The Heir of Night

19

Theia had finished three more glasses of wine in her frustration. Nyx had forced her to sit beside him as he continued the festivities with his family. Now, she was watching everyone drunkenly open their gifts. Nyx had piled his own on the cushion between him and Theia. She had curled into a lounging position, her boots removed and sat beside the couch. Her knees were brought up to her chest, one hand fisted against her jaw and the other mindlessly swirling a glass of wine. Her eyes felt heavy, her head felt heavy.

"Another dagger, thanks Az!" Nyx cheered, holding up a beautifully crafted dagger with intricate carvings in the hilt. The Spymaster gave the heir a salute with his whiskey and grinned. Nyx sat the dagger on top of his pile of new tunics, cloaks, a pair of new fighting leathers, another dagger, and a sword. Theia brought her feet closer together on the couch so that his gifts did not touch her and sighed as he tore into another box.

They had already been opening gifts for an hour and Theia was yearning for the comfort of the bed she remembered. She could imagine it's softness on her muscles, the warmth of the blankets. She was ready to jump up and flee to the guest wing. On the contrary, Theia knew that if she stood up in this moment, her body would crash back down onto the couch- or the floor. So instead of finding her way to bed, she fought to stay awake as she sat beside the spoiled heir.

She sipped the sweet wine again, taking the moment of Nyx tearing open his gift to look around the room. To her surprise, the red haired female, Gwyn, was smiling at her. The female waved, and Theia lifted her wine glass slightly to acknowledge her. She continued her observation and was glad to see that neither the High Lord or the Spymaster were doing their strange scans of her. The High Lady, however, was watching her.

Perched on Rhys's lap, Feyre held her wine with both hands and watched Theia with a tilted head. Her bottom lip pouted slightly as she studied the way Theia sat beside Nyx, how she pushed herself against the armrest to avoid him. Theia felt a shiver run down her spine and decided the best view would be her swirling wine.

The conversation turned into a low hum. Theia couldn't determine who was speaking, or if anyone was speaking. Her full attention was set upon the wine splashing the edges of her glass. She felt eyes against her skin, her hair, her dress. Never in her life had Theia been concerned about how she looked, but now, in this room, it was drowning her mind. Curled into a ball, she was comfortable knowing that the frailness of her body wasn't in view of those who held the curved feminine bodies she was so envious of.

Theia continued staring off into space, sipping her wine occasionally. Her cheeks felt numb and her eyes seemed to move faster than her brain could process. She had never been drunk before, and she was sure that's what this was. Theia understood why the trainees went to the tavern often based on the way her body felt heavy and loose at the same time, but her thoughts were clouded. She didn't enjoy that aspect.

"Theia."

Nyx's voice was a harsh cut into her attention. Theia blinked and lifted her head, realizing that half the group was gone. She turned to look at Nyx. He seemed as out of it as she was. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair tousled. Theia turned her gaze back to her wine, seeing it was now empty.

"Time for bed, I'll walk you," Nyx murmured, his hands dropping to his thighs as he stood. His feet stumbled lightly and Theia almost laughed. He held a hand out and she stared at it, debating. For some odd reason that she didn't know, accepting his help to stand felt too intimate. She didn't want to touch his hand... or maybe she did. Theia smacked her lips together and pressed her hand against the armrest, pushing herself up.

The world swayed and she nearly fell backward, but Nyx caught her arm. She outwardly cringed at his touch. He noticed, because he rolled his eyes dramatically and tugged her further from the couch.