The Heir of Night

43

Nyx had to drag Theia back from Maia's grave. She'd begun punching snow and soil, screaming the words she never got to say. Theia hoped that Maia's spirit heard each curse. She hoped that her soul carried every cry of her hate and regret. Nyx had dropped to his knees and pulled her into his lap and rocked her until her tears ran dry and her voice went hoarse. He kissed her hair, held her shaking hands, whispered soothing words.

"Can we go home?" She asked, clutching his jacket in trembling fists. Nyx hummed as he ghosted his lips over her head. Her stomach lurched, world going dark. He'd brought them to her bedroom, both of them on the floor. Nyx hadn't loosened his grip on her. The blood on her knuckles had long dried, the skin stitching itself together.

"How are you?" He asked. Theia shrugged, swallowing harshly to clear the lump in her throat.

"Better," she croaked. Nyx hummed again, running his hand up from her thigh over her stomach. As if on command, it growled from the lack of food from the day.

"Let's go fill you with food, and then, maybe we can talk about how you called this place 'home'."

Theia frowned, not having realized that she said that. It was, she supposed. More of a home than she'd ever had. Nyx's hand guided Theia to stand and he followed. Not ready to lose her touch on comfort, she leaned into his body and held his arm as he led her from her bedroom.

The entire front corridor was filled with the smell of food. Theia, despite her emotions gnawing at her stomach, was eager to taste whatever smelled so good. She squeezed Nyx's forearm as they neared the dining room and let her hands fall, sucking in a heavy breath before they walked in. Only Feyre and Rhysand were there, laughing at something that had been said earlier.

"I was wondering if we'd have to send your plates to your rooms," Feyre said, grinning at Theia. Theia flattened her lips in a poor attempt at a smile and dropped into the seat beside the High Lady, dragging the plate near her. She felt their eyes, knew that her own were red and swollen. Her gaze flicked up to Nyx, who sat across the table, to see him watching her. His mouth twisted slightly, his lashes fluttering. She hoped that he was speaking to his parents within his mind at that moment. Saving her from having to explain her evening.

"Would you like some wine?" Feyre asked suddenly, pouring the red liquid into the glass. Theia nodded, attempting another grateful smile as she took the glass.

She focused on her meal. The seared red meat and vegetables were a blessing on her aching stomach, so much that Theia ate it too quickly. By the time she cleared the plate, her stomach ached for a new reason. She sat back in her chair and sipped the newly poured wine that Feyre had filled again. Nyx was slowly eating, his eyes occasionally meeting his father's with some look that Theia couldn't decipher.

"I think we're finished," Nyx spoke, his eyes meeting Theia's. His brows were low over his eyes. She sensed his anger and it piqued her interest. Rhysand dropped a hand on Nyx's as the heir shoved his seat back.

"Stay for dessert, son." It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order. Theia frowned, glancing between the males. She'd never wished for daemati powers until this moment.

"Fine," Nyx seethed, dropping back into his seat. As if on command, which surely it was, their empty dinner plates vanished. In their place was smaller plates with what looked to be a chocolate pastry with berries. Theia swallowed her anxiety and lifted her gaze to the High Lord. He was still glaring at his son.

"Don't mind them. Enjoy your dessert."

The High Lady's soothing voice filled her mind. Theia bit back a gasp as her eyes shot to Feyre. Of course, she was looking back with a gentle smile. Unsure if she'd hear the words, Theia thought, "Why does Rhysand seem angry with Nyx? Did I do something?"