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Rhys’s face was like stone. Like death.
“Keep them,” he said.
“Why?” She didn’t reach for the weapons.
“Because my having them cost you vital moments yesterday against Bryaxis. The next time someone decides to terrorize my son, I want you already armed.” He jerked his chin toward the Trove. “And I want you to use these to obliterate them.”
She held his stare. Let him see everything that lay within her own. “I will.”
She didn’t let herself think on it—that a few days ago, he’d been questioning whether she could be trusted. Whether to ever let her near the Trove again.
Rhys added, tone thawing only a fraction, “Cassian told me this morning what you said last night—about the Trove terrifying you. Especially the Mask.”
It required a great deal of effort to keep her shock from showing. She’d confessed that to Cassian in confidence. She hadn’t said explicitly to keep it to himself, but . . . he’d told Rhys?
Rhys went on, “I didn’t realize you still had a healthy fear of it.”
She shoved down the flicker of anger at her mate and said truthfully, “I’ve always been afraid of the Trove. I didn’t give the Mask to Bryce Quinlan out of a lack of fear or appreciation for its true power. I understand it all too well.” It frequently haunted her dreams.
Rhys nodded—though still no light graced his stare. “I understand that now. Which is why I’m giving it back to you.”
Cassian had been trying to help by telling Rhys about her feelings regarding the Trove, no doubt. To get the two of them to this moment. It shouldn’t have stung, knowing that, but—it still did.
She again pushed aside the small ache and pivoted, “Teach me how to make one of those pocket realms so I can store them. And teach me how to craft wards around things—the sort only you know how to create. I want to be able to Make them.”
His chin dipped shallowly. A star, just one, returned to his gaze.
Nesta’s chin lifted as she added, “And teach me how to kill with magic. Not with arrows of fire or swords of water or whatever everyone else does. Teach me the way you kill.”
She needed to know how to explode an enemy into a bloody spray and shards of bone. To will it, and simply end someone’s existence. If it helped her loved ones stay alive . . . she wanted to know how.
Rhys’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a savage smile. “With pleasure.”
Feyre
Nyx’s shrieking, chirping laughter filled my study, as glorious as the midmorning sunshine streaming through the windows. I’d never appreciated the beautiful sound more.
Nyx lay on his belly on the ornately woven rug, propped up by his hands, little wings twitching as he gleefully watched Cassian bounce his beloved stuffed rabbit in front of him. Every time the rabbit got close enough to Nyx’s chubby cheeks, it would “pounce” and give him a kiss right on the nose. And every time, right on cue, Nyx would shriek with delight, then bop his hands on the floor, demanding more.
I couldn’t help but revel in it—the pure, simple joy and excitement that radiated from my son, his dark blue shirt hitched up over his round belly, his arms and back and neck starting to figure out how to work together to sit up fully.
Gone was any trace of fear from yesterday. He hadn’t so much as whimpered while he’d slept. A small mercy from the Mother.
“Well,” Cassian announced from his spot on the floor in front of Nyx, “at least one person in this house is happy today.”
The rabbit booped Nyx on the nose again, and my son slapped his feet and hands on the silk rug, burbling with amusement. His grin was so broad it threatened to send my chest shattering into a million pieces, his almost feline curiosity about this stuffed rabbit prancing in front of him nearly propelling me to gather him into my arms and kiss him all over that soft, sweet-smelling body. I’d never loved anything or anyone as much as this happy little creature—and the force of that still took my breath away.
Yesterday had only made the feeling worse. Precious in a way that outright ached.
I slid a glance to Rhys, seated in an armchair a few feet from Nyx. He and Nesta had walked in together a few minutes ago, both quiet and pensive. But now, the same bewildered, overwhelmed look of wonder and love had bloomed across his beautiful face. Then Cassian’s words seemed to sink in, because the stars in Rhys’s eyes winked out as he said, “Last night was an unmitigated disaster.”
Nesta, on the couch beside me, snorted. We’d stayed with Elain until my daemati senses had told me Nyx was stirring, though I’d been awake shortly before that thanks to my aching breasts informing me it was time to feed my son.
Nesta had slipped out with me, leaving Elain sleeping, and two hours later, here we all were.
Well, most of us.
Elain hadn’t made an appearance yet, and Mor hadn’t come back last night. When I’d checked in with her mind to mind, she’d just said she’d spent the night out and was currently sleeping it off. I knew enough of the tangled history between Mor and Azriel to understand that perhaps the former needed some time to herself before she departed for Vallahan.
