Lucien tried to hurt him because of her. There’s plenty to talk about.

Her eyes narrowed, leaning forward faintly. “Your parents were mated. Feyre told me— would you aspire for / their / love, Rhysand?”

“No, of course not,” she started. A delicate hand reached out to take his own, eyes soft. “But. . .it’s me who should be sorry. All this trouble, all because of your feelings for me.” A soft sigh escaped her, eyes falling. “I’m sure it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

“You have to obey him— I understand that.” Fingers entangled with his own, dark hues lifting hesitantly. She couldn’t shake her guilt, though she tried. “I’m not tied to him anymore,” she stated, as if he didn’t already know. “What does that mean. . .for us?”

She couldn’t but lean into his touch, her cheek nuzzling into his palm. She smiled at those words, bright and warm. Her heart pounded in her chest, features tilting upward to catch his gaze. “I love you,” she answered. “More than any bond.”

|| IM SOFT. 💕💕

She’s in the kitchens, humming softly as she bakes on her own. The quiet is soothing.

She’s turning to him, eyes narrowing though a bit of a grin played on her lips. “Be patient,” she ordered, finally settling the dough in a pan.

She’s turning to her sister as she kneaded her dough, her smile brightening at the sight of her. “Feyre !” She’s pausing to wave her inside.

Eyes brightened at the offer, her smile growing as she nodded. “Can you roll out the dough while I make the filling?” She’s pausing to hand her the roller.

She’s giving his hand a gentle slap with her spatula. “Hey—“ she protested, moving to set the pan in the oven. “Berry turnovers for the breakfast table. But they won’t make it if you eat them all.”

There’s a small grin. She’s come to the right place.

“No, no. Just occupying my time before I begin my work in the garden,” she sighed softly. “Berry turnovers,” she answered, a brow arching at her sister. “Wanna help?”

Why would she? Elain enjoys the company. Plus, she’s yet to get to know her. Seems like a nice opportunity.

A soft chuckle escaped the seer, offering a skeptical nod. “Uh-huh.” She turned on the oven before turning to Cassian, a brow arched. “Slow day?”