We made our trek back down the mountain mostly in silence. Since the laws of the island demanded we forgo magic to get to the Prison, the same principles applied to leaving it. So back on our feet and down, down, down we went.

Feyre must have known I would explain everything when we returned and indeed, the silence gave me a good long while to think. About what the Carver had said. And what this meant moving forward.

Pieces I’d long since thought on started stitching together in my mind - different courts and magic and lands we would have to visit, have to manipulate and hopefully not destroy to get to the ultimate goal of finishing the Cauldron.

Each lick of the wind as we stepped through dirt and sweat was a promise we would fight hard to see those goals through.

I scented my clingy band of misfits before we’d barely finished winnowing to the rooftop of the townhouse. Feyre had held me a little tighter than normal as we whipped through the air, but she stood of her own accord when I let go.

“Amren’s right,” I announced, taking a patient lean against the door frame of my sitting room, eying everyone sprawled about the room. “You are like dogs, waiting for me to come home. Maybe I should buy treats.”

In truth, I was grateful they were there. I didn’t feel like wasting any more time or energy going up to the House of Wind and Feyre looked a little worse for wear taking a seat by the fire, savoring every flicker and flame it gave it.

Cassian flipped me off with Mor looking a little impatient by his side. Azriel kept nothing but shadows for company by the window. The anticipation radiating from the three of them was palpable.

Feyre seemed to want nothing to do with it, her back turned away from them, but... I knew she was listening, in her own quiet way while demons chased at her as surely as my own did for me.

“How’d it go?” Mor finally asked.

“The Bone Carver,” I said, watching Feyre and keeping casual to stem that rising sense of dread I felt, “is a busybody gossip who likes to pry into other people’s business far too much.”

“But?” Cassian sounded impatient. And indeed, his wings shook at his back.

“But he can also be helpful, when he chooses. And it seems we need to start doing what we do best.”

Silence.

And three strained glances on three very important faces.

And as always, never one to shy away from the worst of it, Azriel pushed forward, clearing the way through his shadows to confront reality. “Tell us.”

The last thing I heard before diving into our day was Feyre’s deep breath by the fire. She didn’t turn around to look at us the entire time we talked. Not once.

I avoided Feyre’s own personal details as I explained, as Azriel questioned, as Cassian sat back and swore internally. Mor said little herself, chewing her lip instead and watching Azriel carefully each time he spoke, like she could see the threads of his carefully laid groundwork weaving together behind those hazel eyes she drowned in day after day.

“I’ll contact my sources in the Summer Court about where their half of the Book of Breathings is hidden,” Azriel said when it seemed my tale was over. “I can fly into the human world myself to figure out where they’re keeping their part of the Book before we ask them for it.”

“No need,” I said, and shook my head definitely. “And I don’t trust this information, even with your sources, with anyone outside of this room. Save for Amren.”

“They can be trusted,” Azriel said. Even Feyre turned at that, hearing the the glint of malice in his voice. There was nothing Azriel liked less than thinking he’d disappointed someone at the one thing he felt born to do. But I couldn’t trust anyone, including his sources. Not with a secret so monumental and hazardous as this.

“We’re not taking risks where this is concerned,” I said, fixing Azriel with what trust I could in a single stare.

I’ll be throwing you to the wolves soon enough, brother. I trust you - heart and soul.

Azriel’s hands flexed once - and then released. I waited, and right on queue -

“So what do you have planned?” Mor asked, finally deciding to chime in. Az cut a glance at her and took a step back, his shadows relaxing. I picked at my leathers and pretended not to notice, pretended that what I was about to say would not end us all.

I felt Feyre’s gaze shift to me, watching, weighing...

“The King of Hybern sacked one of our temples to get a missing piece of the Cauldron. As far as I’m concerned, it’s an act of war - an indication that His Majesty has no interest in wooing me.”

“He likely remembers our allegiance to the humans in the War, anyway,” Cassian said and was not wrong. “He wouldn’t jeopardize revealing his plans while trying to sway you, and I bet some of Amarantha’s cronies reported to him about Under the Mountain. About how it all ended, I mean.”

Feyre dropped her hands slowly from where they’d rested gently in the air against the heat of the fireplace. Cassian looked tightly between us for a brief moment.

“Indeed,” I said. “But this means Hybern’s forces have already successfully infiltrated our lands - without detection. I plan to return the favor.”

The room tore in two, one half in the direction of feral, instinctual excitement written across the blood thirsty grins on Cassian and Mor’s faces, who would go to their deaths willingly for retribution; the other half slanting towards the quiet, calculating mindset Feyre and Azriel shared, to question and plot and plan first before jumping into the fray where danger lurked.

“How?” Mor asked, and she sounded ready enough to rip open her heart and shred the world with truth on the spot.

I crossed my arms. “It will require careful planning. but if the Cauldron is in Hybern, then to Hybern we must go. Either to take it back... or use the Book to nullify it.”

And as much as I hated to admit it, especially after a day like today that would damn me later when thoughts of Feyre and the Carver and death caught up with me, I felt... excited at the prospect of how stealing that Cauldron right out from under Hybern’s nose might feel.

To save my court, gain that vindication it deserved...

The Illyrian bastard in me, born for blood and savagery and everything that was not masks and finery, gloried at the thought indeed.

“Hybern likely has as many wards and shields around it as we have here,” Azriel cut in. “We’d need to find a way to get through them undetected first.”

Remember the wolves brother? It is time for you to go and meet them .

Azriel seemed to understand the look that passed between us. His shadows danced immediately.

“Which is why we start now,” I said. “While we hunt for the Book. So when we get both halves, we can move swiftly - before word can spread that we even possess it.”

“How are you going to retrieve the Book, then?” Cassian asked, nodding, but his expression clouded.

And that excitement flared right back up in me. I had to temper it down to keep the brute inside me from raging too loudly. “Since these objects are spelled to the individual High Lords, and can only be found by them - through their power...” I looked at Feyre, who sat very fixedly towards the fire, chin tucked to her chest, “Then, in addition to her uses regarding the handling of the Book of Breathings itself, it seems we possibly have our own detector.”

Feyre squinted as she felt three extra sets of eyes slam into her skin.

“ Perhaps ,” she said, “was what the Bone Carver said in regard to me being able to track things.” She looked at me and I couldn’t help it - she was so damned powerful, so capable. That it struck me to my core in that very moment. I smiled, knowing what I was about to ask was too much, and knowing that I would ask it anyway because of what my mother had told me long, long ago when she’d described Feyre without ever even knowing her. Someone worthy with the ability to bend rules and defy the impossible.

“You don’t know...” Feyre said, her words dying as my smile widened.

Because I did know. I knew it and so did she. She was powerful and strong and she was going to find out in the most precious way possible to me.

“You have a kernel of all our power,” I told her, “like having seven thumbprints. If we’ve hidden something, if we’ve made or protected it with our power, no matter where it has been concealed, you will be able to track it through that very magic.”

“You can’t know that for sure,” Feyre said with long suffering look worthy of Azriel. She was tired. So very, very tired.

So I smiled even further to encourage her, or at least infuriate her enough that she wouldn’t slip back down the void.

“No,” I admitted, “but there is a way to test it.”

“Here we go,” Cassian grumbled. I didn’t see how the others felt about the matter, my focus resting solely on keeping that beautiful heart in front of me beating and pushing and trying.

“With your abilities, Feyre, you might be able to find the half of the Book at the Summer Court - and break the wards around it. But I’m not going to take the carver’s word for it, or bring you there without testing you first. To make sure that when it counts, when we need to get that book, you - we do not fail. So we’re going on another little trip. To see if you can find a valuable object of mine that I’ve been missing for a considerably long time.”

“Shit,” Mor said.

“Where?” Feyre asked. And any one of them could have answered her because by now, they all undoubtedly knew where I was gunning for. All shared the same singular vision in their thoughts of my mother and her last remaining possession for me before she died.

“To the Weaver,” Azriel answered Feyre. I held a hand up to silence Cassian before he even parted his lips to say whatever colored admonition he wanted to hurl at me.

I knew it was unfair. I knew it was even, slightly mean, perhaps, what I was asking of Feyre. But I would still ask and give her the choice in the matter because this was... my mate and I knew as soon as she’d looked at the Carver and told him she’d wanted to die that there was still some desperate, insignificant part of my soul clinging to this stupid, miserable hope she might choose to stay here one day. Choose me .

And if Feyre ever did, I wanted her to have everything she deserved, everything that was owed to her and more.

And that required visiting the Weaver. Feyre alone could make that happen, so to the Weaver we would go.

“The test,” I said, “will be to see if Feyre can identify the object of mine in the Weaver’s trove. When we get to the Summer Court, Tarquin might have spelled his half of the Book to look different, feel different.”

“By the Cauldron, Rhys,” Mor said with more genuine heat than I usually got from her. “Are you out of your-”

And much to my delight, it was Feyre who cut her off, wanting to know more.

“Who is the Weaver?” she asked.

“An ancient, wicked creature.” Azriel. The shadowsinger cut me a cruel stare. “Who should remain unbothered. Find another way to test her abilities.”

His stare alone in that room, perhaps, could have cut me down enough to back off. The risk was monumental, but the payoff...

The payoff...

I shied away from Azriel’s glance and shrugged at Feyre.

Your choice .

Always, always her choice.

She bit her lip and studied me. And whether she saw the primal need in my eyes or simply didn’t care anymore or something else altogether, possibly, Feyre shrugged back. “The Bone Carver, the Weaver... Can’t you ever just call someone by a given name?”

Cassian chuckled on the sofa.

Feyre looked ready to mist us all away for the evening as she stared at me with those eyes that lingered ever so slightly in the grey tonight. But soon, she would drop off. And still my selfish, demanding heart required more. I’d been dreading asking this of her most of all as we descended that mountain.

“What about adding one more name to that list?” I asked.

“Rhys,” Mor hissed, trying to call me back even as I stepped past the horizon point, too far gone to be considered sane or reasonable anymore.

“Emissary,” I persisted. “Emissary to the Night Court - for the human realm.”

“There hasn’t been one for five hundred years, Rhys,” Azriel said, the perfect mask of stoicism.

“There also hasn’t been a human-turned-immortal since then, either. The human world must be as prepared as we are - especially if the King of Hybern plans to shatter the wall and unleash his forces upon them. We need the other half of the Book from those mortal queens - and if we can’t use magic to influence them, then they’re going to have to bring it to us.”

The room went quiet - waiting. Feyre tried to look away, to some other part of the world outside these walls, but my voice quickly called her back. And though she sat several feet from me, the heavy look in her eyes felt more like a call between us than my speech, like I was sitting right beside her holding her up with each word, brushing away the hair from her face and enjoying the fire at her side.

Before I asked this one awful task of her.

“You are an immortal faerie - with a human heart,” I told her, our gazes locked. “Even as such, you might very well set foot on the continent and be... hunted for it. So we set up a base in neutral territory. In a place where humans trust us - trust you , Feyre. And where other humans might risk going to meet with you. To hear the voice of Prythian after five centuries.”

It clicked at once. “My family’s estate,” she said. I didn’t have to confirm.

“Mother’s tits, Rhys,” Cassian cursed. His wings shot out disturbing the various objects nearest him on the sofa. “You think we can just take over her family’s house, demand that of them?”

Mor looked equally displeased, and yet... “The land will run red with blood, Cassian, regardless of what we do with her family,” she said. “It is now a matter of where that blood will flow - and how much will spill. How much human blood we can save.”

Which left it down to Feyre once again. Feyre who sat by the fire ready to hug her knees into her chest and disappear as she spoke in that low tone. “The Spring Court borders the wall-”

No - never. Not to you.

I wouldn’t do that to her. Not in a million years.

“The wall stretches across the sea,” I cut in before that fear could fester inside her a second more. “We’ll fly in offshore. I won’t risk discovery from any court, though word might spread quickly enough once we’re there. I know it won’t be easy, Feyre, but if there’s any way you could convince those queens-”

“I’ll do it,” she said, and sweet utter relief flooded my system. Relief - and pride. She straightened her knees back out and held her head high. “They might not be happy about it, but I’ll make Elain and Nesta do it.”

Strong.

Powerful.

Infinite.

Feyre was infinite. As infinite as the sea and stars. She just didn’t know it yet.

“Then it’s settled,” I said. “Once Feyre darling returns from the Weaver, we’ll bring Hybern to its knees.”

---

Feyre went to bed for the evening, and was hardly up the stairs and inside her room before the others pounced.

“The Weaver, Rhys?” Azriel said. “Honestly?” And I was a tad surprised he was the first one to speak.

“I have to go see Amren,” I said, striding for the door. “You can all yell at me tomorrow after it fails if you think it’s such a monstrous idea.”

“It is a monstrous idea,” Cassian said. “You seem to be having quite the streak of them lately.” He got up and blocked my path, Mor hot on his heels behind him. “First the Weaver. Now her family’s estate? Is that really necessary?”

“Yes - now move please.”

Cassian growled, Mor stepping between us with a hand on either of our chests to pry us apart. “Much as I know Azriel would love to watch me rip you boys to pieces and then explain it to Feyre when the roof caves in, can we please be civil.” Her face warped on the latter half of her statement, focusing on me and we pulled apart. “You two need to stop. This is serious.”

“You don’t think I don’t know that?” I stepped back and shoved my hands in my pockets, staring at the floor while my shoe dragged circles in the carpet on a hop.

“Cauldron boil and bake me,” Cassian said after a hot silence. “You’re excited about this.” My head jerked back, but I couldn’t quite meet his face. “You are!” And then he broke into an uproarious laugh, his hands clapping together as he stepped back and fell over on Azriel shaking with the breath coming out of him.

“Cassian, for fuck’s sake,” Mor said.

“It’s too good!” he yelled. He turned around and sank onto the arm of the chair next to Az, who stood beside him with his arms crossed, siphons flaring a bit in color. “You’re going to take your girlfriend-”

“She’s not my anything,” I growled, stepping forward. Mor’s eyes flashed.

He waved a hand through the air. “You’re taking your whatever you want to call her into the most dangerous part of Prythian just to prove she has your powers, something you could do literally anywhere else on this forsaken continent-”

“Cassian.”

“All because you want to get back her future-”

“ Enough - shit.”

He crossed his arms. “Do you deny it?”

We stared hard at each other for several painfully long seconds, enough time for Cassian give me his biggest shit eating grin. “Didn’t think so,” he finally said.

I looked at Azriel who conveniently had decided now was a nice moment to stare at the sunset, and then to Mor. She bit her lower lip...

And then shuddered as she suppressed her chuckle.

“Oh come on,” she said, her eyes bright. I shrugged her off, determined not to give in, but my foot still danced on the floor. “She does have you rather adorably wrapped around her finger. I just can’t wait for the day she finally realizes it.”

“She does not-”

“ Feyre darling,” Cassian mimed and this time, I didn’t miss Azriel’s smile, even if it was tight. He was likely still musing on my decision to take Feyre to the Weaver tomorrow.

I let out a loose breath. “Can we go eat now? I’m starving and could do with some food. Some of us have work to do tomorrow.” I looked pointedly at Cassian and made it to the front door.

“Food isn’t all you’re starving for.”

My insides tightened, some deeper part of me rising up to the surface ready to shove him off the nearest balcony and dive right over him after it. Feyre was just upstairs. If she heard any of this-

“Man, look at you,” Cassian said with a shake of his head. “You can’t even function just thinking about her.” He looked me over head to toe, sizing me up like he would for a fight, and it felt like my first day in the war camps all over again. “I am gonna wipe the floor with your ass the day she finally fucks you.”

Azriel’s shoulder gave a heave. He strode from the window and took Mor’s hand, guiding her past us towards the door where I stood. “Come on,” he grumbled to her. “They’re gonna be at it for a while and I actually am hungry.”

“Fine by me!” she chirped, sticking her tongue out at me like she did when we were kids.

They left and then it was just Cassian and I, and Feyre somewhere upstairs. Cassian’s mouth frowned as he shrugged. “Do you really have to take her tomorrow?”

Feyre.

Feyre, Feyre, Feyre upstairs and eating or sleeping or something . Feyre who had wanted to die, but chose to stay here instead, with me and my court to find another way. Feyre, who had told me yes today to so many questions I’d asked of her.

Feyre, who I would take to the Weaver bright and early to find my mother’s heirloom that she might one day have it herself.

I didn’t let the voices tell me she wasn’t my anything this time. She was my something and even if that something always remained an enigma and never more, I was going to fight like hell for it. Cassian was right about more than just the danger tomorrow’s trip harbored - I could barely stand just thinking about Feyre upstairs.

I gave Cassian the grim look that meant there was no further room for debate. “Yes. I do.”

---

Dinner with my family resulted in very little to cool the ball of frantic energy that coursed through me in droves, heightening with every second I got closer to dawn. Though they certainly did their best to try regardless. Mor alone seemed willing to let it go and just accept what I’d decided and no one stopped her when she bought a round of drinks.

But I hardly touched my glass all evening. Hardly slept when I got home.

I danced outside Feyre’s room early before the sun was even up, pacing back and forth down the hall, listening for her breathing to hitch. The moment it changed and I felt her mind stir, even if it didn’t let me inside, I had her door open and was gliding right in as though I could feel the wind itself at my feet carrying me along.

“Hurry,” I said, making straight for her armoire and digging through it until I’d pulled out her leathers. “I want to be gone before the sun is fully up.”

“Why?” Feyre sounded groggy as she got out of bed, blinking owlishly at the leathers I’d thrown on the bed.

Because if we wait any longer, my insides might explode .

Today she’d be tested in new and different ways from the Bone Carver, ways that wouldn’t have to torture her mind, but might pull at those beautiful powers of hers, would certainly test her physical capabilities that had slackened in recent months.

But today was also the first real day of putting Hybern on our scent, the first real day of war. Going to the Weaver, though it had little to do with politics in what Feyre would hopefully retrieve there, was in its own way our own declaration of war. It would make or break every move we made from here on out.

Which was why we had to get moving - for all our sake’s.

“Because time is of the essence,” I said, chucking her socks and boots out onto the floor. That was really all she needed, but in my frenzy, I kept digging anyway. “Once the King of Hybern realizes that someone is searching for the Book of Breathings to nullify the powers of the Cauldron, then his agents will begin hunting for it, too.”

“You suspected this for a while, though,” Feyre said, sounding suddenly much more alert. “The Cauldron, the king, the Book... You wanted it confirmed, but you were waiting for me.”

I’ll wait for you for anything .

“Had you agreed to work with me two months ago, I would have taken you right to the Bone Carver to see if he confirmed my suspicions about your talents. But things didn’t go as planned.”

I looked up to catch Feyre piercing me with a sharp eye - not of reproach, but simple understanding, before she shuffled closer. “The reading,” she said. I stopped moving completely, pinned down by that magnificent, insightful stare. “That’s why you insisted on the lessons. So if your suspicions were true and I could harness the Book... I could actually read it - or any translation of whatever is inside.”

Two days and there was already so much she was putting together on her own, so much she was turning herself into that sparked a kindling brush I longed to watch transform into a magnificent wildfire.

And so much of it because of how hard I was pushing her.

‘The Weaver, Rhys? Honestly?’

‘Her family’s estate? Is that really necessary?‘

“Again,” I said and snapped myself back into action, “had you started to work with me, I would have told you why. I couldn’t risk discovery otherwise.” I strode across the room to her dresser and made to open the top drawer, but I couldn’t quite shake what had jumped to my mind. The guilt... “You should have learned to read no matter what. But yes, when I told you it served my own purposes - it was because of this. Do you blame me for it?”

“No,” Feyre said at once. I looked over my shoulder and found nothing doubting in her expression. My stomach settled. “But I’d prefer to be notified of any future schemes,” she added, her head tilting forward in a way that wasn’t entirely unfriendly.

“Duly noted,” I said, inclining my own head in agreement. I whipped back to the dresser and yanked open a drawer, not even remembering what remaining part of her leathers she still needed, and came face to face with enough lingerie to make my cock twitch if I hadn’t been caught off guard.

I picked up the first pair I saw and held it out with a chuckle - a dark scrap of midnight blue lace. Cauldron, this would hardly cover her-

The crack of heat and embarrassment that flooded past Feyre’s shield cut the thought mercifully off.

“I’m surprised you didn’t demand Nuala and Cerridwen buy you something else,” I said, grinning like a fool.

Feyre had the lace out of my hand faster than winnowing. “You’re drooling on the carpet,” she said and stalked into the bathing room. She gave a mighty slam with the door and took a particularly good while changing while I took one last, long look at the open drawer.

‘Man, look at you. You can’t even function just thinking about her.’

With a groan and a stretch of my neck, I closed the drawer and concentrated on anything but that pretty blue lace while I waited for Feyre to come back out.

When at last she emerged, strapped inside fighting leathers that were still a tad loose on her, I held up her belt of knives for her to step into. She ran a finger carefully over some of the blades examining.

“No swords, no bow or arrows,” I said, conscious of the heavy sword strapped down my own back.

Feyre’s gaze flicked up to me, fingers still poised on the belt. “But knives are fine?” Her fingers circled one of the loops, ready to yank it out of my hands perhaps, but that damned lace...

Cauldron she’d taken it into the bathing room with her, so was she wearing it under the leathers? There was hardly anything to it. The leathers would brush right up against her -

Oh for fuck’s sake.

I knelt down and concentrated on separating the straps of the belt apart, tapping Feyre’s right foot to step forward when I was done. She obliged and when both feet were through, I set to work on the fastenings, not the least bit enjoying the curve of her thighs every time my fingers brushed a little higher on her leg.

Not the least bit.

“She will not notice a knife,” I said, “as she has knives in her cottage for eating and her work. But things that are out of place - objects that have not been there... A sword, a bow and arrow... She might sense those things.”

“What about me?”

All of the blood that had been heading south for my cock stopped and went raging back up to my gut. My fingers gripped the strap I’d wound tightly at her thigh and suddenly, the feel of her muscles beneath my touch was so much more than some stupid piece of lingerie. It was her life .

It’s dangerous .

Azriel had cornered me one more time before I’d retired for the evening. He wasn’t wrong.

“Do not make a sound, do not touch anything but the object she took from me,” I said.

If she didn’t, we could both wind up dead, and I’d already done that with her twice. I didn’t want to repeat the experience of watching my mate fail - my mate whom I would fight through hell for, whom I would defy tradition and law to take on the Weaver for should it come to it, whom I would -

I looked up at Feyre, looked up from where I knelt on my stars and court and mountains for, and wished so foolishly that I already had in my hands what I was sending her into that cottage today for. And for one brief, glimmering moment - her eyes sparked, though I wasn’t entirely sure why.

I cleared my throat and continued adjusting straps on her legs. “If we’re correct about your powers,” I said, “if the Bone Carver wasn’t lying to us, then you and the object will have the same... imprint, thanks to the preserving spells I placed on it long ago. You are one and the same. She will not notice your presence so long as you touch only it. You will be invisible to her.”

“She’s blind?”

I nodded. “But her other senses are lethal.” And I swore for a moment I heard her breath shake. “So be quick, and quiet. Find the object and run out, Feyre.”

For both our sakes .

“And if she notices me?”

It’s dangerous, Rhys...

I willed myself not to audibly sigh, though my hands had stopped moving once again.

Az had pleaded with me to tell Feyre exactly what she was up against, but I was such a coward that she would say no and I wouldn’t get my possession back - wouldn’t have the opportunity to give it to Feyre one day even if I knew that moment was damned to begin with - that I ignored him until he let it go. It took all of Mor’s shy smiles, the ones she reserved only for him, to get Az back to his usual even stoicism after dinner.

I rubbed one thumb over Feyre’s leg considering, savoring.

“Then we’ll learn precisely how skilled you are,” I replied.

She glared and I got the sense she would rather I didn’t finish fixing her belt, but I was in too deep now. “Would you rather I locked you in the House of Wind and stuffed you with food and made you wear fine clothes and plan my parties?”

“Got to hell,” she snapped, arms crossed. So much fire. I could play with fire. “Why not get this object yourself, if it’s so important?”

“Because the Weaver know me - and if I am caught, there would be a steep price.” In the form of my mother’s ghost coming back to kick my ass for breaking my promise to her. “High Lords are not to interfere with her, no matter the direness of the situation. There are many treasures in her hoard, some she has kept for millennia. Most will never be retrieved - because the High Lords do not dare be caught, thanks to the laws that protect her, thanks to her wrath. Any thieves on their behalf... either they do not return, or they are never sent, for fear of it leading back to their High Lord. But you... She does not know you. You belong to every court.”

I finished the last strap and would rather have leaned forward and kissed my way through the leather down to the skin in farewell than let go as I held the backs of her knees gingerly.

“So I’m your huntress and thief?”

I looked up and Feyre’s face was a muddle of questions I wanted so badly to understand. But there was purpose. There was determination. And so, so much possibility - everything that stone she was going after represented.

An image of it shimmered in my mind along with the love and promise behind it. Finally, I knew the answer to that question of what Feyre was. And it brought a smile broad and ready for adventure to my face as I told her clearly, “You are my salvation, Feyre.”

She did not deny it.