Mor’s throat bobbed, noting the blood staining Cassian’s hands—realizing it wasn’t his own. Scenting it, no doubt, as she blurted, “Eris. Did you—”
“He remains alive,” Azriel answered, shadows curling around the clawed tips of his wings, so stark against the snow beneath our boots. “So do the others.”
Lucien was glancing between all of them, wary and quiet. What he knew of Mor’s history with his eldest brother … I’d never asked. Never wanted to.
Mor tossed her mass of golden waves over a shoulder. “Then let’s go home.”
“Which one?” I asked carefully.
Mor swept her attention over Lucien once more. I almost pitied Lucien for the weight in her gaze, the utter judgment. The stare of the Morrigan—whose gift was pure truth.
Whatever she beheld in Lucien was enough for her to say, “The town house. You have someone waiting there for you.”
CHAPTER
14
I had not let myself imagine it: the moment I’d again stand in the wood-paneled foyer of the town house. When I’d hear the song of the gulls soaring high above Velaris, smell the brine of the Sidra River that wended through the heart of the city, feel the warmth of the sunshine streaming through the windows upon my back.
Mor had winnowed us all, and now stood behind me, panting softly, as we watched Lucien survey our surroundings.
His metal eye whirred, while the other warily scanned the rooms flanking the foyer: the dining room and sitting room overlooking the little front yard and street; then the stairs to the second level; then the hallway beside it that led to the kitchen and courtyard garden.
Then finally to the shut front door. To the city waiting beyond.
Cassian took up a place against the banister, crossing his arms with an arrogance I knew meant trouble. Azriel remained beside me, shadows wreathing his knuckles. As if battling High Lords’ sons was how they usually spent their days.
I wondered if Lucien knew that his first words here would either damn or save him. I wondered what my role in it would be.
No—it was my call.
High Lady. I—outranked them, my friends. It was my call to make whether Lucien was allowed to keep his freedom.
But their watchful silence was indication enough: let him decide his own fate.
At last, Lucien looked at me. At us.
He said, “There are children laughing in the streets.”
I blinked. He said it with such … quiet surprise. As if he hadn’t heard the sound in a long, long time.
I opened my mouth to reply, but someone else spoke for me.
“That they do so at all after Hybern’s attack is testament to how hard the people of Velaris have worked to rebuild.”
I whirled, finding Amren emerging from wherever she’d been sitting in the other room, the plush furniture hiding her small body.
She appeared exactly as she had the last time I’d seen her: standing in this very foyer, warning us to be careful in Hybern. Her chin-length, jet-black hair gleamed in the sunlight, her silver, unearthly eyes unusually bright as they met mine.
The delicate female bowed her head. As much of a gesture of obedience as a fifteen-thousand-year-old creature would make to a newly minted High Lady. And friend. “I see you brought home a new pet,” she said, nose crinkling with distaste.
Something like fear had entered Lucien’s eye, as if he, too, beheld the monster that lurked beneath that beautiful face.
Indeed, it seemed he had heard of her already. Before I could introduce him, Lucien bowed at the waist. Deeply. Cassian let out an amused grunt, and I shot him a warning glare.
Amren smiled slightly. “Already trained, I see.”
Lucien slowly straightened, as if he were standing before the open maw of some great plains-cat he did not wish to startle with sudden movements.
“Amren, this is Lucien … Vanserra.”
Lucien stiffened. “I don’t use my family’s name.” He clarified to Amren with another incline of his head, “Lucien will do.”
I suspected he’d ceased using that name the moment his lover’s heart had stopped beating.
Amren was studying that metal eye. “Clever work,” she said, then surveyed me. “Looks like someone clawed you up, girl.”
The wound in my arm, at least, had healed, though a nasty red mark remained. I assumed my face wasn’t much better. Before I could answer her, Lucien asked, “What is this place?”
We all looked at him. “Home,” I said. “This is—my home.”
I could see the details now sinking in. The lack of darkness. The lack of screaming. The scent of the sea and citrus, not blood and decay. The laughter of children that indeed continued.
The greatest secret in Prythian’s history.
“This is Velaris,” I explained. “The City of Starlight.”
His throat bobbed. “And you are High Lady of the Night Court.”
“Indeed she is.”
My blood stopped at the voice that drawled from behind me.
At the scent that hit me, awoke me. My friends began smiling.
I turned.
Rhysand leaned against the archway into the sitting room, arms crossed, wings nowhere to be seen, dressed in his usual immaculate black jacket and pants.
And as those violet eyes met mine, as that familiar half smile faded …
My face crumpled. A small, broken noise cracked from me.
Rhys was instantly moving, but my legs had already given out. The foyer carpet cushioned the impact as I sank to my knees.
I covered my face with my hands while the past month crashed into me.
Rhys knelt before me, knee to knee.
Gently, he pulled my hands away from my face. Gently, he took my cheeks in his hands and brushed away my tears.
I didn’t care that we had an audience as I lifted my head and beheld the joy and concern and love shining in those remarkable eyes.
Neither did Rhys as he murmured, “My love,” and kissed me.
I’d no sooner slid my hands into his hair than he scooped me into his arms and stood in one smooth movement. I pulled my mouth from his, glancing toward a pallid Lucien, but Rhysand said to our companions without so much as looking at them, “Go find somewhere else to be for a while.”
He didn’t wait to see if they obeyed.
Rhys winnowed us up the stairs and launched into a steady, swift walk down the hallway. I peered down at the foyer in time to spy Mor grabbing Lucien’s arm and nodding to the others before they all vanished.
“Do you want to go over what happened at the Spring Court?” I asked, voice raw, as I studied my mate’s face.
No amusement, nothing but that predatory intensity, focused on my every breath. “There are other things I’d rather do first.”
He carried me into our bedroom—once his room, now full of our belongings. It was exactly as I’d last seen it: the enormous bed that he now strode for, the two armoires, the desk by the window that overlooked the courtyard garden now bursting with purple and pink and blue amid the lush greens.
I braced myself to be sprawled on the bed, but Rhys paused halfway across the room, the door snicking shut on a star-kissed wind.