Answered Dreams (ACOTAR | ACOMAF | ACOWAR)

Chapter ☆ Nine

One moment Feyre felt the rough, cold wall against her back, the next, the soft warm mattress of Rhysand's bed met her as he winnowed them into the bedroom. Clearly he was as exhausted as she, but she wasn't done. Maybe not at that moment, not when she could barely steady her breath to get out the "I love you" to answer the one he whispered before he moved them. She slowly lowered her legs from his waist, wincing slightly at the tight muscles, but kept her arms around him as he rested on her shoulder. She'd let him stay there for as long as he needed, running a hand gently through his hair. A thought, and a slight chuckle escaped her lips. "So, I supposed it's a draw then..."

"A draw? You were keeping score?" Rhys asked incredulously. As he grinned at that, a chuckle rasped out of him. "Of course you were," he answered himself, shaking his head. Because of course she was. That was his Feyre. But he opened his eyes slowly to find her already looking at him. Humming approvingly as she ran her fingers through his hair.

"And you can be prepared for me to keep score for the rest of our immortal existence," she purred, her hands keeping a steady stroke on against Rhysand's head. She stopped though, as a thought occurred to her, as they lay there, together in each other's arms. "Speaking of our immortal existence... what will you tell your Inner Circle?" Unless they knew - could they have known? Will they have guessed? Could he have told them before he told her? And what if they didn't approve? The questions swam through her head so suddenly she made sure she slammed up her shields before Rhys could sense any of her concerns

"Mor knows." He confirmed her first question, one of only two that he got down the bond before she slammed her shields back into place. Still shutting him out. He frowned at that. "The others suspect, but they don't know for sure, Feyre." He said, his tone serious now. She couldn't possibly be worried about whether or not they'd approve. "Feyre..." he began, seeing one of her concerns in her eyes, he didn't need to hear it down the bond, didn't need to see inside her head to know what she was thinking. "If they didn't approve of you, they would have let you know by now," he said, and he knew he was right. He also knew that if things didn't work out, he'd be the one out on his ass. They'd keep Feyre. He smiled a little at the thought.

"Mmm..." Mor knew. It made sense, and he probably ordered her not to tell her. Rhys should have been the one to tell her anyway, for the obvious reasons - she couldn't blame Mor for that. She felt him against her shields, still unable to get in, an she opened them just a crack, just for him. Sorry, she whispered down the bond... he had a right to know what she was thinking. No more secrets, not between them. "And for the rest of your Court? Will they accept a once-illiterate human as your mate?"

"They were all once-illiterate, too," Rhys said, a frown creasing his brow as he peered into her mind, at all the concerns there. He wanted to tell her that he hadn't meant to tell Mor. That it had just happened. That he hadn't expected it when he'd found out. That when he'd first been made aware of their mating bond, it had been like a physical blow. That's why he'd disappeared the way he had. And when he'd gotten home, Mor had been there. He hadn't seen her in fifty years, and in his state of panic, the first words out of his mouth had been "She's my mate!" and then of course, after he'd calmed enough that he could speak coherently, he had to explain himself. So, yes. Mor knew. And she adored Feyre. So did the rest of them. Rhys knew the rest of them would give their lives for her, because she was part of their group. "I think they already have, and I think you know that," he said with another small smile.

"Fair enough," she replied with a smile of her own. And it was enough, she needed to convince herself. She was his mate, and she wasn't going anywhere, and it's something his court would need to accept. "... what will you call me?"

Rhys almost let her into his head, almost let her see everything he hadn't told her... about how long he'd suspected she would be his mate, how long he knew after his initial discovery. About how he'd endured her hate, but, no. He left a sliver of his mind open, in case she wanted in. If only because he swore no more secrets. No more hiding, he told himself. "I will call you Feyre. But if you're looking for titles..." he began, looking at her with a raised brow. "Is it a title you want?"