Chapter 3
Nesta watched from a distance as the goddess took flight, her two pairs of wings casting a stark contrast against the dark of the sky and she thought about their conversation from earlier, could she truly be free? What would she even do with her freedom? Nesta shook her head slightly to wash away the thoughts, whatever the answers to her questions might be or where they may lie, they were not her problem for now, future Nesta would have those concerns to worry about.
As she turned to head back into the warmth of the House of Wind, she saw the rest of the Inner Circle waiting for her, most likely to interrogate her about what she could have possibly gleaned from her short goddess babysitting stint.
A sigh escaped her lips at the long night that would be ahead of her if they really wanted all this information that she hadn’t actually obtained from talking to the goddess - unless they wanted her romance recommendations. However, much to her joy and surprise, Azriel suggested he be the one to talk to her about this as the spymaster for the Night Court and that Feyre and Rhysand should head back down to the townhouse to see their son before he went down for the night.
Luckily, both rulers saw the sense in this, albeit for different reasons, and flew back down towards their riverside townhouse shortly followed by a disgruntled Amren carried by Cassian who could be heard complaining over the top of the beat of leathery Illyrian wings.
Azriel simply nodded towards her and she followed him into the study where the House had a cup of her favourite tea waiting on the table. A smile and thanks to the House for its provisions and it sent a small breeze in acknowledgement. Nesta took up the armchair that the goddess had just vacated, with Azriel taking the sofa across from her for the upcoming interrogation.
“So, did she tell you anything useful, like maybe where she is going?” he asked, without any hint of threat in his voice.
She replied, knowing all she says will be passed on to Rhysand, “We spoke of the Valkyries, she mentioned they are originally from Dusk and rode pegasi into battle.”
She dared not mention the glass orb that weighed heavy in her breast pocket, fearing her freedom may be snatched away yet again, from right under her nose. She couldn’t lose anymore control in her life.
If Azriel sensed her withholding part of the truth, he didn’t say, instead his eyes got the distant, glazed-over look that happens when Rhysand was asking questions in his mind. Nesta shuffled her hands around, impatient and waiting for their conversation to be over and done with so she could leave and read a book with a nice warm bath after the day's events in a snowy mountain. Azriel shot her a small smile, trying to ease some sense of comfort into the nervous female sat before him, before he rose from his seat on the sofa to exit the House to continue reporting to Rhysand and forming a plan as to what to do in the event the loose goddess got tired of wherever she was flitting about to and decided to return to the Night Court.
Finally alone, Nesta eased herself into the bath that the House prepared for her as the feeling of soft lavender crept through the room and flooded her senses, relaxing her shoulders. The air of a sigh hissed past her lips and Nesta wondered where the goddess was going, what she was fixing and who would believe her and if at some point she would truly be granted her freedom and where that might take her now that she was in full control of her life.
-=********=-
Hovering above snow dusted pine, the air crisp against flushed cheeks, Aquila wondered where she may begin, what truly should be fixed. A plan. A plan is what she needed, not some half baked ideas of how to do good in the world that may not even respect or permit her presence in it, scoffing at the idea of a high being telling them what to do.
She would never push herself or her ideals onto others as long as others respected and upheld the sanctity of morals and did not cause harm to each other. Her wings faltered for a second as a sharp spike of pain shot through her lower. Only the birds saw the grin that crept over Aquila’s face. Only the trees heard the words, “I see a location has been chosen, how considerate.”
Then she was gone, leaving the trees to wonder if she ever made a sound.
Sun-kissed trees replaced the previous snow dusted ones, the air was less crisp but no less kind to her senses. Tucking her wings in she approached a male just before her, leaning against a tree, his hair alight atop his head, the sun’s rays setting it on fire.
Aquila mustered all the control over her expressions, knowing any conversation would be a serious one considering the pain on her back that brought her to these lands. All the grace she could muster flowed through her body and out onto her tongue as she asked, “For what reason have I been called here, what errors has the High Lord made?”
The male looked up, a face of incredulity swiftly masked by a smug and arrogant facade, “Who are you and what do I owe the pleasure of a female like you gracing my presence?”
Aquila scrunched her nose at the forwardness of his approach but held her tongue, “I am Aquila. I believe I am here to overthrow a High Lord, who are you?”
This time, the incredulity stuck on his face as the male grabbed her arm, roughly but not hurting her, and ushered her further into the woods, “How can you say something so openly, do you have any idea who could be listening, you could get yourself killed.”
A tilt of her head and a small smile crept over her lips, “A High Lord has no chance against a goddess but thank you for the concern.”
“A goddess?”
“Yes, what is so surprising?” Aquila was acutely tired of the questions but understood her 15 000 year absence would have been felt throughout the island.
“So which are you, the Mother, the Maiden or the Crone?”
“None. I am Aquila, the scale of Justice. I have been away for a while and now I am here to right the wrongs I have let occur in my absence. Firstly I will remove the High Lord of Autumn and choose anew.”
The male sunk to his knees, flame red hair falling around his face as a curtain, “If you… do this. Who will be the next High Lord?”
Aquila’s eyes took on a milky white glow, absent in her own head, silver locks started to form a halo disobeying any laws of physics present at that time. After only a few seconds her eyes settled and the hair fell back, obeying laws once again. “The best candidate seems to be an Eris Vanserra. I approve of his morals and he has the power and bloodline to prove an effective High Lord capable of leading and protecting his people.”
The arrogance settled back over the male’s face as he leant against a tree, arms crossed behind his head, “Well that does sound delightful. Now how do you depose a High Lord, oh powerful goddess?”
The shadow of a frown flashed over Aquila’s face before she got her expressions truly under control, “Easily. I just have to make sure everything else is in order for a swift transfer of power, can’t have a vacuum where anything could go awry. The safety and security of the people is paramount for what I do.”
“So what do you need from me?”
“I have no idea who you are but first I might find Eris Vanserra, can you assist with that?”
The male slowly rose to his feet, dusting off flecks of dirt that did not truly seem to be present on the legs of his trousers and stuck out his hand, “You found him.”
Aquila smiled and took the hand he offered, delighting in the warmth after the frosty hours she spent in the Night Court, “Lovely to meet you and may I be the first to congratulate you on your promotion.”
Eris grimaced before responding, “Let’s not be too hasty, we have no idea if your plan will work and even if it does we have some work to do.”
Aquila shot him a smile, “I’m a goddess darling, of course it’ll work.”
-=********=-
Dinner was, as always, an awful time for Nesta, even now that she had been reformed in the eyes of all present at the table. The saving grace this time around was thoughts of her freedom and what she may do when granted it and what the repayment the goddess may ask of her for it. The latter kept her up, a barrier from being fully engrossed in her latest book gifted by Gwyn. Whatever conversation was being had at the table has swiftly passed over Nesta, who was not hearing what they were discussing. A hand on her shoulder brought her out of her thoughts as she realised Rhysand had asked her a question.
“Sorry, may you repeat the question.” Nesta asked, blinking away the only sign that she hadn’t quite been present for the conversation.
Rhysand rolled his eyes before asking, “Do you have an idea as to where Aquila went, I am looking to recruit her for the safety of Velaris.”
Nesta raised an eyebrow in his direction, “Did she not say, she was leaving to help other courts, others who need help.”
Amren interrupted the conversation, as usual, “Girl, she is a goddess who has been gone for 15 000 years. I'm sure there is something we could offer her in exchange for protection, we simply must get a hold of her to have these conversations.”
The glass orb was heavier at this insinuation but Nesta checked on her mental shields, determined that no daemati could pry this information from her mind. Instead she chose to turn the question on them, “I told all this to Azriel, I have no idea where she may be going.”
Feyre placed one tattooed hand on her mate’s and smiled kindly at Nesta, “I believe my sister, there must be another way of contacting her or finding her. Azriel’s shadows I’m sure will have little problem locating someone who sticks out so obviously.”
The shadowsinger in question nodded and promptly left the dining table to attend to those matters, Nesta realised the goddess would be found shortly and simply hoped that none of the conversation that occurred between the two females would be discovered as she did not trust that Rhysand’s anger would be misplaced again.