Dance of Fate

Chapter Nineteen

The first thing that came to my mind as my brain fought its way to consciousness was that I had never had such a painful headache in my life. Even after I had fully waken up, it took me a few minutes to pry my eyelids apart.

I squinted against the glowing light of morning, hissing as a shock of pain went through my head. I blinked until my eyes adjusted to the light, and then forced myself to sit up with a groan. My head pounded with each movement, a harsh reminder of the too many drinks I'd had last night.

Last night.

The entire thing was a hazy blur of memories stringed together. Some moments I couldn't recall at all, like how the hell I had gone from being in the middle of the street in Velaris to being in my own bed in the Town House.

I inhaled through my nose, my heart pounding as fiercely as my head. But there was only a faint smell of the male that had surely brought me here, so weak that he had surely left hours ago. I sighed with relief, burying my face in my hands.

Gods, I had fucked up. The thing I remembered with the most clarity was the fight we'd had- and all of the things I had confessed to him. Like, for instance, the fact that I had been giving myself Faebane to ease my power. 

I jolted, frantically scanning my room for the disguised jar of Faebane. I sagged with relief as I spotted the fake jewelry box. Azriel had likely looked through my room to find it- though there was not a thing out of place, I had no doubt he had the ability to look through every single one of my belongings and still make it look like he was never there- but the glamour was too strong for even his expert eyes. 

After a few long minutes of staring into nothingness, trying to figure out a way to face Azriel again, I forced myself to get out of my bed. I was still in yesterday's clothes, and desperately needed a freezing cold bath to wake me up fully. 

But before I could get the chance to even walk to my bathroom, there was a frantic knock at my door. I froze. Before I could even smell the air to see who it was, or think of what the hell I would do if it was Azriel, Rhys barged into my room.

His eyes were wide and filled with so much anger that panic bloomed in my chest. Had Azriel told him of my drunken confessions? I recalled asking him not to, but I would not be surprised if he had. I still tried to act clueless and prayed to everything I believed in that Azriel had done as I asked. "What happened?" I said, hoping Rhys did not notice the fear in my voice. 

"It's Feyre." He said as he began pacing back and forth. For a moment relief flooded through me, but the rage and desperation on Rhys's face and movements made any feeling of ease disappear. 

"What happened?" I asked carefully. Rhys paused, finally facing me. In his eyes was an unyielding, cold rage that I had not seen in a while. He breathed, his nostrils flaring. "He locked her in that house," he growled. 

I immediately knew who he was speaking of, and I felt anger rising in myself as well. I forced myself to remain calm before my power could react. "Where is she know?" My voice was so steady that it surprised even me.

"In the Mountain House. Mor and I broke her out an hour ago. She's been out cold ever since." His voice was a bit calmer now, though not by much. I nodded.

"Okay. And what are you going to do when she wakes?" I questioned. I wasn't sure if he had broken any laws- though by the laws of the fae, he had the right to go claim his mate. But knowing Rhysand, he would never do that. No, if he had taken Feyre like this, it had been for good reason. Though I wasn't sure what exactly he meant by locking her in the house, I knew it was not good.