A Court of Lost Stars-Chapter 2: Fifteen Years of Lost Time

The unstoppable force of time marched on, war or not. It was time that Feyre and Rhysand would never get back, no matter how many tears were shed or pleas shouted through the atmosphere.

Velaris was no more than a skeleton on a hill.

Feyre didn't dare look at the others as they ventured closer, taking their time on the beach to pick up any lost treasures that time had forgotten. Bits of clothing- a toy here and there. Things the sea somehow hadn't claimed. The City of Starlight, once a formidable force, its streets filled with laughter and joy, was dead.

Children didn't run and laugh through the streets and shop owners didn't invite people in for a hot meal.

Stepping into the cities center felt more like a lucid nightmare than reality. However many storms had passed during their time under Hybern's control, most of the blood from the streets had been washed away.

Most of it.

Feyre clenched her jaw at the old splattering of blood the rainwater hadn't been able to reach.

"They're all gone..." Mor murmured as she leaned down and carefully took something from the ground, still littered with debris. It was a little toy top, the type spun on a flat surface during games.

"There aren't any remains," Cassian muttered, arms crossed over his chest, not meeting anyone's gaze.

Feyre risked a glance at Rhys, knowing too well she wouldn't keep her composure if she stared too long.

His home- their home.

His everything- their everything.

Was gone.

Feyre followed his gaze to the windswept ocean, and nausea coiled inside. The people of Velaris-thrown out to unforgiving waves. Never to return home.

All eyes turned to Rhysand. No one asked, though he answered. "We rebuild," Rhysand paused as a muscle feathered his jaw. "But first, we find our daughter," his enraged violet eyes met Feyre's, "And we bring her home."

It had been snowing the last time Azriel set foot on these lands. Now, he walked on what felt like a wet sponge while misty fog swirled about his ankles. Glancing over his shoulder, he pursed his lips firmly as the others followed. Rhys and Feyre walked with intensity, every step a claw in the right direction toward their daughter.

Their Nova.

"She'll have just turned fifteen two days ago..." Feyre spoke, her voice barely a whisper over the wind that cut through the mossy trees. "We need to," she continued in a tight voice, "Be prepared."

They all stopped just as she did, watching their High Lady. Feyre couldn't reach Rhys' eyes, though she felt a calming caress against her mind. It helped set her breath at ease so she could continue. Turning to look at them, Cassian and Mor. Azriel. Rhys. Nesta, Lucien, Elain, and Amren remained in Velaris. They'd begun cleaning the streets and beach of debris so that it wouldn't appear as a war zone when Nova returned.

If she returned.

She and Rhys mentally discussed the possibility that Nova may choose to remain here. Their daughter may have been born in Velaris, but the family in the cabin Az had taken her to was the family she'd been raised with. The family she would have grown to love. And though it brought an icy dagger to her heart, Feyre knew no matter what she chose, she would never force her hand in either direction.

"She may not want to join us," Feyre continued when she found her voice again, "And that...will have to be okay. We can give her the choice to live in Velaris or to visit, but if she tells us to leave," she swallowed the tears that threatened to fall, "Then we will."

Nova very well could have been raised in a faerie-hating family. Possibly even learned to kill them.

Mor offered a tight smile and nodded. "I suppose we won't know until we try, hm?"

With an agreed nod, they turned and followed Azriel. "Just over the hill." He said calmly, but his composed nature did nothing to stop the frantic beating of Feyre's heart as they drew nearer.

Climbing up the muddy foothill, they stood at the top, overseeing the area where the cabin would be situated. Feyre frowned and quickly looked over at Rhys, who stared blankly at the empty lot in front of them. It was filled with wild grasses and patches of moss, but not a structure in sight. Certainly not a cozy tiny home with a roaring fire in the hearth and children helping their mother make bread dough in the kitchen.

While contained by Hybern, Feyre had Azriel repeatedly describe Nova's new home. Letting herself picture her little girl happy and laughing with other children, but what she saw now...

"Where-" Mor started with furrowed brows.

"It was here," Az frowned, slowly shaking his head. "This exact spot."

Cassian swallowed harshly. "Maybe they relocated..."

"Why take the whole thing down if they simply moved territories." Mor countered, but Feyre and Rhys were already on the move. Down the slope, sliding a little from the loose ground, they arrived at the spot Nova's home should have been.

Where she should have been.

Rhys' shoulders sagged as he looked down at the ground and up at the sky.

"We'll find where they went," Feyre murmured, taking his hand as the others followed. "There's a town nearby, we'll ask." The calm in her voice did not match the dread she felt inside, but for Rhysand's sake, she pulled herself together and forced herself to be the voice of reason they both needed.

Rhys let out a slow, steady breath and nodded. "Which direction is the town?"

"North West, a little over a mile." Az was already walking in that direction, not allowing them to stew on the setback.

"This way, let's go."

The town wasn't quite asleep when they entered. While many had returned to their dwellings, the tavern was alive with activity. Stepping inside, Feyre swept her hair away from the nape of her neck and took the place in. It was a cozy setting and clean enough that she wouldn't mind getting something to drink. Feyre could really use a drink. However, she didn't waste time with that notion as she walked through the collection of circular tables. Directly to the front barkeep.

"Excuse me," Feyre said, waiting for the woman with hip-length black hair to turn around. When she did, she didn't bother introducing herself, "Do you know what happened to the cabin a mile out? Just that way?" She pointed. Feyre could feel Rhys at her elbow, but her eyes were trained on the bar maiden.

"The Timmon's place?" The woman asked as she ran a rag across the bar surface. "Oh, sweetheart. That place burned down, what, twelve years ago? Yeah, twelve years."

The blood drained from Feyre's face. It was good that Rhys stood so near as she staggered backward. It was as if her words had landed a physical blow. Her back pressed against his solid form as her knees began to give out.

Burned down, she couldn't get her mouth to form the words. Almost immediately, the woman set a glass of water in front of her, and Feyre didn't care that it had a slight orange tint. She snatched the glass and began guzzling.

"Sorry, that's not the best news to hear..."

Rhys was deadly quiet behind her- Feyre didn't dare look at him but reached out with her mind, though every thought she had was tinged red. Pain blossomed through her chest as she took shallow breaths, willing herself to stay conscious.

Dead. How could she be dead?

"The grave site is past the cabin, beyond the trees if you were wanting to...visit someone."

"Thank you," Rhys murmured, his voice strained. He pulled lightly on Feyre's elbow and led her to a table in the far corner the others had claimed, ensuring it was concealed from watchful gazes.

All their eyes were suddenly engrossed in the table markings and gouges from many years of use. The loss wasn't just her own, Feyre knew. They all loved her and wanted her to be part of their family again, but something inside of her was about to snap.

Something vicious and unforgiving.

"I need air." Feyre's voice wobbled, clutching Rhysand's hand as she finally looked at him, taking in his red-rimmed eyes.

I need you.

Without hesitation, he stood, and together, they walked out. Leaning into each other as if they both may crumple over the slightest blow of the wind. The sticky air outside did nothing to alleviate the heat behind Feyre's eyes, but at least she could let the mask drop. Her features contorted as she let out a sob. Before she could sink to her knees, Rhys had just enough emotional stamina to winnow them to a meadow between the town and the cabin's location.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face against her neck while Feyre trembled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Together, they wept.

"She would have been fifteen two days ago," Feyre said again.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

She was leaned back against Rhys while his powerful arms hugged her torso. His lips pressed lightly against her shoulder. They'd said nothing over the past hour. Not even in their minds. Their energy on their quest had been drained from one simple sentence.

Nova's home had burned down, and she'd perished with a family that wasn't supposed to be hers.

"I want to visit the site."

It was the first thing Rhys had said since they'd arrived in the field. Feyre took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. "I do, too. I just..."

"I know." He whispered and tenderly kissed the side of her neck. "We can take our time."

Another hour passed, and Feyre softly squeezed Rhys' shoulder, tenderly kissed his lips, and stood to her feet. Hand-in-hand, they walked toward the cabin's empty field and beyond where the barkeep said the graves would be situated. They met with the others on their way. Their faces showed the grief Feyre felt, but there was something different about the way Azriel looked at them.

Without hesitation, Feyre stopped and took hold of his forearm.

"Hey," her voice was soft but firm, "Don't think for one second that there was anything you could have done to prevent this. No one could have."

Azriel's jaw tightened in acknowledgment, but the guilt and pain of loss he harbored wasn't something anyone could take away from him. Looking over, a tear loosed down Feyre's cheek as Mor extended a clenched fist and a soft, sad smile that made her eyes glisten. In her grasp was an array of wildflowers. Delicate blues and purples with hints of white and pink. Feyre took them gingerly so as not to crush them. It took all her energy to move her stiff legs toward the edge of the woods.

Toward Nova's final resting place.

She fit her arm into Rhys' and walked on, jaw clenched as they approached the stones. They seemed to crawl from the earth, extending their shadows like gnarled fingers. Upon closer inspection, thick moss covered the four stones. It made the inscriptions nearly impossible to read. Feyre lowered herself to her knees and pulled the blanket of greenery from the first stone.

Braize Timmons- father. Feyre unveiled the next one with careful fingers. Anya Timmons- mother. She took a deep breath and moved to the next. Eldor Timmons- son. Feyre shivered as she uncovered the last stone. Verid Timmons- son. Leaning back on her heels, Feyre frowned at the names.

"There were already two children..." Azriel spoke, breaking the silence among them.

All eyes turned to Az as he spoke.

"There were already two children in this home," he repeated, "A stone is missing."

Rhysand sank to his knees and pressed his hand against the damp ground. He shook his head. "No magic resides in these graves. Nova isn't here."

Feyre met his violet eyes. "Then where is she?"