Court of Shadows (Indefinite Hiatus)

PART 8: RHYSAND

**BACK TO PRESENT TIME...

PART 8

The night sky was as beautiful as ever-- the stars shining and the city below teeming with life-- almost as vibrant as before the attack. The High Lord of the Night court stood above it all, a single figure outlined in glowing light from a fireplace in the room behind him. His body was absolutely still, except for the brief expansion of his chest breathing in the crisp night air. Though he usually found the action clarifying, tonight, his brain was too preoccupied to register the effect.

The stillness of the scene was broken when the figure's hand moved behind his back and reappeared with a single piece of paper. He shifted his weight and unfolded the sheet with an extreme gentleness uncharacteristic to regular paper folding. He glanced down at the paper and recited the words without reading them. He had memorized the note by the third read-through. He clenched his eyes and took in another breath, her bold slanted scrawl appearing across his inner eyelid.

Rhysand sent a small tug down their bond, and was relieved to receive one in immediate response. He longed to hear her voice, to hold her in his arms and speak to her directly-- but unless the other person was practically screaming down the line, the distance between the two courts made it hard to decipher anything besides emotions. Therefore, they relied on winnowed notes. After almost two months of inactivity-- or, undetectable activity-- something had finally happened. Feyre was finally in a position to gather intel-- and all he could think about was how badly he wanted to winnow over there, bring Tamlin and his frivolous court to their knees, and scoop up Feyre to bring her home-- among other things.

Rhysand opened his eyes and continued to examine the skyline. Whatever was about to go down at the Spring Court was big-- mystical objects he'd never encountered and lands he'd never heard of.

Immediately after reading her note, he'd called upon Amren. Being much older than everyone in his court, maybe she knew something about this stone. Or maybe, the Book of Breathings knew something. The book. It'd been two months since the night court--most of the night court-- escaped from the encounter in Hybern. It'd been two months since Rhysand stole the two halves of the book from the king, when he thought he had them in his possession.

Two months for the king of Hybern to make a move-- and nothing had happened. Azriel's spies had yet to find anything, and as time passed, the shadowsinger had begun to push even harder. Rhysand was lucky if he saw his shadowy friend once every two weeks, and even then, it was only for a brief period of time, during which the spymaster coldly informed him that there were no new developments. Rhysand could see the frustration building in his eyes and knew that soon, he'd have to put some limits on Azriel's activities. The Illyrian was beginning to approach a line of sorts-- they all were.

Mor had been spending more and more time in the Court of Nightmares, overseeing the nobles, and listening for information. Rhysand knew how much she hated it there, and his heart ached a little bit whenever she left. Afterall, it was he who had pushed her into becoming more involved there. After he informed them that they would not be immediately extracting their High Lady, it had taken her two weeks to speak to him. She spent much of those weeks in the Court of Nightmares, subjecting herself to her family's cruelty; during which time, she developed the notion that her presence there might lead to a new informant, or some intel-- any intel was welcome at this point.

For one of the first times in history, especially since his reign, the Night Court was in the dark. Subject to chance and the approaching unknown, Rhysand was no longer in control, and it pissed him off. It also scared the hell out of him.

He sensed someone enter the room behind him, and turned away from the balcony. Standing by the long dining table, her arms crossed against her chest, was Amren. Tonight, her accessory of choice was a large necklace of glowing rubies, all the size of her eyeballs, and a pair of matching dangling earrings. The ensemble would have looked gaudy on anyone else. Her silver eyes followed Rhysand with her typical canny observation as he walked across the room.