"I don't need to tell you pricks anything, I have my own reasons for being here and they don't concern three idiots who won't-" I was cut off as a force came slamming into me.
I look up in anger at the man who was now towering over me, his nostrils...
(Author's note: this part will be from Feyre's pov of part of her first dinner at the house of wind, I'm writing Ziláa into this chapter from the original book - a court of mist and fury, chapter 16. It's a rough rewrite of the chapter as I didn't want it to be too long)
Feyre Rhys sauntered toward the two males standing by the dining room doors, giving me the option to stay or join. One word, he'd promised, and we could go. Both of them were tall, their wings tucked in tight to powerful, muscled bodies covered in plated, dark leather.
The larger of the two, his face masked in shadow, chuckled and said, "come on, Feyre. We don't bite. Unless you ask us to,"
Rhys slid his hands into his pockets "the last I heard, Cassian, no one has ever taken you up on that offer." The second one snorted, the faces of both males at last illuminated as they turned toward the golden light of the dining room.
The second male, the more classically beautiful of the two, outstretched a scarred hand towards me "welcome" he said.
"This is Azriel, my spymaster" Rhys explained. I surveyed the two males, standing tall, several siphons gleaning in place.
I took Azriel's hand, and his rough fingers squeezed mine. His skin was as cold as his face.
"And — you?" I asked Cassian.
Cassian shrugged, wings tucking in tighter "I command Rhys's armies." As if such a position were one to be shrugged off. And — armies, Rhys had armies.
"Cassian also excels at pissing everhone off. Especially amongst our friends. So, as a friend of Rhysand ... good luck." Azriel clarified. A friend of Rhysand — not saviour of their land, not murderer, not human-faerie-thing. Maybe they didn't know—
But Cassian nudged his bastard-brother-whatever out of the way, Azriel's wings flaring slightly as he balanced himself "how the hell did you manage to make that bone ladder in the middengard wyrm's lair when you look like your own bones can snap at any moment?" Well that settled that.
I met Cassian's gaze if only because having Rhysand defend me might very well make me crumble a bit more. "how the hell did you manage to survive this long without anyone killing you?"
Cassian tipped back his head and laughed, a full rich sound that bounced off the ruddy stones of the House. Azriel's brows flicked up with approval as the shadows seemed to wrap tighter around him. As if he were the dark hive from which they flew and returned.
Mor breezed onto the balcony with, "if Cassian's howling, I hope it means Feyre told him to shut his fat mouth."
Mor wore a red, flowing gown of chiffon accented with gold cuffs, and combs fashioned like gilded leaves swept back the waves of her unbound hair.
Mor curved her fingers toward me, "come sit with me while they drink" I fell into step beside her "unless you'd rather drink?" Mor offered as we entered the warmth and red stone of the dining room. "But I want you to myself before Amren hogs you—"
The interior dining room doors opened on a whispering wind revealing the shadowed crimson halls of the mountain beyond, and the female that already lurked within.
Rhysand had given me a half explanation about her, how they'd found her skulking about in Velaris a few months ago and she had only just revealed which court she came from - summer court. And how she's Azriel's mate but won't accept the bond, and how it's clearly killing Azriel but he won't admit it.
She looked to be about four inches shorter than me with intense eyes that were sharp enough to cut like a knife. She looked obnoxiously fae with these pointed ears that were sticking out of her icy white hair. Her face was also strikingly beautiful. Like Azriel, she was also surrounded by those shadows, though instead of dancing around her in the way his did they were more whispy, whipping around her.
She wore a black dress, made of a sheer fabric that left just enough to the imagination. The arms a type of crosshatch lace. She wore the colour well, others tend to let the colour wear them.
I could see why they were mates, together they'd look spine-chilling. A painting of them together popped into my head.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A court of watchful shadows, I'd call it.
Ziláa would sooner tear the canvas to ribbons Rhys said in my head, snapping the image from my mind as well as my mental shields back up.
I made my way to the dining table to drink with Mor, Ziláa remained at the bar and I couldn't help but watch as she ignored Azriel's gaze that stuck on her. She was serious about not wanting to be mates with him?
I scanned the room again and my eyes landed on Amren. She was several inches shorter than me, her chin length black hair glossy and straight, her skin tan and smooth but her eyes...
Her silver eyes were unlike anything I'd ever seen; a glimpse into the creature that I knew in my bones wasn't high fae. Or hadn't been born that way. The silver in Amren's eyes seemed to swirl like smoke under glass.
"Your taste remains excellent, High Lord. Thank you." Her slim, small fingers grazed a delicate silver-and-pearl brooch pinned above her right breast. So that's who he'd bough the jewellery for. The jewellery I was to never, under any circumstances, try to steal.
"So there are two of us now." Amren said, "we who were born something else— and found ourselves trapped in new, strange bodies." I decided I really didn't want to know what she'd been before.
Someone spoke, from my left "Do you feel any different?" Zila sauntered towards the table, now a large glass of wine decorating her right hand.
"Physically or?" I inquired shyly, I didn't know what she meant and her lilting accent had caught me off guard.
"Both."
"Physically, yes, maybe not so much the other- aspects" I tried to give my best answer without saying 'I still feel like a weak mortal who can't defend themselves very well.'
She seemed satisfied with the answer giving a smile that was more of a smirk and took a seat at the left side of the table, Azriel took a seat on her other side, she shot him a glare with those sharp eyes. Enough to send a chill down my own spine and it wasn't directed at me. He beamed at her in response.
I was sat across from Amren next to Mor and Rhys went to sit opposite Azriel next to Cassian, no one at the head of the table.
