“She shape-shifts. She transforms her entire self into the form she takes. When she grants herself wings, she essentially alters her body at its most intrinsic level. So she was fully Illyrian that night.”
“She doesn’t have the wings now.”
“No, she shifted back before we knew.”
“So let her change back into an Illyrian to bear the babe.”
Rhys’s face was stark. “Madja has put a ban on any more shape-shifting. She says that to alter Feyre’s body in any way right now could put the baby at risk. On the chance that it could be bad for the baby, Feyre is forbidden to so much as change the color of her hair until after the birth.”
Cassian raked a hand through his hair. “I see. But, Rhys—it’ll be all right. It’s not that bad.”
Rhys snarled. “It is bad. For so many gods-damned reasons, it is fucking bad.”
Rhys was as close to being beside himself as Cassian had seen him since he’d returned from Amarantha’s court. “Breathe,” Cassian said calmly.
Rhys’s eyes simmered; the stars within them winked out. “Fuck you.”
“Take a breath, Rhysand.” Cassian gestured to the window behind him, the lawn sloping down to the river. “You want to go fight it out, I’ve got energy to burn.”
The study doors opened, and Azriel walked in. From the grim expression etched on his face, he already knew.
Azriel claimed the seat beside Cassian. “Tell us what you need, Rhys.”
“Nothing. I need to not fall apart so my mate doesn’t pick up a whiff of this when she comes home for lunch.” Rhys narrowed his eyes, and power rumbled in the room. “No one says a word about this to Feyre. No one.”
“Didn’t Madja warn her?” Azriel asked.
“Not strongly. She only mentioned an elevated risk during labor.” Rhys let out a harsh laugh. “An elevated risk.”
Cassian’s stomach twisted.
Azriel said, “I know this is bad timing, but there is another thing to consider, Rhys.”
Rhys lifted his head again.
Azriel’s face was like stone. “Feyre won’t show for another few weeks, but someone will notice soon enough. People will learn of her pregnancy.”
“I know.”
“Eris will learn.”
“He’s our ally. I suspect he’ll be focused more on 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.