A Court of Dawn and Midnight

The Body

Feyre and Rhysand left the cave. They could not stand to stay there with the dead creatures.

Rhys was carrying the body of the child, she was wrapped in his cloak. Feyre could not see her twisted neck, or her rotting flesh.

They walked through the forest in silence. Rhysand did not look at Feyre, he kept his eyes focused on everything but her.

Feyre remembered his arms around her, the arms that had held her when she realized that the child was gone.

As they made the journey back to the palace, Feyre stole glances at Rhys. She watched his arms as the muscles flexed under the child's weight.

Somewhere deep in her heart, Feyre longed for those arms to hold her again, like they did in the cave.

Feyre shook her head. Rhys was so confusing. He gave her to the creatures, literally as bait. But it was to save his court, or at least to find out what was killing his Fae. He had given her up, but then he had held her like he really cared. If he valued her life, would he have let the creatures take her?

They walked on, silence stretching between them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Feyre and Rhysand reached the end of the forest, they broke through the trees and looked up to see the palace in front of them.

Rhys was still carrying the child, and Feyre watched as he began to walk away from her.

"Where are you going?" Feyre asked.

Rhys turned around to look at her, "I have to to get the body to her family." His eyes held sorrow as he said it and Feyre was surprised to see the emotion.

"I'll come with you." Feyre said.

"No. Go back to the palace Feyre." He turned away from her, and Feyre felt a lurch in her heart. He was always turning away, never letting her see too much of what he was feeling.

"Rhys." Feyre called out.

She ran to him, and Feyre could not place the look his deep eyes.

"You shouldn't have to go alone." She whispered when she caught up with him. And she reached out, touching Rhysand's hand, one that was wrapped around the child's body.

He inhaled, looking down at her with those midnight eyes.

"A Fae child, so rare, so beautiful," Rhys tightened his grip on the body, "and now she is dead."

He looked towards the village, "Come, her family needs to know what happened to their child."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They walked to the village, and when they got there, the Fae saw the body.

They cleared a path for Feyre and Rhysand, letting them walk through the village.

Rhysand led the way to the child's home, and when they neared the building, a man came running out.

He stopped before he reached Rhys, his eyes full of suspicion.

Rhys held the body out, "I'm so very sorry." His voice was steady.

The man stepped forward, lifting the body and cradling it to his chest.

He cried into the cloak when he realized who the body belonged to. His sobs echoed throughout the village and he screamed in grief.

And with that scream, Feyre's heart broke. It broke and shattered into a thousand pieces. She wanted to comfort the man, but what could she do?

Rhys was there then, he put his hand on the man's shoulder, and the man reached up to him. He grasped Rhysands forearm, as if it was the only thing that kept him from losing his sanity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back at the palace, Feyre watched Rhys as he walked up the grand staircase.

His shoulders sagged like he was exhausted and he gripped the banister for support. The child's death seemed to strike Rhys with a sudden pain that he could not shake.

Feyre's eyes followed Rhys as he disappeared behind the corner upstairs. He turned to the left, which meant that he could be going to the gallery, or to his bedroom.

Hoping to find him in the gallery, Feyre rushed up the staircase. She turned to the left and walked down the hall to the gallery, pushing the door open, Feyre called out softly for Rhys.

But he was not in the gallery, and Feyre's pulse quickened with the thought of finding Rhys in his bedroom.

Feyre backed out of the room. She continued to walk down the hall, towards the room she had never been in. Rhysand's room.

As she neared his door, she heard a deep yell, and then a crash.

Feyre rushed to the door and slammed her hand down on the door knob, she entered the room, afraid of what she would find.

Rhys stood in the center of the massive room. His hand was dripping with blood and he held a slice of the vase that was now shattered on the floor. He was panting, and his bare chest was covered in cuts. It seemed as if he had shattered the vase in his hands, and the fragments had sliced into his hands and chest.

"Oh, Rhys." Feyre whispered, her hand still holding the door knob.

He lifted his bowed head to look at her. His eyes were dark, like a shadow had passed over them.

And Feyre knew why he was acting like this. She knew why he was in so much visible pain.

He was blaming himself, blaming himself for the child's death.

"Rhys," Feyre began walking toward him, her hands out like she was trying to reason with him.

Rhysand jumped back. "No. Feyre, don't."

"What do you mean, Rhys?" She inched forward.

"I don't want you to tell me it's not my fault. It is." He shook his head. "It's my fault and I'm not even strong enough to stop the creatures from killing my Fae."

Feyre stepped up to him, he was much taller than her, and she craned her neck to look up at him. Feyre reached up and grabbed the slice of vase out of his hand. She threw it to the side, watching Rhys as he looked down at her.

"No Rhys, it's not your fault. And you say your not strong, but I saw you take down those creatures in the cave. You are strong, you always have been." She stared into his beautiful eyes, remembering when she painted them in the gallery.

"Feyre," Rhysand whispered. And his arms were around her suddenly, strong and chilling all together. He held her to his bare chest, and Feyre was stunned.

But she pressed into him, savoring the feeling of his skin against her own. She closed her eyes and relaxed into him. Rhysand held her tighter. He whispered something so quiet, she wasn't sure if she had heard him.

"Thank you, Feyre."