The High Lord of Night paced back and forth in mid-sized Velarian townhouse. Anxiety rolled off of him and filled the sitting room. He was well on his way to wearing a hole through the floor, and the dwindling members of his court sat on the edges of their seats, waiting for him to speak.

Tears still marking her face, Mor said, "We'll get her back, Rhys. We always do."

He stopped pacing as she spoke and grabbed onto the mantelpiece with both hands as if it were the only thing stopping him from tearing the townhouse apart.

"You don't understand. When she was with Tamlin, I could still feel her. I could still hear her voice in my head through the bond. Now," he paused, "now there's nothing."

Amren spoke up from where she was perched on the sofa, "That's impossible. There's no magic, in any realm, that can break or halt a mating bond."

There was a touch of hysteria in his voice when he answered, "Trust me. There's definitely something blocking it."

Slamming the glass in her hand down onto the short table, Amren said, "Well, Rhysand, you're going to have do some pulling on that bond or something because you're the only person who can find her. This is all on you."

"Don't you dare blame him, Amren. This is your fault," Cassian threatened from the other side of the room.

"And how exactly is this my fault, you stupid bat?" she fired back harshly.

"You should have stopped her from going to the Spring Court. You know how dangerous it is."

"First of all, my High Lady gave me an order, which I cannot refuse. Secondly, my best guess is that she went to find a Suriel for some answers, which is more than any of us have been able to do since Azriel disappeared. After what she did for them, I don't think they would hurt her."

"Then what do you think happened to her, all-knowing Amren?" Cassian hissed.

"I think that she got the information she needed from the Suriel, but when she was getting ready to leave, she either heard the screaming or smelt the smoke of the Spring village that was burnt to the ground. Some of the villagers reported seeing her and the armada that caused the damage. The ships had owl banners, not of any kingdom I know of. I think she went to warn Lucien, and I think she stayed there to help him instead of returning.

"She's far more powerful than he ever will be. She must have reinforced the wards around the Estate, that's the only reason I can think of that Rhysand would not be able to enter them. She doesn't have any experience with them and while casting them, her only wish was to keep everything out, which it's done so far," Amren spat.

"Have we heard anything from Lucien?" Rhys interjected quietly, still clutching the mantel.

"We haven't heard anything from anyone within the Estate," Cassian murmured.

"And what about the mirror, Mor?"

"Nothing. I'll keep trying though. Maybe someone on the other side will know what's going on," Mor replied, voice hoarse and full of guilt.

Rhys didn't move for a few minutes, and the rest of the court held a collective breath, waiting for what he'd do next. Finally, he turned around to face them, heartbreak in his eyes.

"I'm going to try to follow the bond, but I need to be alone to do it, to break through the barrier if I have to. Could you guys just...?"

Amren hopped to her feet, "Leave? Yes, I have more important things to do than sit here and wallow. I'll be back later if you have need of me."

Cassian gripped Rhys' forearm before following Amren out of the sitting room and then the townhouse.

Mor met Rhy's eyes before saying, "I don't know what you want me to do. I live here, you know."

"I'm going upstairs," he said and retreated to the doorway.

Before he disappeared from view, Mor whispered just loud enough for him to hear, "We'll get her back."

Mor laid back on the sofa, staring into the little silver hand mirror, wishing she knew how to use it. She started with the words she had spoken on Starfall and when those didn't work, she started to say random ones.

"One, two, nothing to do,

Three, four, my name is Mor,

Five, six, Tamlin's a prick,

Seven, eight, is this my Fate?

Nine, ten, Feyre's gone again."

"Ugh. Why won't you work?" Mor grumbled, wishing she could smash the stupid cracked surface against the floor. "How am I supposed to save her when you won't do anything? Help me out here!"

Mor threw the broken mirror down on the sofa beside her and almost jumped up when it spoke back to her.

"Help you with what?" a lilting female voice asked. Mor slowly turned the mirror over, and a blonde that looked eerily similar to her own reflection stared back.

Rubbing a finger against the engraved name on the hilt, Mor shook her head at the female's question.

"What is the word inscribed on the handle of your mirror?" Mor asked.

"My name is Aelin. It's nice to meet you too. Yes, I do think it's weird that we are communicating through a mirror. Thank you for asking," the female replied. "But to answer your question, it says 'gwaredor' though I'm not sure what language it is."

Mor let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, "My name is Morrigan. The name on the mirror hilt is important because it's how you call on its mate. Thank you for asking."

"Well, what is the name on your hilt, Morrigan? I should be able to call on my newest friend when I need to as well," Aelin asked.

"Ddistryor."

The female frowned and squinted at her, "You're not definitely not Feyre."

"Of course I'm not Feyre. I just told you my name is Morrigan."

"Well, I could have told you my name is Celaena, and it would not be a lie. Could I speak to Feyre?"

"She's not really available at the moment," Mor answered, all anger gone and replaced by guilt.

There was a pause and then Aelin said something that made Mor's heart stop.

"Azriel is here. Would you like to speak to him?"

She couldn't bring herself to speak, so she only nodded. It felt like a lifetime as she watched the rooms and views change in the mirror until finally she heard a knock and a grunt, followed by the labored squeal of a door opening. And then Azriel's face filled the mirror before her. She touched the broken shards gently.

"Mor," Azriel sighed.

"Az," she managed.

"What's going on? You've been crying," Azriel asked, concern washing over him.

Mor looked away.

"Come on, Mor. You know you can't lie to me," Azriel urged.

"Feyre's missing. And Rhys can't feel her through the bond. And you're not here. And there's a foreign armada and soldiers burning down villages and oh, Az, I miss you so much," Mor gasped out.

The same female's voice rang out in the background, "What do you mean 'can't feel her through the bond?'"

"Amren said there wasn't magic in any realm that could break or block a mating bond, so I don't know," Mor answered, slightly annoyed at the female for interrupting.

Azriel's face abruptly disappeared and was replaced with Aelin's, her face twisted into a worried frown.

"Do you know what sigil was on the armada's sails? What color the soldiers were wearing?" Aelin asked in a hard voice.

"I don't know about the colors. But Amren said it was an owl, a kingdom she hadn't seen before," Mor answered.

In a deadly whisper, Aelin replied, "Amren doesn't know everything, even if she's as old as I've heard. There is magic strong enough to block a mating bond. I know firsthand, and her name is Maeve."

"And you think this Maeve person is here, in Prythian?" Mor asked cautiously.

"No. I know she's in Prythian. She's behind the attacks; her sigil is an owl. And I'd bet my entire kingdom that she has Feyre locked away somewhere too."

"But why would she want Feyre? How do we get her back?" Mor whispered.

"I don't know, but it took everything I had the last time I faced her. I died fighting her, and apparently all I did was push her into a goddamned portal," Aelin growled, thrusting the mirror back into Azriel's hand.

Mor heard the door open and shut as the female stormed out of the room. Azriel's eyes followed her as she left.

"Well, she's very nice," Mor said, attempting lightness.

"She can be. She beat me in a fight once when I got here," Azriel said.

"She was able to beat you? She's so small."

"She beat me and took one of my Siphons."

"But she can't use it. Only Illyrians can use them," Mor stated, but there was a question in her voice.

"She had another use for it."

"Did she make it into a shiny necklace?"

"No."

"Oh, a nice paperweight then?"

"No, Mor," Azriel suddenly snapped.

"Then what, Azriel? What could she possibly use it for?"

"She thinks Aidan can use it to send me home."