Daylight

Chapter 40

Feyre was panting when she let go of him. Lucien's energy was still drained, so she had practically carried him plus both of their packs when she'd winnowed them away. From the thick snow on the ground, Lucien could tell they were still in the woods somewhere on the continent, but at least they weren't anywhere near that lake.

"I'm sorry," she said as she gulped down the bitter cold winter air.

"For what?"

"If I embarrassed you," she clarified. "I didn't think. I was just so angry with her."

Lucien pressed his back against a tree and slumped down, sitting right in the snow. "I don't care," he muttered. "In fact, I quite enjoyed watching you put her in her place. I think she forgets that you're essentially a queen yourself."

Feyre had busied herself with setting up the tent and building a fire. She wasn't going to be able to winnow them both all the way back to Velaris and the distance was much too far for her to fly, even without having to carry Lucien. She told him that she was going to call out to Rhys through their bond, telling him they were ready to come home. Feyre set her pack on the snow and sat on it. Lucien wished he'd done the same as he felt the snow melting through the seat of his pants.

"We'll rest here for a while," Feyre decided. "I know it's only midday, but we both barely slept. Rhys is sending Azriel to come get us. We can get some rest until then. Az should be shortly after nightfall if I had to guess."

"Can you get back without him?" Lucien asked her.

A deep line creased between her eyes. "Well, yes, but I can't fly you back."

"I know," he said. "You're going back without me."

"Excuse me?" She aggressively tossed another stick onto their meager fire, sending sparks up as it collided with the pile of burning kindling.

"You should go back," Lucien said. "Let the others know we're okay. But I'm going back to Spring."

Feyre paled. "Lucien wh—"

"I'm getting those wings before I return to Velaris."

"I'm going with you," she said instantly.

He'd expected nothing less. Lucien gingerly got up, brushing snow off his pants as he stood. He was still so exhausted that just the act of standing was a challenge. Moving to the tent where his pack rested, he dug through it for some jerky. Even though they'd eaten a few hours ago, he felt hollow, like he hadn't eaten in days.

"Obviously I can't stop you," he admitted. "But I will implore you not to come. I don't doubt your abilities one bit, but it will be easier to sneak in if it's just me. Plus, I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you in there."

"And I'm supposed to forgive myself if Tamlin guts you with those claws?" She retorted.

Lucien waved his hand dismissively. "No one needs me," he said automatically.

Feyre scoffed. "There's no way you can still believe that."

Elain.

He needed her—he knew that without question. But he still doubted whether she truly needed him. She had her sisters and Nuala and Cerridwen and the whole Inner Circle. She didn't need him...

"You're a fucking idiot, Lucien."

"Okay, we're not on the lake anymore. No more rooting around in my head," he snapped. But he wasn't angry with Feyre. Not really. "It just takes some getting used to, I suppose," he sighed.

"That people actually want you around?"

He didn't answer, but his silence might as well have. It had been so long since anyone had given a damn about what he did. Where he went. What happened to him.