54. Theia

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Theia felt like a sham. Taller in the heeled shoes that Feyre gave her, she met Nyx's shoulder. The gown was stunning, but she hadn't worn something like this since she'd first been to Velaris. It fit her well, though tight in the belly and chest. The back fell into a deep V that gave room for her wings, which Theia almost wished she didn't have. She remembered the words and looks she had gotten last time. Her heart hammered as they walked down the corridor. Nyx looked magnificent with his shirt mostly unbuttoned, a loose jacket accentuating his broad shoulders. His beard was finely trimmed along his jaw and his curls were brushed back, a few strands falling over his brow.

Nyx had helped her comb her hair, which was tucked behind her ears and falling down her back, and helped her with the smokey black pigment on her eyes. He had used a small brush to place it beneath her eyes, and Theia had almost been afraid to look in the mirror. It gave her a stare that looked like a mixture of seduction and malice. He had said it looked fitting, but Theia felt like it was too much. Nonetheless, Feyre had called for dinner moments before, so they walked down to the dining room.

"Are you alright?" Nyx asked softly, squeezing her hand. Theia nodded, taking in a breath. She didn't miss how her breasts seemed to burst from the bodice with the inhale. Embarrassment crept onto her cheeks. She didn't feel like herself in this.

With Nyx's question, she had lied. She wasn't feeling well, she was wracked with discomfort and unease with facing his family. She'd had plenty of interactions with the males recently that made her feel uncomfortable with being near them. Especially Azriel, in this gown. She didn't know how they'd react if they spied the ring on her finger or Feyre's gown on her body.

"If you feel uncomfortable, we can leave. We can go back to my room and hide away," Nyx murmured. Theia nodded again, squeezing his hand. He'd keep her safe in any way, she knew that, but the aspect was still terrifying.

It didn't matter how she felt, because over the years, Theia had mastered the mask of calm. The amount of situations she had put herself in forced her to be calm when she never was, so she laid that mask on her face as they walked into the dining room. Everyone was already sitting, though nobody had dove into their food. It looked like a roast with potatoes and several salads tonight.

Theia kept her eyes on the plates. She was afraid her mask would slip if she looked at the wrong person. Nyx led her to the seat beside Feyre, who offered a small smile as she sat.

"The dress looks stunning on you," Feyre said softly, patting her hand on Theia's knee. Theia shot her a quick smile, but her attention was pulled when Nyx slid a hand over her shoulder. Theia shivered at the contact and turned her head to him. Faint conversation hummed in the background when her eyes met Azriel's across Nyx. Her breath caught, anxiety tearing through her. His gaze fell to her chest and slowly rose back to her eyes. Another shiver tore through her, but it was nothing like what Nyx had given her.

"What salad would you like?" Nyx asked softly, making her eyes turn to his. Her lips parted as she turned to the table. There were several, but her mind was too frazzled to really look at them. She mumbled a number under her breath and Nyx scooped some onto her plate. He placed a piece of roast and several potato slices. Theia stared at her plate as he poured her a glass of red wine and left a long kiss to the height of her cheekbone. Her heart fluttered, heat running through her.

"So, you'll be joining us tonight in the Hewn City?" Rhysand asked. He didn't say her name, but Theia knew he was talking to her. She lifted her gaze and nodded. "I can promise it will be a different experience than the last time."

"I hope so," she said softly, down casting her eyes once more. People still spoke, and Theia didn't look up to see who was all at the table, but she finished her wine long before she finished one portion of her meal. Nyx's hand found itself on her thigh, just inches below the apex, fingers squeezing every now and then.

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