Velaris

Calypso's PoV:

"This is beautiful," gasped Calypso, looking up at the night sky atop the palace. Her knees shook as she turned around, not sure her mortal mind could absorb the full view. The deep blue sky was dotted with bright stars and Calypso didn't remember seeing anything quite as beautiful.

"You might want to sit down," said Rhys with a quiet chuckle.

As if his words were a command, Calypso bent her knees, setting them on the floor of the roof of the palace that Rhys had brought her to. She rolled back and sat down properly, folding her knees and then resting her chin atop them.

An odd sadness filled her then. A sort of guilt. The beauty, the vastness of the sky, she didn't quite deserve to see all of that.

"You do," said Rhys, sitting down beside her. "The Night sky belongs to everyone."

"Thank you, Rhys," said Calypso. "Thank you for bringing me here."

"I always wanted to bring you here, Cal," said Rhys. "I am just glad that I finally got to."

"I am glad you are doing better, Rhys," said Cal. "I was worried about you. I saw Feyre falling apart so many times, and I couldn't do anything, even though I tried. And, all I could think of was you. I mean, you had been my friend for more than five years, and you're literally the reason why I survived Amarantha. And, I just knew that she messed you up pretty bad."

"She did," said Rhys and he let out a shaky laughter. "But we have to rebuild, you know. We cant let that bitch win. If we fall, she wins."

"Yeah. We cant fall. No matter what."

Cal felt a horrendously empty sensation in her chest, as if nothing really mattered as long as they didn't fall.

"I would like you to meet my friends," said Rhys suddenly, his eyes lighting up.

"I would love to see your friends," said Cal. "But, aren't you keeping their locations and identities a secret?"

"Yes. Not from you. I trust you."

"What about Feyre? You literally just brought her here from Spring Court, you're going to leave her here?"

"No. I will accompany her. But I think you should see my friends. And- I don't think Feyre should see my friends now. Or Velaris."

"You don't trust her?"

"Don't get me wrong, Cal. I trust your little sister very much. Its her idiot almost-husband that I don't. You know why I don't want to show her the depths of the Night Court yet."

Cal sighed sadly as she remembered how Tamlin and Lucien had interrogated Feyre after Rhysand had returned her the first time. Feyre had been really tired but they kept pushing, as if getting details of the Night Court was more important than her own life.

And Feyre had divulged. Cal had seen the defeat in Feyre's eyes as she had given in to her illusion of Tamlin being her well-wisher and had emptied out all information about the Night Court.

"Come now," said Rhys offering her a hand. "And you might want to hold on. The ride can be a little- overwhelming for a mortal."

Cal took Rhys' hand and immediately felt darkness swirling around her in a thick whirlpool. The swirling increased and became much too fast until she felt her stomach heaving. She clamped a hand over her mouth and the moment her feet touched solid ground again, her knees buckled and she heaved onto the ground.

"You shouldn't winnow a mortal so suddenly," said a female voice and Cal looked up to see a beautiful fae woman with golden hair and full lips. "They tend to be- a bit fragile."

"Don't underestimate Cal," said Rhys, patting Cal affectionately on her head. "She is stronger than she looks."

"This is the Cal that you told us about?" asked the golden-haired woman who looked incredulously but admiringly at her. Cal noticed another woman with black short hair standing in the corner who flicked her fingers. Immediately, Cal's dress was clean along with the vomit on the floor. She stood up on shaky legs as Rhys grabbed her elbow for support.

"Guys," said Rhys in a clear but amiable voice. "This is Calypso. Cal, these are my friends. That's my cousin, Morrigan," Rhys pointed at the golden-haired woman who had greeted her first. "That's Amren," he pointed at the black-haired woman who had cleared the vomit with her magic, "and that's Cassian," Rhys pointed to a well-built muscular man with shoulder-length wavy black hair, "and that's Azriel," Rhys gestured to the other tall man with short black hair.

Azriel stood at the farthest corner, as if he had been looking for a place that was quiet. His eyes were wide at her but his body language was guarded. Shadows similar to what she had seen around Rhys danced in a clean circle around Azriel. Something about him made gooseflesh appear on Cal's hand as she held back a shudder.

"It is nice to finally meet you, Cal," said Morrigan as she hugged her. "Rhys has told me about you."

"I didn't really do anything," said Cal, shaking her head nervously. "I just- I think he did more for me than I did for him."

"How did you, a mortal, survive Amarantha while so many faeries died?"

The question had come from Azriel and Cal felt frozen in place. A tense silence filled the room as Cal tried to formulate an answer. Something about this man intimidated her to her very bones as she couldn't take her eyes off of his hazel ones.

"What Az means to say," started Amren, shooting a very dirty look at Azriel, "is that he is astonished that you survived without any special powers and that he is grateful for whatever role you played in helping Rhys. He meant to sound friendly and curious instead of pissy and asinine."

"Oh, alright," said Cal with a nervous chuckle as she saw Azriel's eyes narrow at her, as if impaling her with his sight.

"You might want to forgive Az for being like this," said Cassian, smoothly stepping in between her and Azriel. "He is the spymaster, you see. His job is to figure people out. Intimidate them if necessary. He is just trying to figure you out, Cal. Az, stop being an ass to the sweet mortal girl."

Amren choked on her goblet and spilt a little. Cal thought that the liquid looked more viscous than wine but she ignored the disturbing thoughts running through her head. Azriel growled in the corner.

"Have some shame, Cass," said Rhys, shaking his head disapprovingly. "Cal just set foot in the House of Wind, she isn't used to you being a prick yet." Rhys led Cal to a small sofa at one side of the room where she sat down. Everyone else sat down around and started talking about absolute mundane things.

"Speaking of trust," said Amren, "what exactly did you help Rhys with, Cal? He keeps saying that you oriented him back, but how?"

"I don't know," said Cal. "It was alw-"

"She called me Rhys," said Rhys, interrupting her. "Everyone there called me Rhysand. And I had stayed there for more than forty years. I hadn't even seen the sun. And I ju- I started to forget what all of you looked like. Or sounded like. Then suddenly, this mortal girl, who was fifteen at the time, had just been experimented on by Amarantha, called me 'Rhys'. And in that moment, I remembered you all. I remembered what you all sounded like. And looked like. And felt like. And I just- I felt like myself again."

Everyone looked at Cal with something akin to reverence and she felt oddly uncomfortable under that gaze.

"Lets go out to dinner," said Morrigan, "my treat. For bringing my brother back." Morrigan looked at Cal and she could swear she saw her eyes shining.

"I leave Cal to you then, Mor," said Rhys and got up. "I have some matters to tend to. Make sure she gets back before Feyre wakes up tomorrow morning, otherwise, she might get worried."

Rhys winnowed out and Mor turned to Cal, excitement lining her features.

"Do you want to go to a bar?" asked Mor, "Or somewhere quiet?"

"I am new," said Cal, "anywhere you choose."

"Good. Lets get you dressed."

Cal gasped at the dress that Mor had insisted she put on.

It was a knee-length dress that flared below her waist. From the waist up, it hugged her body closely, ending just above her breasts, showing a classy but decent amount of cleavage. The sleeves were just straps that accentuated her broad shoulders.

The dress was midnight blue in sheer lace. The inner layer was a thick layer of golden silk which showed through the sheer lace.

She kept her hair open as the thought of putting up midnight blue hairpins made her feel overdressed. She looked in the mirror and saw her dark brown hair cascading down to her chest. At least her hair had grown out decently after she had left Amarantha's court. Her eyes were lined with a thin layer of blue eyeliner and her eyelids speckled with blotches of golden glitter. Her lips, lined and filled with a shade of dusty pink, parted to show her white teeth, the canines slightly longer than the rest.

She walked out of the room to meet Mor who wore a beautiful red velvet dress, standing beside Amren who wore an emerald green mini dress that highlighted her very perfectly proportioned body.

Beside the women stood the men; Cassian wore a black shirt under a red jacket that nicely matched the red stone on his bracelet. Azriel wore a royal blue jacket over a black shirt. His jacket too matched the blue stone on his bracelet.

The restaurant was not very far but it was crowded.

Cal sat down at their booth and looked cautiously at the floor where drunk people were dancing.

"I am not drinking," said Cal politely.

"No?" asked Mor. "Whatever you want. But this faerie wine is really good." Mor took a generous sip from her goblet and Cal threw her a genuine smile.

Cal's eyes shifted to Mor's perfect shoulders, visible due to her strapless dress. They looked smooth and flawless, not a single blemish visible.

She suddenly felt so overly cautious that she looked at her own heavily scarred shoulders and felt her eyes tearing up.

No!

She couldn't do this!

Everyone was so happy and she had no right to put a damper on their moods. She flared out her hair, glad that she had kept it open, and covered her shoulders.

Amren was joking with Cassian about something and Mor chimed in.

That's when Cal noticed Amren's perfectly smooth legs.

Her own looked like destroyed pieces of garbage beside hers. Unlike her shoulders, she didn't have anything to cover her legs with.

She suddenly realised how foolish she had been when she had chosen to wear this dress. She should have just refused. She should have worn her usual pair of trousers and tunics. Now everyone could see what had happened, how perfectly ruined she was.

The air inside the restaurant suddenly turned thin and Cal couldn't breathe. She looked down at her plate of food, only half eaten as she realised that she no longer had the appetite for it. She tried looking at something else as her stomach tried to keep the food down when her eyes met hazel ones.

Azriel was looking at Cal as if he could see right through to her soul. As if she had laid bare every single detail about her and he was inspecting them minutely.

But Azriel didn't look like how he had looked when she had first seen him. His eyes were softer, gently scanning her neck and shoulders, now covered with her hair.

"I am going to dance," said Mor suddenly and Cal almost jumped out of her skin. "Anyone up?"

Amren and Cassian got up with her as the spymaster politely refused. Cal smiled softly and said that she just wanted to eat and would join them later.

Cal moved the food around in her plate, hoping that her lost appetite would somehow find her.

"You're allowed a few scars, you know," said Azriel quietly and Cal looked up in surprise. This was the first time she had heard the shadowsinger talk so kindly to her.

"So you're like Rhys too?" asked Cal, taking a sip of her soda. "You read minds?"

"No," said Azriel, his lips twitching upwards in what could be a smile. "I am trained to figure things out from just body language. And yours was blaringly obvious. Its good that the others are a little hammered, otherwise they would have noticed too."

"Why aren't you drunk?"

"I have to be somewhere tomorrow. I cannot afford to have my senses compromised."

"Makes sense."

Cal put a small piece of meat in her mouth and noticed Azriel cutting into his bread. She then noticed his right hand, innumerable angry scars extended from his fingertips to his elbow.

"What happened to your hand?" asked Cal before she could stop herself. Azriel stopped short and looked up at her sharply.

"Getting a bit curious, are we?" asked Azriel, a dangerous tone to his voice.

"Sorry, that wasn't a nice thing to ask. I just- nevermind."

They ate in awkward silence for a few minutes until Azriel said, "My brothers, or rather my half brothers, thought that it would be funny to pour lamp oil on my hand and burn it. They never really liked me, you know."

"Even with fae healers?" asked Cal. "I mean- don't faeries have advanced healing?"

"We do. Its just that- the guards weren't fast enough."

Cal blanched. A distant feeling of burning erupted throughout her body, as if invisible flames were licking every part of her. Pain echoed within her throat and she felt breathless.

"I am sorry," said Cal finally, noticing that Azriel was looking expectantly at her. "That sounds awful."

"Well, it was a long time back, so- its cool."

"Does it really get better? With time? Like do you forget what that felt like?"

Cal couldn't help the hope that had crept into her voice as she had asked this.

"No," said Azriel, his eyes turning soft as he looked at her hands, a thick layer of concealer masking deep burn marks on her forearms. She wondered for a moment if the concealer was really effective on faeries. "The pain never goes away," continued Azriel. "You just learn to live with them. And then," Azriel looked from Cal's eyes to the dance floor at Mor, Cassian and Amren, "you find people who make it all worth it."