A Court of Silver Flames - Sarah J. Maas Page 0,120

dealing with his father and finding his missing soldiers than on this.”

Then Az went for the throat. “And Tamlin will learn.”

Rhys’s snarl set the lights guttering. “And?”

Cassian shot Azriel a warning glare, but Az said, unafraid and unbowed, “We need to be prepared for any fallout.”

“Like I give a fuck about Tamlin right now.”

That Rhys couldn’t understand what Az meant told Cassian how distraught and terrified he was.

Cassian tried to mimic Az’s calm tone. “He may react badly.”

“He sets foot over this border and he dies.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Cassian said. “But Tamlin is already hanging by a thread. You and Lucien have made it clear that he’s barely improved this past year. Learning of Feyre’s pregnancy might make him crumble again. With a new war possible and Briallyn up to her bullshit with Koschei, we need a strong ally. We need the Spring Court’s forces.”

“So we’re to hide her pregnancy from him?”

“No. But we need to summon Lucien,” Azriel said, just a shade tightly, as if he didn’t like it one bit. “We need to tell him the news, and permanently station him at the Spring Court to contain any damage and to be our eyes and ears.”

Silence. They let the words sink in for Rhys.

“The idea of coddling Tamlin makes me want to shatter that window,” Rhys said, but it was with enough of a grumble that Cassian nearly sagged in relief. At least that sharp edge of violence had been dulled. Just a fraction.

“I’ll contact Lucien,” Azriel offered.

Fear still lingered in Rhys’s eyes, so Cassian walked around the desk and hauled his High Lord to his feet. Rhys let him.

Cassian slung an arm around Rhys’s shoulders. “Let’s go get bloodied up.”

CHAPTER

31

Nesta was just settling herself at the dining table, stomach gurgling with hunger, when Cassian entered.

Limped in was more like it.

She couldn’t stop a near-silent gasp from escaping her as she took in the black eye, the split lip, the bruised jaw.

“What happened?” she demanded.

Cassian shuffle-hopped to his chair and then dropped into it. “I sparred with Rhys.”

“You look like a tenderized piece of meat.”

“You should see him.” He laughed hoarsely.

“Why did you fight like that?” If it had something to do with her nightmare—

“Rhys needed to get it out of his system.” Cassian sighed at the bowl of roast chicken and rice soup that appeared before him. “Despite that smooth exterior my brother presents to the world, he needs to let loose every now and then.”

“Your idea of letting loose and mine appear to be very different.”

He snorted, sipping a spoonful of soup. “It wasn’t for fun. Just to release some tension.”

“About what?” She knew she had no business inquiring.

But Cassian set down the spoon, his face turning grave. “The baby has wings.”

She needed to blink a few times to process that. “How can they know already?”

“Madja’s magic allows her to glean a general shape of a babe within the womb, to check that all is well. He’s large enough now for her to detect that all the limbs are in order … and that he has wings.”

Utterly incredible, the way their magic could work. To actually be able to see within the womb itself.

Nesta couldn’t stop the small voice in her mind from wondering what her own power might do, if she untethered her leash on it. And couldn’t stop the bolt of panic that answered. As if thinking about it would allow it to roam free.

Nesta made herself ask, “So Rhysand didn’t want the baby to have wings?”

Cassian kept eating. “It’s not that. It will be a joy for him, for me and Az and Feyre, too, I suppose, to teach the baby how to fly, to love the wind and sky as we do. The problem is the birth.”

“I don’t understand.”

“How many half-Illyrians have you met?”

“Only Rhys, I suppose.”

“That’s because they’re extremely uncommon. But Rhys’s mother was Illyrian herself. And Illyrian women hardly ever marry and reproduce outside their communities. Illyrian males do so far more often, or at least fuck around, but you rarely see the offspring.”

“Why?”

“Illyrian females have a pelvis shaped specifically for children with wings to pass through. High Fae females do not. And when a child has wings, they can get stuck during labor.” His face had gone pale beneath the bruises. “Most females die, the babes with them. There’s no way for magic to help, short of fracturing a female’s pelvis to widen it for the birthing. Which might kill the babe anyway.”

“Feyre is going to die?” Her

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