The Heir of Night

10

"Rhys," the High Lady spoke her mate's name before he could shout at Theia again. His head whipped to her, teeth grinding together to contain his rage. "I have already promised her this. Cass and I visited her home when Nyx brought her to my attention. It isn't right, it isn't a home. I told her that she and her mother could stay with Nyx until their home is repaired. Her mother is gravely ill, Rhys."

"Stay with Nyx? You mean to tell me that you offered my mother's home to them? Feyre-"

"Let me speak, Rhysand. I saw what situation she was in, and it reminded me of myself. She works at the bakery, and then she goes to work at the tavern until the early mornings. The money she gets from that is hardly enough to feed her and her mother, and her mother could not do anything for herself. She has sores from sitting in the same chair, Theia has to bathe and dress her, and their home is nothing more than a shack."

Theia's cheeks heated for what felt like the thousandth time today. She spoke to him to tell the horrors of the village, not her life. She felt the High Lord's gaze on her, so she watched her feet.

"I'm not saying we need to house every family, but listen to her. I know that you feel like you've done enough for the camps, but there is not only just soldiers training there. There are families, and they need help. I wasn't aware of the situations there, but after seeing how this child lives, something needs to be done," Feyre continued. Theia looked up at her, unable to hide her smile. Maybe it was enough. Rhys, the High Lord, remained silent as he stared at his mate.

Cassian cleared his throat and stood, Nyx standing beside him. "We've done what we can to make sure the females can train, and I think it's time to ensure their safety."

It felt as though it was time for the Spymaster to speak, but he simply stared at Theia. It was as if he were trying to read her intentions.

"Fine. Theia and her mother can remain at the house while we repair any issues with it. Once that is finished, Theia, I'd like you to walk me through the village and determine what other homes need repair. I will see what I can do for the safety aspect, but I cannot make a guarantee for that. Not with the camp lords claiming domain," Rhys spoke, casting a glance at Theia. She shifted her gaze from the Spymaster to the High Lord, holding in her excitement as she gave him a nod.

"I appreciate your willingness to put an effort toward my home. Thank you, High Lord." He simply gave a grunt and dropped back into his chair. Nyx took a step towards Theia, his eyes on his parents. Theia watched his mother give him a smile and a nod, which prompted Nyx to take her arm and lead her from the room.

"For someone as afraid as you were, I didn't expect you to scold, let alone interrupt, my father," he murmured, walking her through the corridor. Theia pulled her arm from his touch, studying the side of his face.

"I wanted my voice to be heard," she whispered, tearing her eyes from his face and looking down at her dirty boots compared to the clean floor.

"You're welcome to stay with your mother. I can have another bed put in there," Nyx offered, slowing to a stop as they reached the entrance of the home. Theia turned, meeting his eyes. It was strange to see that kindness return when he had been hostile just before the conversation with the High Lord.

"There's no need. I'll find space with her. Thank you." She watched the way his throat bobbed and the way his chin dipped in an elegant acceptance of her appreciation. He was the High Heir in every way.

"Shall we go, then?" He asked, holding out one of his hands. Theia glanced down at it, over the callouses on his palm. She remembered how they had caught on the wool fabric of her sweater the night before, when his hands pressed her shoulders against the wall. Her eyes met his through her lashes as she lifted her hand and placed her fingers against his palm. Nyx's fingers closed over hers gently.