Chapter Text
Feyre was surprised to see her older sister at the refreshment table. She hadn’t heard Nesta and Cassian arrive at the river house earlier. It was usually a scene when the newly mated couple made their entrance, mostly because of Cassian's boisterous laughter that could be heard from miles away.
“Nesta,” Feyre said with a smile. She gently grasped her eldest sister’s arm.
Nesta slowly turned towards her, and Feyre held her soft gasp. It never ceased to amaze her how devastatingly beautiful Nesta was as fae. She was wearing a loose silvery dress that accentuated her long neck and revealed the smooth contours of her back. Her bronze hair was neatly braided and pinned across her head in its usual style, and her face held its familiar stoicism. However, there was a pinch in her brow, a slight flare to her nostrils, a pursing of her lips. This Nesta was angry.
Feyre quickly dropped her sister’s hand. No one would dare touch an irritated bear.
“What’s wrong?” Feyre asked in bewilderment.
Nesta slowly blinked her gray-blue eyes, the same ones Feyre had, then averted her gaze to a tray of chocolate cookies. Feyre thought she heard her sister mutter something about cake and a stupid bat. Of course, Cassian must’ve done something to piss her off.
“High Lady,” A deep and sensuous voice called. Helion, now standing before the two sisters in his Day Court robes. He kissed her hand first, then looked towards her sister. There was a glint in his eyes as he appraised Nesta. Despite Nesta repeatedly spurring his advances, that didn’t stop the High Lord from openly admiring her. “Lady Nesta,” he drawled and held out a hand. To Feyre’s surprise, her sister took it and allowed Helion to place a kiss onto the back. His lips lingered for a second too long before he straightened.
Feyre took a second to glance at her sister, who still appeared as indifferent as ever.
Helion said to Nesta, “I just had the most riveting conversation with your mate-“
“Don’t call him that,” Nesta snapped as she petulantly crossed her arms. Her lips settled in a deep frown.
“The Lord of Bloodshed is not your mate?” Helion mused, eyes widening in intrigue. “I could have sworn there was a mating ceremony between the High Lady’s eldest sister and the General Commander of the Night Court. It was the talk of all Prythian.”
“Cassian is merely an acquaintance.”
Feyre’s mouth was agape. An acquaintance? Just yesterday, she walked into the House of Wind to find Nesta and Cassian very intimately intertwined on the library couches. Surely, that wasn’t how acquaintances behaved.
Feyre was about to say something, but a rough laugh cut in.
“What the hell, Nes?” A messy knot of black hair and too large wings filled her vision. The Illyrian General Commander didn’t seem put off by the fact that his mate just brushed him off as an acquaintance. “It was an accident! I told you I was sorry-“
“Sorry doesn’t change the fact that my chocolate cake is in your stomach,” Nesta bitingly hissed in return. If her fury was directed at anyone else, they would’ve soiled their pants. But this was Cassian.
“I told you.” Though he sounded exasperated, the Illyrian general was grinning ear to ear. “I can give you your chocolate cake back in one to two days-“
“Ugh. You are disgusting!” There might as well have been steam coming from Nesta’s nose.
Throughout their argument, the pair had somehow moved closer and closer, their chests now brushing. Their raised voices attracted a crowd of other High Lords and their guests. And no one could look away as Cassian peered down at his mate, and Nesta glared back.
From then, it took only a second for the air to shift. There was a change in their scents, a bend in the tension. Helion eagerly looked between the two, enthralled.
Good gods. How they could go from nearly skinning each other alive to wanting to rip their clothes off in mere seconds, Feyre would never understand.
Feyre spoke with the authority and reverence of any High Lady. “Take this highly inappropriate conversation elsewhere.”
“Yes,” Cassian muttered, still intently staring into Nesta’s eyes. “We shall be highly inappropriate elsewhere. Perhaps in our bedroom. What do you say, Mate?”
Nesta tried but failed to hide her smirk. “Whatever you say, General Commander.” Her voice was a sweet hum, so unlike Nesta Archeron. Cassian’s grin turned feral.
Helion took his chance. “May I join-“
“No,” Nesta practically growled, unable to look away from her mate. “He’s mine.”
Those words were Cassian’s undoing. He quickly scooped her up by the legs and left the ballroom running. No doubt to make a mess of their room Feyre took great time in preparing.
The High Lady deeply sighed and shook her head. Hopefully, their guests would be too drunk to remember what just occurred. It was Rhysand’s idea. To invite the High Lords and their Courts to a party at the river house, to fill them with good wine and conversation to make them more amenable to his doing.
Speaking of her mate, Rhysand was walking towards her now, violet eyes aglow with the night sky. He was still the most beautiful male she’d ever seen, but Feyre would sing her praises later because there was a babe in his arms. Their son. Who he was supposed to be putting to bed.
Nyx happily screeched and held out his chubby arms once he saw Feyre. She, of course, took her son but hissed at Rhysand, “What are you doing? You were supposed to be putting him to sleep! This is no place for a babe.”
“He refused to sleep,” Rhysand sighed, settling his arm around Feyre’s waist. He bent his neck to look at his son. “You just can’t stay away from a good party, can you?”
Feyre huffed as she bounced a babbling Nyx, “Your brother and my sister were just openly arguing before they ran off to do unspeakable things in our house. Helion tried to join them. Everyone is drunk and can barely speak in proper sentences.”
Rhysand shrugged. “Sounds like a typical Night Court party to me.”