After dinner, Nala excused herself long before the others with the excuse of having a slight headache from the countless meetings that day. The Summer Court wished her better while Rhys only gave her a discreet nod.

Once in her room, Nala changed out of her promiscuous clothes and put on a pair of leather pants with a tight leather top. Both articles of clothing were in black and would help her get through the night undetected. She pulled on a pair of high platform boots and fasten her cloak over her shoulders. She quickly pulled her hair into a braid and pulled it into a tight bun at the back of her head. The last thing she did was fasten her weapons on her, Cleaver on her left thigh, another dagger on her right thigh, and two long Illyrian swords on her back.

Once ready she looked around her room one more time, making sure that she had everything before stepping into the shadows and blending in with them. She felt cold all over as she gave herself to the shadow realm. Her vision, the first few seconds, was blurry but after blinking a few times it cleared up but stayed dark as she moved her way through the castle's shadows.

The temple was easy to find, the magic around almost gave Nala a headache, but she pushed through the barrier, hidden from the magic in her shadows. The temple was like Tarquin had said, a ruin and full of mud, but why would they have such strong magic around a ruin if it wasn't hiding something.

Her shadows sang of a hidden room, and it didn't take Nala many seconds to locate the hidden ledge. And even fewer to get under it. First, when she was in the hallway under the ruin did, she step out of the shadows.

*******

Rhys and Amren waited until the household lights dimmed before coming into Feyre's room.

She's been sitting in bed, counting down the minutes, forming her plan. Unaware that her sister was already inside the temple. None of the guest rooms looked out on the causeway – as if they wanted no one to notice it.

Rhys arrived first, leaning against the closed door. "What a fast learner you are. It takes most Deamati years to master that sort of infiltration."

Feyre's nails bit into her palms. "You knew – that I did it?" Speaking the words aloud felt too much, too... real.

A shallow nod. "And what expert work you did, using the essence of him to trick his shields, to get past them... Clever lady."

"He'll never forgive me," she breathed.

"He'll never know." Rhys angled his head, silky dark hair sliding over his brow. "You get used to it. The sense that you're crossing a boundary, that you're violating them. For what it's worth, I didn't particularly enjoy convincing Varian and Cresseida to find other matters more interesting."

Feyre dropped her gaze to the pale marble floor.

"If you hadn't taken care of Tarquin," he went on," the odds are we'd be knee-deep in blood by now, your sister would have taken anyone out in seconds and caused us even more troubles."

"It was my fault anyway – I was the one who asked about the temple. I was only cleaning up my own mess." She shook her head. "It doesn't feel right."

"It never does. Or it shouldn't. Far too many Deamati lose that sense. But here – tonight... the benefits outweigh the costs."

"Is that also what you told yourself when you went into my mind? What was the benefit then?"

Rhys pushed off the door, crossing to where Feyre sat on the bed. "There are parts of your mind I left undisturbed, things that belong solely to you, and always will. And as for the rest..." His jaw clenched. "You scared the shit out of me for a long while, Feyre. Checking in that way... I couldn't very well stroll into the Spring Court and ask how you were doing, could I?" Light footsteps sounded in the hall, but only one pair – Amren or Nala? Feyre thought, and why only one of them? Rhys held her gaze though as he said, "I'll explain the rest some other time."

The door opened. "It seems like a stupid place to hide a book," Amren said, in place of a greeting as she entered, plopping onto the bed. "But Nala found it, she is there soon. She will give the final confirmation that the book is actually there before we do something stupid."

"And the last place one would look," Rhys said, prowling away from Feyre to take a seat on the vanity stool before the window. "They could spell it easily enough against wet and decay. A place only visible for brief moments throughout the day – when the land around it is exposed for all to see? You could not ask for a better place. We have the eyes of thousands watching us."

"Okay, so how are we three going to get in? We can't disappear in the shadows as Nala can." Feyre said.

"It's likely warded against winnowing," Rhys said, bracing his forearms on his thighs. "I won't risk tripping any alarms by trying. So, we go in at night, the old-fashioned way. I carry you both, then keep watch and Nala will meet you there," he added when Feyre lifted her brows.

"Such gallantry," Amren said, "to do the easy part, then leave us helpless females to dig through mud and seaweed."

"Someone needs to be circling high enough to see anyone approaching – or sounding the alarm. And masking you from sight."

Feyre frowned. "The locks respond to his touch; let's hope they respond to mine, or that Nala can get through using the shadows."

Amren said, "When do we move?"

"Tomorrow night," Feyre concluded." We note the guard's rotations tonight at low tide – figure out where the watchers are. Who we might need to take out before we make our move."

"You think like an Illyrian," Rhys murmured. Feyre wasn't about to tell him that it was Nala's plan.

"I believe that's supposed to be a compliment," Amren confided.

Rhys snorted, and shadows gathered around him as he loosened his grip on his power. "Nuala and Cerridwen are already on the move inside the castle. I'll wake to the skies with Nala," Nala stepped out of the shadows that had gather around the High Lord of night, her amber eyes glowing with mischief. "The two of you should go for a midnight walk – considering how hot it is." Then the two were gone with a rustle of winds and a warm, fark breeze.

Amren's lips were bloodred in the moonlight. Feyre knew who would have the task of taking out any spying eyes – and wind up with a meal. Her mouth dried out a bit. "Care for a stroll?"