Three months. Twenty seven days. 5 hours. That's how long it had been since you had seen your mate.

Nyx was in agony, just as you were. It had been hell being away from each other, yet being the daughter of Tamlin... complicated things. Rhysand and Tamlins utter hatred for each other had made it difficult when your father found out about the bond. It had complicated things, and since that day when your relationship started and you met your other half, Tamlin had forbidden you to see him.

Rhysand and Feyre had done their best to reunite their son with you, of course. But there were still laws and traditions. You were both only sixteen.

And now here you were. Sitting at a table with all seven High Lords and their respective ladies, fighting the pull of the bond that drew you to Nyx and drew him to you. It had only been half an hour, yet it felt like years. Hell. Agony. All appropriate words to describe this feeling.

You were sitting next to your father, of course. Tamlin had only snapped once, shooting a pointed comment in the direction of the High Lord of Autumn, Beron. Though, for once, it was well deserved.

Your mental walls stayed firmly up, eyes away from your mate. It was easier this way. And it was killing Nyx, driving a theoretical sword through his already raveged heart.

"Please, my love," He begged over the bond. The male could not stop fidgiting. Sitting still was impossible when you were so close, yet far enough away that he couldn't brush his lips over your temples and run his hands over your skin. "Look at me. Acknowledge me."

Feyre had tried to calm him down earlier, yet that only riled him up further. His mothers words had been no condolence to this. You belonged to him, yet there you were, sitting so far away, next to that bastard that you called father. He had debated many, many times if it would be better to just steal you away from the Spring Court and take you back to Velaris. Back home, where you belonged.