Dance of Fate

Chapter Eighteen

It had been four days since the incident with Asteria, and Azriel still couldn't stop reliving it. No matter how much he tried to distract himself, the image of her trembling in his arms, the life slipping away from her with each passing second, kept surfacing in his mind. 

It was so overwhelming that he had gone to check on her that night, to assure that she was alright, if only so he could relax the slightest bit. But he had found that she wasn't in her bed, even though it was hours past midnight. 

In a panic, he had followed her scent and tracked her down- only to find that she was seated in a shabby pub, drinking herself stupid. He had watched from a distance for what seemed like hours. She hardly spoke to anyone besides the faerie who served her wine and ale, and by the way no one seemed surprised that the High Lord's sister was getting wasted in one of the lowest pubs in the city, he came to the conclusion that this was something she did regularly. 

Azriel resisted the urge to storm inside and demand what the hell she was doing. He knew she would be absolutely enraged if he did that- and any trust she had in him would vanish. Not to mention that he would be making a scene. 

So the shadowsinger only observed from afar as she drank herself into oblivion, and then followed from up in the sky as she walked home, to make sure she was safe. Asteria had always been a drinker, even before Under the Mountain. But now she drank an ungodly amount, and didn't even seem that affected by it. How her body managed to withstand it, he couldn't fathom.

After that night, he continued to distantly follow her whenever she made her nightly trips to the pub. To make sure she made it home safely, or so he told himself. 

...

A few days later, Rhysand told me Feyre was back. I tried to mask the panic that arose in me when he said it- forced myself to keep my voice neutral when I asked if I could go see her. Rhysand, to my relief, told me I could go whenever I wanted. I was so eager to speak with her that I did not notice the pain in his voice.

I found Feyre reading in the Mountain House. She looked even worse than she had when I visited the Spring Court- her body thinner, her face resembling the marble floor. There were deep purple smudges under her eyes, and her iris's seemed more grey than blue. I half wanted to ask her how she was doing, but we weren't close by any means. Besides, I already knew the answer. 

Feyre's eyes widened upon seeing me, and I felt my face grow warm. I waited her to speak first. "I was wondering if you were alive," she said. I chuckled, and there was a ghost of a smile on her face, if only for a brief moment. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" She asked, setting down her book and crossing her arms. I pursed my lips, and after a few moments of silence, Feyre rolled her eyes. "Of course you won't." I bit my lip. I wanted to tell her- but she might tell Tamlin. In fact, she might have already told him.

"You didn't... say anything, did you?" I questioned sheepishly. The female narrowed her eyes at me, and I almost cowered under her stare. At least she didn't seem afraid of me anymore. "Lucien convinced me not to."

I tried and failed to hide my surprise. Azriel had mentioned that Lucien was there, and that he had helped- but I didn't think he would extend that kindness to keeping the encounter from his High Lord. Especially since he seemed so devoted to him when I had visited the Spring Court as 'emissary'.

"Oh." I said. Feyre still looked at me, as if she knew there was more I wanted to say. I sighed. "Could you... not mention it to Rhys?" Her eyes widened with confusion. "It's a long story..."

"Let me guess, you can't tell me." I didn't respond, therefore confirming her statement. Feyre sighed. "I won't tell him." Relief flooded through me.

"Thank you." I breathed. Feyre shrugged, picking her book up. I was about to wish her well and leave when the female spoke again.