A Court of Rage and Fire

Chapter 7

"I'm just curious—why the sudden interest?" Rhysand's honey-smooth voice was careful, measured, in a clear indication of how fragile the situation was.

Which really made Azriel want to jump right out of his chair and head anywhere but here. Breakfast at the River House, instead of alone at the House of Wind or a solo trip to one of Velaris's cafes, had been a terrible idea. But the House of Wind had been too quiet last night without Nesta or Cassian, and he'd wanted to be around family. But if this was how breakfast was going to go...

How the hell was Rhysand going to tell Azriel, in no uncertain terms, to back off from Elain to preserve the Court's relationship with Lucien Vanserra, while discouraging her from deigning to acknowledge her mate?

He knows, he knows, he knows your intentions were muddled, his shadows whispered. If only they had confirmed something he didn't know. A sickening mix of fear and longing twisted Azriel's gut, and he swallowed it down with a gulp of his too-hot tea, pushing the feeling away until the next time it threatened to sink his heart, like he had for nearly five hundred years.

"I...I feel bad," Elain said, her words coming faster as she continued. "About not having a gift for Lucien for the Solstice. Everyone should feel like someone was thinking of them on the Solstice."

Rhysand and Feyre exchanged a look that indicated they were having one of their silent conversations.

Elain smiled sweetly, expectantly, turning to Mor and asking, "Would you take me? We can go shopping first." Mor's returning gaze was heavy.

"Mor cannot put off her return to Vallahan any longer," Rhysand said, not taking his eyes from Feyre. "We need that peace treaty before Briallyn moves...especially if she realizes we have the rest of the Trove. Or if word that Nesta is in Beron's court reaches her and accelerates her plans. Someone needs to check on her often, even if Eris is regularly meeting with us regarding Beron's activities. Who knows what the human queens will pave the way for Koschei to do."

A wisp of night-dark mist brushed against the walls of Azriel's mind, and he allowed the solid wood of his defenses to part.

Brother, I am sorry to ask this of you, but I won't if you cannot handle it delicately, Rhysand said, mind-to-mind with Azriel. I will not leave Feyre's side, nor will I allow her to leave the Night Court until the baby arrives safely.

Azriel took as deep a breath as he could without others at the table noticing. No, you know I can do it.

"Elain, I'll take you. We should go around sundown, to be polite to Vassa," Azriel said.

Thank you, Az.

Elain nodded, her eyes lowered, and returned to her food.

Mor caught Azriel's eye, her face folding into the slightest frown. He understood her look—Mor knew that Elain was not telling the whole truth. As a shadowsinger and spymaster, skilled in coaxing the truth from those least inclined to tell it, he sensed it too.

Coaxing the truth from Elain, however, was going to require an entirely different skillset.

✦✦✦

The lacy ferns of the Forest were so brilliantly painted in red and gold, every bit as bright as the canopy above, that Eris had always been loathe to trample their beauty. But the old cemetery was allowed to grow mostly wild, and no worn trail led to the ancient section where Beron awaited them.

Nesta followed close behind, following the path of parted ferns that Eris left in his wake. It had not been an easy hike, as the graveyard encircled the slopes of the tallest hill near the Forest House. But he had not needed to slow down for Nesta once, even though she wore a practical, but long, dress from his mother's closet, since Nesta's belongings still had not arrived and Ada had probably never worn trousers in her life. It was no small feat to complete the long, uphill walk in heavy skirts, but Nesta clambered over the betimes rocky path with ease, having declined Eris's offer to take a longer, but less steep route.