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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I try to live in black and white, but I'm so blue

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Sometimes, déjà-vu was one of Elayla's dearest friends, in the way she stared at the flames licking the air down in the heath of the townhouse, the place she hadn't been in for decades now. It was highly ironic, how the only memory she had left of that beautiful, dreams-filled place was the one where everything crashed down.

Same people were there. Different positions. Different expectations. Different hearts. That and of course, Alaric.

She couldn't quite know what kind of a game Rhysand was playing behind her back, what trick was he pulling by bringing him to Velaris, but she knew only one thing, she could pretty much forgive anything in her life, but not someone messing with her only friend.

The Inner Circle were busy giving each other weirdish looks as Layla leaned her head casually on Alaric's arm, lounging on the couch. They were waiting for both Rhysand and Feyre to come back from their 'friendly' little visit to the Bone Carver.

If it were any other place, Elayla would've already winnowed out of it, due to pure boredom and sheer spite. She didn't, fortunately for them. She merely took the alcohol flask out of her extravagantly embroided blue jacket and took a gulp of the fairy wine under the small frown of the Illyrian male on her.

There were better ways to cope, but she had no intention of trying them. She was fine with her spite and tears and wine. Or so she had thought. One sip for the night, she tried to assure herself, one for the courage of remaining in the same room as her father and his mate.

She could smell their intertwined scents even before they winnowed in. It only made her take another shot at her drink.

"Amren was right." Rhysand finally leaned against the doorframe of his sitting room, his eyes roaming through their sprawled frames all over the place "You are like like dogs, waiting for me to come home. Maybe I should buy treats."

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