The Heir of Night

58

Theia was certain that she'd be scolded when they returned to Velaris, but she hadn't been. Rhysand wished her a good night and laid a hand on her shoulder as he spoke. Feyre kissed her cheeks and said she had been proud before following her mate up the stairs. As high as Theia seemed to hold her head after the argument with the High Fae female, something weighed in her stomach. When Nyx offered to help her get ready for bed, Theia kissed his cheek and asked to be alone until he was ready to sleep. Nyx obeyed her wish and left her to return to her bedroom alone.

Theia paced the room, heavy skirt dragging across the floor without her tall shoes on. The incident replayed in her mind repetitively. These people laughed down upon her, and they didn't stop when the two Illyrian warriors dragged the female out and placed Theia at the dais. She'd felt proud, but still had to watch as they gathered and laughed, eyes glancing at her. It was almost worse to be at the front of them. It felt like she had been displayed.

When Mor had suggested grabbing another glass of wine, Theia had gladly went. During her walk there, she had been confronted again. This time, it had been two males that cornered her at the table. They looked young, younger than her, though they still stood over her with that false sense of superiority she'd seen in every guest.

Theia still hadn't told Nyx what they'd done. Surely, no one had seen the way the males' hands grabbed at her wings or rear, or the way one pretended to reach over the table and slid his hands over her breasts. No one could have seen it, because why else would Cassian have shaken his head when Theia turned on the male's, ready to fight again?

He would have encouraged a fight. No- Cassian would have dragged them out by their pointed ears if he had known where their hands had gone. Nesta would have slit their throats before the males could have said another word. Nyx would have torn their heads from their shoulders. They couldn't have known, otherwise Theia wouldn't feel this guilt and hatred.

She knew that females faced far worse, even the High Fae ones that acted as if they were better than herself. She had seen it; Theia had seen the select High Fae females being fed drink after drink until the males carried them up the stairs to the second story. She had heard the cries and whimpers that almost sounded like pain, not pleasure.

No one had noticed. If they had, why wasn't anyone stopped? Why was she told not to fight back when her wings were crushed under that male's hands when he forced her to turn around? Why was she not allowed to scream when the other one continuously grabbed at her body? The Hewn City was worse than the village, Theia knew that now. Assault and violence was common in Windhaven, but it seemed almost welcomed at the Hewn City.

In a fit of frustration, Theia tore at the dagger on her thigh, ripping the leather straps from the buckle. She threw it onto the end of the bed, sighing heavily as she stared at it. She had been given a weapon that she was not allowed to use. The females, as horrid as they were, didn't have a weapon at all. Is this why Nyx didn't want her to go? So that her argument that Rhysand didn't care couldn't be proven true? The High Lord did not care, because females had been assaulted under his watch and he did not help them.

Rage forced her teeth together, grinding as her hands dropped against her thighs. Theia didn't want Nyx to come to her room. She was in the mood to fight; to argue the safety of the females. Theia hated that she was there to see it all, to experience it herself, and not be able to fight. With her lack in skills, there was no way Theia would take a male down, let alone two, but she sure as hell would have made a scene.

"Theia?" Nyx's voice sounded at the door, followed by a soft knock. Panic filled her. Theia didn't want to shout at Nyx, but he was walking into the rage that had already settled into her bones. She felt alive; a sliver of the female she had been months ago. Love drowned in the sea of rage. Nyx was a breath away from drowning with it.