Rhysand held onto the letter with a white knuckled grip. In all his years of life, there was only a handful of times where he'd corresponded with Tamlin Thornberry.
Nothing good had ever come out those times. He didn't see how this time would be any different.
Feyre kept looking at Lucien in disbelief. "What could he possibly want to tell us that could not be said in a letter?"
Lucien needed only say one word to convince them.
Nyx.
It was not unusual for his son to disappear for some time. And in the last year or so Rhys suspected that he'd been sneaking off to meet a lover. But he could always reach out to Nyx with his mind, a connection that they always kept open. If only so that Feyre could rest her weary mind.
Rhysand had not let himself think of why that connection was no longer there.
They winnowed to the coordinates Tamlin had scribbled on the piece of parchment. It had been a while since they stood willingly in the same place.
Feyre wrapped her arms around herself as she took in the greenery of the Spring Court and the small cabin up ahead.
Tamlin approached them, his face set in tight lines.
"What is the meaning of this, Tamlin?" Feyre asked, uncomfortable.
Tamlin face shattered. "My daughter has gone missing."
Feyre and Rhys stared at him, "I fail to see how that should concern us-"
Tamlin's wife stepped up to them. "Drop the glamor and let them see for themselves, Tamlin. They have every right."
Rhysand tensed at her grave tone.
The High Lord of Spring obliged his wife. In the next moment Rhysand wished he hadn't.
He'd scented the faebane first. Then he saw the blood. There was so much of it. Feyre gasped at the pool on the wet grass. Something sinister had happened here. And then there was-
"No." Feyre sobbed.
The scent of their son's blood was unbearable. There were a dozen arrows coated with faebane, that littered around. It must have taken extreme dosage of the poison to quiet his powers enough to subdue him. Rhysand's gaze caught on the bloodied knife next to those arrows.
"There is more." Tamlin said, wearily.
Rhysand followed him past the broken wards around the cabin and onto the porch. The door was open. Rhys stepped inside. He saw a half eaten peach on the floor, blankets askew next to the fireplace and then-
The horror of it made him vomit on the floor.
Nyx' wing hung suspended from the ceiling.
By the time Rhys wiped his mouth on his sleeve, he was powerless to stop Feyre from seeing it.
Feyre backed out of the cabin, Tamlin's wife caught her as she stumbled, murmuring soothingly even though her own voice trembled in fear.
"Who did this." Rhysand's voice was pure midnight power.
Tamlin pointed at the floor of the cabin, at the symbol drawn there in what must be his daughter's blood.
A mountain. Not Ramiel. Under the Mountain.
"She truly is back." Tamlin sounded defeated.
Feyre sobbed harder on the porch.
Rhysand swallowed. "Why does she have our children? How did she know? And why hell were they here together-"
"Haven't you scented it yet?"
Rhysand narrowed his eyes. In truth he tried not to breathe in at all. Nyx' blood, the utter terror of his fear still lingered in the air. But-
"They're mated." Tamlin said solemnly.
Rhysand closed his eyes in pain.
Amarantha was going to wreck them.
Once and for all.
YOU ARE READING
SINS OF THE FATHER
FanfictionNyx watched his father at the head of the table, his palm resting gently on his mother's tattooed hand. Rhysand laughed at something Mor was saying, the sound pure and happy. Nyx stared with such intensity that it was noticed by the Inner Circle. H...
