Feysand Wedding

Chapter Seven

Feyre's P.O.V.

We leave the shop two hours later, our arms straining under the numerous bags. One of them has my perfect dress in it, the others filled with dresses and veils and shoes. Apparently it's a tradition, much like in the human lands, to have a bride accompanied by her closest friends. Not bridesmaids, but females that the bride feels closest to.

     Obviously, I asked Mor as soon as I found out, and I asked Elain right after. I didn't ask Amren, knowing that the tiny female would scoff at that, but I did ask her opinion on jewelry. She certainly knows what to do in that department.

     I haven't voiced one of my wishes, though: that Nesta accompanies me as one of my chosen females. Since the end of the war, she's been sequestered in the House of Wind, building a fortress of books that keeps everything out. The only time I see any sort of emotion from her is when Cassian is pissing her off. Only then do her eyes glow with anger, only then does her voice rise above a monotone.

     Cassian and Nesta. Gods. I saw, or perhaps Rhys showed me, that moment between Cassian and Nesta on the battlefield. The way she lay over him, her frail body covering his in quiet despair, protecting him from a sure death. I've never seen her give that much to someone other than Elain.

     I had hoped that it meant a change in her behavior. Seeing her with Cassian, her understanding of how close death hovered sometimes, might have been the one thing to change the way she treated us. But no. She did the opposite, pulling even farther away from our family instead of drawing closer. It pains me to see her, to know that she feels the way she feels.

     Mor nudges me as we walk through the city, drawing me from my thoughts. "What are you thinking about?"

     "Just..." I gesture to the bags in my hands, at the cobblestone streets ahead of us. Full of life and happiness.

     Mor reads my tone, understanding the gratitude in my voice. She knows what it's like to walk unburdened through Velaris, to see the people who live here with love in their hearts.

     Elain speaks suddenly, startling us both. "We should get something to eat."

     She waves a delicate hand towards the cafes and restaurants lining the street, each offering a tempting array of smells and sounds. Mor and I follow Elain is surprise as she leads the way, pulling us toward a small storefront with beautiful flowers.

     "I found this," she says quietly, "when I went out to get seeds for the townhouse garden a few weeks ago. The women—I mean, females—who own it talked about gardening with me for quite a while."

     It's all I can do not to gape. Elain, quiet, broken Elain? Making friends with strangers, learning new things from the Fae residents of this city?

     "Sounds amazing!" Mor says cheerfully, gripping my arm as we follow Elain into the small space. I shoot her a glare, and she gives me a 'just roll with it' look.

     A few moments later, we're seated at a small table, the afternoon sun reflecting off the Sidra and illuminating the many plants around us. I run my hands over the delicate petals brushing against my hair.

"So, Feyre," Elain says quietly, "are you looking forward to the wedding?"

I'm prepared to nod, but... these females just watched me have a breakdown. The least I could do is confide in them. The breeze brushes past me, and I inhale the combination of sweet scents from the flowers and salty brine from the river.

"I'm happy, yes," I say, absentmindedly plucking a leaf off the plant next to me, "but I'm also... struggling." They both nod, concern showing on their faces.