A VOW OF STARS ---- [ACOTAR]

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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I'm just getting color back into my face

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The rest of the family dinner with the Archerons went slightly better after the stunt Nesta pulled, everyone tried to ignore that lingering tension, forcusing on the probable alliance for now.

Elayla was focused on keeping herself from starting another argument, and so she focused on her plate instead.

But then, the tension between Cassian and Nesta made her want to bleach her mind and eyes, and because her daemati powers were not really available at the moment, she swallowed back the urge to scream at him.

Thankfully for her, her attention shifted to Elain and Azriel, sitting side by side like two soul friends, before the young woman cleared her throat and asked. "Can you truly fly?"

"Yes," The Shadowsinger answered with a confused blink. "Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We're born hearing the song of the wind."

Usually, Azriel's emotions were untamed when talking about Illyrians, but Elayla could notice the way he leashed them that  day, like he was scared his hatred would rub off on the sweet, gentle girl sitting beside him.

Had it not been for the iron engagement ring on her finger, Elayla would've made her magic work -literally- and pushed these two idiots together.

"I think you're forgetting someone there." Elayla teased, watching as the spymaster's face displayed an almost smile.

"Elayla does too." He gave her a pointed look, "and she's not very humble about it."

"I thought you're his daughter." Elain frowned, warm brown eyes settling on the female. Elayla's throat dried, and she wa about to choke out some sort of denial.

"Yes, she is." Rhysand beat her to the answer, his eyes daring her to deny him after he explicitely  said it.

"My mother is- was..." She decided to switch the way of saying it. "Of full Illyrian heritage, which makes me able to shift the appearance of my wings."

"That's very beautiful," Elain said, looking almost as though she might find a fae concept pleasing to consider for a change, and Layla thanked the Gods that she didn't have to elaborate on Elira. "Is it not - frightening, though? To fly so high?"

"It's instinct for us." Elayla beamed at her, "Like when a bird leave his nest, at first we all hesitate, but at the end, we need it to live fully."

"You look like High Fae," Nesta said, regaining control of herself, but not entirely unfriendly. "But you are not?"

It was Cassian who answered for them, gesturing at Rhysand and Feyre vaguely. "Only the High Fae who look like them are High Fae. Everyone else, any other differences, mark you as what they like to call 'lesser' faeries."

"It's become a term used for ease, but masks a long, bloody history of injustices,"Rhysand was quick to object. "Many lesser faeries resent the term - and wish for us all to be called one thing."

"Rightly so," Cassian agreed, but Nesta again ignored him and turned a thoughtful mind on her sister.

"But you were not High Fae - not to begin," she said. "So what do they call you?"

"Feyre is whoever she chooses to be," Rhys answered flatly, and Elayla couldn't help but suffocate, her thoughts shifting back to the night she found out.

Feyre was the Night Court's High Lord's mate.

"Write your letter to the queens tonight," Nesta finally said. "Tomorrow, Elain and I will go to the village to dispatch it. If the queens agree to come here, I'd suggest bracing yourselves for prejudices far deeper than ours. And contemplating how you plan to get us all out of this mess should things go sour."

"We'll take that into account," Rhysand agreed with his usual diplomatic tone.

Nesta drawled on as though bored. "I assume you'll want to stay the night."

Feyre politely tried, "If it's not too much trouble, then yes. We'll leave after breakfast tomorrow."

"Good," Elain beamed, almost excited to have her sister around once again. "I think there are a few bedrooms ready-"

"We'll need three," Rhysand cut gently. "Next to each other, two with two beds each."

Elayla groaned form the awkwardness of the situation, watching Cassian snicker beside her. 

"Magic is different across the wall," The High Lord explained. "So our shields, our senses, might not work right. I'm taking no chances. Especially in a house with a woman betrothed to a man who gave her an iron engagement ring."

Elain's stunning wide smile dropped immediately. "The - the bedrooms that have two beds aren't next to each other," she sputtered.

Feyre sighed, sinking in to her chair. "We'll move things around," She said. "It's fine. This one," and she pointed at Rhysand with a tempestuous glare, "is only cranky because he's old and it's past his bedtime."

Elayla allowed herself the pleasure of laughing, a true, genuine sound no one had heard her make in ages. Rhys froze in his spot, and for a split second, in the spot of the closed off, quiet grave that she had turned into, the little moonbeam he left behind shone ever so slightly.

Elayla felt four very surprised gazes settle on her, and she realised what she had done. Choking her amusement back by takig a sip of water, she let her eyes focus o the scenery rather than her family.

Nesta alone stood from the table. "If we're done eating, then this meal is over," she announced and promptly left the room. 

"Well, that was fun." Elayla sighed finally, not upset at all by her departure.