A Court of Shadows and Lies / ACOTAR FF

Chapter 33

---Azriel POV---

Jez felt indifferent, an odd calmness overtaking my body, but she looked far from it.

Her usually neat, tied up hair was a birds' nest above her head. The tie was now wrapped around a small lock of her long locks, holding on for dear life. Blood, a mixture of hers and Shaw's, was splattered across her face, conditioned into her hair, and dried into the bed of, and under her nails. Her clothes weren't torn, but looked like she had worn them for several months without a single wash.

Her silver eyes were empty when I led Jez into her bedroom. The last thing I heard was the running water in her bathroom before I headed to Rhysand's, where I was now sitting in the study with my High Lord, Feyre, Cassian, Amren and Mor.

I still felt the indifferences, the coolness in my body.

"What the fuck was that?" Cassian asked for possibly the hundredth time. I stared at the fire, my thumb running over my bottom lip. I wasn't entirely sure if he meant Jez, or the now alive first High Lords, or the entire situation. What I was certain of was that the little doe had a fire in her that I wanted to set alight. Seeing her pounce on the male, driving her thumbs into-

Azriel, Rhys' warned in my thoughts. I kicked him out of my thoughts quickly, building the walls up stronger than I had ever done before. My eyes darted to my High Lord who was staring at me and gripping the arms of his chair, his knuckles a bright white. The air quickly became tense and I wasn't sure if any of our friends could feel it.

"Cass, you've said that about a hundred times," Mor sighed, massaging her temples. No one else could feel the tenseness.

"Yeah, but did you see the fear in their eyes once Jez was up in their faces?" Cass exclaimed. I smirked into my thumb, I definitely did. "Gods above, if she could make those two fae take a step back, imagine what she's-"

"We need to get rid of her," Rhysand butted in, his eyes still on me. I quickly dropped the smile with a cough.

Feyre rolled her eyes. "I don't think we need to get rid of her," she argued, running her fingers through Rhysand's hair. "I think she may be crucial in trying to figure this out."

"Feyre, darling, I love you but this is about us, as a family," Rhysand pushed, leaning into his mate slightly. It was my turn to dig in nails into the chair's arm, my body and shadows stiffened. "She's dangerous, this whole situation is too much."

"She doesn't have any magic, you fool," Amren muttered, picking at her red nails.

"And, I think we may have done something stupid by giving her that Chaostrite," Mor added suddenly.

We all diverted our gaze to the blonde who was seated on the long chair next to Amren. She was still massaging her temples.

My heart was beating rapidly. I could feel it move from my chest, up my neck and into my ears. The thumping loud, anxiety inducing. The last thing I wanted to hear was confirmation about who she was because it meant an end to seeing her at some point. It wouldn't be today, or tomorrow, but it would be coming. Whoever her family was, were definitely looking for Jez. They were missing their sister, a daughter.

"Why would you say that?" Rhysand asked, sitting up straight. "Is she who I, we, think she is?"

I held my breath, the room completely silent. I could feel my fingers threatening to break through the chair's fabric, my nails digging into the luxurious material. Gods above, it was an idea, Jez being the Mother's Daughter. Vera had alluded to it but she had never blatantly said anything.

Gods, had I put Jez in a situation she couldn't get out of, that I couldn't even protect her from?

"I had to go across Prythian and back to find someone who would even look past the first page of Jez's copied diary. The one Fae who did, only translated the first page and told me to never come back again," Mor whispered, her massage coming to a stop. Instead her eyes were trained on a random part of the flooring, but they didn't look empty. There was a depth, a worry, behind them. "A Daughter," Mor finally said, tilting her head back. "The Mother's Daughter, one of the eight famed Daughters."