#not my fault all those **** ***** posts keep coming round at an ungodly hour of the night -_-

[illyriantremors]

Beneath the Stars Chapter 5

Chapter: I II III IV

AO3 Linkage

Summary: Rhysand shows up unexpectedly to help Feyre's family move, bringing Cassian and Azriel with him. Sparks fly between Nesta and the rest of the family as the new house isn't what any of them were expecting, but Rhys has a way of keeping Feyre from completely breaking down throughout the day. [Almost exactly the same as the “Moving Day” fic I posted over summer, though there are some small changes. Sorry for the redundancy!]

Chapter 5

I awoke to a heavy slam! of the front door downstairs. My eyes flew open at the same time my hand groped for the clock on my nightstand, one of the few remaining items I had yet to pack.

6:39am

My eyes sank shut with a silent growl as my chest deflated. Voices several decibels too high for such an ungodly hour reached me from the living room.

Where does it look like I’m going?

Nesta, my brain registered, cataloging the new shade of anger she had somehow managed to find apart from her usual storm. My eldest sister was always angry, like the Hulk in hipster form.

Half your room is still a mess, my dad shouted back. We’re moving today, if you hadn’t noticed! Elain and Feyre’s things are already on the truck.

They’re my things. What do you give a shit what I do with them?

Nesta-

Just don’t, okay? Save it.

I will not save it! You’re free to do whatever the “shit” you want with your things, as you so beautifully put it. No doubt you get the language from that stupid writing degree you have, but whatever you do with your own room, we could have used you last night with the rest of this nightmare. A pause. You aren’t the only one with “shit” to take care of you know!

His voice rose on the last few words as Nesta’s footsteps sounded on the stairs, approaching.

I’ll give a shit about your shit when you decide being a family again is worth caring about!

My heart sped up as her footsteps reached my door and paused. I prayed silently she would leave me alone at least until I’d had a chance to properly wake up. Her own bedroom door slammed and I heard general clutter being shuffled about before the distinct sound of tape was pulled for boxes.

I breathed a sigh of relief and rolled over onto my back, willing my body to wake up.

The ceiling above me was still the crisp, clean white I’d stared at all yesterday afternoon. Empty. Just like the rest of my room.

Every single item I’d ever decided was worth keeping now sat in less than a dozen boxes in a huge Uhaul moving van parked out front. I had so much useless junk to pack, but in the end, I threw most of it away. I felt guilty at the thought of taking it all with us to the new house where we’d have less space. The entire point of moving was to downsize since dad couldn’t afford the monstrosity of a house we’d grown up in anymore without mom. It felt cruel to make him take all of that extra baggage with him to the new home, even if it wasn’t his extra baggage to deal with.

So I had stuffed most of my room into those hideous black bags that never hold their weight like they claim and dumped it into the trash cans out front along with the rest of my doubts over moving.

I had no choice. This was a thing. It was happening. I could accept it with all of the consequences that came with it and move on, or stay behind and try not to drown. I was choosing the former, but somehow I still felt like I was drowning.

Dad’s shout had been loud and angry, the same as when he would fight with mom. I wondered if he had already opened the liquor cabinet.

A light knock tapped on my door. My stomach twisted into knots immediately at the anxiety of it being Nesta, but Elain’s fairy voice put me at ease.

“Feyre?” she said, the door creaking open. I sat up to find her walking toward me, a small tea cup perched in her hand with steam hissing out the top. She smiled as she handed it to me before sitting next to me on the bed. I closed my eyes as the steam kissed my lips before taking a sip.

Chamomile and honey. My favorite.

“Morning, sleepy head,” my second eldest sister said. “I thought you could use a proper wake up after…”

“After Nesta?” I said. Elain shrugged with half an eye roll. I closed my eyes knowingly and took another sip. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Elain smiled, courtesy oozing out of her like an annoyingly delightful old Hollywood film you know should bore the snot out of your 21st century movie filter, but that you can’t help be inspired by. She was staring at me apologetically and I couldn’t help but compare my two sisters.

Unlike Nesta, Elain still came around occasionally, pretended we were still a family even if she was critical of dad’s drinking, something I couldn’t really fault her for even though heaven knew I tried.

I missed when we were kids. They were both a lot older than me and had always been closer to each other than to me, but I could remember us getting along while I was still small.

Now, they felt like strangers more and more to me every day that I didn’t see them. At least Elain had come home when dad asked to help with the house. Sure she’d gotten her skirts dirty, but today she’d had enough foresight to put on some athletic wear. I tried not to notice the Burberry tags sticking off of it.

“Pop downstairs when you’re ready, mmkay?” she said. “We need to get going by 8am sharp if we want to beat moving in the heat!” She bounced up and glided to the door, her hair swishing in a perfect ponytail behind her. She had slipped out the door for half a second before her head darted back in and I saw all of her pearly whites gleam at me. “And I’ve got pancakes!”

And then she was gone again.

It was comforting to know that if Nesta was going to come round today with her usual fire, Elain would be here with her beautiful, happy calm. I needed to stop judging her so harshly when she was so pleasant with me.

I stood up, stretching in my yoga pants and tank. I didn’t bother leaving out a change of clothes or makeup since it would be ruined after a sweaty hour of traipsing up and down stairs. My lone oversized sweater, the one covered in paint stains from evenings spent painting, was all I kept out, figuring it was good for a fight. Maybe it would even bring me luck today. I shrugged it on savoring the smell of the dried paint and the way it knew my soul so well.

Glancing at the clock, I scooped up Elain’s tea and allowed myself the last lazy stare out of my bedroom window I’d refused last night. It was the last time I’d ever see this view. The sunlight filtering through the panes of glass looked stale. I probably should have been sad, but there was some relief in leaving. Maybe the prospect of a fresh beginning in a real neighborhood would make being a family more real.

But my naive morning zen was cut short when I looked out my second story window and saw not the oversized manor across the street, but Rhysand strutting up my driveway with two hulking figures behind him. Tea spat out of my mouth in a spray on the window as the cup toppled on the bed.

I bolted downstairs flying for the door, anxiety crippling my stomach as a million questions flew at once.

What the hell is he doing here! Oh my gosh, I didn’t invite him. I told him I didn’t need help! Why did you have to word vomit on him like that last night, Feyre, you idiot. Now he’s going to think you’re a complete basketcase and he’ll never talk to you again. Wait - why do you even care if he talks to you again??

I reached the door and pulled on the handle, but not before the ring of the doorbell shattered through the house.

Shit.

Rhys’s eyebrows rose as he took in my flushed appearance standing at the door. I was suddenly very aware of the fact that I wasn’t wearing a bra beneath my sweater - thank goodness it was oversized - or that I hadn’t yet brushed my teeth. The corners of his lips threatened to turn up in that infuriating smile he made a habit of flashing me, the one that always seemed permanently plastered over his beautiful face.

I quickly stepped outside, forcing Rhys and his friends to jump back in surprise before I shut the door behind me. Crossing my arms, I stared him down.

“What are you doing here?” I spat in a low voice. “And how did you get my address?”

I was going to murder Amren.

Rhys chuckled. “Is there a reason we’re whispering?” he asked. “Are you scared of your family finding us? Or do you have a house ghost? Please tell me it’s not haunted. I’m not sure I’m prepared for protective snuggling this early in the morning.”

I gaped open mouthed at him before darting forward. “Very funny,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Who knew the High Lord of the Student Body Council would be afraid of ghosts.”

“Oh it’s not me,” Rhys replied, hands up cooly in defense. “It’s Cassian.” His head flitted over his right shoulder in the direction of the most chiseled, hulking boy, man - man-boy? - I’d ever seen grace the body of a teenager. Assuming he was a teenager. He had to be if he was hanging out with Rhys, but hot damn, the idea of that monstrosity lurking around campus was almost scary. If it weren’t for the shoulder length hair I imagined was just long enough to tie up, he would have looked way too old for high school.

How had I never spotted him before? The man was a beast.

Rhys leaned in and held a hand up to my ear. I had to resist the urge to back away as he spoke. “Poor kid still can’t get through Casper the Friendly Ghost without crying.”

Cassian shoved Rhys roughly, but Rhys laughed it off uproariously right as the door opened behind me. I froze as I heard my dad’s voice. The boys straightened up at once.

“Feyre?” my dad asked tentatively, eyeing Rhysand warily and very clearly looking around for what should have been Tamlin’s blonde facade. “What’s going on? Who are these-”

“Rhysand, sir,” Rhys said, reaching around me to hold out his hand, no trace of fear whatsoever. My father took it with a look on his face as if he were being asked to hold a viper. “And these are my brothers, Cassian and Azriel.”

My eyes darted briefly to the boy on Rhys’ left, the one he’d named Azriel. He was muscled, but not nearly as much as Cassian, though not as lean as Rhysand either. Somewhere in the middle. But though he had build to him, he looked like a shadow that might float away at the slightest touch. His eyes felt hollow as he took me in and I wondered where the color had gone in them. He hadn’t said anything or so much as moved since I’d stepped out on the porch and he didn’t look as though he intended to change that anytime soon.

And his hands. They were scarred terribly. Even standing behind Rhys in the shadow of our porch, I noticed them. I shivered imagining what could have done something so gruesome. His eyes met mine, catching me staring and immediately our gaze bounced away, the wrong ends of two magnets meeting.

“Brothers?” I asked looking for a distraction. Rhys merely darted his eyebrows up once in reply.

“We heard you could use a hand - or six - moving that truck around today, sir,” Rhys said. At the offer of help, my dad’s entire demeanor changed.

“Oh that’d be great!” my dad said, joining me a step closer, his arm going around my shoulder. He looked so genuinely pleased for me. “You didn’t tell me you had friends coming to help. Good for you, kiddo! Your old man appreciates it.”

The momentary smile so rarely seen on my dad’s face felt like a gift from the gods who must have known I’d been struggling. I sensed a warmth coming from Rhys half a step away and was about to turn and give my thanks, all of my earlier hesitancy about his arrival gone, when a sharp voice snapped from behind my dad.

“That’s because Feyre doesn’t have friends, dad,” Nesta said with that razor of a tongue. Elain stood next to her, a look of worry flickering in her soft grey eyes. My own anxiety returned in full force.

Nesta was wearing a baggy pair of grey cargo pants with a tight fitting crop top that was an equally depressing shade of grey, but I suppose Nesta would have said it was trendy. It showed off her generous curves, particularly the full bust her bra failed to strap down properly, though it wasn’t without taste. Long ash blonde locks similar to my own flowed in waves on either side even as she tucked one length behind her ear to reveal a small patch of hair she’d buzzed short. Dark ruby red lipstick the color of dried blood stained her lips.

I had expected nothing less.

“And who the hell are you, dollface?” Cassian said, eyes widening while a huge grin of interest set off on his face. Nesta’s expression soured even more as she looked at Rhysand’s hellhound before her nose sort of pinched together and she ignored Cassian outright. Cassian chuckled a bit incredulous at the gesture, crossing his arms with sway - a lion preparing for a fight.

“You wanted me to help,” Nesta spat at my dad. “So why are we all standing around out here like a bunch of apes while Feyre pretends to have a life? My shit’s all packed up,” and she pointed behind her to the first of what I was sure would be many boxes to come that she’d brought down. “I’d like to move it into the truck now, unless you’ve decided this family’s actually worth saving and we’re staying?”

I closed my eyes and held my breathe, tension roiling in my gut. With my back turned on him, I was glad Rhys couldn’t see my face where I was sure embarrassment would read in the redness settling in on my cheeks. I had told him we were moving and my parents had split - but he didn’t know the circumstances of how or why and Nesta was riding dangerously close to that line.

“Oh-ho,” Cassian said and he sounded… delighted? “Allow me, dollface.”

He moved forward and Nesta couldn’t help but to stand back and let him by with that huge frame of his looming at her, but she still managed a snarl at him. She was at least a good foot shorter than him. “Don’t call me dollface, shithead,” she said and she sounded furious.

“Nesta Archeron!” my father said and already, my family was shouting at each other again.

“What would you prefer I call you?” Cassian retorted. “If I went with something more honest, I fear we’d enter into a battle of wits and I get the sense you don’t like losing very much.”

My jaw dropped at the same time Nesta’s did, right before her eyes narrowed. Cassian had grabbed two of Nesta’s boxes and was back out the door before she could say another word. I’d never seen her speechless before or called out on her bitchery right to her face. My dad had practically stopped breathing.

“Coffee,” I said to him firmly, grabbing him by the shoulders and willing him to go away. “For the boys? The boys who are so graciously helping us move for free today?”

He took a deep breathe while closing his eyes for a moment before nodding. “Coffee,” he agreed and trudged off to the kitchen I knew was mercifully on the other side of the house.

Nesta was watching Cassian in the distance with a venomous stare that could have murdered him if he wasn’t careful. When he had set the second box down, that stare turned on me.

“He doesn’t touch any more of my stuff. Not a single damn-”

“I know!” I hollered, trying not to join the frenzy of raised voices in this house. “I won’t let him touch any of your precious bloody books. Just go get your junk and move already, okay?”

Nesta scowled, but spun on her heel with a click and disappeared to the bowels of her room upstairs. Elain followed.

When I went back to the boys on my porch, Rhys had tucked his hands into his pockets while a  small, sweet smile played out on his face. “Your family’s positively delightful, Feyre,” he said as if he meant it. As if we were anything but a delight. I still didn’t understand what he was really doing here. “But you’ll have to excuse me if I do say you’re the clear standout among them by a very long mile.”

For the first time, Azriel moved, a short sigh of exasperation escaping him. It was almost imperceptible. Rhys’ eyes danced as he stared into me daring me to laugh. If Tamlin hadn’t canceled on me today, I knew he would have run in the opposite direction the second Nesta appeared at the door ready for a fight. They never got along.

And here was Rhys flirting with me over her.

But the laugh faltered on my lips and with it went Rhysand’s smile. I shook the comparison away, surprised I’d even made it. There was no Rhysand in my life so there was nothing to really compare.

“Let’s just get started, hmm?” I said. “Before I figure out what you three are really up to and I kick you all out on your sorry asses.”

“Oh I like her already, Rhys,” Cassian said walking back to us.

Rhys’ smile returned and he laid a hand out before me to gesture us inside, far too much bravado dripping from his voice. “After you, milady.”

A knight in shining armor after all.

“So what’s the deal with your sister?”

I groaned internally, wishing Cassian hadn’t just asked me that question.

I spent the good part of an hour trying to keep everyone apart while we loaded the last remnants of my old life onto that truck. It wasn’t easy, but somehow I’d managed. Thankfully, it hadn’t taken long.

Nesta dragged behind the longest of all, but by that point I was already sitting in the front seat of Rhys’ car while Cassian and Azriel popped in the back and we shot off.

My stomach growled loudly as Rhys put the car in gear. Whether he heard it or not, he didn’t say, but he did reach into the back seat and pull out the distinctly pink cardboard box that could only house one thing: donuts.

“Thank you,” I said, reaching in for a sugar twist, my absolute favorite. He watched me lick the excess sugar from my fingers with a bit of a haze on his face that I had to remind him he was meant to be driving. He smirked before his head faced forward and concentration became his mask.

I couldn’t help but to study him. That smirk had saved me more than once already this morning. Between Nesta and Cassian nearly crossing paths at every second, my dad rubbing a frustrated hand over his neck when one of mom’s vases dropped, Elain twirling around pretending to be useful when really she was just pretty, Rhys anchored me back to earth with the promise of better on his lips every time.

And now I was sitting in a car with less than a foot separating us while Cassian shoved a devil’s food in his mouth and inquired about my sister. “Like, is she single?” he asked between bites. I snorted.

“Nesta is nearly ten years older than you,” I said leaning around the front seat to look at him. “Ten.”

Cassian shrugged. “I like an older woman.” I scowled and leaned away as he finished chewing, the chocolate glaze smacking against his lips. “Seriously, what’s her deal?”

Rhys kept his eyes on the road like I’d asked, but I could feel his attention on me. I sighed.

“Nesta is, like I said, ten years older than me, which makes her way too old for you, Cassian, so don’t get any ideas. I don’t care what you think you want in a woman. She goes to school in LA where she’s studying Comparative Literature with concentrations in Russian lit and Slavic Languages.”

A tisk from the back seat interrupted me. Azriel. When I looked at Rhys, amusement was flickering on his face before he risked a quick glance at me and cut it short.

Okay…

“She and Elain were only a year apart. I didn’t come along until much later and by that point, I was just a nuisance and a distraction for my parents from giving them the attention they were used to. My parents split over summer and that seems to have been the final nail in the coffin. She’s had a stick up her ass ever since.

“So you see,” I said, leaning back around the seat to look at Cassian again, “you don’t want to bother yourself with her. Nesta is Nesta and nothing and no one has ever - or will ever - change that, including you. I don’t care if your bulky jock brain says otherwise.”

Cassian chuckled. “I’ll try to take that as a compliment.” If he wasn’t a jock, he didn’t care to deny it. He tipped his head back against the leather headrest of the seat seemingly amused and asked, “So where’s the Tool? Isn’t he supposed to be here today?”

I mouthed the word Tool before I realized who Cassian was referring to. My eyes went wide with shock. “Cassian,” Rhys hissed, glaring at him in the rear view mirror.

“You said you guys were brothers?” I shot at Rhys, wondering where in the hell Cassian had come from with his one-thousand interrogation questions and if Azriel would ever say anything to me at all.

“Not by blood, but as good as,” Rhys explained, his voice tight at the sudden mood swings of conversation. “Where are we going exactly?” I gave him clarifying directions and when we’d situated ourselves on a long stretch of the route that would take us nearly to the house, he continued. “I’ve known these pricks since I was a kid. Cass and I met in little league-”

“You were in little league?” I choked. Rhys waved me off proudly with his hand.

“Yes I was,” he said. “And I had baseball’s finest ass while I played, worthy of the big leagues.”

“That has got to be the vainest comment I have ever heard for a - what? Nine-year-old to be so self-aware of their own rear.”

Rhys leaned his head toward me and was completely serious as he said, “You would have drooled over my nine-year-old rear, Feyre.”

I narrowed my glare, aware of the twitch at my lips threatening to break free and tried not to imagine how his now 18-year-old rear might compare. His gaze danced all over my face and I sensed the cocky prick knew what I was thinking. “Eyes,” I warned and he promptly returned to driving, but not without a very smug look on his face.

“Azriel didn’t come along until middle school. He moved in across the street from me and well…” Silence dragged for a moment before I heard Azriel shift in his seat and that was the end of that conversation. I didn’t ask questions. “We’ve been thick as thieves ever since.”

Things were quiet again in the car and I was grateful just to sink into the drive even if I could feel Rhys’ thoughts on me the entire trip, sticking to my skin like glue. But every time I looked at him, the way his hands would tighten on the steering wheel like he wanted to hide them somewhere or how he’d lick his lips with the briefest of exhales as if he’d had trouble breathing, I realized he was nervous.

Rhysand, the confident boy who led student council meetings at school with the principal and administration heads, who walked up to my father and extended his hand the way he would meet the President of the United States and had prepared for it his entire life, was nervous sitting next to me.

“So about the Tool,” Cassian said out of nowhere. I whipped around, feeling suddenly very defensive despite my boyfriend’s failure to appear this morning outside my front door, much like… well much like Rhys had.

“Tamlin is not a tool!” I shouted.

“And yet, you knew exactly to whom I was referring.” Cassian’s arrogance mocked me with every word and I felt as if I could reach back and slap him, muscles and all.

“Cassian!” Rhys barked, nearly slamming on the breaks. I thought he might pull the car over, but he didn’t. “That’s enough.” And somehow, it really was. Cassian didn’t press the issue after that, understanding his captain’s orders, but he still couldn’t get his mind off my sister.

“Do you really think she wouldn’t go out with me?” he asked. I concentrated very hard on not rolling my eyes at him.

“No!” I protested.

“I bet she would. I bet by the end of the day, I can get her phone number.”

“Twenty bucks,” said a deep, velvet voice I wasn’t expecting, so much so that I jumped in my seat and embarrassingly looked at Azriel as if he were the ghost haunting my old house.

Cassian reached his arm out immediately and shook Az’s hand. “Deal.”

I was about to butt in to say they would do no such thing, that he was asking for it and it would be his funeral, but the car slowed to a halt as Rhys put it in park and I realized we’d arrived. At my new home.

A weight sank into my gut, my attention pulled back to the view of my dad jumping out of the truck already in the driveway, my sisters staring forlornly at the much smaller dwelling than they were used to. It wasn’t even a modern track home - a real horror for the pair of ‘em. I could see the ivy curling around the brickwork of the front facade. It had character, could even be considered charming if you didn’t mind that it was an older home, which I certainly didn’t.

Cassian and Azriel got out straight away to start unloading, but I was glued to my seat, my hands braced on the leather of the armrest.

“It’s okay, you know,” Rhys said, his voice quiet. I felt his fingers brush against my hand, not trying to pry, only to reassure. I wondered foolishly what it might feel like if he took it. I couldn’t remember the last time Tamlin and I had simply held hands and I missed it.

Why wasn’t he here?

“They hate it,” I said.

“Your sisters?”

I nodded, staring hard out the window at my broken family. And then it was all flooding out of me and I couldn’t stop it if I had wanted to. “They hate the move so much, the idea that we might be poor by horrifically shallow standards that they’re going to make my dad’s life a living hell because of it. Never mind that he already co-signed on their student loans and sends them money for the deposit on their apartment leases. Never mind that mom’s the one who left and took the bulk of the family’s income with her.”

“Elain’s in school too?”

“She’s in a PhD program like Nesta. Botany. You wouldn’t think it looking at all that polished lip gloss and mascara, but my sister’s quite the brainiac. They both are.” I sighed, blowing hot air through my lips as my gaze fell into a mess at my lap. “And college degrees are expensive.”

“Hey,” Rhys said, his fingers finding my chin and tilting my face until I was forced to look at him. “You want to get out of here? Just say the word, and we’re gone.”

And I could tell he meant it. All I would have to do was nod and he’d turn the keys and take off. His eyes pierced me with the intensity of his words. I was starting to wonder if I’d ever escape the violet depths of them.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just stared at him, contemplating when the last time was anyone had asked what I wanted.

Voices shouted outside the car and my eyelids slammed shut. Rhys’ fingers dropped from my chin. “I have to go,” I said and bolted from the car before he could stop me.

“What do you mean there are only three bedrooms?” Nesta was hollering at my dad. I prayed the new neighbors weren’t around to hear it.

“Nesta, please,” my dad begged, begged at my sister, his voice suddenly low and raw, as if he were bleeding in front of her. “It’s all I could afford,” he whispered. Cassian and Azriel were already unloading the truck, pretending like they couldn’t hear but I knew they could. I wanted to rip my skin apart until the muscle underneath was exposed and then I would rip that apart too until I was bone and blood and dust. I’d never felt so mortified - and by my own family.

Our miseries were private, hidden away for no one to see. What would they say if they knew the reality?

My dad spotted me and his face crumpled, trying to look optimistic and failing miserably.

“Feyre!” he said before coming closer. “There’s only two rooms, but-”

“It’s okay,” I said, feeling my throat clench up. “Elain and I can share, it’s fine. I don’t mind.” Over my dad’s shoulder, I heard Elain yelp in surprise.

“That’s very considerate of you, Feyre, but there is another option if you want it. The attic…”

I took a deep breathe. Of course. Because Heaven forbid Nesta or Elain draw the short stick for once. Silently, I nodded my acceptance. My dad kissed my forehead with a whispered, “Thank you,” and went to help the boys on the truck. I turned around and smacked straight into Rhys’ chest. I hadn’t realized he was standing so close.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, just like he’d asked on the phone last night.

How can I help?

His arms found my shoulders, steadying me with his grip. And suddenly, I realized the gravity of the moment. The wrongness of it without Tamlin. He should have been the one standing there keeping me grounded while my family fell apart. Not this guy I barely knew, but who seemed willing to let the rest of the world burn if it meant he could make sure I was okay.

“Just help us unload, please,” I said, hating the way the words sounded on my tongue. I strode away as quickly as I could before the tears could start falling, grabbed a box at random, and rushed inside. I was lucky enough to grab one with my name on it, so I made straight for the attic.

Rhys appeared in the doorway a heartbeat behind me, setting a box of his own down. Thank goodness there was a stairway and not some rickety old drop down ladder I’d have to climb. He put his hands in his pockets and stared thoughtfully at me, giving me space to decide where this went from here.

“At least there’s a window,” I said, pointing above where a sizeable skylight was carved into the ceiling.

“Perfect for stargazing while you fall asleep,” Rhys said and brought himself to lay down directly underneath the opening. He put one arm behind his head for it to rest against and stared into crisp, blue sky above. He didn’t mention what had just happened and I was grateful. I found myself slipping down to lay next to him.

“Cassian realizes what he’s doing, right?” I asked. “About Nesta, I mean.”

Rhys chuckled. “Don’t worry,” he replied. “Cassian’s a shameless flirt with everyone.”

“Yeah, well, Nesta doesn’t do shameless flirting. She’ll eat him alive.”

“And you?”

“Pft!” I scoffed. “Trust me, I have no desire to eat anything out of Cassian.”

The snort that rippled out of Rhys was infectious, his entire body radiated with it. “I meant about the flirting,” he clarified and I could feel his head roll towards me. I found those near-violet eyes staring endlessly at me again and before I knew what I was doing, my eyes were looking him up and down, drinking the sight of him in. I pinched a spot on his stomach through his shirt and was met with hard muscle.

“Mmm, skinny,” I evaluated. “But I think I could find something to munch on.”

There was a certain daring to my tone that I wasn’t familiar with. The corners of Rhysand’s lips pulled up in surprise and my face flushed. Had he not expected me to answer?

And then it hit me all over again, the wrongness of the moment. Not even a full minute and I’d already forgotten how I’d felt smacking into him outside wishing it was someone else. What the hell was I doing?

And why did it feel like the only right thing going on in my life?

I sat bolt upright removing my hand quickly from his stomach and blurted, “I have a boyfriend,” cringing on the awkwardness of revealing a truth he was already well aware of.

“So?” he asked simply.

“So? So? So… this can’t be a thing.”

Rhys sat up beside me. “This? Feyre, what exactly do you think I’m doing here?”

“I don’t know, I just…” My shoulders fell and I collapsed inward on myself, finding it hard to think. “You show up here to help me move as if you’d known my family all your life making it very plain you’re aware of the fact that Tamlin’s not here when he should be-”

“In my defense, that was Cassian who pointed that out.”

“Still. And Cassian’s not the only one who can be a shameless flirt. You’re pretty good at it too.” I nudged him with my shoulder and he raised his brows in conceit. “So why come?”

He hesitated for half a second before plunging in. “Because when I saw you at Lucien’s party, you looked sad. More than sad, even. And when I told you about the dance, there was a spark in your eyes that I wanted to see again. But then I called you on the wrong day at the wrong time and you said Tamlin was ditching you when you needed him most even though you tried to make it sound like that’s not what he’s doing, but we both knew it was a lie. And I just didn’t want you to be alone today.”

He shrugged, as if he hadn’t just dropped a grenade onto my lap and pulled the pin.

“Is that so terrible?”

And when I thought about it, I realized it wasn’t. It was actually… kind of nice.

“So then… you’re not trying to put the moves on me?”

“I never said I wouldn’t like to, Feyre, darling,” he teased, but it was nothing more than that. Teasing. “But no, I’m not here to put ‘the moves’ on you. I just thought you could use an ally. It didn’t seem you had one.”

“Is it that obvious?” I said, my voice terribly low.

He nudged me back taking care to ensure the contact was broken completely when the motion had finished. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling alone sometimes, Feyre. The trick is learning how to understand when you’re not and making those moments last. And I do apologize - sincerely - if I’ve, ahem, overstepped.”

When I looked up, his eyes were watching me again full of that same soft expression that had gotten me through the morning thus far. An ally. I could get used to that, I thought. Slowly, with deliberate intention, I nodded and Rhys seemed to understand. And then he jumped up with the grace of a cat and pulled me to my feet.

“So where do we start with this place?” he asked.

“Just bring the boxes up for now. I want to paint it first before I do anything else.”

“You paint?”

“As if you didn’t know.” He snickered.

“What are you going to paint it?”

I shrugged, looking around and taking in the bare wooden walls that slanted at the sides to form my new home. The word still felt foreign in my mind in conjunction with this place, never mind saying it out loud. Maybe the paint would help. I’d never touched my old room with my liquid weapons. Not once.

But it was different here. I could feel it. This was my own little hovel - it deserved to be noticed.

“I don’t know. You got any ideas, Mr. Fine Ass?”

Rhys smirked, leaning against the door frame. “The night sky,” he said instantly. “That way you don’t have to wait to fall asleep to watch the stars shine for you and wish upon them.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. Not at all.

When we stumbled back outside to collect more of my boxes, I found my eldest sister shouting - again. But after talking to Rhys, I didn’t feel quite so upset this time. And I was almost intrigued to watch Cassian stand there on the receiving end of Nesta’s wrath, wondering if he could actually pass the test.

A pile of books - Nesta’s books, her pride and joy above all else - sat in a heap on the grass. Cassian held a box that was far too flimsy to hold the weight of the books and had promptly split in two, dumping them on the ground. Nesta looked furious as she bent down to gather her children.

“You bastard!” she shouted, looking up at Cassian as her hands found a Russian language copy of War and Peace with a fresh tear down the front cover. Cassian looked smug, as if he’d been the one to tear the book and was proud of it.

“It’s not my fault you don’t take care of your things,” he said apathetically.

“Like you’d understand,” Nesta spat. “You wouldn’t understand finer things - art, literature,” and she shook the book at him, getting up from the ground, “if it jumped up and bit you on that hideous crooked nose of yours. This is culture!” Her tone shifted, grown suddenly solemn, the bite gone. “And you just dumped it in the grass like manure. Do you even realize…”

She stared down at her stack of books that she had poured the last ten years of her life into at school, genuinely hurt by what had happened, her own stupid fault for packing in a rush last minute. But it was so much emotion for such scraps at her feet - all she had left to tear her away from a life at home that disappointed her.

Who were Nesta’s friends? Did she have them or did she burn too passionately that the only ones who could take her in and understand were the ones at her feet without a voice to argue back against the fire devouring her?

And then, Cassian spoke, his voice taking on a soothing caress that was soft and caring, as if he did in fact realize what Nesta was saying. As if - he understood.

But that wasn’t what shocked me most. No, what shocked me was the fact that he was speaking to her in perfect, fluent Russian.

Nesta’s head snapped up as Cassian spoke, drawing herself level with him. Hesitantly, enough that I could tell she was tripping over her words despite the fact that I knew she spoke Russian just as well as Cassian apparently could, she replied. A brief exchange ensued and it was the calmest I had seen Nesta, maybe ever.

I looked at Rhys and saw a silent, knowing exchange pass between him and Azriel. So that was what the scoff in the car had been about. Heavens, I wanted to laugh.

Nesta snickered. Cassian repeated whatever he’d said.

Her eyes narrowed. His invited.

She muttered the lone Russian word I knew amid a handful - Yes - and stormed off into the house, a stack of books piled high in her arms.

Cassian went straight to Azriel, his hand outstretched. “You owe me twenty bucks, son.”

“No!” I gasped.

“Oh yeah,” Cassian whooped.

“You got her number?” Azriel asked.

“Better than that. I got a date.”

“No…” I breathed, my mind refusing to accept what he was saying. Rhys was laughing his ass off. “What did you say to her?”

“I didn’t have to say anything.” Cassian stretched his arms wide like a peacock ready to show off. “She’s warm for my form, what can I say? The accent probably helped too.”

“You’re disgusting,” I said, but my tone was more amused.

“Cassian’s dad was Russian ops,” Rhys explained next to me. “He’s been to Russia more times that he can count.”

Explained the muscles, I thought.

“So cough up,” Cassian said, again reaching his hand out to Azriel, who simply shook his head.

“You got a date,” Azriel said. “But the bet was that you’d get her number.”

“Oh come on!”

It was Azriel’s turn to hold out his hand. “Twenty big ones, if you please.”

Cassian dug his wallet out and handed over the cash. “Fucking Azriel,” he said under his breathe as he passed me and returned to the moving truck.

“Technically the bet was good until the end of the day,” I said, addressing Azriel directly for the first time. “Are you going to remind him?”

Azriel looked at me and then slowly, one delicate muscle at a time arched his lips into a faint smile. “Not a chance.”

“Come on, Feyre, darling,” Rhys said clapping Az on the shoulder. “Let’s go unpack ourselves a house.”

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