Burning Sun, New Moon, Fallen Stars | ONC 2020

.I.

Feyre would have missed the letter had it not magically arrived on the desk at the exact same time as she was reviewing the recent Night Court correspondence.

Ever since the 'River House' was built along the Sidra— a much appreciated and sorely needed addition to their livelihood— she and Rhysand used the townhouse in Velaris more for their business endeavors to keep their professional priorities as separate as possible from their daily livelihood. And so, while Rhys was meeting with Azriel and Cassian at the House of Wind, she remained on the ground to manage the more menial tasks involving of Court politics and relations.

Rhys was also extremely strict about her flying in her current condition despite the discussions they had had about it as of late, and she had awoken too tired that morning to argue. His attention to her certain needs— and his own— before his departure was more than convincing at that moment, so she allowed him the small victory. They parted ways— he to the House, and she to the townhouse— with promises of picking up where they left off that evening.

A small smile brushed her lips at the memory at the same moment a glimmer caught her attention from the corner of her eye.

The envelope was nondescript— plain white and neatly folded. The script on the front addressed it to the High Lord and the High Lady of the Night Court, but the handwriting wasn't familiar. Curious, Feyre picked it up to inspect it further, but almost dropped it when she examined the underside.

She ran her thumb over the seal of the Mortal Queens and she felt the bile rise in her throat which had nothing to do with her 'condition'.

The Queens had been silent since the war against Hybern, neither offering assistance nor condolences from their castle on the Continent to either side during Prythian's darkest hours. Only the cursed Queen, Vassa, had remained in contact since the war, but having been sold by her own she had no royalties to the mortal monarchy.

Feyre's hands were visibly shaking as she slid her thumbnail between the seal and the envelope, carefully prying the wax away from the paper as if afraid breaking either would unleash another curse across Prythian. The letter within, folded as neatly as the envelope that encased it, was made of the same parchment paper, with the same scrawling script.

To the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court-

Your Court is cordially invited to attend a celebration in the name of those of the Mortal and Immortal worlds to honor your victory in the wars of the past. Each Court shall have the pleasure of being accompanied by their advisers, their courtiers, their Inner Circles and their families during this time of festivities. We expect your attendance at the beginning of the next seasonal cycle to last for a fortnight. At that time, the Mortal Court will offer all you will need during your time on the Continent.

We look forward to your prompt arrival.

Sincerely,

The Mortal Queens

Feyre had to read the letter twice over before she noticed the smaller note at the bottom of the page:

The attendance of the sisters Archeron is imperative to the culmination of the celebration. We look forward to seeing the three of you together.

The letter itself almost felt as though it had a spell on it as if the Queens were tracking to see who read it, who destroyed it, and who ignored it altogether. She'd not have considered it from mortals if she hadn't seen those same queens winnow into her family's sitting room those years ago.