Chapter Text
Chapter Nineteen - Both
Rhys
I rest for the next day or so, mostly sleeping but often awake enough to pick up on the different voices around me and hear fragments of conversation.
The sound of my family surrounding me is a comfort and I allow my mind to meander through a mixture of dreams and memories.
The first time I am awake enough, the doctor speaks with me. He explains the seriousness of my injuries with a grave expression and a sobering tone.
“When you arrived, I didn't honestly expect you to make it through the night. Your heart rate was low and brain activity was declining. But your reaction to the blood transfusion was incredible. It would be overly dramatic to say it brought you back from the dead but… well, it certainly kept you here among the living. You are very lucky Mr Night, I hope you know that.”
He means, of course, lucky to be shot at close range and survive. But I am left feeling lucky in another way - the blood of my loved ones has saved me, it is having them in my life that makes me lucky. On some level, I know that my body recognised their gift.
There will be scarring internally and I am likely to have reduced lung capacity. I may never be physically as able as I was. Cassian chooses to celebrate this news - he'll never again need to worry that I will beat him in a fight.
Mor, with a dressing above her eyes but otherwise looking ok, punches his arm but I see through the act: my brother is just as relieved as I am that the long term consequences are not worse.
Cassian has kept in touch with the local police. Brannagh is being charged with attempted murder, Amarantha will be charged too but it's not clear yet with what.
Az reports that Hybern has gone to ground. Again this is met by a general show of relief; Cahya in particular seems to see this as a final line in the sand.
Privately, Az and I share a meaningful look. Hybern may be mostly alone and without his more unpleasant friends but I doubt he'll leave things quite as they stand. He would be foolish to attempt anything directly, and he is certainly not foolish, but I think it's best to stay vigilant.
The watchers at my bedside come and go but Feyre is a constant. Her belief in my recovery is growing slowly.
.oO0Oo.
The day I get an unexpected visit from a detective, later in the week, it is only myself and Feyre here.
“If you are well enough Mr Night, I have a few questions,” she says, after sharing her name and her ID card.
I nod, expecting questions about how we came to have Brannagh, Amarantha and a gun in my hallway. Instead, she produces a familiar stack of photos.
Before I can respond, a roar from the corridor warns us of another visitor. Feyre goes tense as Tamlin barges in, Lucien on his heels as always.
“I need to hear what he says, he's a liar and he's -” but whatever else my old friend planned to accuse me of dies on his lips when he sees Feyre.
Feyre
Tamlin is livid, his top lip curls back in an almost animal snarl. I cannot believe I ever felt safe with this man.
“You? Back by his side, Feyre? Learnt nothing from your time away then?”
I feel my stomach twist but I fail to put into words what I learnt. Tamlin laughs at my silence and turns back to the detective.
“They tampered with the cameras. They broke in and who knows what they stole!” Spit flies from his mouth as he shouts and points at Rhys.
Even the detective is keeping a step away from my ex fiancé. He's not making his case well but the photos, now spread across Rhys' bed, are still damning. I can't see how Rhys and Cass will get around this. Until-
“I let them in.” Lucien steps forward and away from Tam, who turns to him in complete shock.
“You did what?”
“I let them in. I don't know why the cameras were looping, a technical problem I guess. But Rhys and Cassian were there to see me. They were never left alone so I can guarantee nothing was stolen. In fact, the only one at fault here is me - because I didn't sign them in as guests.”
There is a deathly silence following this explanation. Eventually the detective, who had been carefully looking between Tamlin and Rhys, asks Lucien, “You were working that late?”
“I was, check the logs - we sign in and out electronically so there will be a record of when I came and went on the day the photos were taken.”
The detective nods slowly, making a note in her book. “And why were you meeting with them in the middle of the night?”
Lucien swallows. But before he can respond, Rhys supplies the answer, “Because I was offering him a job. My publishing house is a rival of Spring so we had to meet in secret to agree terms.”
Poor Lucien does not hide his surprise or his gratitude very well. The detective isn't fooled but she closes her notebook and returns it to her coat pocket. “I think I'm done here. I can see myself out.”
Tamlin's face is turning purple with rage. “After everything I've done for you? This is how you repay me?”
“This is how I atone.” Lucien says and he turns to me, “I let you down after you came home from hospital. I should have been stronger, I should have stood up for you. I'm sorry.”
Lucien leaves, taking a fuming Tamlin with him. We can track their progress down the corridor as Tam’s voice moves slowly out of hearing range. Rhys and I can only look at each other as we separately process the last ten minutes.
Two months later
Feyre
We fall into a new rhythm once Rhys is discharged from hospital and this time I allow myself to join the melody of this life we are composing together.
I'm at the library everyday, back in my studio working on artwork for multiple books. The first print of a book cover I designed arrived last week and it's no exaggeration to say that it reduced me to tears.
Cahya will be starting school in the new year. Between now and then, she is also at the library doing intensive sessions to help her catch up. There are a few others her age attending, others whose childhoods were lost due to circumstances beyond their control. She has made friends and everyday I'm more proud of her progress.
Not just academic progress. One night, she arrived in the sitting room clutching a photograph - really only a copy of a photograph printed in a newspaper long ago. It showed her and Rhys' mother, happy and alive. Turns out Cahya had it all along, found during her early days with Hybern and kept a secret from him and the others.
Without being able to make eye contact with anyone, Cahya asked them to tell her about the mother she barely remembers.
Everyone cried that night but something changed then too. We can and should remember those we have lost and celebrate the people we have become because of them. Only by doing that do they continue to live.
Lucien has started dropping by the house too. On his first visit, Cass and Az gave him a hard time but, to his credit, that hasn't stopped him coming back. Rhys has honoured the job offer made in hospital, as I knew he would but Lucien was clearly not so sure. So it's a fresh start for him too.
He's becoming part of our family - our merry band of misfits and outcasts.
There is a lot of healing happening in this house. We have all been through different challenges but it isn't just Rhys on the road to recovery. One evening, Lucien takes my hand and apologies again for his behaviour. He does it in front of everyone, I guess seeking forgiveness from more than just me.
“We've all made mistakes, Lucien. But we were all just doing the best we could. I think it's time for us to forgive ourselves as well as each other.”
I catch a small, half smile from Az; I know he carries a burden of guilt over following me that time I met with Tamlin. We've not talked about it directly but I meant what I said to Lucien: it's time to accept the things we cannot change and learn to love ourselves for the mistakes that have brought us all here.
Rhys is the happiest I've ever known him. I find him staring at me whenever we are together. The shadow of a ten year long night is slipping away from him and a whisper of hope dances like starlight in his eyes.
.o0O0o.
We have all gone for a walk beside the Sidra, enjoying the late afternoon sunlight.
Arm in arm, Rhys and I make slow progress and the others have drifted further along the path ahead, almost lost to the twilight.
Rhys continues to walk with a stick but more for reassurance than stability. I can see that with time he will manage without it completely but I'm glad he accepts the help for now.
Still, the walk today has taken most of his energy and I steer us to the railing for a moment of rest.
There is barely a ripple across the glass-like surface of the Sidra. I lean further over the railing, picking out the emerging stars as they reflect in the water. Rhys' arms twist around my waist from behind, not from any fear of me falling but just because this is how we are meant to be.
I rest back against him gently and feel the soft brush of his lips on my shoulder.
“When you-” he stops and I half turn to see an apology written across his face, which makes sense a moment later. “When Tamlin took you back, you said some things to me.”
“Lies.” I have to stop him, I can't bear to hear any of my words repeated. “I'm sorry, Rhys. I'm sorry, it was all lies.”
“I know darling,” he says and I can tell there is more but he doesn't continue. A comfortable silence surrounds us.
Rhys
While I hold Feyre against my chest, where she fits perfectly and where I would keep her always if I could, a large bird swoops out of the near darkness. It lands on the railing just out of arm's reach, ruffling its feathers and turning to look at us. An Illyrian tern.
This is not the season for these birds to be passing through the city and neither of us move for fear of frightening it away.
Then Feyre says, “Are you lost?” and my heart catches in my chest. This was Cahya's child-like theory for why the number of birds visiting the city decreased year after year.
“Don't worry. You're not lost anymore. You're almost home.” The bird is listening to her avidly, it shuffles a sideways step closer to us along the railing. “Have you forgotten the way?” Feyre asks, her voice soft and soothing. A pause and then, honestly, I swear the bird nods. We both draw in simultaneous gasps of surprise.
My darling Feyre continues her conversation with the tern despite this, “Follow the river,” she urges. “Follow the stars and you'll find your way home. You'll know it when you find it - it feels like safety, like being loved. It's waiting for you, it's always been waiting.”
The tern looks the way Feyre is pointing and then swings its beak back to us. It lets out a call, a single note: hopeful and sad and grateful. It is a sound the likes of which I've never heard before and don't ever expect to hear again. Ethereal. I can't help but tighten my grip on Feyre's waist just to anchor myself in this moment.
Our new friend gives one - two - three powerful beats of its wings and is soon gliding over the river, out of sight. Tears catch in my eyelashes. It gives me courage.
“When you were leaving with Tamlin, you said that I'd asked you to marry me and that you'd said yes.”
Feyre goes still in my arms and I'm grateful that she can't see my face even at the cost of not being able to see hers.
“You never asked me,” she whispers.
“I wanted to.” I take the tiny box from my pocket and open it for her to see, resting it on the railing between her hands.
The ring inside is made from dark rhodium blended with silver and embedded with the tiniest diamonds that glitter like stars. It is the night sky captured in an infinite loop.
I can hear Feyre's breathing coming in ragged gasps.
“This was my mother's but it belongs to you now. It has for months. Just as I belong to you, Feyre. I've been to yours longer than I've known your name, since before we'd even spoken. Before I knew I loved you, I knew my soul belonged with yours. We are made from the light of the same star Feyre, being together was inevitable. You are my home, my safety, my love.”
I wait but no answer comes. I realise, belatedly, that I haven't actually asked her the question.
Pushing the box into her hands, I turn us both so that we stand facing each other with the river as our witness beside us. “I'm yours whatever you choose and so is this ring, there will never be anyone else. Will you marry me, Feyre?”
There are tears on her cheeks but just as the river seems to stand still so they do not fall. I collect them with my fingertips and trace the shape of her face while I wait.
“You're mine.” She says in a broken voice, “You're mine and I'm yours. There will never be anyone else. Yes Rhys, yes I'll marry you - in every way that matters I already have.”
I slide the ring onto her finger with hands that shake and nothing has ever looked so perfect as the sight of Feyre’s hand in that moment.
“Do the others know?” she asks shyly.
“No. Mor might have guessed how much I've been wanting to ask you but I haven't spoken to her about it.”
“Do you want to tell them,” she asks and I catch a glint of mischief in her eyes.
“Why don't we just let them work it out for themselves?” I suggest and she smiles at the shared memory, sliding an arm around my waist as we continue on our walk home.
More stars appear in the sky above us but they can wait. For tonight we have eyes only for each other.