and Rhys puked all over himself. It was the height of summer, and by the time we made the trek back up, the heat was unbearable, we all reeked, and the scent of the vomit on the stairs had become horrific. We all puked again as we walked through it.' He could have sworn the corners of her mouth were trying to twitch upward. He didn't hold back his own grin at the memory. Even if they'd still had to hike back down and mop it all up.”

“How bad,' he asked, his voice hoarse. 'How bad was your injury,' Rhys said mildly, 'or how badly did we have our asses kicked?' Cassian blinked again. Slowly. As if whatever sedative he'd been given still held sway. 'To answer the second question,' Rhys went on, Mor and Azriel backing away a step or two as something sharpened in my mate's voice, 'we managed. Keir took heavy hits, but... we won. Barely. To answer the first...' Rhys bared his teeth. 'Don't you ever pull that kind of shit again.' The glaze wore off Cassian's eyes as he heard the challenge, the anger, and tried to sit up. He hissed, scowling down at the red, angry slice down his chest. 'Your guts were hanging out, you stupid prick,' Rhys snapped. 'Az held them in for you.' Indeed, the Shadowsinger's hands were caked in blood- Cassian's blood. And his face... cold with- anger. 'I'm a soldier,' Cassian said flatly. 'It's part of the job.' 'I gave you an order to wait,' Rhys growled. 'You ignored it.' I glanced to Mor, to Azriel- a silent question of whether we should remain. They were too busy watching Rhys and Cassian to notice. 'The line was breaking,' Cassian retorted. 'Your order was bullshit.' Rhys braced his hands on either side of Cassian's legs and snarled in his face, 'I am your High Lord. You don't get to disregard orders you don't like.' Cassian sat up this time, swearing at the pain lingering in his body. 'Don't you pull rank because you're pissed off-' 'You and your damned theatrics on the battlefield nearly got you killed.' And even as Rhys spat the words- that was panic, again, in his eyes. His voice. 'I'm not pissed. I'm furious.' 'So you're allowed to be mad about our choices to protect you- and we're not allowed to be furious with you for your self-sacrificing bullshit?' Rhys just stared at him. Cassian stared right back. 'You could have died,' was all Rhys said, his voice raw. 'So could you.' Another beat of silence- and in its wake, the anger shifted. Rhys said quietly, 'Even after Hybern... I can't stomach it.' Seeing him hurt. Any of us hurt. And the way Rhys spoke, the way Cassian leaned forward, wincing again, and gripped Rhys's shoulder.... I strode out of the tent. Left them to talk. Azriel and Mor followed behind me.”

“You get them in and out again, shadowsinger,' Rhys said to Azriel as I walked to the spymaster's side, getting a feel for the weight of the weapons and the flow of the heavy robe. 'I don't care how many of them you have to kill to do it. They both come out.' Azriel gaze a grave, steady nod. 'I swear it, High Lord.' Formal words, formal titles.”

“Rhys looked them each in the eye, even my sisters, his hand brushing the back of my own. 'Do you want the inspiring talk or the bleak one?' he asked. 'We want the real one,' Amren said. Rhys pushed his shoulders back, elegantly folding his wings behind him. 'I believe everything happens for a reason. Whether it is decided by the Mother, of the Cauldron, or some sort of tapestry of Fate, I don't know. I don't really care. But I am grateful for it, whatever it is. Grateful that it brought you all into my life. If it hadn't... I might have become as awful as the prick we're going to face today. If I had not met an Illyrian warrior-in-training,' he said to Cassian, 'I would not have known the true depth of strength, of resilience, of honour and loyalty.' Cassian's eyes gleamed bright. Rhys said to Azriel, 'If I had not met a shadowsinger, I would not have known that it is the family you make not the one you are born into, that matters. I would not have known what it is to truly hope, even when the world tells you to despair.' Azriel bowed his head in thanks.”

“Helion threw himself onto the couch across from Cassian and Mor. He'd ditched that radiant crown somewhere, but kept that gold armband of the upright serpent. 'It's been what- four centuries now, and you three still haven't accepted my offer.' Mor lolled her head to the side. 'I don't like to share, unfortunately.' 'You never know until you try,' Helion purred. The three of them in bed... with him? I must have been blinking like a fool because Rhys said to me, Helion favours both males and females. Usually together in his bed. And has been hounding after that trio for centuries. I considered- Helion's beauty and the others... Why the hell haven't they said yes?”

“Rhys brushed a hand down my arm. 'You are, as always, free to go wherever and whenever you wish. But what I think Mor is saying is... try to leave a note the next time.' The words were casual, but that was panic in his eyes. Not- not the controlling fear Tamlin had once succumbed to, but... genuine terror of not knowing where I was, if I needed help. Just as I would want to know where he was, if he needed help, if he vanished when our enemies surrounded us. 'I'm sorry,' I said. To him, to the others. Mor didn't so much as look at me. 'You have nothing to be sorry for,' Rhys replied, hand sliding to cup my cheek. 'You decided to take things into your own hands, and got us valuable information in the process. But... ' His thumb stroked over my cheekbone. 'We have been lucky,' he breathed. 'Keeping a step ahead- keeping out of Hybern's claws. Even if today... today wasn't so fortunate on the battlefield. But the cynic in me wonders if our luck is about to expire. And I would rather it not end with you.' They all had to think me young and reckless. No, Rhys said through the bond, and I realised I'd left my shields open. Believe me, if you knew half of the shit Cassian and Mor have pulled you'd get why we don't. I just... Leave a note. Or tell me the next time. Would you have let me go if I had? I do not let you do anything. He tilted my face up, Mor and Azriel looking away. You are your own person, you make your own choices. But we are mates- I am yours, and you are mine. We do not let each other do things, as if we dictate the movements of each other. But... I might have insisted I go with you. More for my own mental well-being, just to know you were safe. You were occupied. A slash of a smile. If you were hell-bent on going into the Middle, I would have unoccupied myself from battle.”

“And- there's another surprise.' He pointed with a healed hand toward the Cauldron. 'Someone fish out dear Amren before she catches cold.' Varian whirled toward us. But Mor was sprinting for the Cauldron, and her cry as she reached in- 'How?' I breathed. Azriel and Varian were there, helping Mor heave a waterlogged form out of the dark water. Her chest rose and fell, her features the same, but... 'She was there,' Rhys said. 'When the Cauldron was sealing. Going... wherever we go.' Amren sputtered water, vomiting onto the rocky ground. Mor thumped her back, coaxing her through it. 'So I reached out a hand,' Rhys went on quietly. 'To see if she might want to come back.' And as Amren opened her eyes, as Varian let out a choked sound of relief and joy- I knew- what she had given up to come back. High Fae- and just that. For her silver eyes were solid. Unmoving. No smoke, no burning mist in them. A normal life, no trace of her powers to be seen. And as Amren smiled at me... I wondered if that had been her last gift. If it all... if it all had been a gift.”