A Court of Truth and Deceit

Chapter Four - Rhysand

Once again, I was back in my mountaintop home, giving Feyre's sisters the latest updates on the war, and informing them about the meeting in two days, and that their youngest sister would be there.

My mountaintop home was now thoroughly ruined. Nesta had seemingly taken the place for granted and, although I did not mind, had practically smashed every breakable item in sight, most likely in anger of having been Made High Fae. There were claw marks on the walls, although they were from fingernails, not the literal shadowy claws that both Feyre and I could summon. Perhaps claws that Nesta could also summon, with practice.

The pillows were shredded; the stuffing inside scattered throughout rooms. Several couches were upended. There were a few broken floorboards. Porcelain shards crunched under every step I took. The house was a mess.

I cleaned everything up with a wave of my hand, and replaced everything breakable with plastic. The claw marks on the walls disappeared, patched up. I misted the pillow stuffing that seemed to be everywhere, and then just for the sake of showing off, I laid the entire breakfast table where we were sitting at with a gourmet lunch, complete with a flower arrangement, and the entire room modified with enhancements and decorations.

Elain oohed and ahhed while Nesta remained unimpressed, like I had expected. Instead, she picked up a finger sandwich and began to daintily munch on it.

"How's Feyre?" Nesta asked, voice cold. She acted indifferent towards her youngest sibling, but I was sure that under those pounds and pounds of steel, there was love.

At her question, however, I pursed my lips. Feyre and I had passed letters last night, but caught up in our usual banter, neither of us had been cautious enough. I'd wiped the note blank after sensing Lucien through Feyre and my mating bond, but I was sure that he knew at least something. I did not anticipate danger for Feyre—Lucien's mate, Elain, was with my court after all, and Feyre would have sent some sort of signal down the mating bond if something had happened. Still, it had been over sixteen hours, and the Illyrian part of me roared to be let free, to winnow to the Spring Court and snatch Feyre away to safety, to Velaris.

Oh. She would hate that.

Nesta noticed my silence and snapped, "Well? What happened?"

"Feyre's fine. Lucien, however..." I glanced toward Elain. She was twisting the iron ring around and around her finger. "I can't be too sure about Lucien." Nesta wrinkled her nose at the name and then nodded, as if she wanted to know more about Feyre's status, but didn't want to ask.

"I've been meaning to ask this." Elain's voice was like a whisper, barely loud enough for even my fae ears to hear, but automatically, Nesta turned to her, angling her body so that it shielded hers. Protecting Elain with her mind, body, and soul. "What of our father? Certainly he will be in danger if Hybern manages to successfully invade the our home." Our. Our, because she still referred to herself as human, and not High Fae.

Nesta hissed at the mention their father. I knew that both she and Feyre hated their him, though Nesta more so.

"Whatever you wish," I said, spreading my hands. "I could have him brought here—"

"Not yet," Nesta breathed, looking at Elain. She did not want their father to know what had been done to his daughters. All of his daughters. Did not want that burden to be placed upon her now of all times.

I bobbed my head. "Of course. Let me know when you change your mind, and I'll have him brought here in seconds."

A quiet silence of a few minutes before Nesta spoke up again.

"And. . . the Illyrians?" Immediately, I sombered. Cassian's condition hadn't gotten any better when I checked in on him this morning. The healer warned me that at this point, an amputation may be the wisest approach before a serious infection leads to his death.