BOUND IN FLAMES

011

"How long has Wesley been in Summer?" You ask Rhaegon as you shift, settling into his side since he was curled up behind you.

Not long. I've been tracking him for the past month—

You whirled, your eyes narrowed into slits, "Month!? He's been here a whole month?"

Yes.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Because I wanted to track his movements, his habits before we did anything—before you did anything. Before you did anything reckless he meant.

Crossing your arms, huffing, "Fine. But, tomorrow night I'm going to Summer. With or without you."

All right, tomorrow night. Rhaegon agreed, knowing you would leave him behind if you had to.

Settling further into him, titling your face up at the stars—at the night sky. "Rhaegon, let's stay here for the night?"

As you wish, Sunshine. He moved, coiling himself closer around you, keeping you warm—safe. Why don't you want to go back to the manor?

"I don't want to talk about it."

His body tensed, Who do I have to kill?

"No one." You sighed, "me probably."

What happened? His voice was calm, demanding, the way it always was before he killed someone. Which he had to when you were growing up, you've been hunted by Amarantha since you were in your mother's womb.

You turned to look at him, "It was my fault. I—"

I don't care about what you did. What did the other do? His blue eyes glinted with the promise of violence. 

"Rhaegon, please. . . let it go. I've had a long day and I just want to rest."

He didn't say anything for a long time, he just kept watching you. Fine, he relented. Sleep, you're safe with me.

"Always am."

You drifted off not long after, his steady breaths lulling you to sleep.

****

The next morning, you made your trek back to the manor. Content to just listen to the birds and trees singing. It was almost as if in greeting as you walked through the Spring Court. Rhaegon said that they were happy you were walking among them as the heir of Spring.

You were close enough to the garden that you heard Feyre's tins and brushes clatter to the gravel. Close enough for you to scent her fear.

Without a second thought you ran to her side, Rhaegon trailing close behind, as she stared at the fountain.

No, not the fountain, but the head spiked to it.

A bleeding High Fae male head—spiked atop the fountain statue of a great heron flapping its wings. The stone was soaked in enough blood to suggest that the head had been fresh when someone had impaled it on the heron's upraised bill.

Instantly, your eyes scanned the area around you, taking in every detail, looking for any signs of movement. Nothing. Even when you tried scenting who had put the head on the fountain, nothing.

"Feyre." You said softly so as not to startle her, her hand immediately clamped around your arm so tight you thought she'd break her fingers.