Vel, an Oracle older than Prythian itself, visits the Autumn Court at the request of its High Lord. While there she gets swept up in the court's political scheming, with Eris trying to win her favor using any means necessary. But all is not what it...
Sorry for all the time skips, I wanted to highlight a few key scenes rather than dragging through the material of the books.
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Feyre's wedding dress was a monstrosity. An exquisite blend of tulle and chiffon and gossamer, with enough fabric to make a war tent and sleeves puffy enough that Feyre could probably float down a river with them. A faerie with tree-bark skin was putting the finishing touches to an elaborate hairstyle involving enough pearls and jewels that they probably weighed as much as the female herself.
"Lovely dress," Vel remarked from her spot on the windowsill, her tone laced with dry humor. The corset was so stiff that Feyre couldn't even turn to glare at her.
"If I still had any doubts about Fae being able to lie, they are now entirely gone," Feyre retorted. "You never responded to the wedding invitation. I didn't think you'd come."
"I recognized the High Priestess' handwriting and figured it's probably best to avoid the crowd downstairs," Vel replied, counting off reasons on her fingers. "Priestesses and I don't really see eye to eye. Lucien is angry enough with me that he stopped writing. Tamlin is also not entirely happy about a few things that I didn't disclose to him. The Spring Court is not the most welcoming place to me at the moment. But I wanted to check on you, see how you're doing on your big day."
"Everything is great."
Vel looked at Feyre in the mirror. Sunken cheeks and haunted blue-grey eyes told a different story.
"Do you still have the flower I gave you?" Feyre gestured to a small vase on the vanity.
"No plans to add it to your wedding bouquet I suppose? In case you get cold feet? I could steal you away for a few days, pretend it's important Oracle business. It would give you some time to think about things."
"What is there to think about?" Her words were sharp but she seemed to catch herself. "It will get better once the ceremony is over with." Vel wasn't certain if the words were meant for her or if Feyre was just repeating what she'd been telling herself.
Vel sighed deeply. "As you wish, Feyre. Just remember that before you are Lady of the Spring Court you're your own person. You are allowed to feel your feelings and make your own decisions." She didn't wait for a response before shifting and flying north.
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"So, that went well." Mor quipped just as Feyre stormed away in a flurry of textile material. Her voice was bright and amused. Rhysand's answering snarl was a stark opposite.
"I promised it would be worth witnessing this, didn't I?" Vel grinned down at her friend lounging on the chaise. Thick tendrils of night swept over the snowcapped mountains as if in warning.
