And he vanished again.
He appeared behind me, so close that his breath tickled my ear as he said, “You have no idea how not easy it is.”
I whirled, grappling for him. He vanished before I could strike him, pound him.
Rhys appeared across the clearing, chuckling. “Try harder.”
I couldn’t fold myself into darkness and pockets. And if I could—if I could turn myself into smoke, into air and night and stars, I’d use it to appear right in front of him and smack that smile off his face.
I moved, even if it was futile, even as he rippled into darkness, and I hated him for it—for the wings and ability to move like mist on the wind. He appeared a step away, and I pounced, hands out—talons out—
And slammed into a tree.
He laughed as I bounced back, teeth singing, talons barking as they shredded through wood. But I was already lunging as he vanished, lunging like I could disappear into the folds of the world as well, track him across eternity—
And so I did.
Time slowed and curled, and I could see the darkness of him turn to smoke and veer, as if it were running for another spot in the clearing. I hurtled for that spot, even as I felt my own lightness, folding my very self into wind and shadow and dust, the looseness of it radiating out of me, all while I aimed for where he was headed—
Rhysand appeared, a solid figure in my world of smoke and stars.
And his eyes were wide, his mouth split in a grin of wicked delight, as I winnowed in front of him and tackled him into the snow.
CHAPTER
27
I panted, sprawled on top of Rhys in the snow while he laughed hoarsely. “Don’t,” I snarled into his face, “ever,” I pushed his rock-hard shoulders, talons curving at my fingertips, “use me as bait again.”
He stopped laughing.
I pushed harder, those nails digging in through his leather. “You said I could be a weapon—teach me to become one. Don’t use me like a pawn. And if being one is part of my work for you, then I’m done. Done.”
Despite the snow, his body was warm beneath me, and I wasn’t sure I’d realized just how much bigger he was until our bodies were flush—too close. Much, much too close.
Rhys cocked his head, loosening a chunk of snow clinging to his hair. “Fair enough.”
I shoved off him, snow crunching as I backed away. My talons were gone.
He hoisted himself up onto his elbows. “Do it again. Show me how you did it.”
“No.” The candle he’d brought now lay in pieces, half-buried under the snow. “I want to go back to the chateau.” I was cold, and tired, and he’d …
His face turned grave. “I’m sorry.”
I wondered how often he said those two words. I didn’t care.
I waited while he uncoiled to his feet, brushing the snow off him, and held out a hand.
It wasn’t just an offer.
You forgot, he’d said. I had.
“Why does the King of Hybern want me? Because he knows I can nullify the Cauldron’s power with the Book?”
Darkness flickered, the only sign of the temper Rhysand had once again leashed. “That’s what I’m going to find out.”
You stopped fighting.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, hand still outstretched. “Let’s eat breakfast, then go home.”
“Velaris isn’t my home.”
I could have sworn hurt flashed in his eyes before he spirited us back to my family’s house.
CHAPTER
28
My sisters ate breakfast with Rhys and me, Azriel gone to wherever he’d taken the Attor. Cassian had flown off to join him the moment we returned. He’d given Nesta a mocking bow, and she’d given him a vulgar gesture I hadn’t realized she knew how to make.
Cassian had merely laughed, his eyes snaking over Nesta’s ice-blue gown with a predatory intent that, given her hiss of rage, he knew would set her spitting. Then he was gone, leaving my sister on the broad doorstep, her brown-gold hair ruffled by the chill wind stirred by his mighty wings.
We brought my sisters to the village to mail our letter, Rhys glamouring us so we were invisible while they went into the little shop to post them. After we returned home, our good-byes were quick. I knew Rhys wanted to return to Velaris—if only to learn what the Attor was up to.
I’d said as much to Rhys while he flew us through the wall, into the warmth of Prythian, then winnowed us to Velaris.
Morning mist still twined through the city and the mountains around it. The chill also remained—but not nearly as unforgiving as the cold of the mortal world. Rhys left me in the foyer, huffing hot air into my frozen palms, without so much as a good-bye.
Hungry again, I found Nuala and Cerridwen, and I gobbled down cheese-and-chive scones while thinking through what I’d seen, what I’d done.
Not an hour later, Rhys found me in the living room, my feet propped on the couch before the fire, a book in my lap, a cup of rose tea steaming on the low table before me. I stood as he entered, scanning him for any sign of injury. Something tight in my chest eased when I found nothing amiss.
“It’s done,” he said, dragging a hand through his blue-black hair. “We learned what we needed to.” I braced myself to be shut out, to be told it’d be taken care of, but Rhys added, “It’s up to you, Feyre, to decide how much of our methods you want to know about. What you can handle. What we did to the Attor wasn’t pretty.”
“I want to know everything,” I said. “Take me there.”
“The Attor isn’t in Velaris. He was in the Hewn City, in the Court of Nightmares—where it took Azriel less than an hour to break him.” I waited for more, and as if deciding I wasn’t about to crumple, Rhys stalked closer, until less than a foot of the ornate red carpet lay between us. His boots, usually impeccably polished … that was silver blood speckled on them. Only when I met his gaze did he say, “I’ll show you.”