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Chapter Text

When the woman used to live in the Human Lands, the forest was… quiet. She had been only creature capable of coherent thought in miles and miles. It was only her and the animals, none of them capable of too complex feelings. 

This forest wasn’t like that. 

Here in Spring, she might as well live in a city, so surrounded she was by other beings on all sides. 

Fae lived in the trees, in the leaves, in the burrows, under the ground and in caves. In the brooks and the lakes and the rivers and even the puddles. In shapes big as mammoths and as small as bugs. Wherever she looked for shelter, there was bound to be someone already there, or at least nearby. 

The fae didn’t mind her too much. She was non-obtrusive. Kept quiet, slept a lot, hardly ever came back to the same place twice. The surprise was evident in their faces, though. Sometimes, they’d whisper High Fae? But otherwise, they’d leave her alone. 

Hunting was a challenge. She’d have to watch an animal for much longer to make sure it wasn’t a shapeshifter of some kind. She’d killed one fae like that before and it had royally fucked her life. She didn’t want to do it again. 

Foraging was a nightmare. She felt like the child she had been the first time she had gotten lost. Poisons and tea leaves looked so similar… She tried to keep to the plants that were common here to the human lands, but there just weren’t that many. 

Despite everything, though… it was fine. It was something to do. Something to tire out her bones so much that when she found a place to settle in for the night, she would fall right to sleep and not have to think for at least four or five hours. 

When the nightmares eventually ripped her out of her rest, shaking and sweating, hours before sunrise, she would just get up and run. Anywhere. Her new legs could withstand much longer distances and her new lungs took longer before they started burning. She could cover distances she wouldn’t have dreamed of before. She’d run all the way up to Summer’s beaches, where she knew a house stood with some of what she had left behind and collapse among the rocks for a short, fitful sleep. Then, as the sun was coming down, she would turn right back around and all the way across Spring and down to the Wall that she could no longer cross. 

Every once in a while, she would pass a rebuilding town or a struggling farm. She would take up work silently, go where she was needed. As the blight receded, there was always something to be done somewhere. Bringing water from wells to workers, mixing cement, helping carry bricks, watching over the village kids. People were grateful for the help, even if she didn’t say anything. And whenever anyone asked her name or if she had been Under the Mountain, if she needed a place to stay, she quickly got out of there. No more kindness wasted on her, never again. 

Sometimes, she would see a familiar face. They were looking for her. Lucien. Cyrus. Tamlin… She would keep to the shadows, hold her breath, slow her heartbeat. It wasn’t that different from hiding from a predator. That life, the one she’d tried to live… it wasn’t for her. And the sooner they understood that, the better. Bring her back would only mean suffering – for her and all who dared touch her. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Seeing her friends, her… lover… distressed. It didn’t mean she didn’t yearn for all she’d irreparably damaged. 

“I know you’re here,” Tamlin said once. She was hiding on top of an ancient tree, among the tall, tall branches. She wasn’t sure if what he said was true or if it was wishful thinking. “Please, come home.” 

Home. Wasn’t that a nice thought? That she could ever be contained under a roof. That everything she was could be tamed into a person who wore a dress and had lively parties? That all her suffering could be erased just because… what, because they wanted it to? 

“Your sisters miss you. They are very… confused about their new lives. I know it would help if you showed them how you’re adapting.” 

Adapting? She wasn’t adapting. She was wasting away.

She was waking up puking every night, the memory of her father being snatched away from her in a wave of water clear in her memory. Graysen’s last curses repeated in her mind, again and again and again and it felt like they were meant for her. Little Miles crying in complete darkness haunted her and whenever it got dark, she would wake up sure he was right there. The feel of the rock against her back when Nesta pushed her to the ground followed her no matter where she laid. The feeling of the knife trembling under her hand as she shoved it in the queen’s heart made it difficult to hold on to any weapon. 

No, not adapting. Devolving. She hadn’t said a word in almost three months. She hoped no one ever made her speak ever again. The few involuntary noises she’d made on accident had sent her skin crawling, had made her want to throw up. Even thinking about making a new map, making a mark in the world, being a real person again whose choices affected others made her hands tremble so much, she had given up the idea entirely. This isn’t my life this isn’t my life this isn’t my life

Tamlin left eventually. They all did. If anything, she knew how to hide.

She wished they would give up already, hoped they would grow tired of this and move on with their lives. Her sisters had done it once before, they could surely do it again. And when she died, she would be nothing but a footnote on a story that wasn’t hers. No one would remember she was the one who had sold her own family for petty revenge. No one would know how her mating had started to heal the land but that she could never truly yield to it. She was entirely too selfish to ever yield to anything. Even love. 

With luck, no one would ever say her wretched name ever again. 

A few days later, when it had been three months since she’d been freed, since she’d been changed, she woke to the sound of a beast just outside the cave she was sleeping in. 

It felt like a weird dream. She opened her eyes, expecting to see snow, curing leathers and a golden lion who had come to take her life, in more ways than one. But it was a beautiful day outside, beautiful streaming sunlight painting the greens outside brighter. And standing at the entrance of her cave was a dark creature she recognized well enough. Leathery wings blocked the path, dimming the lights. 

Her lips curled back into a warning snarl. 

“They said you’d be out here somewhere…” Said the deep voice that sounded like falling sand, whispering and dangerous. “Too bad they’re wholly incompetent. They're looking in the wrong places, for the wrong thing. They are looking for a girl. I came looking for a beast.” 

A beast? Not a creature. She liked that better. 

A beast wouldn’t have been beaten to death, wouldn’t have been frozen by something that wasn’t real unless you looked at it. Wouldn’t have looked at it because it was poetic, because it was tired. If she had claws and fur and long pearly teeth like the creature in front of her, no one would dare enter her cave. A beast was something better than she really was. Something that would never let itself get hurt again. 

“Now… tell me...” 

She lunged for it, no weapon in hand. Her vision had gone red. No . Never again. She’d had enough of monsters, enough of bullies. She was a beast.

Then, still in the air, she suddenly had paws and claws and teeth. Black and golden fur sprouted from her neck in wild tufts. Her tail whipped wildly behind her, lending balance. She wasn’t sure when that had happened, but what was one more change? This body was no more hers than the one that looked like a parody of her human one. Why not use it? 

Her teeth closed around the Attor’s neck as he fell backwards, her on top, his wings spreading around him. Her claws (talons? nails?) closed around their shoulders and ripped. He screamed, trying to roll, to pull her off of him, off his neck. Though the scent of his breath was putrid, she did not move. They still fought for control. As she pulled back for a second, he shoved his arm between her teeth to try and keep it away. Her jaw clenched around it with the force of a falling anchor. Bone cracked. 

Once he pulled it away with another screech of pure agony, she went for the throat again. 

She bit down and pulled, pieces of bone, of throat cartilage, came away in her teeth, wetting her fur, dying it a dark crimson. She swallowed it, like she wished she could do to all the creatures that had lent her harm. That had touched, even looked at her family wrong. Consume them, absorb them. Become something worse than them, something that could protect… 

The dark creature tried to swat at the beast, its power trying to heal itself, but she bit its hands, talons and all, then, when they were broken beyond repair, she slashed its wings. 

The Attor had stopped moving a while before she finally stopped and took a step back, panting. It was now no more than a mess of meat and bones, barely recognizable. Her vision was finally focusing.

Her mouth stood open, dripping its blood, the taste of it suddenly too thick to swallow through. The woman looked down at herself, a wave of fear finally sinking in. It was like pulling her head above the water she was swimming in, where all sounds came muffled. Suddenly, everything was too loud, too fast.  

What was this? Some sort of magic? Some sort of curse? A dream? She slowly lifted her bloodstained paw, looking under and over it, testing commanding this new body.

Her breathing got heavier, her heart picked up. How did she go back to her normal body? Could she ever go back? Or were her actions too beastly to warrant still holding on to a human looking body? Was she forever doomed to take the form of worst and worst horrors until only the essence of her evil remained? 

She stumbled back. She didn’t know how to walk on four legs. The woman took a breath to yell. Help, help, help!   She let that air go. Who would she scream to? Everyone who had ever cared about her miles away. And what would it even matter anyway, if they were here? What could they even do about this if they knew? Would they only finally get to see the creature they had helped? She wouldn’t blame them if they just turned their backs on her. She surely would. But then what…

So entrenched in her own confusion, she only noticed there had been someone else watching when he took a step forward. Her new ears perked up, letting in sounds even more precise than she could hear before. As her bleary eyes focused, she saw the dark male standing in the light of the sun. 

She growled in warning. Don’t come any closer . 

“There there, little nightmare,” Rhysand said, palms up in a sign of peace. “Although… you’re not exactly little anymore, are you?” 

That wasn’t funny. 

How do I stop this ? She asked in her thoughts, because she knew he would hear. Because he’d heard before, back… in there.

“Just breathe,” he said. 

But she was breathing. Breathing too much, too fast. She shook her head, but that didn’t help. She could feel her fur moving with her and the feeling was too new. Was this what people meant when they said careful what you wish for ? Had she wished to be a creature so much to get away from all of her problems that she had manifested it into existence? 

“No,” Rhysand stopped her train of thought. “This is just shapeshifting magic.” 

Ah . Right. Magic. She was fae now. That made… more sense. 

It was an accident. I didn’t mean to . 

“It can be challenging. First learning how to use your powers, that is. Why don’t you take a deep breath first? Then I’ll walk you through it.” 

Deep. Deep. She forced her lungs to comply. She planted her talons (claws?) against the ground to feel the earth beneath her. She could even feel vibrations now she couldn’t before. Steps in the forest. There was a whole world around her. Her problems were very small. And one day, they wouldn’t matter anymore. 

“That’s… one way to look at it.” Can you let me do what I need to do? she snapped. He shrugged. “Right. Yes. Sorry.” 

She took another deep breath. Then another and then another. Until finally, she was a calm beast, but still a beast nonetheless. 

Alright, what now? 

“Just… think of your body. Your hands. Your face. The shapes of you. Your magic remembers. It just needs a little nudge.” 

Right, but did she remember? All she’d done for three months was trying to forget her new body, escape it. 

The memory of the first time she’d seen herself, on a mirror inside her room Under the Mountain, came to her. From afar, she didn’t look all that different. Her hair was still the muddy light brown (dark blonde?) color it had always been and her skin was still the pale kind of white that turned red at the first sign of sun. But her trained eyes noticed the subtle differences. All of her scars were gone. Her sunkissed freckles. The weird angle of her pinky, after she had set it wrong one winter, had been fixed. The curve of her body, her breasts looked… natural in the dress. It had been made for creatures like her. Leaner, lither. She wasn’t sure if she’d truly changed in this sense or if she just hadn’t dressed herself like this before. 

The same deep sense of sorrow, of loss, of mourning that she had felt that day rang through her again, like she had lost something unexpectedly dear to her. Even when she had no home, no food, no name… her body was hers. It was something no one could ever take away, something she wouldn’t let anyone touch. Or so she thought. The more she tried to think of her body, the more she thought about the human lands, about her old body adapting to its environment. The same memory of that mirror popped in once or twice, but it was all she had. 

Somehow, though, that was enough. Perhaps a nudge was really all it took. When she blinked, she was back to her body. Not her human body but… hers nonetheless.  Her clothes were intact, as if she’d always been wearing them all along.

“There, see?” Rhysand said, taking the opportunity to take a step forward. She looked at him through the corner of her eye. “I told you. All better.” 

She nodded and got to her feet, immediately started walking out of the cave. He blocked her path. She showed her teeth. 

What ? she asked. 

He raised his hand as if he was waving. She looked at the spiraling designs inked there. Right . She looked at her own left hand, covered in the tattoo of their deal. Tamlin had not been happy to see it, but had stopped bothering her once he saw she was not going to tell him how she got it or what it entailed. She hadn’t managed to say a word to him.

She shook her head. No . 

She tried to take a step again, he put himself in her way again. The woman pointed at the Attor. 

Do you want to have a go?

“You’re much more articulate in your mind. Is there something wrong with your throat? I’d assume it’d be fixed with the Change.” 

 She took a deep breath to calm herself. The last thing she wanted was to turn into a beast again so soon. 

My throat is fine. My patience is not. Are you going to let me go?

“No. I’m not, actually. You and I had a deal. I’m here to enforce it.” 

Her eyebrows knitted together. 

The deal is off . You said two weeks every month. It’s been three months. 

“And now you owe me six weeks. Isn’t that fun? I love math.” 

She bit the inside of her mouth. 

You never said they were cumu… cumul… that they would bunch up together . Why didn’t you come to get me before?

“I was busy. And I assumed you were too. I thought you and Tamlin were going to want to… you know. Get married… heal some of the land with more of that sex magic?”

No, you didn’t . She said, shaking her head. His eyebrows went up. You can see me. Through the thing. Like I can see you . 

She touched her forehead. She remembered her last moments, seeing herself and her sisters through his eyes. If she had done that by accident, slipped inside of him… it was safe to assume he could do the same and she wouldn’t know the difference. Every so often since she’d been freed, she’d catch glimpses of something. A mug of coffee, fancy dark sheets. She knew it was him and she’d done her very best to push it to the furthest back of her mind.

We’ll work on blocking that , he said in her head as he flashed a smile.

“Ready to go then?” he said out loud.

She sighed, looking at the cave. It was bare. No maps on the wall, no meat, no preserves, no fire. She hadn’t managed to find a place she wanted to stay in. It wasn’t exactly as if she was leaving something important to her behind here. She had already accepted she wouldn’t be returning to her old life. Truth be told, where she went now didn’t matter. She could be miserable anywhere. But…

The woman let out a heavy sigh and rubbed her face. 

I’m getting really tired of being displaced . 

His eyes softened and he nodded once, extending his hand. 

“I know. But I promise I’ll make it worth your time.” 

What was her time even worth? Hadn’t she just done busy work for weeks just to fill time? Just to stop any thoughts from crossing her mind? What was it that he wanted her to do that would make him want to take her, even after he’d seen what she’d just done?

She looked at his hand and then her own. 

Was this a mistake? Things weren’t great, but they were fine now. She didn’t have much in terms of sanity or plans, but she had the open sky and the earth beneath her. She hadn’t needed much more than that for a long time. Wherever she was going, could it be worse?

She’d given her word she would go, but she wasn’t above going back on it, especially now she could turn into a Beast . Words did not mean anything, not like actions did. 

What if I refuse? She asked. 

I may not be the one to ask for the price, but it must be paid, he answered carefully. Magic ensures it . 

So nothing that would give a damn about how big she was. Even when she had powers, she was helpless. 

Perhaps a change of scenery was in order, then. Get this over with. She might even find a way out of this contract. Her father used to say there was always a way out of one if you really wanted to. That hadn’t worked out well for him, but she considered herself a little smarter than he was. 

The woman took Rhysand’s hand. His eyes glimmered as he smiled and they both vanished together. 

Chapter Text

The woman hadn’t given much time to imagining the other Court houses. She just thought they’d be different colored versions of Tamlin’s: big, spread out, filled with unused rooms and wasted elegance from a time long passed. Her biggest interest was in the surrounding areas, the climate, the plant life and animal life. 

Now… she was rethinking her stance. 

The first thing she noticed were the snowy mountains. Three big peaks in the distance and a range around them. For the first time in ages, her fingers itched to etch the shape of them into stone or scribble it into a wall. A map… she hadn’t seen one since she had left all of hers back in Summer.

Then her eyes took in the marble columns.They looked completely open, but she wasn’t freezing, so she assumed some sort of magic was at play here. She calculated the possibility of throwing something at it just to see what happened, but there was nothing close enough to her hand. She’d lost her shoes weeks ago. It had been just near sundown back in Spring, but now it was night. The open sky could be seen for miles and miles ahead. 

Around them, there were other areas too, in other levels. Dining areas, reading areas, all built with the same marble and keeping up the color scheme of the curtains hanging off of the pillars. Because she could see all of these rooms, it felt like the house was out in the open.  

“Welcome to the Night Court,” Rhysand said, waving an arm to the area around them.

She sniffed, still looking around. Thought it’d be bigger . 

There was a glint of amusement in his eyes and one eyebrow perked up. 

“This is merely my private residence. I have others.” 

She let out a long whistle that seemed to startle him. Others, huh? Good for you . She tapped her bare, dirty foot against the marble. It didn’t stain. Alright. I’m here. What now ? 

He looked at her for a long moment, placing his hands inside the pockets of his trousers. That made him look… oddly young. 

“Tomorrow,” he said finally. “We have time. For now, clean yourself up. Rest.” He pointed towards a passage that led to a dark stairway. “Take the stairs down. Your room is the first door to the right.” 

She looked at the stairs. For a second, it reminded her of the massive steps of Under the Mountain, of the forever darkness she found under there. Down here, though, she could see a whisper of light, so she could see she wouldn’t be completely cut out from the sky. 

A room? Not a dog pen, then ? She accidentally thought to herself, but she knew he heard her when his lips pressed into a thin line. 

“I am not like that little lordling of yours.” 

She bit the inside of her mouth, raising her fingers as she listed. 

Took me from my cave. Brought me to an unnecessarily luxurious home. Hid your denizens, if I’m not mistaken, since there’s no one here. Gave me an allegedly comfortable room. And want me here for an unnamed purpose. She looked at the five fingers in her hand. I can keep going . 

“ You made a deal with me,” Rhys said, his temper clearly showing. “I’m just asking for you to keep your word.” 

Hm. He did that too. Giving me a choice that wasn’t really a choice . She walked calmly towards the steps. This wasn’t an attack. It was just a fact. You could release me from that deal, you know . I did very much free all of you from that evil bloodthirsty queen. It’d be a very nice way to say thanks.

He let out a heavy sigh and his shoulders seemed to hunch a bit, as if under an unexpected weight. Her eyebrows crinkled ever so slightly. Did he… miss her somehow?

“You’re way too smart for your own good. Go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The woman nodded, trying not to think about booby trapping the door too much, although she would very much be booby trapping her door. 

Once she was nearing her room, however, she heard someone walk into the room she had just left. As she closed her door behind her, she heard a feminine voice say That went well. 

The room was definitely not a dog pen. 

It had the same magic windows as the rooms above and they took over an entire wall, casting cloudy lights over the ivory colored bed. It was massive, entirely too big for her. Perfect to build a nest in, though the open sky felt a bit too open for comfort. 

On the other wall, next to a door that led to a basin and a toilet, there was a pool stretching all the way to the edge of the room. The water, not affected by the magic window, fell off the cliff and disappeared into the darkness. Tendrils of steam lifted off of it, showing its temperature. Something in her purred.

She was surprised to find the door locked from the inside. Not that it would really hold any fae that actually wanted to come in, but she locked it anyway and brought the key with her as she stripped her dirty clothing and dipped her foot into the warm water. The temperature was just right. Warm enough to make her skin turn red, but not enough to hurt. Layers of dirt stained the beautiful surface of the water and she sat down at the edge to wash them off. The water current took the cloud of dirt away, carrying it off towards the mountain side. 

The woman took a deep breath before lowering herself to the small raised platform, so she could submerge up to her chest. Her breath hitched in her lungs. She’d tried this before, but she thought it had been the cold of the water that had surprised her. This was… an issue. 

She could picture it so clearly: the water rising from the ground to her knees, then to her hips, coming from the doors to the chamber the second task was happening in. Graysen cursing at the fae eyes above. She remembered struggling, trying to swim, trying to find the top and being thrown against the wall repeatedly. The hand that had saved her… and the last second she saw her father before the water washed away the existence of him. There hadn’t even been a body to recover.

She rubbed at her skin, in a rush to get it clean so she could get out. She rubbed at her hands to free them from all evidences of the Attor’s blood. When she got up to her chest, it was so tight she immediately gave up and pulled herself up. Almost slipping on the wet floor, she tripped all the way to the closest wall to catch her breath. 

There was no way she would manage to get to her hair. It was matted, dirty. It would need a while to get it to a clean place. She looked at herself in the vanity mirror, her unexpected tears having left marks in the dirt and grime sticking to her face. She looked every bit the Beast that had killed the Attor. There was even still some blood splattered on her neck. She growled to herself. Maybe she should just show up like this the next morning. Maybe Rhysand would just let her go if she refused to clean for time enough. 

Well… that had happened to her hair before. She normally only took this step at the end of winter, when she knew spring would start to melt into heat and that long hair would be hard to keep. And even if winter might never end now… why not? 

She searched the vials of soap and piles of towels and boxes of tissues by the pool and over the vanity until she found what she was looking for: a razorblade. It was too small to damage anyone but herself (probably by Rhysand’s design). But it would do for her purposes. 

The woman sat by the water again, bringing the blade up to her head. She hacked at the locks at first, because it didn’t matter how they looked. Then, when her dark golden hair was flowing towards the edge in large clumps, she brought it close to her scalp and worked more carefully. She went to the mirror then, trying to leave the low strands even.That little fuzz helped protect the skin from the sun. She’d made that mistake her first time. 

She looked at herself, running her hand through what was left of her hair. Even if she wasn’t always a fan of how it looked, it felt so good. As she did, she imagined Tamlin’s hand there. Would he like this? He’d liked to run his fingers through her hair, even in random moments of the day. It’s like she couldn’t help but distance herself from the thing he was beginning to love.

Did it even matter now? Now that he was free, he could protect her. And it didn’t even matter. She couldn’t protect herself anymore. The world was bigger than she’d expected. She’d grossly miscalculated and messed it up royally. It wasn't like she’d muster up the courage to get back there. At least, not until she began to understand. How this world worked, how to succeed on it, thrive. She’d never depend on anyone, him especially. Never again. 

She finished cleaning herself with a wet towel and went to the armoire to check if there was anything there for her to wear or if she had to wash her own dress. It was getting pretty loose with the weight she’d lost and scuffed with all she’d pushed it through. It had clearly not been made for heavy, daily use. Thankfully, she found a soft sleeping set composed of a loose shirt and trousers. Dressed, she pulled the covers from the bed and arranged her pillows into her nest before slipping into it and promptly falling asleep. 

Sunlight was falling at an angle over the bed. She remembered thinking it looked so pretty. 

Feyre had never been in Mother’s room before. She’d caught glimpses of it over the years, but kids were forbidden from going in there. If Mother wanted to see them, she’d send for them and meet them in the ladies’ room, where they’d have a distant lesson about this or that topic that were always entirely too advanced for her and always ended in her crying later. 

But now Mother had called her to her room . She doubted even the girls had been there before. That was… something special.  Right? 

Mother looked tired. Worn out. But still beautiful. She still had her hair neatly put together. The powder she used was a bit too dark now that she had grown so pale, but she kept using it. 

As Feyre got close, a hand closed around her wrist. It hurt. In her memory, she was pulled closer by an inexorable force. Her mother’s breath smelled awful. Tears filled her eyes, but she held in her scream. Mother hated loud sounds. 

“You promised,” she said, and it didn’t match her memories. As she watched, her mother’s flesh started slowly melting off of her bones. “I told you to protect them.” 

“No, please,” she tried to pry the hand away from her arm because it was breaking. It looked red and swollen and fuck, it hurt! Instead of blood, however, mud was dripping. 

Her mother roared and the rest of her skin fell away to reveal the skull of a creature. “You killed me.” 

“No!” She grabbed the first thing she could find and stabbed the bony hand that held her.

When it let go, she finally opened her eyes and found herself in that last moment before her father got taken away from her by a massive wave. 

The woman woke up to the sound of her own scream and, in her attempt to get away, her legs got tangled in the covers and she promptly fell right off her bed. 

On the ground, her tangled legs still on top of the bed, she looked out the window and directly into the night sky and took a shaky breath. 

She felt a tug in her middle, the foreshadowing before the voice rang through her head. Everything alright?

The woman hid her face in her cold hands. She could feel the tears under them. 

Even nightmares have nightmares of their own . 

There was a moment of silence and she thought he had pulled away from her head when he said: Want company ? 

No , she promptly said, pulling her legs away from the covers and sitting upright on the ground, eyes on the door. But no one opened it. When the silence became oppressive and she wasn’t sure if he was still there, she tentatively tried to reach out with her mind. Did I… show you anything?

Just bits, he said. 

Because of this mind thing you can do? 

Not really. It’s… because of the nature of our deal. 

She expected him to go on, but he didn’t. She climbed back into bed, but now she was afraid to fall back asleep. She knew what awaited her, and now there was nothing to hunt. Nowhere to run. 

I also felt something earlier , he said and her eyes fell at the pool on the corner of the room. Something like fear . 

She snapped her teeth before she remembered he couldn’t see her. 

Sorry for the inconvenience . 

It’s not — 

He didn’t finish the thought. His voice vanished. She was worked up, ready for a fight… and it hadn’t come. She sat by the edge of the bed, stood up. Walked around. Sat by the water, touched its warm surface. She bet she would get tired soon if she just let herself sit under there, let the warm water relax her. 

She wasn’t scared . She had taken everything thrown at her. She could handle bathing . And yet she couldn’t bring herself to do it. 

She missed Alis and her warm hands helping her in, helping her detangle her hair. She missed the starlight lake back at Spring. She missed… her father.

By all accounts this was ridiculous. He had been dead to her for years. She had only just found out he was alive. It shouldn’t matter so much. His face shouldn’t haunt her like it did. The water shouldn’t hurt her like it did. 

But she tried to convince herself to get in all night… until she gave up near dawn and went back to bed. 

Morning came too fast. 

She heard someone knock on the door. When she just buried herself further into her nest, she heard two female voices talking on the hallway.

“We are sorry to disturb you,” one of them said a little louder, hoping to make itself heard, “but our lord is requesting your company for breakfast. It will be served in thirty minutes.” 

“Does the lady require any assistance?” the other asked, in an almost identical voice. 

Their soft manners made her miss Alis’ quiet determination. Her old maid would just walk into the room, lock or no lock, and get things in order, including get her out of bed whether she wanted to or not. She just shook her head no. They waited for a dismissal and, when it didn’t come, they left silently. 

She closed her eyes back again when, a couple of minutes later, she felt a tug in her middle. The girl growled. Her stomach growled back. Fine . She’d play nice little puppy. She wasn’t above playing sympathy to get food. 

Scratching her very short hair, she went to the closet, where she’d seen more clothing that seemed day enough, even if they looked like nothing she had ever worn or seen people wearing. The pants were high waisted and its legs wholly ridiculous, poofing out near the bottom. The shirt had long organza sleeves and barely reached up to her belly button. She looked at herself in the mirror and snapped her tongue. Not bad, actually. Better than that old dress, that was for sure. It was comfortable. Easy to run in. And yet… still felt feminine, in a way that didn’t make her want to gouge out her own eyes. 

The shaved head also helped. 

The fact all her clothing was thin like this showed she was probably not expected to leave this place, which was a relief considering the snowy mountainscape that seemed to surround them. At the same time, it was a reminder that she couldn’t leave if she wanted to. The thing inside her roared, but her stomach roared louder. 

She followed the unresting tug in her belly back up the stairs. The smell of food guided her the rest of the way. At the heart of a stone veranda, a table was set with three seats. There was fruit, bread, cured meats and cheeses, with juice and water in jugs to accompany it. Rhys was already sitting there, looking out the massive windows.

I’m not a dog to be summoned like that, she thought as loudly as she could, if one could even think loudly, as she took the seat opposite to him on the table. 

Rhys turned to look at her, about to say something, but he stopped, his eyes going over her hair. 

“New look?” She did not answer. “Still not on speaking terms, are we?” 

She reached for a silver steaming teapot and started brewing herself a cup of tea. 

I thought it would always be dark here. Like Spring is always warm . 

“We are one of three Solar Courts. We adhere to the laws of nature here.” 

Don’t… we all?

“The nature of the Season Courts is connected to their High Lord’s magic. This type of magic is very old and, therefore, very predictable. At some point, many thousands of years ago, it stagnated just like that. But the Solar Courts: Dawn, Day and Night though, are of more symbolic nature. Our power derives from our respective elements, but not much else. And I’m glad of it. Having to squabble with my equals over the position of sun in the sky would be sort of pathetic, wouldn’t it?” 

No Dusk court? Or… Twilight, I suppose, she found the tea leaves, but they were trapped inside a thin paper. She promptly ripped it, dropping the crushed leaves on the water. He just watched her, one eyebrow twitching. 

“No. No Dusk.” 

She eyed the meats and grabbed a bit of each, organizing them in her plate. The woman then regarded the rest of the table, wondering if she’d rather eat them with toast or one of the soft rolls still steaming. She could feel Rhys’ eyes on her, but she willfully ignored him. Finally, she went for one of the rolls. Oh, she could get used to this. 

“Did you sleep better? After your nightmare?” 

She shook her head no and dedicated herself to building a sandwich so thick it could hardly be closed. The woman ate it in silence, looking out the window. The sky was still painted orange and pink from dawn and the soft clouds felt comfortable enough to sleep in. 

Once she was done eating and had finally had a sip of her tea and he had said nothing else, she rapped her fork on her plate to get his attention. 

So… You said you’d tell me what you want me to do over breakfast. I have broken my fast. Speak. 

He watched her for another second and nodded. 

“I want you to see a healer for your voice.”

Chapter Text

You can barely speak, Nesta had said before pushing her to the mud. She barely speaks , Tamlin had told Lucien when she had just arrived in Spring, years later. You really don’t speak then? Like a creature , Lucien had asked, later that same day. 

Feyre shook her head no and grabbed the knife on the table. 

“Please, put that down,” Rhys asked. “I’m just asking you to meet with the healer so they can make sure you’re okay.” 

There’s nothing wrong with me. I just don’t speak. 

“Oh, but I’ve heard you speak. Remember? Back in Spring, you sang such a pretty song of revenge.” 

It felt like a lifetime ago. Her shoulders fell. That was the day she had doomed her family. She’d thought herself so smart, so funny. She’d give her sister a scare. Payback. She hadn’t imagined no one could be that cruel, Tamlin included, for allowing that to happen. 

That’s none of your business . I spoke then, but I don’t speak now. End. Of. Story . 

His lips pressed into a thin line. It made her want to throw that knife in her hand. Why was she always the problem? Why did he have to go and pick her up from the woods if he wouldn’t take her as she came? Why did everyone want her in a neat new little format? 

“If you’re going to work for me, I need you to be able to communicate with my other… people. I’m the only daemati in miles and miles.”

Something sharp pricked her hand and she pulled it away. Metal clinked against a table. Blinking, she looked at the warped knife, now crumpled on the marble surface. When she looked up, Rhys was taking a sip out of his cup, eyes trained on her. 

“You’re strong for a High Fae. The incident with the Attor only proved it.” 

She nodded. She liked being strong. That meant she could protect herself. If she could only learn to control this… 

Stronger than you?

He smiled wrily. 

“Don’t push it. But it does bring the question. When we brought the three of you back… is it possible something else got transferred in the process?” 

This conversation was making her head hurt. 

Complimenting my strength won’t make me see your doctor . 

He sighed. 

“Why won’t you trust me? Have I not proven myself to be a useful ally?” 

She snapped her tongue. Her judgment obviously couldn’t be trusted. She had trusted Tamlin. She had given her family away as a joke. If she made another mistake like this, she didn’t think she could take it. 

Before Rhys could keep insisting, she heard fast and light steps approaching. 

The most beautiful woman appeared on the archway right behind him. She had luscious long golden hair, pulled back into a casual braid. The turquoise matching set she wore made the woman think of Summer, of drinking fresh water after hours in the sun. 

“Hello, hello!” said the newcomer, smiling at her. 

She blinked, looking at Rhys so he’d explain. 

“Feyre,” he said, softly. “Meet my cousin, Morrigan. Mor, meet our brand new nightmare, Feyre.” 

She wished he didn’t introduce her like that. Both her given name and her unauthorized nickname. It was too bad she was out of tea and couldn’t hurl it at him. Mor took the third seat on the table, unaware of her distaste for her own name. 

“I’ve heard so much about you,” she confessed, offering a hand in greeting. The woman just stared at it until she looked uncomfortable and pulled it away. She was quick to plaster on a smile though. “You looked like you were getting under Rhys’ skin. I had to come watch. That’s my favorite pastime too!” 

Rhys squinted at her and the woman felt a rare prickle of amusement.

“We are still getting her acquainted. I thought I asked you to wait another day before introducing yourself.” 

“Oh, Rhys… and miss watching your balls getting nailed to the wall?” She shook her head. “I’d never. That’s what family is all about.” 

That did rip a giggle from the woman. It sounded strangled and she tried to hold it back and it surprised both the people on the table. Mor looked like she’d just gotten a present. Her smile only got wider. 

“You want nothing to do with us, do you? And wicked Rhys is making you sit here while he grouches at you.”

Rhys only let out a short huff, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Well,  I, for once, am glad you’re here. I do love the company,” Morrigan said.

The woman blinked. Oh! She had been the one she had heard last night. So, that went well , she’d teased Rhysand. 

She looked from one cousin to the other and couldn’t find the similarities. But then again, she didn’t look a whole lot like her own sisters. 

“As my only remaining relative,” Rhys explained, even if she hadn’t asked anything, even between their bond, “and I do use that term very broadly… Mor believes it’s her role to absolutely demolish my well earned reputation.”

“Grumpy, grumpy,” Mor replied, placing two muffins on her plate. 

“Please, don’t feel like you have to oblige her with your presence, though she’ll be here for the next two weeks as well.” Mor stuck out her tongue at him and that woman could feel another giggle wanting to get out. “Did you eat enough?” 

The woman looked at her own plate. Though she still wanted to try more things, she didn’t think she could eat another bite. She did not want a repeat of what had happened in Spring when she’d first gotten there. She gave a silent nod. 

“Good. We have an appointment to keep.” 

The woman looked around for escape routes. A new knife had materialized just next to her plate, next to the crumpled one. The temptation was surely there.  

“If he pisses you off, Feyre,” said Mor, interrupting her train of thought. The common revulsion that came with hearing her own name followed, though she managed to conceal it this time,” feel free to shove him over the rail of the nearest balcony.” 

And there she went again. Falling for the littlest bit of kindness. Would she ever learn? So, in a very low voice, and if anything, only to prove she needed no doctor, she murmured: 

“I’ll… think… about it.” 

She did not miss the look of shock from both the High Fae before she stood up from the table. 

The study Rhysand took her to was in an alcove inside a library built in a similar fashion to the rest of the house: openly, with a lot of natural light, on different levels. She sat at a chair by the table, determined to stave off this storm too. 

“Are you scared of doctors?” Rhys asked, leaning on the table. 

Her eyebrows went down as she looked up. Really? 

“You won’t tell me what’s wrong. I’m just trying to understand.” 

Nobody listened. Nobody ever listened. 

I’m telling you: there’s nothing wrong with my throat. I’m just like this. I can do other things. Just give me a shovel or a pickaxe and just send me to dig a hole somewhere. 

He looked at her, his own brows furrowing. 

“Would that make you happy? Digging a hole?” 

In other times, she would’ve laughed. Happy? Who went around looking for ways to be happy when so much as necessary just to stay alive? 

I’ll see your doctor— healer if you insist. If anything, so you’ll stop bothering me. But you’re wasting time and money. 

He looked at the entrance to the library. 

“She’ll be here soon. Don’t worry, you’ll like her. It will be done before you know it.” 

When she thought she couldn’t be more surprised, the healer showed up. And she was old . 

Seeing a figure with clear High Fae features look wrinkled, she realized she hadn’t seen that before. She’d seen a few fae children and many fae adults of varying ages, but never an old one. She watched her move and greet Rhysand, losing herself in the lull of their pleasant conversation.

Before, the woman could have expected to look like that in seventy or eighty years, though she never thought she’d live that long. Every winter, she was sure it was going to be her last. 

Now, however… it might be hundreds of years before she got to a fraction of that appearance. She wasn’t going to look like this… for a long, long time. And this winter and the next and the next, if this deal stayed on… might not be her last after all. Not only she might have a future now, but it would probably be longer than she’d ever imagined. And she didn’t know how to feel about that. 

Other people might be elated, if they have something to do with their lives. Build a business, raise a family, write books. Most of her life, she just wanted to eat, sleep comfortably, drink from a reliable source. Even finding her family again, the one thing that had kept her going, had gone astray. What was she supposed to do now she could live forever? 

She blinked, noticing they were both looking at her. 

What? she asked. 

Madja’s just introducing herself , Rhysand caught her up with no pointy comments. For that, at least, she was grateful. The woman looked down to see a hand offered to her, which she took. The old one had been seated right in front of her.

The healer placed a second hand over hers. 

“Is it alright if I touch you? It won’t hurt. I just need to check on your vocal chords.” 

She lifted her chin proudly. 

“Nothing. Wrong,” she insisted. She hated this voice. Hated hated hated. It wasn’t the voice of a Beast. And it wasn’t Feyre’s voice either.

Madja nodded. 

“They do sound fine, yes. Thank you for telling me. May I check anyway? There might be something a little further under the surface. I would just like to make sure.” 

She huffed with impatience but nodded anyway. Madja placed her fingers on both sides of her throat, applying pressure here and there in soothing circles. Every once in a while she would ask does this hurt ? To which the woman would just shake her head. Nothing hurt. 

“Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”, she asked then. 

She looked at Rhys. He looked distracted and it became clear he wouldn’t do the kindness of just telling the healer what she was thinking. The last thing she wanted was to hear her nasty voice again, but she would rather die than admit something was wrong. So she nodded to the healer. 

“Does it hurt to speak?” 

She rubbed at her throat. 

“It gets… tiring. Fast.” 

“Did you always speak little? Even as a child?” 

She nodded yes. 

“Do you remember when it started?” 

She shook her head no. 

“Do you think it’s easier to talk to certain people than it is with others? Or is it always unpleasant for you?” 

“Al… ways.” 

Even with Tamlin. She remembered rendering her throat raw trying to push out anything that might mean he would let her stay. And it hadn’t worked, because, as usual, words meant nothing. 

“What’s the feeling you get when you speak?” 

She shook her head. 

“Just don’t… don’t like it. Words… feel… slow and… wrong. Not… not me.” 

The healer nodded like she understood perfectly. Like she expected this. 

“What about stuttering? Do you stutter sometimes?” 

She nodded yes. Madja was quiet for a second, watching her face as if looking for something. The woman looked away, waiting for the final word. There is nothing we can do to help, the doctor had told her mother when she was a child. She’s still young. Most children just grow out of it . 

“Have you experienced a lot of anxiety in your life?” 

She blinked at the healer, then looked at Rhys. 

What is it? he asked and she could feel his magic feeling around for her feelings. 

Her face grew hot, but she kept steely. 

I don’t know what that means. 

Anxiety? He asked. She sent him a mental image of the crumpling knife as a warning. Well, it’s… it’s the feeling of something bad coming. Sometimes it’s real and what’s going to happen scares you. But sometimes it’s not and the bad thing is never even going to happen. But it… makes you feel bad anyway. Maybe your heart races or you feel dizzy and you have trouble breathing.

She looked at the healer again and nodded yes. That was pretty much her entire life. Where was she getting her next meal from? Where would she sleep? Which animal would threaten her next? Which fae danger had she walked into? Which one of her family members would be murdered in front of her next? What kinds of powers had she inherited? What would she do with the rest of her life? 

“Well,” Madja said, “like you told me, there is nothing wrong with your throat.”

The woman looked at Rhys triumphantly. He was still looking at the healer.

“There is some minor dryness and dehydration. Nothing drinking more water and eating right can’t fix. It’s clear you don’t speak much. The vocal cords are muscles like any other. The more you use them, the easier it will get to use them,” she continued. “Not to say you have to, however. People can live long fulfilling lives without spoken language.” 

Long . A shiver went through her. Rhys’ right eyebrow perked up as he regarded her from the corner of his eye.

“The bad feelings you get when you do speak, however… are probably connected to your anxiety. Usually, that is the kind of problem that it’s not a problem until it is. That is… if it interferes in your life… if it stops you from performing your daily tasks, it would be important to address it. If you want to speak and find that you can’t… it might be in your best interest to find a therapist.” 

She refused to look at Rhys for a definition again, so she just nodded like she knew exactly what a therapist was. They both waited for her to say anything else, and when she didn’t, the old female stood up from her chair. 

“It has been a pleasure to meet you, Feyre. Thank you for trusting me. I do hope you’ll feel better in time.” 

She did too, to some extent, though there was some part of her thought she didn’t deserve to feel better, not after all she had caused. The woman nodded and watched as Rhys guided the healer out of the study. They traded a couple more words she didn’t hear and a couple minutes later, he was back. 

Happy ? she asked, without lifting her eyes from her unscarred hands. 

At least now we know , he said, not unkindly. It didn’t matter. Her face warmed up nonetheless. She felt humiliated . Again. 

Nothing could be done. And even worst, her entire limitation was made up. She could have been a public speaker this entire time if she got over her own fear. Her mother would have been so upset. Her father would have been so disappointed. Nesta and Elaine had probably never even heard of anxiety themselves. She was the worrier of the three. 

Can I go back to my room? she asked. He had said he just wanted her to meet the healer today. 

His eyes remained on her, like he expected her to look up, but she never did. Finally, he nodded. 

Sure. I have to return to my duties, but someone will come pick you up for lunch. 

She didn’t think she could eat anything if she tried, so she just nodded and stood up, letting herself be guided back to the staircase that led to her room.

Chapter Text

She sat on the floor by the window watching the sky for a long time. Even when the servants called her up for lunch, she did not move. Her throat still felt too tight to swallow.

The girl she was a year ago would have growled at herself. There she was, all the food she could want, and she was passing on it. Only went to show how much she had changed. How she had been changed. 

She wasn’t scared to go hungry anymore. She’d put this body to the test back in Spring. It could go much longer without even feeling peckish. Besides, she knew she could kill anything if she really needed it . She’d helped bring down a fae queen. What would be deer or boars or wild cats now? 

No… something else had been broken. Something… perhaps more essential. Before, there was something keeping her alive. Propelling her forward. She was never sure what it was. Couldn’t be her family. She’d never tried to go back to them after that day with Nesta. She hadn’t seen Elain the entire time. She thought her father was dead. No, it wasn’t them. But they were part of it, she thought. It might’ve been spite. Knowing they were out there, knowing she’d outlived their expectations of her. 

But now… something insidious had taken over. Something that weighed her muscles down and froze all manner of thought. What was the point? They knew she was alive. They probably hated her for it. She was the reason their numbers had been halved. Her sisters had lost everything… again. And she… she had triggered the trap. 

Would it have been better if her father had never gotten to her? If she had drowned as a human… Then again, she didn’t think her father would have been all that useful in that last trial.

She looked at her own hand, opening and closing it. She’d always known her life was limited. The conscience of that fact was never far as the elements were working to end her. Sometimes, she’d welcomed the thought. No suffering would be forever. Even if mornings came, each harder, colder, hungrier than the next, it would eventually end. 

Now eventually looked too damn far into the future.

Five hundred years and she would still be a mute joke. These people lived to be a thousand, sometimes more. What would she even do with herself? She couldn’t read, she couldn’t write, she could barely speak. All she had was a lot of pent up energy and an appetite for blood. 

It was night before she knew it. There was a knock on her door telling her dinner was ready, but it was just ambient noise. She eventually made it to her bed, her eyes still on the horizon. Sometimes, a shadow would cross it and she wasn’t sure if it was a winged person or a bird.

Just another reminder she did not know this world. 

It was only the next night when her stomach finally started hurting with hunger and she had to drag herself out of her room. 

Must have been the early hours. Surely it had been a long time since she’d ignored the call for dinner for the second time. She tried the dining room, but all the food had already been taken away. With her improved nose, however, she could scent the traces of it back to a kitchen. 

It was dark in there, despite the spectacular stars illuminating most of the house. This room actually had a ceiling. Her eyes slowly adjusted and she went for the cabinets, looking for anything to munch on. There was a step behind her and she turned, like an animal being caught in a trap. 

Wide brown eyes faced hers, deer under a light. Mor moved before she did, crossing her arms and leaning on the door. 

“Well, this is awkward. Midnight is my favorite snacking hour.” 

The woman blinked. She wished she could offer something. A smile or a quip. But she didn’t, so she just stepped to the side and indicated the cupboards. She wasn’t really making any progress. Best leave it to the professionals. Mor practically skipped to her side. 

“What are we feeling? Cookies? Cheese? Nuts? Dried fruit?”

She shrugged. Anything really, at this point. 

“You’re right. All of them. Silly me.” 

A hint of amusement poked at her as the female started pulling out item after item out of the cupboards, quickly arranging them on a round metal tray. As she did, the woman picked at the food, munching on a cracker as she watched the tray come to life.

“Charcuterie is more than a snack,” she said as she chopped the cheese into small cubes. “It’s a lifestyle. Presentation is everything”. 

She had no idea what any of those words meant, so she just nodded and popped a cheese cube into her mouth. It was just about the most delicious thing she had ever tasted, and it was hard to just keep herself from moaning. 

“I know, right? Say what you will about my cousin, but he’s got good taste. Both in cheese and in company.” 

She took a few seconds to understand it was a compliment. She rose her eyebrows and blinked, wondering what she should do when someone shot you with one of those. She hadn’t had much experience. So she just nodded again. 

“Come on, let’s go sit on the couch,” Morrigan lifted the tray and started towards the living rooms. The woman had been hoping to just grab some food and retreat back to her room… but she supposed this was fine too. She was in unknown territory. Wouldn’t hurt to have an ally. They set the tray in the center table. Mor took one of the couches and got to work on lighting up the scented candles she’d thought were just for decoration. There was no need for light with all of that moonlight pouring in from the windows, but they did provide nice soft light. The woman sat on the floor to be nearer to the table and grabbed a couple more cubes of another kind of cheese.

She kept waiting for the other female to say something, but they just ate silently, looking out the massive windows. The night was windy, sending spirals of snow over the mountains. It was strange seeing the cold and not… feeling the cold. 

“I was, uh… kind of worried when you didn’t come up for lunch. Then… for dinner. Then for breakfast and lunch and dinner. But Rhys said to give you space, so…” Mor finally said when they’d been silent for almost an hour. “I ignored him. Obviously.” 

A snicker escaped her as she took a white grape from one of the neat piles. She wasn’t… angry to be up here. Like she’d stated before: she could be miserable anywhere. It just made her feel a little worse that she didn’t know how to make conversation.

Mor turned back to the view of the mountains. 

“Did everything go well with the healer?” 

The woman nodded, even if she felt that was a lie. Nothing was wrong with her. And that was a problem, although most people wouldn’t understand. She doubted anyone would. 

They fell silent again, this time for longer. The tray was almost empty except for deflated grapes and pieces of cured meat with too much fat in them. 

“It was bad, wasn’t it?” Mor murmured out of the blue, when the woman thought she’d fallen asleep. “Under the Mountain?” 

“Yes.” For that, the answer came easy. She didn’t even have to think. She looked up to the stars above and took a steadying breath. She wished whatever magic surrounded this house would fail only for a minute so she could feel the air on her face. It was what she cherished most when she was out, other than the sky itself. Back in the Spring wilds, she would look up for hours, just because she could. “You… were… not…?” 

“No. None of us were,” Mor said. She didn’t know who us was supposed to mean. There was a sadness in her eyes, however, that didn’t match the idea of escaping that hell. “Rhys won’t… he won’t tell us much. He says all that matters is that he is home and we can all just… pick up where we left off…” she shook her head. “I think he’s full of shit.” 

He was, in fact. Of course it mattered. It had to matter. It guided all her actions, all of her thoughts. But she also understood why he’d say that. She’d hate to talk about what she’d had to do, about what she’d chosen to do, especially to the people she loved. She’d hated that idea so much she’d run away from all of them. 

Mor sighed. 

“But I’m… I’m from a place not unlike Under the Mountain. So I know it can be… a lot. Especially if you weren’t used to it. Did you know Amarantha modeled her court after our Court of Nightmares?” The woman looked at her, surprised. “Yep. It’s just under this mountain actually.” 

Oh . Perhaps this was why Rhys had looked so comfortable back at Amarantha’s court. He must have felt right at home. And yet… something he had said back then contradicted that. You shouldn’t have come back here . Some of us would do everything to get out . 

“Is this…” her brows furrowed and she would rather stab a fork into her own eye than to continue to speak, but she did anyway. “Is… this… whe-e-eere he g-goes? D-d-down?” 

When he wasn’t there. His… duties he had to attend to. In Spring, Tamlin was always checking his borders and writing correspondence, but he was home a lot despite that. 

“It’s… one of the places he goes. Our Court is spread out into many different communities. He needs to reacquaint himself with them all now he’s back. It’s been a lot of coming and going these past few months. The rest of us had been picking up the slack since…” 

Once again, the fact she hadn’t been with the rest of the Courts sounded… off. Matter of fact, she didn’t remember seeing anyone else dressed like they did, ever. Or wearing the flag colors like the other Courts did. How had they accomplished that if Tamlin had only managed to keep his court because of his curse? 

“Well… I’m glad we talked,” Mor said, finally. “This is nice. Just us girls. Is it… okay if I come see you tomorrow?” 

Tomorrow she had planned to sleep a lot more and try her hand at bathing again, if she was lucky. But those plans could wait if there was something better to do. 

So she just nodded. 

The next morning, she skipped breakfast. 

She didn’t mean to, but she only awoke when Mor unceremoniously sat on her bed. When she blinked, still groggy and looked at the windows, the sun was way past its middle point. 

“You weren’t answering the door. The staff was worried you might be dead, so they called me.” 

The woman tapped her own ear to signify she hadn’t heard them and closed her eyes again. She felt heavy and numb again and she’d love to just go right back to sleep. She hadn’t had any nightmares tonight and it’d be fantastic to keep that winning streak going. 

“What do you want to do today?” Mor asked. 

The woman pulled her arms away from the pile of pillows to indicate the bed. Those were pretty much her plans. There was no way she was going to try and bathe in front of anyone. They were already too aware of most of her shortcomings. 

“Sounds good. I’ll just go get a book and I’ll come join you.” 

She blinked as the fae female left, wondering if she’d made it sound like an invitation. Still, she had no energy to say no. Perhaps she was a fool with a death wish to allow herself to get close to someone who admittedly came from a place similar to where she had escaped. But she did trust that female, funny enough. She’d had every opportunity to be a nuisance and… she was being nice.

Feyre desperately wanted nice. 

Her opinion quickly changed. 

She found that, despite having shared a bed with her sisters for months (and Tamlin that one time), she couldn’t sleep with someone else so close. Not that she didn’t feel safe or that she didn’t feel tired enough to fall asleep. She was just… on edge. A dog waiting for the next kick. 

So she looked at the book Mor was reading. 

As a child, she’d known how to read and write, though she hadn’t been advanced by any means. And now, ten years out of practice, she could barely recognize words anymore. Someone could hand her a page full of gibberish and tell her it was her language and she would have agreed. 

“Do you want to read with me?” Mor asked out of the blue, turning to her. “I can fill you in on what already happened.” 

She shook her head. 

“Are you sure? It’s really juicy.”

She nodded in answer. 

“Can’t.” 

“Why? Are you going somewhere?” 

She shook her head again and repeated. 

“Can’t,” when it still didn’t ring a bell, she added. “Read.” 

“Ah,” the female said, then fell quiet. 

Her face started burning as she faced the page. That would be something to do, if she only knew how. Her father used to sit hours and hours with these. Her sisters, too. But it was just one more thing inaccessible to her. 

“Well, I could… read it to you,” Mor tried again. 

She was quick to shake her head. This was much much worse. She buried herself deeper into her nest and closed her eyes hard. She didn’t sleep, but she also didn’t open her eyes for a long time. 

She went up for dinner with Mor because a headache started spreading in the middle of her forehead and she thought if she ate and showed she was a good puppy she could go back into her pen and be at peace for the night. Even though she had slept through most of the day, she still felt exhausted while climbing the stairs. 

Dinner had the usual excess of food and she stared at it for a while before making a small plate and cleaning it. Pushing it down was a challenge on its own but she managed it by the end. Should she eat more? Was it enough? Was it too much? Would it make her sick?

Eventually, she decided she was done and waved and left without a word, practically racing back to her room. She leaned on the door, letting out air. She wanted to run. She wanted to feel grass under her feet. She wanted to feel the sky, not just look at it. She even missed hunting meat, strange as it sounded. 

Wasn’t she an ungrateful creature? 

She sat by her pool, placing her feet inside to clean them. She’d been walking barefoot because the shoes here made her feel ill when she tried them. After she cleaned her feet, looking only at them and trying to ignore the woosh of the water, she tried to lower herself to the platform she could sit inside. The temperature was soothing to her body that ached from laying down too much. She tried to control her breathing, keeping her eyes closed. 

It was bad, wasn’t it? Under the Mountain? Yes. Her entire body was shaking before she even knew what was going on. There wasn’t even coherent thought to this. Her mind kept flashing back to her father, even if she tried to block it. She tried to pull herself up, but her arm slipped, her shoulder banging against the side of the pool. She growled, angry at the shaking, at the pool, at the world. She couldn’t bathe, she couldn’t eat, she couldn’t wear shoes. How was she expected to live this life? Why couldn’t they leave her to her own devices?

Eventually she managed to drag herself entirely out of the pool and she laid on the ground, dripping and shaking against the cold marble. She didn’t try to dry herself or drag herself to bed. As her heart started to slow down, the cold floor reminded her of the dark chamber way beneath the Mountain. 

If she closed her eyes tight to block all the light, she could imagine the whispering of the water was her family all around her and that her father was breathing, sleeping soundly, scared, but safe.

Chapter Text

The woman was getting tired of being woken up by these knocks at the door. 

Spring could be lonely and empty, but at least it was quiet. Alis would come inside and go about her business. When she had to wake her up, at least she was pragmatic about it. A pang of longing filled her. 

How was Alis? Her boys? Had they returned to Spring? Had they decided to stay in Summer, where they were from? Did she even know what had happened to her? Cyrus would tell her, she was sure. What would Cyrus, her most loyal friend, think if he saw her now? Did he hate her for acting so impulsively Under the Mountain, for forcing him back there before she understood what it really meant to be down there? For leaving him when all was supposed to be finished?

The door opened, despite her not making a sound or even a movement to go and open it. 

Feyre ? Came the voice in her head and it was so filled with fear that it sent a shiver that wasn’t entirely hers down her body. Ugh, this bond was a problem . The morning sun had come and shed light and glorious warmth on her, but still she hadn’t moved. Why are you on the ground?

I can’t go in the water , she thought in response, though she wasn’t sure why she’d told him. It was just weaponry he could use against her. 

But he didn’t. 

Why ? 

I don’t know . Her memory was quickly to supply the phantom feeling of her chest tightening, of the flashbacks repeatedly overtaking her.

Closing the door, Rhysand walked up to her and sat next to her on the ground with his legs crossed. She rolled to her back to look up at him. He looked good. Healthy. There was a new tan returning to his skin. Another stab of longing went through her. She wished she could look like that. The girls tell me you haven’t been eating . 

She wasn’t not sure who the girls were. 

I’m eating. 

He growls deep in his throat. 

Not enough . I didn’t bring you up here to starve. You were doing a fine job of that on your own . 

Normally, she’d snapped her teeth at that. She was always doing her best. Every minute of every day. No one could speak to her that way. 

But she saw no point now. He was right. Might have been her best, it was still yielding poor results.

Why did you bring me up here? I doubt it was just for me to see your healer . 

He kept looking at her, silent, as if he was looking for something he couldn’t find. He hadn’t been the first to be disappointed in her. Might as well get in line. He sighed and stood up. 

Come have lunch with me. There are things you should know . 

She blinked up at him, weariness weighing on her bones. The only reason she extended her tattooed hand towards him was a quiet spark of curiosity. He took it, pulling her up until she was standing. Despite having had dinner last night, the sudden movement made her a little dizzy. 

You okay? He asked, hanging on to her hand a second longer. 

She nodded and pulled her hand away. 

Show the way . 

They climbed the steps back to the main living area, but didn’t even glance at the formal dining room where meals were normally served. No, Rhysand continued to a side staircase that led upwards to another floor she had not bothered to explore. The stairs had been carved into the stone, the side protected by the same invisible wall, showing miles and miles of open blue sky. 

She didn’t think she could get tired of this. Whoever had built this place… she could relate. 

Too fast, they reached the top of the tower: a round chamber that allowed a view of both sides of the mountain they were in. She let out a low whistle in appreciation as she finished climbing the steps. She was a bit out of breath, but wouldn’t show it.

Nothing could have prepared her for what lay on top of the circular table in the middle of the room.

A map. 

A map of the entire world. Not drawn on paper like Tamlin’s. It had been sculpted, mountains perfectly proportionate, carved in different types of wood depending on the type of climate. Deep grooves had been cut at the borders between realms and little flags dotted the terrain, marking the cities. Everywhere… but on the Night Court. So much for knowing the lay of the land… 

Down south, the Wall cut the world in half. Her eyes looked for the spot her home had been, then for where her old cave stood. She wondered what her old map drawn on the wall would look like compared to this.

It was glorious. 

Rhysand seemed about to speak, but he stopped, looking from her to the map. 

“Please, don’t drool on my map. It’s priceless.” 

She forced herself to close her mouth as she walked up to it, completely ignoring the food that had been brought to the side table at the edge of the room. For the first time in days, she felt fully awake. She touched one of the three big peaks of mountains in the Night Court area and wondered which one they were on, or if this massive mountainside was just a regular sized mountain… and these were even bigger. 

The world truly was bigger than she’d ever imagined. 

It’s… Even in her mind, she lacked the words for it. Wow . 

You like it? He sounded surprised. 

I love maps , she said and her heart ached a bit to think of all the maps she’d left behind in Summer, including the one she’d made of Tamlin’s body. Even if she could get them back, she didn’t think she could look at them again. At the hopeful traces she’d made, when she thought her life would be so so different. When she’d thought herself wholly invincible. 

She forced herself to shut out the excitement in her eyes and cross her hands behind her back. Maps were Feyre’s business. Whatever she was now had sold half her life.

You could… make maps if you liked them so much. Mapmaker is a very respected profession, Rhysand said in her mind. 

She silently reprimanded herself. She should’ve known better by now. Her thoughts had been only hers for a long time... It was hard to control them even if she knew someone was watching. 

You don’t need to control them. You can just learn to conceal them. We call them mental shields. I can show you how . 

She looked at him standing near the table, quietly fixing himself a plate. It was hard to believe this was the same male that had interrupted her lunch in Tamlin’s home all those months ago. He looked… calmer here. Less… sharp. Of course, the female keeping him captive for the last fifty years was gone so that might have something to do with it. But… there was something else too. Something she’d gleamed on the night of Calanmai, and then again, just outside the Mountain. 

You’d let me, then? Map, I mean?

I told you. I’m not your owner. You can do whatever you want.

Except leave, she rose an eyebrow. No one had showed her the exit of this mansion. Truth be told, she hadn’t looked for them anyway. But considering the heights they were at, she didn’t think finding one would be of much help. Even the map in front of her showed very little help for her to navigate. 

You can leave once your time is up. And if you agree to work with me, you can move freely through my Court’s territory even when you have to be here. When I don’t need you to do anything for me, that is.  

She looked down at the empty map. 

You could use a new mapmaker. Your bit is looking… a little bare. She lifted her eyes to him. But if I do… What happens to your plan of using me for your Court of Nightmares?

He’d wanted to recruit her before she had even Changed, right about when she had killed the Midgardian Wyrm. So he probably wanted her to hunt something down. Maybe someone. 

“Nothing would make me happier than just letting you map to your heart’s content. But your abilities might be useful in the near future and like I told you… I like having good people on my team.” He pressed the plate he’d made into her hand and, with another hand on her lower back, he guided her to the other side of the continent. “War… is coming, Feyre.” 

Her eyes immediately fell on the wall and her blood ran cold. 

“Invading?” She was so shocked the words just flooded out. “They… they won’t… Humans don’t… stand a chance…” 

The frustrated breath he let out touched the back of her head. 

“You still think me a monster. Even after everything.” 

I think everyone’s a monster until they prove me wrong. The people she’d loved most in the world had condemned her to the cold and the famine. She’d trusted a Beast who’d tried to kill her and she’d made a mistake she could never undo. She would never be taken unaware again. 

His expression softened. 

“I am not invading the human lands,” he said, serious. “But Amarantha was just the start. She was a test… One of Hybern’s generals, sent to scope out our defenses, weaken us if she could. And… she could. Now the king of Hybern has fifty years of intel on us and we know nothing of his plans, except that he’s been planning to reclaim the world south of the Wall for well over a hundred years. And, as we are, we’re still too fragile to show much of a resistance as it is.” 

She looked at the figurines over the map. Armies . 

“Prythian is the only thing between him and the Continent. If he makes it there… he could take over the entire world.” 

A familiar wave of anger came over her. Not another bully. 

“He will likely want to take care of us swiftly and thoroughly. Take the human lands, squeeze some armies through the wall, then shatter it on his way out. It’s already full of holes, as I’m sure you’re aware–” 

“When?” She interrupted him. 

“We don’t know yet.”

The woman nodded. 

Well… I can maybe take down some of you if you give me some ashwood arrows. More with those claws if I figure out how to use them. But other than that… I’m not sure I’ll make that much of a difference . 

The corners of his mouth flickered up for a second, but he shook his head. She absentmindedly took an egg puff from her plate and started chewing on it as she heard his explanation. 

“See, when Amarantha came to power, when she took hold of the High Lords’ magic… she murdered the ones who opposed her. So now we have untested High Lords… and even worse, some who might ally themselves with Hybern due to it. As a means of protection.” She nodded again. She still didn’t see how that was her problem. “So one of the reasons why I would like to have you work for me… is so you’ll… contact Tamlin. I’d like you to ask him if he is willing to fight with us. Or, at the very least, not against us. His family has long existing ties to Hybern. If we can use them to our advantage…” 

Ah . An unexpected pain bloomed in her chest. Please, come home, Tamlin had said in the woods. Would he help that evil king? After what she’d seen Under the Mountain, she wouldn’t put it above him. But still… hadn’t he given her the benefit of the doubt when he’d taken her to his home? Hadn’t he trusted a wild girl could save his world? Couldn’t she do the same for him? Even if it might break her in half?

There was something else too. Something that simmered on the back of her mind and that made her shoulders drop a bit when she acknowledged it. So he hadn’t made a deal with her because of her skills. It was just a dick swinging contest. He just wanted something someone else had. 

Rhys shook his head vehemently. 

“You think too loud , little nightmare. And too fast. Not to mention inaccurately. There’s more I require from you.” 

Oh ? 

“I heard you caught a Suriel.” 

She nodded and told him the same thing she’d told Tamlin on the occasion as she picked up a piece of cured meat. 

“Not hard.” 

“Oh, it’s hard. I’ve tried and failed. Twice. That and your feat with the Wyrm… I need to track something down and I think you’re the one to do it.” 

She sighed, chewing on a piece of cheese.

No mapmakers, no hunters… what do you have up here?

Rhysand let out a frustrated breath. 

“We do have them. You’re just the only one I trust.” 

Terrible call, really . She rolled her eyes and sighed. I could betray you to Tamlin. Then what will you do?

“You won’t betray me,” he said with certainty that warmed her insides a little. He must be really stupid to have that much faith in her, but that didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate that someone could, after all she had done. “Then, of course, other than all of that, we also have to consider your powers.” 

She thought of her paws and her glorious tail and her lush mane. Yes , she had powers. 

“It’s not just the Shapeshifting. You’re strong. You saw what you did to my cutlery. You’re fast too. Running up and down the coast like you did these past few months. Those are usually the first indications that a High Lord’s son might become his Heir.” 

She didn’t ask how he knew she had been running up and down the coast. I’m not a High Lord’s son, though. 

“No, but you and your sisters were given life by all seven of us. Your very essence is tied to us, born of us. What if we gave you more than we expected?” He put his hands together. “If you learned how to control it, it might mean…” 

And you’ll teach me? Like you’ll teach me to shield you out ?

“Yes. To the best of my ability. While you serve as my emissary. And hunt something for me.” 

She wanted to put the plate down, but it seemed wrong to place it on top of the map, so she just held on to it. She looked at the wall and the human lands beneath it. Her family did not belong there anymore. Whatever land they had managed to amass while she was away was gone, burned down by Amarantha. That didn’t mean there weren’t people worth saving down there. People who had turned around when they saw her stealing, who had given her what they had when she’d begged. There might be other little girls like her, scared for their families, about to be lost to the woods. 

Still, all of this… an emissary, a hired hunter… this wasn’t her. It wasn’t who she was, who she was supposed to be. She wasn’t even supposed to be alive. Twice now she’d cheated certain death. How long until her luck ran out? 

This is too much, she told him. 

I know , he said, his wings shifting and becoming visible for a second, just a cluster of well applied shadows hiding them. But if it helps, I don’t think you’re not supposed to be alive. I think the opposite, quite frankly. I think you were meant for something great and that’s why you keep surviving. You were meant to become something Prythian listens to, someone they respect. A High Fae with a human heart. A fighter. That might make a difference in this war. 

She bit the inside of her mouth. It was dangerous to think like that. The thing winter loved the most was arrogant fools, who thought they could beat it. Beasts ate the meat of both people with great and awful destinies. She did not want to get lost in this plot and lose sight of what truly mattered.

What about my sisters?

“What about them?”, he asked. 

Won’t they be expected to fight too? Will you get half of their time as well?

Rhysand looked down at his map and rubbed his chin.

“You know them better than me. If they have the same abilities you do… Would they fight?” 

“No,” she shook her head. They didn’t fight to save their lives when we were kids. They won’t fight now . 

“A lot can change in ten years. You haven’t really had a chance to talk to them, have you?” 

She rubbed at her forehead. The food she’d just eaten turned inside her. 

I can’t , she thought. Even in her head, she couldn’t talk about it. 

Why?  

You know why . He might be the only person who knew why. He’d looked inside her head that day. He might have known all along who Nesta was, but he got her anyway. Everyone had thought Nesta was the one Tamlin loved. She was the one in his house right now. She wasn’t even sure how much of what had actually happened people knew. 

I filled some of the High Lords in… the ones who wanted to listen , he said. Tamlin also helped… in his own way . 

She didn’t want to open that can of worms. 

I did something stupid and careless and I messed up their lives forever . 

Didn’t they do the same for you?

That’s different , she insisted. 

How is it different? He came over and took the plate from her. When she looked down, it had a crack down the middle. She’d been pressing it too hard and hadn’t even noticed it. Didn’t they turn you into something you didn’t want to become? 

Not on purpose.

No ? He asked, one of his eyebrows raising. Did you do what you did on purpose? Did you know what was going to happen?

She bit the inside of her mouth again and turned away from him, anger rising up. She wanted to punch through one of these windows, open her way to the wilds below. It’d be easier to take her chances there than to go back to that place, with those people, to those thoughts she’d had when they were around. . 

You don’t know them. They’re selfish. They won’t listen to what I have to say. No one ever listens…

“I heard you,” he said out loud, placing the plate down on a side table. Rhysand turned to her slowly, as she looked at him surprised. “Even when you couldn’t speak, I heard you loud and clear. If I could hear you, so can they. You saved them. They owe you at least this.” 

I did not save all of them . She wanted to lean on the map, but she was scared to damage it, so she took an extra step back just to be sure. They don’t know it was me who… caused it, but I… I know . I’ll always know and if they don’t hate me for it, it will only make it worse . 

Rhysand came close again. He placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked up, hating herself for visibly shaking. 

I know it’s hard. But you have to make your peace with it. Go back to Spring. Talk to Tamlin. Talk to your sisters. Even if everything fails and he decides to move against us and your family doesn't listen… there might not be another time to try. You’ll always have a place here, even if you decide not to work for me. Take another week to think. He squeezed her shoulder for a second. And tomorrow, you’ll start learning how to raise your mental shields.

She bit the crook of her finger and nodded. Oh, she knew what anxiety was now. And it was everywhere .

Chapter Text

What Rhysand hadn’t told her was that shield raising school was a lot like school school. 

“Raising your shield when you’re concentrating is easy. You need something to distract you so you can practice doing it even without having to concentrate on it directly.” He pointed at a paper on top of the table with the alphabet written on it. “Hence, I’m teaching you how to read.” 

She pushed the paper away. 

“ Know . The. Alphabet.” 

“Well, you won’t tell me what you know, so I was guessing.” He touched the paper and it vanished. “How much do you remember?” 

She shrugged. She couldn’t read a text, she didn’t think, but she could put letters together. She’d even written her name back in Spring, albeit with a lot of effort. He pulled another piece of paper from thin air and placed it in front of her. 

“Fine. Then, read this.” 

She looked down at the short sentences in a scrawling handwriting and snapped her tongue, pointing at the last word. 

Easy. That’s my name right there. 

Good. And the rest? Don’t you want to know what I have to say about you?

She’d rather run a mile than submit herself to this. Hadn’t she humiliated herself enough? He could write down whatever he wanted. She knew what was real. 

The woman lifted her eyes to his.

I never agreed to this… reading thing . 

“Just try. You took down a Wyrm. I’m sure you can read a sentence.” 

She looked down at the page. She tried placing the first letters together. Y. O. U. She tried to force the word out of her throat, but for some reason, this one wouldn’t come out. Another wave of anger hit her. 

“M’not stupid!” She said through gritted teeth, feeling the weight of his stare over her. 

“Never said you were.” 

I can hear you thinking it , she threw the thought at him like a blade.

No, you can’t. Because I have a shield up . 

You’re going to need a real shield if you keep testing me.

He snapped his tongue and shook his head as a lazy smile spread across his face. 

Don’t threaten me with a good time, Feyre, darling. Now, what does it say?

Says “you’re a prick”. 

First word is right. Why don’t you keep trying? You don’t have to say it out loud . 

She looked down. L. O. O. K. That did not form a word. The woman let out a sigh, letting her head fall back into the chair’s backrest. They were in a curtained off section of the library, sitting on a beautifully sculpted table. Asking her to concentrate on this of all things was torture.

Can’t you just hire me a tutor? 

Considering your reaction to the healer, I’m hesitant to even offer. He lifted a brow. Is it that hard to even try in front of me?

I am trying . It’s just… been a long time. She stared at the letters again, like she could just force them into submission like she would a wild horse. Is it lock? You lock?

No. See, there’s two Os, so they…

The inkling of a memory poked at her brain, though her tutors hadn’t been nearly as calm as he was being.

Change sound? Is it… look? You look?

“Good,” he murmured.

Now these are way too long. She pointed at the next two words. Still, she didn’t dare ask for easier ones, but fuck this was annoying. A. B. Ab. S. O. Abso? What kind of… L. U. Ab… so… lutely? Absolutely? Who even says that?

I do , he promptly replied. One more word and we can move on . 

She seriously doubted that. 

1. E. De. L. I. Lie? C. I. Ce…ay? O. U. Wait. 

Yes? He asked, beaming innocently. 

Do you want to get bitten? 

Everything is better with consent, don’t you think? If you’re offering, I’m in. 

Does it say “You look absolutely delicious, Feyre”?

You know it does. See? All you need is some practice. Now, for the second part of our training…

He leaned back in his chair and the feeling of sharp claws inside her own mind made every hair on her body stand up straight. As her eyes widened, they dug in tighter, until it wasn’t just her thoughts in his hands. Her heart, her lungs, her blood yielded to his grip, slowing down for just a moment. It felt like it did the second time they’d seen each other, on Tamlin’s dining room. 

This is what happens when you leave your mental shields down. Your brain is not only home to your thoughts and memories, but all that you are and all that you’ve ever been. All you could be. It dictates your entire life. Someone with my set of powers can shut it out with a thought and you’d be done for . 

A cold sweat broke out on her forehead as she struggled against his grip. It was hard to fight something she couldn’t see, that she couldn’t rip apart. With much effort, she was able to furrow her brows, even if she couldn’t even blink. 

Good effort. But not enough. I want to see you shove me out . 

She didn’t know how. He pushed a little harder and her chest grew tight. 

Shove. Me. Out. 

He was everywhere. She kept grappling to find how far he’d gone, kept trying to push him out, talon by talon. She couldn’t be everywhere at once… 

Hadn’t he called it a shield? She hadn’t seen a shield except for storybooks when she was small and decorations in walls. She wouldn’t know how to use one. Still, she’d used something similar in the arena. That creature’s skull, it had shielded her as she traveled to the belly of the beast, ripping the Wyrm from the inside out. 

She thought of it until she could see it clearly in her mind’s eye. She thought of herself retreating into the small space between its jaws and pushing the entire skull against him, forcing the claws out one by one. They tried to resist, but she pushed more and more of her into that small space and the skull grew around her, gaining strength to push him further and further away. 

“Good,” he said and the claws let go. 

Her body was suddenly hers again and she took a deep breath, slumping back in her seat. 

“Don’t relax just yet. Lift that shield up. Block me out so I can’t get back in.” 

How was she supposed to block something like that? She felt so tired… like she’d left her room a thousand years ago though it had barely been a couple of hours. She felt the caress of claws against her mind again and immediately called that skull to mind. She made that skull her own, surrounding the entirety of her brain, her mind, not letting anything coming from outside get into the places he’d grabbed on before. 

A smile spread through his lips. 

“Look at you. Read a whole sentence. Kicked me out of your mind. And made yourself a shield. Excellent work.” 

She growled in response. It didn’t rattle him a bit. She looked down at the paper. There were more sentences, so she assumed they weren’t done for the day. That didn’t really matter though. She bit the inside of her mouth. 

Can I really keep you out? Anyone… out?

“Keep practicing and we’ll see what happens. It’s hard to scope what you can do until we have a better understanding of your powers.” 

That felt… good. Felt right. No empty promises. He nodded and pulled back the paper with the alphabet from the air, extending it to her. 

“Now, I have other business to attend to. On the meantime, I want you to copy the alphabet so you can practice your letters. And every time you’re done with the full set, I want you to lower and raise your shield again.” 

She looked at the paper, then back at him. 

Yeah. There’s no way I’m doing that . 

Why? You have better things to do? The side of your pool did look comfortable yesterday morning . 

She showed her teeth. 

Prick . 

He stood up, fixing his clothing. 

Look at it on the bright side. When you learn to shield against me, you can call me whatever you want and I’ll never know . 

Rhysand vanished into a ripple of darkness a second before she threw the pencil in his direction. She took a deep breath and faced the page. Do you have better things to do?

Her brain felt like mush by the time he got back. Even her face was hurting from all of the strain she was putting on it trying to picture her mental shield. 

Not bad , Rhys said, walking to her side a safe distance away, scanning the pages she’d written on. A second later, his claws scraped her shield. She closed herself inside of it, bracing like she would before a night of cold out in the human wilds. 

“Look at that. Maybe I’ll be able to have my own dreams now that yours won’t keep leaking into mine.” 

This time, she threw the pencil directly at his forehead. He stood, eyes widening, as the pencil clattered to the floor. Her smile was so wild she almost felt like herself again. She’d be thinking about that look of surprise until late at night. 

The fae left her alone for the better part of the next week. 

Neither Rhys nor Mor came to wake her up, which allowed her to sleep in late. Her only company were the two twin servants, who introduced themselves as Nuala and Cerridwen. They brought her meals over – since she kept consistently missing them, but ate if the food was brought to her – changed her sheets and asked if she needed anything else. Other than that, she was free to roam around.

The first day alone, she rebelled, determined not to write a single word. She walked around the house, looking for exits. She found many stairs going down, but the memory of Mor saying the Court that had inspired Amarantha being under them was enough to lead her away from those. She’d peeked into room after room, except for the ones locked, either by key or by magic. For the first time in a while, her fingers itched to make a map. But she didn’t think it’d be necessary. She knew the most important places. The rest – bedrooms, music room, ballroom, formal dining rooms, conference rooms – were just empty space. Very well lit and beautifully decorated empty space, but she’d never had use for that. 

So, the second day, after a night of restlessness in which she dreamed she kept roaming the dark hallways of Under the Mountain as they shrank around her, she returned to the library, not surprised to find Rhys had left a page of exercises for her to do in his absence. Do you have anything better to do?

She really didn’t.

Almost an hour later, she realized she’d made a mistake when she figured out the page was just Rhysand complimenting himself. 

Rhysand is the most handsome High Lord. 

Rhysand is the most delightful High Lord. 

Rhysand is the most cunning High Lord. 

She would have written vain if she knew how to. And yet… with no map, no hunting and no elements to fight… she’d found solace in the repetitive motion of scribbling, in the exhausting repetition of shield up and shield down . She wasn’t even sure it was working, but she kept trying anyway.

Nuala came to bring her her lunch, and somehow, she got so caught up in her exercises that she forgot to eat it. By the time she finished her assignments, her food had long grown cold and the other sister had come to retrieve it. 

She lifted her eyes from her assignment just in time to see the flash of disappointment in Cerridwen’s face when she saw the plate in the same place. 

“You… can… leave it,” she forced herself to say out loud, before biting her lower lip. She’d never seen leftovers in this house and the last thing she wanted was for good food to be thrown away just because she had been distracted. Cold food was no problem. She was used to it.

The servant hesitated next to the table, looking from the plate to her. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then gave up, before finally deciding to say something after all.  

“I know it’s… hard,” Cerridwen said, joining her hands in front of her body. “Getting back into a routine”. 

The woman blinked, placing her pencil on the table. When Cerridwen didn’t say anything else, she just nodded in agreement. The closest she’d had to a routine was back in Spring. 

But she supposed that was right. Eating three times a day was difficult. Sleeping through the night instead of waking up every few hours to check if there was anything roaming around her cave was difficult. Even coming to this room and doing these tasks when she was expected too would get difficult after a day or two. The fact people expected her to know that was how she was supposed to behave and then behave like that… it was mind boggling, considering the absolute freedom she’d raised herself in. Not half a year ago, she’d sleep when she needed, eat when she needed, move anywhere just because she wanted to. 

And now… she was this. 

“We… we were down there too, you know?” Cerridwen said carefully. The woman furrowed her brows, but she couldn’t remember seeing them. She didn’t think it was a lie, though. She could see the same shadows she carried in the other female’s eyes. “I know it is… strange to be back to a world above. And… people are happy for you and they want to see you thrive and you want to do it for them… but it’s just one of those things in life that you had to be there in order to know what it was like…” Cerridwen turned her pale face to the side, like she could only get the words out if she wasn’t looking directly at the woman. Like she was a predator and Cerridwen was showing her belly, showing the vulnerable bits of herself. “Each one of us has their own ways to… figure it out. Our High Lord has poured himself into his work. My sister is pretending nothing happened. I am… working on it. You… can do it however you want.” 

The woman blinked. She had ran off into the woods and lived a life so feral she had literally morphed into a beast. That… sounded a bit less healthy than anyone else was doing, but then again she was never the healthiest person.

“But…” Cerridwen continued, touching the edge of the plate, “if I could ask something of you... From survivor to survivor… don’t punish yourself. For being alive, I mean. For getting out when others didn’t. For being safe when others you love were hurt.”

She took the plate of cold food in her hands.

“Don’t stop eating to be ready when food gets scarce again. Don’t try to stay awake because you think you’ll be more helpful if you do more for others. The dead don’t need food or sleep. But you do.” Cerridwen let out a breath and shook her head as if she was ridding herself of a weight before fixing her posture. “I’ll… also try to follow my own advice. I’ll get this warmed up for you. Is there anything else I can help you with?” 

The woman looked at the food, then back at her and shook her head. Cerridwen lowered her head in a small curtsy before pulling back and leaving. When she was almost at the door, the woman managed to whisper “Thank you.” 

She wasn’t sure the female heard her. 

The woman went to have breakfast in the dining room the next day. 

Cerridwen’s words resounded in her head a long time after she had laid in her nest. She’d stared at the night sky and asked herself, again and again, if that was what she was doing. If she was punishing herself for her father’s death. For Greysen’s and Tomas’. For her mother’s. For her own death and her sisters’. For their new life. 

For the first time since she woke up, she felt the urge to go to them. She wanted to know what they were feeling. If they felt as scattered as she did. If they were struggling as much. If basic tasks were as hard for them that used to do them every day as they were for her, that was still learning how to do it. She’d thought they’d be better without her… But only then did Tamlin’s words reach her. Your sisters miss you. They are very… confused about their new lives. I know it would help if you showed them how you’re adapting . 

There was a very simple way to go to them. Work for Rhysand. 

She could go on her own once she got her time off, of course. She still owned half her life. She could wait for the end of her six weeks and go there herself. She was sure she could make it with her new speed, though she didn’t know the way yet. But she didn’t trust she’d have a place to return to if she didn’t take his offer. He seemed pleasant enough, but she’d made that mistake before. 

The Suriel’s warnings came back to her then: Stay with the High Lord . That hadn’t been very specific. She’d tried to stay with Tamlin, but she was separated from him for weeks, only to then die in the general vicinity of his arms. Should she try again? Was that warning still on? Or… could it mean the opposite of what she had thought before? Could it mean another High Lord?

So, when she was down for breakfast, once the servants were done placing the table, she lifted a hand to get their attention. Both of them stopped, looking at her expectantly. She tried to push past the sudden block to her throat to say: 

“I have… a question,” she’d been practicing in her room since she woke up. They hadn’t come in to help her dress anymore, so she had the time. Both of them nodded at once and she could have sworn that Cerridwen’s eyes shone a little brighter when she smiled encouragingly. “What… is… it… like? Working… for Rhysand?” 

She hadn’t said his name before, she didn’t think. With the amount of letters it had, she would have thought it would have been harder. But it rolled right off her tongue. 

The servants exchanged a look. But not like they were hiding something. More like they were trying not to laugh. 

“Well, there’s never a dull day,” Nuala said pleasantly. “Especially when all the others are here.”

“O— th— Othe— ers?” She struggled through the word. 

“Sure. Like miss Morrigan,” Cerridwen amended. “The rest of his Court.”

She looked at them expectantly, way out of her depth. He had said she would need to communicate with other people, she just didn’t think they’d be… working in such close proximity. The woman bit the inside of her mouth, worrying the flesh between her teeth. 

“He’s good on his promises,” Nuala said, when she saw the woman looked unsure. “And the pay is really good.” 

“We could have run… when it happened.” Cerridwen said. Nuala’s pale face grew paler and her pupils shrunk in a second. “We chose to stay by his side. Because… someone had to.” 

The woman thought about what Cerridwen had confessed to her yesterday. To how difficult it was going back to her old life. 

“Worth… it?” She asked, more one twin than the other. 

They both nodded together, though Nuala seemed to be far from this room. She curtsied and quickly left straight through a wall. The woman blinked. She should stop being surprised by these things. Cerridwen watched her leave and sighed before looking back at her. 

“He’s very thankful for our service there. He wanted us to retire with a pension and a house somewhere nice… but, ah… what would we do with our time?” She motioned to the room around her. “Besides, if we stuck around, we had a feeling we might meet you.” 

“Me?” She asked, raising one eyebrow, so surprised the word escaped her. 

“Our savior,” Cerridwen said with a smile before vanishing into shadow. 

The woman faced her own plate, dumbfounded and let out a huff of air. 

That was that, then. She had what she needed.

Chapter Text

The next day, in the library, the woman tentatively reached out with her mind. Their bond usually tugged along her navel, so she imagined there was a rope tied around there until she felt her conscience grabbing onto something solid. She pulled on it until she felt the usual caressing talons. She lifted her shields as she’d been practicing so she would only project what she wanted. 

I am… thinking. About your offer . 

His velvety voice sounded like a purr in her mind. 

Oh?

She nodded to herself, facing her exercises from the day. Rhysand was a spectacular person. Rhysand is the center of my world. Rhysand is the best lover a female can ever dream of . Her writing was still shit and the pencil still felt foreign in her hand, but it was starting to look like letters and not deranged scribbles. Most of the sentences, without external help, were mysteries to her.

I’ve never… worked… for someone before. I want… to understand. What it means. Before I say yes. 

That sounds reasonable enough. He said in a pleasant tone. Tell you what: let me introduce you to the rest of the team and you can figure out if that’s something you’d like to take part in . 

She was glad her shields were up and she hoped he couldn’t feel the wave of anxiety that took grip of her stomach. 

Alright . 

The woman pulled back, getting up and starting to pace. 

Hopeless. She was absolutely hopeless. 

Better to cut her losses and go back to the woods where she belonged. Maybe she should take her chances with the stairs and fight her way through whatever court was under them.

She looked at the armoire in front of her and pressed her hand over her drumming heart. Stop, she told herself, shaking her head to try and clear it. This was dinner. She just needed to figure out what to wear. No one was dying. Or fighting.

Rhysand’s words came to mind then: You killed a Wyrm . She could pick out clothing. 

But she didn’t exactly have much inspiration to draw from. As a child, she’d been dressed in so many ruffles and petticoats and ribbons she could hardly run. Later on, she’d worn her sisters’ hand-me-downs until she got lost. And from then on, she’d worn anything that would cover her and give out warmth. Sometimes she’d steal from clothing lines, sometimes she’d make a needle out of bone and sew leather together into crude shapes. In Spring, there were mostly dresses for her to wear. She’d managed to get some pants, and she liked them much better, but everyone around her would eye her curiously. 

After those weeks under the Mountain and those months on her own that’s what she did not want. The curious looks. 

Since she’d woken up, she’d put whatever she could find on, clashing patters and colors and even shapes. The clothing here was comfortable enough, with the flowing fabrics, the high waisted pants, cropped tops and lovely sleeves, but it was also confusing. She’d only seen one person wear anything similar. 

And that was how she found herself outside of Mor’s door. She’d easily found her room during her roamings. It was one of the five locked doors, but it had a pretty flag hanging off of it. Once she knocked, the door opened in a couple of seconds. The female started upon seeing her there and the woman took a deep breath. 

“I… need… help.” She said, stiffly. 

Mor’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“Of course. Is… everything alright?”

She nodded and looked around, as if she could shield herself from the embarrassment if she wasn’t making eye contact. 

“S’just… dinner. Later.” She pointed at herself. “Dunno… what to… wear.” 

Like the clouds parting to let out sunlight, her smile spread across her face. It was like watching a child on Solstice morning. 

“Really?!” She cleared her throat and took hold of her own expression. “I mean, really? Aw, that’s too bad. I’ll absolutely help you. Of course. What— uh— What are you thinking? Pants? Skirts? We usually keep it very casual. Rhysand likes to dress up, but he’s Rhysand, you know?” 

She nodded along to the pleasant chatter, offering her usual monossilabics as responses the best she could. She frequently had to remind herself to breathe and to sit up straighter and to look interested. By the time they’d picked an outfit from her closet and Mor returned to her room, she was exhausted. 

She laid on her bed, closing her eyes and wondering how she was going to deal if there was a whole room full of Mors. If she had to work with them. Someone would have thought the Night Court would be a little bit more quiet. 

The woman rubbed her thumb against the middle of her palm, trying to convince herself it would be fine. All she had to do was make it through the night and she had a secure place to fall back onto if things with Tamlin and her sisters didn’t work out. It was a small price to pay… 

But why did it feel so heavy? 

The clothes were simple enough to put on but she did ask Cerridwen for help when she came along asking if she needed any. 

She didn’t want to ruin the night before it even started by taking a dip in the pool, so she’d done her best to clean herself with the wet towels. As she stared in the mirror, for the first time she mourned her hair. Not because it made her any prettier, but because it was something to hide behind if she needed it. 

“Try not to worry too much,” Cerridwen said, smoothing out a wrinkle on her shirt. “The Inner Circle is… sweet.” 

She watched the female’s face, searching for a sign she was being funny. She seemed serious. It was hard to imagine a group responsible for running a country to be… sweet . All of Tamlin’s meetings with his remaining Sentries had been tense at best. Not that she had seen much of them anyway.

“I… don’t… do this,” she murmured, pulling on her own sleeve as if she could hide the sprawling designs inked in black there. 

“What?” 

She sighed. 

“People… dinners.”

She’d tried back in Spring and look at where it all ended. She’d done everything she was supposed to, everything she could think of to do and she’d still lost. She obviously couldn’t be herself because she didn’t even know what that meant. So what was she to do? What was she supposed to behave like?

“I’m sure they’d be alright to reschedule if you don’t feel good.” 

The woman shook her head. What was the point? She wasn’t going to learn to be a regular person anytime soon. She could train herself to play a part, but there would always be something fundamentally crooked about her, something she had no control over. 

“Well… if you need to leave, then just leave.” The female encouraged, a hint of worry in her eyes. “Give me a wink and I’ll bail you out.” 

That ripped a weak smile out of her. A knock sounded at the door and she swallowed through the sudden thickness in her throat. Cerridwen looked at her for an extra second before walking to the door and opening it. 

They looked like a neat little pair, the two of them. While she was wearing dark blue, Rhysand was wearing black. She was in a tight knit sweater and no-nonsense dark pants, while he was in a fitted tunic and well tailored trousers. She wondered if his shoes were leather and, if they were, what kind of leather they were made of. 

On one thing, however, they didn’t match. He was, well… as he put it himself in her lessons: breathtaking. She looked… breath leaving, at best. But it was as good as it was going to get. 

A feline smirk spread across his face and he offered his hand. 

“Looking good, darling. Ready to be thrown to the wolves?” 

That didn’t help her nerves. Killing a wolf had been exactly what landed her here. She put her hand in his. He placed her hand on his arm, waving at Cerridwen before starting to guide the woman out into the hall and up the stairs. They walked with no rush, as if this was really just a meal between friends.

For a second, just before they reached the last step, his hand arm tightened against her hand. “I meant what I said before. This is an offer. It is not a done deal. If you don’t want this: to work with me, with them, there will be no questions asked. You don’t have to explain yourself. We can find some other way for you to live here. As you eloquently put it, we are in need of mapmakers. All of this to say, this is all your choice.” 

She raised her eyes to his, frowning at him. He was hard to figure out with her limited knowledge of other sentient beings. She’d still be tied to this bargain. She would have no way to return to her sisters – or, at the very least, no plausible excuse. 

“Tell me what’s on your mind. One thing. And I’ll say one too.” 

Her expression relaxed and one eyebrow lifted. Her shields were firmly in place. 

Missing looking inside my head whenever you want? , she pointed her words at him. 

Rhysand lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. 

“I’m thinking,” he started before she had agreed to play his little game, “that I spent fifty years locked Under the Mountain and I’d sometimes let myself dream of this place, of nights like these… but I never expected to see it again. I’m thinking that I wish I’d been the one who had slaughtered her. I’m thinking that if war comes, there might be a long while yet before we get another night like this.” 

She looked at her own hand and remembered the feeling of the knife against her hand, of the pulsating organs of the fae queen under her fingers. It didn’t help as much as she’d thought it would. Satisfying as landing the first blow had been, she had died mere minutes later. At that moment, she wasn’t sure it had been worth it. 

“There. I’ve given you three thoughts. Give me one.”

She was always thinking so much she hardly could single one thing out. Let alone something she wanted to talk about. 

I’m thinking… about how different my life turned out to be . From what I thought it was going to be . 

He smiled sadly.

Many people say greatness is not born. It’s made. I believe that . 

She let out a huff. 

Who says I’m great?

His eyes glittered for a second, like he’d been caught saying something he shouldn’t. 

Everyone . 

“We’re hungry!” Calls a male voice from the front rooms. “End our misery and get over here already!” 

Rhysand let out a sigh. 

“Do forgive my friends’ manners. They’re animals.” 

“You know I can hear you, right?!” came the voice again. 

That ripped a surprised chuckle out of her. That’s alright. So am I. 

Chapter Text

They walked to a more formal dining room than the one she was used to. This one was built in red stone and the wooden table was longer. There were two males near the table. One of them, the one who had spoken just now, with chin length curly hair, was speaking amicably to the other, who was leaning on the wall. Both sported the same dark wings that Rhysand did, with identical swords hanging from their backs and similar leather uniforms as she’d seen him wear. 

Once again, she wondered what kind of leather it was. 

Their eyes turned to them and the first one smiled. 

“Finally! Come now, we don’t bite. Unless you want us to.” 

She only huffed in response, walking until they were all four facing each other. I’m the one more likely to bite, she thought and she felt a hint of amusement coming from Rhysand.

“Well, you’ve met my general, Cassian,” Rhys said, waving his head at the male. “I’d say he’s usually better behaved, but I’d be lying.” 

“Luckily I’m good at my job, so he’s forced to keep me around,” he said with a wild smile. The woman decided she liked him and gave him a nod. “Glad he didn’t make you get all dressed up just for us. That way our brother still gets to be the prettiest one at the party.” 

“Don’t let Amren hear you say that,” Rhys said with a shake of his head, then his eyes fell on the other male, who was standing quietly, waiting for his turn. “And this is my spymaster, Azriel.”

“Welcome,” was all he said, which she could appreciate. He offered her his hand and that part she remembered how to do. She shook his hand once, firmly, like she’d seen her father do as a child. As he was pulling back, she noticed the texture of them, how the flesh was scarred. A pang of loss hit her for a second, as she remembered her own scars, now fully erased. The weight of everyone’s eyes on her suddenly seemed heavier. 

“Brothers?” She asked in a low voice pointing at the three of them. They looked alike in the way that people from the same place did, but not in any particular feature. 

“In the way all bastards are,” Rhysand answered promptly. “And how rowdy children band together. But not in any other.”

“Now I hope you all are not starting without me,” Mor came from behind them, from the stairs, wearing a flowing red dress, gold bracelets and golden combs shaped like golden leaves to hold back her golden waves. Didn’t she say they kept it casual ?

“I don’t know why I forget you two are related,” said Cassian to Mor. “You two and your clothes.” 

She swished her hair over her shoulder and the woman could swear she saw Azriel hold his breath. She squinted, but didn’t call attention to the fact.

“You’re welcome ,” Mor said with a short curtsy, waving her flowy skirts about. “Looking my best is a service I provide only to my bestest of friends.” 

The woman couldn’t help but smile. She wished she was like this. Confident and gorgeous and charming. Then again, she probably couldn’t handle the attention if she got it in the first place. 

“Come sit with me while they drink,” she said, interlacing her arm to the woman’s and pulling her ahead as they left the winged trio behind. “Unless you’d rather drink?” 

Her disgusted expression must’ve said it all because she let out a musical laugh and they walked to their seats. 

The males were still pouring their drinks when the doors opposite to where they’d come in opened to reveal a short, delicate woman who sent every hair on her body upwards. She had to physically keep herself from showing her teeth, even if she was almost a head taller than the silver eyed female. 

She was dressed in a shirt and trousers, not different than the ones she’d been wearing, but on her they looked right . Jewelry adorned her ears and hands and wrists and neck and ankles. And yet, somehow, on her they didn’t look like too much. 

“So… there’s more of us now,” she said, looking at the woman from above. In that moment, she felt so small she might as well be a lost child again. She must have looked confused, because Amren continued. “Us who were born as one thing and became something else, in new, strange bodies.” 

She nodded stiffly. So strange, she thought and she wished she could just get the words out. Ask if it got any easier, if this body would ever feel hers . How long she’d been in her new body and how long could the woman expect to be in hers. Did Made people last as long as the rest of them? Longer?

“It is interesting… how only one other human has been Made immortal before. But Myriam only had the gift of long life, she didn’t get a new body. And yet now there are three at once. Three mortal souls in three immortal, Made bodies.” 

A shiver ran through her. The desire to go to her sisters, to wake up from whatever sleep she’d been having, to do something rose up in her. If they were so rare, had it been a mistake to leave them behind with Tamlin. Would he be able to protect them? Did they did to be protected if they were as powerful as her? Would they even know it if they were? It was hard to even stay still in her chair. 

“I’m hungry,” said Mor with a sigh, snapping her fingers to make food appear. The woman was still taking all the words in, but she couldn’t help but wonder when she would be able to do that. Looked pretty nifty to be able to summon food like that. “Let’s eat eat eat and then talk talk talk, before these two ancient bores ruin the night…” 

“We’re the same…” Rhysand began, pulling a chair just across from her. 

“Hmmm, chicken!” Mor said, starting to make herself a plate, which made the woman smile, at least a bit. 

The woman pressed her lips together not to laugh as Rhysand sighed. 

“You’re a bad influence on her, Morrigan. Feyre, Amren is my second in command. Which makes Mor my third.” 

“Three really is the perfect number, don’t you agree?” Mor asked, offering her a piece of chicken she nodded to accept. Azriel, from Rhysand’s side, chuckled. “And as far as influences go, I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

The woman watched as everyone made their plates, except for Amren, who left hers empty. She tried not to stare too much, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she ate at all. There was an amicable conversation going over the table and she kept her eyes going from one member to the other, trying to gauge what she could use to make a decision. Could she work with these people? How would she even know? 

They were a unique group, that was for sure. 

Her eyes ended up landing on Azriel, who was also keeping the same kind of companionable silence. She felt a little better knowing she wasn’t the only one not contributing to the conversation. 

She took in the stones that the males used strapped to their clothing and watched as light shifted inside them. Obviously magic of some kind. She wondered if she could get one of those. They looked really good. 

“They’re called Syphons.” When she looked up, she noticed Azriel had caught her looking. “They concentrate and help focus Illyrian power in battle.” 

“Illyrian?” She asked. She’d heard the word thrown around now and again. 

“Didn’t you say we couldn’t come over because you were teaching her? What the hell are you teaching?” Cassian asked Rhysand before looking at her. She was ready to snap that she didn’t need to know this stuff until very recently, but he explained. “ We’re Illyrians. Massive wings. Stunning good looks.” 

“A warmongering, violent people,” Amren corrected. 

“Our magic is very raw,” Azriel explained further. “It’s made for bursts of power in battle. But we have… other gifts. These allow us to focus it, transform it into other things. Shields, weapons and the like.” 

She nodded, taking the information in. So they wouldn’t work for her… Her interest quickly shifted.

“High Fae?” She asked. The divide still wasn’t that clear to her. 

“Depends on who you ask,” Azriel said with a shrug. 

“Not High Fae, not lesser fae. Just… Illyrians,” Cassian complemented. “Expendable aerial cavalry for the Night Court at best, mindless soldier grunts at worst.”

“Mostly found at their worst,” Amren conceded.

That wasn’t exactly comforting as a future ally. Or maybe it was. It was better to have a cavalry or grunts by your side than politicians, right? People who were only talk and no action. Oh, she was not equipped for this…

She looked at Rhysand. 

Are you Illyrian?

Only half. On my mother’s side. But yes . 

She took that information in and readied herself to ask another question. It was harder, in a group like that. Other than Mor, whom she met less than two weeks ago, she didn’t know any of these people. The healer’s words kept coming to mind, about how it was harder when she was nervous. But being nervous wasn’t something she could help, so where did that leave her? If you’re going to work for me, I need you to be able to communicate with my other… people, Rhysand had said. If she wanted this job, she needed to prove she could. 

“How… did you… meet?” 

That started up a conversation in which she wasn’t required to speak – which was good – but a lot of information started coming at her very fast. Rhysand’s parents, their mating, his childhood with the Illyrians, their customs, how Cassian had been before they took him in. Her heart hurt for him, even if she didn’t understand why treat children like this. Even if humans hadn’t been much better to her, at least it hadn’t been on purpose (the first time around, that is). 

Azriel was the last to join their little trio. And just when they were touching on a subject she wanted to know about, about when Rhys was taken by Amarantha, he shut off the conversation. 

“The important thing is…” He said, shifting the focus. “That once I became High Lord, I made these grunts and these lovely ladies my Court and told my father’s old Court where they could shove it… Just under this house. Inside the Mountain. Gave the entire city for them to run as long as they didn’t bother me too much.” 

She nodded slowly. 

So… they’re not noble anymore.

“Oh, they’re noble enough,” he changed his intonation, as if he was just finishing his thought and not answering her question. She wondered if it had been rude to ask him directly or if the others were used to him having half-conversation like this. If anyone else had ever needed his translation like this. “Just… in their own Court. And we have ours.” 

Mor nodded, pointing downwards. 

“Court of Nightmares,” she then pointed at all of them around the table. “Court of Dreams.” 

A stab of cold fear hit her heart. Hadn’t he told her he wanted her for his Court of Nightmares? Hadn’t he called her his Little Nightmare from the second they had met? Was that where she was to go? Under again? Please, not this. Everything but this. 

The woman wasn’t sure if he read the panic on her face or if she had dropped her shields or if something had slipped through that bridge that united them, but he just shook his head slightly.

“You see, I have… neglected to tell you about this Court before because as far as everyone outside these borders know… the Court below us is the only one that exists.” 

“Why?” she asked, before she could help it. 

A hush fell over the table. He did not miss a bit. 

“Work for me and I’ll most gladly tell you. But like you said yourself before, you could still go out there and betray me. You won’t, but you could.” She nodded in agreement. He was right. From someone who didn’t trust anyone to another, it was probably a good call. “All of this to say, I do hope you’ll join this group, if you decide to join our ranks.”

She looked to the other remaining members, and asked again how they came into the scene. None of their stories, except for Amren’s, who remained a mystery, seemed as scattered as hers. They were all acquaintances, it seemed. Locals. Why would they want her in with them? Should she find their sudden interest suspicious?

“Now do forgive us…” Cassian said, though she suspected he wouldn’t have given other people the benefit of asking this if her reputation hadn’t preceded her. “But Rhys won’t tell us much and we have to know. What’s your story then?” 

Her throat hurt before she even started talking, so she had a swig of wine before she even started. It didn’t taste as awful as it used to the first time she’d had it, though she wasn’t sure if it was the quality of it or if she were simply developing a taste for it. 

“My dad… was a merchant. Lost… everything. We went to live in a shack. I… got lost in the woods… as a child. Raised myself. Killed a fae last year. Accident… but not really. Looked like a furry wolf. I needed… fur”, she had the decency to look sheepish while describing murder, but no one seemed bothered by her confession, so she went on, “Tamlin took me to his house… I dumped his ass… then I had to go back to save it… b-b-b-because my sisters g-g-got… involved. Oh… and I have two sisters… And we died. But… not really. Because of magic.” 

Didn’t sound like much of a story. Surprising no one, she wasn’t good at stringing words together. She could feel her face warming up under their attentions. She was sure Rhysand could tell it much better than she could. He had been watching it after all. These people had been all over their world, had seen and done so much... she could barely speak to them. 

They all had fallen quiet, expecting her to continue, but there wasn’t much more to say. They were pretty much caught up. 

“You’re a fighter then?” Cassian was the first to ask. 

She shrugged. 

“Fought a worm. Very big one. With… some bones.” 

“Not exactly hand-to-hand combat, but I can work with that.” 

Work? she thought and raised an eyebrow. 

“I’d be happy to teach you to defend yourself”, the male continued. “We are all required to hold our own if it ever comes to a fight.” 

She crossed her arms and leaned back on her chair with a smile. Oh , she could hold her own, she thought with an entertained huff. The general’s eyebrow quirked up as if he didn’t expect the attitude. Fine, she’d play along if she had to. If that was what it took. To be here, to be safe. To have a place where her sisters could come to. So she nodded in agreement.  

“There is the matter of your powers,” Amren said. “Of which, if I’m not mistaken, you don’t know much about?” 

She shook her head. 

“It’s… always… something… new.” 

“You think your sisters might be the same as you?” Amren asked. 

The woman shrugged. She really had no idea. She hoped not, but her hoping was as good as nothing. Always had been. The group took in this information in silence. 

“You think they might… help?” Mor asked carefully. 

The woman shook her head right away. As she’d told Rhys before, very unlikely. But what did she know? They might just to spite her. Fearing she had ruined the good mood from before, she tried to give a hint of what her thoughts were.

“ I… want… to help…” she said promptly. “It’s just… a lot.” 

“It is,” Mor agreed, leaning back on her own chair. “But in the end, someone has to do the hard work so other people can live their best lives.” 

The woman blinked, looking at the female. That sounded… so familiar. That was what she had always wanted to do, what she tried to do. Do the hard work so others could be happy. But that was also the mentality that had gotten her lost in the first place. It was hard to let herself fall for it again knowing all there was to lose.

“Take the time you need,” Amren said, her expression solemn. “This is not a commitment to take lightly.” 

“Just not too long,” Cassian amended, “war is still coming”. He let out a sigh that looked uncharacteristic. “And we could really use the help.” 

She took a deep breath. Right. Think fast, but not too fast. 

This was a lot of information to sleep over.

Chapter Text

Her decision was made, but she gave herself another week to prepare. 

During this week, she dutifully woke up early and fed herself when she was supposed to. She sat by the library and worked on her assignments. Then, she worked on her own project, which was more difficult than she cared to admit. Hopefully, no one bothered her too much. 

When the seventh day approached, she reached out across the bridge between herself and Rhysand. 

I’ll do it. I’ll work with you.

It was hard to know what she expected him to feel at that and what really were his feelings seeping through the bond, but she thought she’d felt surprise. 

This is good. Really good. You won’t regret it.

But… I have… demands.

Another hint of surprise. 

Oh? 

She picked up the paper on her vanity. 

I made a list . 

Extracurriculars? Aren’t you the best of students ? 

She didn’t know what those were, so she just kept going. 

I want you to sign it. It’s just… Things you’ve told me out loud before. 

Is my word not enough? He teased.

No, she deadpanned back.

Fair enough , he sighed. I’ll come see you in a bit. Are you ready to go, then?

She nodded to herself. No time like the present. 

Yes .

He hesitated a second more before pulling his conscience away. 

Are you sure you’re ready?

No, she said honestly. But I do owe it to my sisters to try. 

You don’t owe anyone anything, his voice had a sudden cutting edge to it. You’ve given the world more than enough . 

The woman sighed to herself. 

I wish I could feel like that . 

Rhysand signed her contract. She’d made two copies, just like her father had told her as a child. He could keep one and she would keep one. 

He could, of course, just as easily rip it to shreds or use magic to alter the contents, but he hadn’t. And that made her feel a bit more secure. That no matter what happened, she would have a place here. Her sisters would have a place here. Because she’d been placeless for so long, having one was really important. The contract said they should be free, they should be allowed to work for a wage, they should be housed and fed for as long as they could not do it for themselves. As she’d said, those were all things he’d said to her in passing. She just needed to make sure. 

Then, once she was back in her room, she had jumped into her pool. She had washed her short hair through her exploding heart, through her shaking body. She’d thrown up her breakfast after, but she’d done it. 

By the time she went up to find Rhys upstairs again, she looked perfectly poised and ready to go. As per usual, she had no possessions (except for the piece of paper containing the terms of their contract, carefully tucked into her pocket). 

He looked serious, watching over the misty mountains, his mouth a thin line. The woman cleared her throat to get his attention and he reluctantly turned his gaze upon her. 

“Ready to go?”, he asked. 

She nodded, crossing her arms behind her back. She was as ready as she was ever going to get.

The High Lord offered his arm. 

Are we just going to… cross there? 

“Cross? Ah, you mean winnow? Yes. It… takes too long to fly. Would you… like to fly?” He asked, one eyebrow rising. 

Not today, she said. The woman was sure there would be emotion enough with the task ahead of her. Maybe sometime? If you’re serious about me coming back here . 

“I signed our contract, didn’t I?” He asked with a usual cocky grin taking over his expression, but only for a second. Rhys cleared his throat. “Listen, Feyre… if… at any point… you want to come back. If he’s… unkind to you… just say the word and I’ll come get you.”

She blinked at him. This wasn’t that different from what Cerridwen had offered. A way out. She wondered if it was just a nicety. Something people said sometimes, but they didn’t really mean. It was hard for her to tell the difference with most people. With Rhysand, it was worse somehow even if she was half inside his head.

“Alright,” she said, her heart thumping in a strange rhythm for a second. 

He nodded and she took his arm. 

“Hold on tight,” he said. 

And the very next moment, the sight of the mountains was gone.  

Spring looked like a dream she’d had years ago, that she could finally remember, finally see clearly. 

The gardens, the fountains, the house beyond. All of the flowers Tamlin had told her about when she’d first got there. The gazebo she’d hidden under. Memories of a life lost. A short but… protected life. She took a step, then another. When she noticed she hadn’t been breathing, she forced herself to inhale deeply.

Rhysand had dropped her some distance away from the gates so as to not alert the guards. When she had approached, though, the gates had opened for her without her having to say a word.

The house staff had seen her now. Someone had ran inside the house. It took less than a minute for him to be there. And Tamlin was golden and sunny and perfect and something inside her sang. 

She’d done something right. She’d freed him: her first friend, her lover. Even when people told her she couldn’t, that she was human and weak and should just give up. 

Then he was running to her and she came to find him halfway. Her arms went around him and he held her close and she wished she’d come sooner. She wished she could just melt into this moment and never have to think about anything else again. 

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. 

“M’fine.” The sound of her own voice was still grating, but she was getting used to it. 

He placed his hand against her face and kept examining her, as if she hasn’t spoken. She touched his face too, until his green, green eyes were finally looking into hers. 

“You’re alright.” He said once, then again and then again, nuzzling her palm and closing his eyes. It was evidence that she still had a heart: he was breaking it.

She nodded and did her best to give him a smile, even if her stomach was turning with anxiety. She could hear movement all around them. Soon enough, other people she knew would start coming outside.

“Inside. Need to talk. Now.” 

He opened his eyes and leaned down to kiss her. And even if she was in a rush, she stood on her tiptoes to meet him halfway. His kiss was just as she hadn’t dared remember. Honey and sunlight and wonderfully fresh water. 

In moments like these, it was hard to remember why she’d left. 

But she had to remember. 

After some more coaxing, Tamlin took her into his study upstairs. 

The woman had been planning what she was going to say – that helped the words come out when she was nervous – when she saw the state of the room. There were scratch marks on the ancient stone walls and the furniture had clearly been replaced, as well as the panes in the windows, even if the wood showed it had been severely damaged. She looked around and lifted an eyebrow to him. 

All this space and you were getting wild inside? she thought and only a second later remembered he couldn’t read her thoughts. Right . 

“What… happened?” she asked, pointing all around them. 

“Right… It’s been… some challenging times.” 

Lucien came into the office, a bit breathless. 

“Tamlin, I just heard—” He stopped when he saw her, a smile spreading across his face. “There you are. Glad to see you in one piece.” 

She shrugged and pointed at herself. 

“Full of surprises.” 

He let out a surprised laugh and she didn’t remember him being so… chipper. 

“Your sisters will be glad to see you.” 

She doubted that, so she indicated that they both sit at the settees near the window. She did so too. 

“See them soon,” she promised. “First, business.” 

“Business?” Tamlin asked, his eyebrows raising. 

She nodded. 

“War,” she said and both the males leaned forward to listen. 

“Feyre,” Tamlin said gently when she finished talking. As if he was talking to a scared dog that might bite. “There will be no war against Hybern.”

“Rhysand says so,” she said, surprising herself with the ease she could speak. She had practiced, of course, but something about this place made her try harder. 

“He shouldn’t be speaking to you. You shouldn’t be speaking to him . I thought you’d be safe in the woods, I told the people to keep an eye on you. But if he has touched you, if he has touched your mind I will—” 

“What? Sit and watch?” She asked before snapping her tongue. 

His expression fell and his lower lip quivered. His talons came out of his clenched hands. Even Lucien was frozen. 

“That is not fair .” 

This was not going well. 

“I died for you. Listen to me now.”

“We are,” Lucien assured her, jumping back into the conversation, always eager to defend his friend. “I have my sources investigating the matter. Nothing indicates he is moving quite yet.” 

“So you wait? ‘Til he’s here?”

“There will be no conflict and there will be no war. We will not be joining Rhysand in anything that much is sure,” Tamlin said, leaning back stiffly on the settee. 

She looked at him, her frown deepening.

“You wish or you know?” 

Tamlin’s opened his mouth to speak. Then the door opened and three people spilled inside the room.

“I told them not to!” Said the first one, quickly standing up and doing a curtsy. Feyre held her breath. 

Elain had always been beautiful. A thing of nature, like a flower or a sunset. Now… it was simply unfair. Immortality had erased even the small imperfections of life. She looked like a painting . Something that shouldn’t be allowed to move lest everyone would be powerless to ever stop it. 

“We’re not sixteen, Elain,” Nesta said, also pulling to her feet and dusting off her dress. “We have every right to be here.”

Her older sister had always looked sharp. Now she looked cutting. As if she’d been a letter opener and now finally converted into dagger. Her eyes found the woman’s right away and there was fire in there she didn’t dare try to understand. Was she angry? Was she… sad? Was it excitement to see her back? No, the woman shouldn’t dream of it.

And then the third figure stood up and it was the one that made her eyes tear up. Lucien let out a sigh. 

“I thought I told you to hold them back?” 

“You try holding these misses back from anything,” Cyrus said to Lucien before turning to her and smiling. “Hello, miss.” 

She could not hold herself back from running to him and throwing her arms around him in a hug. She could feel him chuckle under her as he hugged her back. As if they had simply not seen each other in a while. As if the last time they’d seen each other they hadn’t been at the worst hell either of them had ever encountered. As if he hadn’t walked into that hell for her, to repay a debt she’d never ask him to. 

“Well, if I knew that would be my reception, I would have come in sooner,” Cyrus said when she finally pulled away. 

The entire room was looking at her and suddenly her throat felt tighter again. 

“I… never said… thank you.” 

“Well, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of time now that you’re back.” 

But she wasn’t back. Not forever, she didn’t think. She still owed Rhysand at least a couple more weeks. This visit wasn’t even a pleasant one… It was for business.

“You are… back, right?” Elain asked, probably reading the doubt on her face. 

She looked at her sisters. Nesta’s expression was rigid, eyebrows forming one continuous line. Elain just looked… troubled. As if it hadn’t occurred to her people might wish something she did not. 

“For now.” The woman nodded. 

Tamlin stood up. 

“You’re home now. You don’t have to get back to the woods. We can help you get—” 

She pulled off her glove. Her sisters looked at her tattoos, but it was the fae in the room who held their breath. 

“Still… not done,” she told the room. “Have to go back.” 

“Fuck,” was what Lucien said. 

“Miss—” Cyrus started. 

But it was the growl that she was waiting for. 

“You should leave,” she told everyone as she turned to find the Beast who had ripped her from her human life prowling the room.

Chapter Text

Everyone quickly vacated the room. Lucien herded both of the oldest Archeron sisters out without a word. Cyrus tried to pull the woman with him as he left, but she gently pushed his hand away and smiled at him as if to say I got this . When he stepped back, confused, she closed the door behind him. 

This is what she wanted. With this Tamlin, she could deal. 

When she turned to him, he was demolishing a table. 

“Hey!” She yelled. It hurt her throat. He turned, showing his teeth. 

Letting her own anger rise, she changed too. Just like before, she barely felt a thing. A second later, she was on four powerful paws and the wolf was frozen in place. 

She stalked towards him, her steps soundless even with her weight and Tamlin let her approached, though his ears twitched. She sniffed him and he growled. She growled back, showing her own teeth for only a second before biting lightly at his neck. He did not move. She sniffed him again, scenting him. Before, she wouldn’t have noticed, but even when he was High Fae she could scent the Beast beyond. She touched her nose so the side of his neck and then bit it again, carefully, lovingly. A show she could fight him, but she wouldn’t. A peace offering.

The Beast walked away from her, shaking his head, pushing a desk and several chairs to the side so he could pace. She waited, laying on the floor. He circled back to her in time, his pupils dilated. She lifted her head, giving him room to explore. He ran to her as if to attack, but when he was close enough he just touched his snout to her neck, scenting her back.

The next second, they were human again – or something of the sort – their bodies meeting. Her hands were on his hair, his arms were lifting her from the ground, his body caging her against the wall. 

“How…” he began. She assumed he meant her shapeshifting.

“You,” she answered simply, too beyond words to explain anything else.

He kissed her harder, nuzzled her neck, her shoulders, her chest. 

“You’re working for him,” he said and growled against her neck. 

“With him,” she corrected and showed her teeth, pushing him back until his dazed eyes were looking into hers. “I don’t… need protection… anymore.” 

“You don’t know anything,” he murmured. “About him. About the world.” 

She pressed her nails against his back and he let out a sharp inhale, leaning his body against hers, pressing her against the wall. He was so close she could feel him grow inside his pants. 

“Trust. Me.” 

He rubbed against her and she lifted her head, her insides shaking. All these months, she’d been so hungry for this and she hadn’t even known. To be touched, to be held like this… to be wanted… it might not be love, but oh, she wanted this so much, so badly…

“It’s… hard. For me. To trust. I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

“Try,” she grumbled, kissing his neck, then biting it. He let out a groan. “Fuck me first.” 

That he could do. 

The couches in the room, unfortunately, did not make it. The desk had seen better days. The priceless carpet would have to be discarded. As she was laying in the remains of it, she couldn’t bring herself to care too much. 

This wasn’t home. Now she could feel everything, she did not recognize the scents. The feel of the stone against her back felt rough. What laid in her memories did not match what was in front of her and that made her slightly nauseous. Even Tamlin’s body did not feel the same. The glow from Calanmai hadn’t returned. She realized she hadn’t been back to anything familiar since she’d Changed.

Tamlin had fallen right asleep once he was done (the third time or so). Now that she had the chance to take a good look at him, he looked like he hadn’t slept in a while. There was a gauntness to his face that didn’t used to be there, like he had finally experienced what it was like to want for something. For what, she didn’t know, now that they had all been freed and he had all the power to do whatever the hell he wanted. 

The woman got up and started looking for her clothes. They were, very predictably, in tatters. She let out a sigh. 

“Your hair…” she heard Tamlin murmur from his spot on the ground. “What did you do with it?” 

She raised her eyebrow. Now they’d gone so wild, she had a hard time finding her voice again, though she’d spoken more than she expected today already. 

“Cut it.”

“Why?” 

She shrugged. 

“Matted. Dirty. Will grow back.” She rubbed her throat and looked around, mainly towards the windows barely obscured by the remains of ripped curtains. “Clothes?” 

“Right. Yes.” 

He snapped his fingers and they were both dressed. Him in his usual shirt and trousers and her… She had not missed the dresses. She looked at her own reflection on the glass of the window and had to look away. 

Tamlin sat up, running his fingers through his hair. 

“I meant what I said. You are not going back to him.” 

She rolled her eyes and snapped her tongue. 

“So did I. What will you do?” He showed his teeth and his talons came out, but even to her, it looked silly. A kitten hissing. “Nothing, Tamlin. You won’t fight him.” 

He put his arms around his knees. 

“Why are you here then?!” He shook his head, sneering. “Isn’t that why you left in the first place?” 

She walked to him until she was standing right above him. He looked up and when the light from outside hid the side of his face, her heart ached to see the lake made of Starlight again. To experience that moment of perfect happiness before everything changed for the worse.

“I’m here because I love you,” she crossed her arms and looked away when his eyes widened. As if that hadn’t been made evident already. If the girl who loves this male answers my riddle and all of you go free instantly, tasks or no. To that, she’d answered: The answer is love, bitch . “I don’t… want you… to get hurt. I… want… you… To have a chance.” 

His brow furrowed and he lowered his face, deep in thought. She stepped back and nodded to herself. 

“Need my room. For the night.” 

“It’s just how you left it,” he promised, still not looking at her. “It’ll always be.”

She took a deep breath. 

“I will… talk to… my sisters now.” 

Tamlin nodded and got to his feet. 

“Please, do.” There was a tone of impatience in his voice that she found almost funny. If her memory served her right, the Archerons could be… a lot. Even fae patience could be tested by them. She tried to hold back a smile by shaking her head and walked to the door. 

“Dinner later?” He asked, when she thought he was lost in thought, staring at the mess they’d made together. 

“Think about it,” she teased, closing the door behind herself. 

The woman found her sisters sitting in the gazebo outside. Elain was looking at the nearby hydrangeas and Nesta had her arms crossed and was glaring at the mosaic table.

“Done fucking the king?” Nesta asked, pleasant as always. 

She sneered. 

“No king,” she climbed two of the steps, but didn’t get in further, leaning on the wooden column next to her. 

“Ah, yes, that makes it better then.” 

The gardens around them were exploding in activity. She could see not only staff now, but nobles walking the paths among the flowers and new guards in shining new armor on the walls. It felt… weirdly exposed to be having this conversation out there. 

Though she supposed that wasn’t really a conversation. They were mostly just… looking at each other. Like predators sizing each other up. Well, predators… and Elain. 

“We are happy to see you, Feyre,” her middle sister said and her heart gave a traitorous little race. “Alive, that is. We didn’t get the chance…” 

Her sentence died there. None of them made an effort to pick it back up. The woman nodded at them and got ready.

“I need you to listen.” 

Elain placed her tea down on its saucer on top of the table. Nesta crossed her arms. 

Bracing to speak, remembering all she’d practiced back at her room in the Night Court, she told them who Amarantha was. What she’d come to do. And who was coming next. How, it seemed, the little circus she’d made was only the beginning. When she was done, she fell silent. 

“Is that it?” Nesta said between clenched teeth. 

The woman’s eyebrows shot up. What?

“You came here to warn us about this war of yours. Fine, you’ve warned us. Is that all ?” Her older sister pressed. 

She supposed it wasn’t. But her throat was suddenly closed, unable to pass any amount of air, let alone enough to speak through. Nesta took her silence as an answer in itself.

“Our father is dead. My husband is dead. Elain’s husband is dead,” Elain shuddered at that, but that didn’t stop Nesta. “ We were dead. Now we’re something else. That gods forsaken cat of yours won’t let us go back home. And the redhead has been sniffing our door at night. You’re the only one who can explain how the fuck we ended up in this situation. Then you finally show your ass here and all you say is there’s more danger and that you’re leaving again?” 

What did she expect? Lovingly reassurances? That was not the dynamic they had set years ago. Her eyes burned with unshed tears and unsaid words. Nesta stood up, walking the few steps to her. 

“How did I end up down there? Why did they think I was you? How did you know to come find me when you did?” 

She looked at her sister dead in the eye. Make peace with it. Talk to your sisters . Yeah, right, Rhysand. She tried to keep silent, not to let out what was begging to burst. Then Nesta took one step too close and she snapped.

“I told them your name.” 

Nesta froze, clearly not expecting this degree of honesty. No one ever did. Then she stepped back.

“What?” her sister’s voice shook.

The woman shook her head. 

“They were supposed to scare you . Spoil some milk. Salt some fields. Fae stuff! ” She took a step forward and pushed her sister by the shoulders. She let herself fall back another step, mouth slack. “ You sent me to the wild!” 

“You got lost!” Elain said, standing up to put herself between the feuding sisters. 

She let out a sharp laugh that made Nesta’s shoulders drop. Elain’s brows knit together. 

“You don’t understand,” Nesta said, “Tomas was home. If you came in… if— if he found you… he would…” Nesta shook her head, the anger quickly taking a sharp turn into sadness. “He wasn’t a good man , but he was a man and I… You should have come another time !” 

“I… was… fourteen .”  She said through the block in her throat. 

“ What are you talking about?” Elain demanded.

The woman looked at her middle sister. 

“She… did… not… tell… you? I came home. Years ago.” 

Indeed, Elain was looking at Nesta like she’d sprouted a second head. 

“You told dad to stop looking…” She murmured.

“And I’d just gotten him to do it too!” Nesta exploded towards her this time. Both of them pulled back, shocked. She never turned on Elain. Never. “Three years that he wouldn’t sleep, he would eat, he would just hob about looking for her! He was finally living again, working for the first time, I couldn’t— She just showed up looking like a damn animal! ” 

Elain looked at her and for a second she felt like Feyre again, coming home the first days of hunting. Snuggling up to them under the covers, trying to garner feeling into her extremities again. 

“So you came here?” 

She shook her head. 

“Human… wilds. Came here… later. Last year.”

“Why didn’t you come back? Why didn’t you try again?” Elain asked, the tears the other two wouldn’t dare let fall running through her beautiful face. She looked like a statue rain had poured on top of. 

She took a step back and held herself, as if she could keep herself from falling apart. Her head was throbbing, her eyes burning.

“I was fourteen …” her voice cracked and she could feel herself shaking. She could feel all of the fae eyes on them. “S-sh-she—ee… She said dad… d-died… looking for me. I thought… I thought I… I was…” 

She bit the inside of her own mouth, hoping the pain might bring some clarity. But it didn’t.

“So you sent them to kill us. Great. That should make up for it.” Nesta was back to anger it seemed. 

She was happy to oblige, turning her sights on her and showing her teeth. 

“I… could… have stayed here. Safe… Sunny. I went there… for you. I jumped… into that pit. Fought… worm. Helped… your son. Killed her… for touching you. I did everything I could.” 

“Not enough ,” her sister barked. 

She threw a punch. Nesta didn’t saw it coming. It hit her across the right side of her face and she bent in half. Elain looked at her, hands going up to her face, a hiccup bringing about more tears. She pulled back until almost making the table fall to the side. 

“I said before. We. Are. Even.” She said as Nesta pulled herself back to full height, hate in her eyes, like she’d said on the day of the second task. “Want to be here when war comes? Fine. I will… take you… to human lands… myself… if you want. I know the terrain. Bury yourselves there.” 

She turned around, ready to leave. She even walked a few steps before she turned again, pointing at them. She wasn’t done yet. She might never be able to say this again, so she might as well be done with it now, as much as it hurt.

“I wish we had died,” both of them held their breath. “All of us. Together. Then I— Then I could…” Not that route. Try something else. “But we did not. We are alive”. She lifted her arms, then let them fall. “I like being alive. Won’t apologize. And I like being strong. I can help someone now. Even if… I am never enough… for you.” Her hand was shaking so she pulled it back, rubbing the inside of it to look for solace in scars that no longer existed. “You could help too...” 

She turned around. The fae were pretending to go about their business, but most of their bodies were turned towards them. She started walking back to the house, but not before she grumbled. 

“But you won’t. You never did.”

Chapter Text

Though her life felt like a parody of what it once was, the woman could remember the way to her room perfectly. She’d walked it alone many times before.

She kept her eyes down, avoiding stares from royals and servants alike. They tried to put themselves in her way. They wanted to speak, to congratulate her, to thank her. She had nothing to give them, she never did. So she just went around them and slipped into her room wordlessly. 

She leaned on the door, trying to control her breathing. 

This was never going to work. She wasn’t made for this, for talking, for diplomacy. She was the worst possible person to be sent here. Why did she think, even for a moment, that she would be able to sway anyone to do anything? Just because she was desperate to help, it didn’t mean she would suddenly know how. That had never worked out in her life before. 

There was a soft knock on the door that she ignored. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone? She started to miss the empty halls of the Night Court, lonely as they were. 

The knock returned, stronger this time.

“Go away,” she growled, covering her ears. Her heart was still hurting from the conversation out in the gardens, there was too much light, too much sound, too many clothes . 

“Well, I can’t very much do my job from out here, now can I?” 

Alis. 

Her brain took another second to catch up and she stepped away from the door, making for the bed. What was one more person to be angry at her, to be disappointed in her? She was clearly a glutton for punishment. She had come all the way there even when she knew there would be no convincing anyone. 

The door opened and there was Alis, just as she remembered. Skin like tree bark, a round body and small, determined hands. She looked at her, sitting in the bed and tsked, closing the door behind herself. 

“Cyrus said you were back. Had to come see it for myself. It seems you already put our High Lord in his place,” she walked right to the bed, with her usual resolve. Feyre kept her eyes down. She’d been brave enough today. This, she could take, but not head on. 

Alis tried to touch her face and she flinched, not expecting it. She lifted her eyes to the green ones of her maid as she finally touched her cheek. 

“Glad you’re home, girl.” 

Just the fact that she didn’t use her name made her shoulders relax. Alis had been her friend when she’d been nothing more than an animal. She agreed to leave everything behind to take her to safety. She should have given her more credit. 

“Not home,” she murmured, looking over her shoulder at the windows. Before, they seemed so large and let so much light in… now they felt like slits in the rock.

“Oh, no? Have you found a better place to live then?” 

She shook her head. 

“Got a job.” 

“Wow. Look at you. Moving up in life. And here we all were, thinking you were rolling in mud all day.” 

That ripped a surprised giggle out of her. 

“Just huntin’.” 

“And was that how you got your fancy new job?” 

She shook her head again and had to repress a shiver as the memory of Under the Mountain hit her again. 

“M-m-m-made… m-m-m-made a… ma— made a d-deal.”

Alis slowly sat down next to her. 

“Is that so? With who?” 

“Rhysand.” 

Her maid’s expression got more serious and she crossed her arms. 

“Was it Under the Mountain?” 

She nodded. 

“I was going to die,” she murmured and then looked at the closed door as if she could burn right through it and find Tamlin again. “ He wasn’t doing anything. I got separated from Cyrus. Had to do something .” 

“So you chose Amarantha’s whore?” Alis’ voice turned high pitched at the end. 

She bit the inside of her mouth. 

“Why… why everyone… keep saying that?” 

Alis huffed. 

“You don’t even know who you’re working with? He was her lover . He did unspeakable acts for her. In her name.” 

Some of us would do everything to get out , she remembered him saying when she had returned to the Mountain after he’d tried to free her. Had she not shacked up to the monster that had snatched her as well? She knew what it was like to lower her head to the biggest predator. 

“He’s… t-t-trying t-t-to… stop war.” 

“War? What war?” 

“Hybern.” 

She let out a huff of air. 

“Well, that’s not good. Maybe we both need to go back to Summer if that’s the case.” 

She shook her head. 

“I want… to help.” 

“Hybern?” 

“Rhysand,” she insisted. 

The female snapped her tongue. 

“Let me see if I get what you’re saying… you want to help the High Lord of the Night Court… the male who was Amarantha’s lap dog for fifty years… the male who killed Tamlin’s family… to defeat the army Amarantha wanted to bring here in the first place.” 

The woman turned to her in shock. 

“Did… what?” 

Alis nodded. 

“See? You don’t know anything, girl. You can’t become a player in this game. They’ve been doing this for hundreds of years. You’ve only just started. Meddling in this big people game will only get you into an early grave.” 

“I already died,” she grumbled. 

“And yet here you stand. Are you so anxious to return to the ground?” 

She fell quiet. When the night was long and dark and there were no stars around… when her stomach was empty and her bed was cold and could not remember the last time she was touched dearly… she was anxious for the vast expanse of nothing she had dived into during those few minutes. Where she was safely guarded inside someone else’s head and her body was nothing but meat that would rot and…

“Girl!” Alis chided. 

She looked at her own hands.

“M’tired,” she murmured and she didn’t just mean physically. 

Alis expression softened and she touched her shoulder. 

“Rest. Your High Lord asked to see you for dinner. I’ll get you something nice to wear. You should talk to him more before you go around saying this is not your home anymore.” 

She nodded and tried to swallow through the thick knot in her throat as Alis got up and got to work on dusting off the surfaces and putting furniture back into its usual place. She laid on the bed and closed her eyes, but could not sleep with the sound of her own heart thundering in her ears. 

Being put in another dress did not help ease her anxiety. 

Her body now fit the cut of these clothes perfectly. Even with her slowly recovering weight, she had soft curves where she had had sharp edges as a human. Like putting a bow on a rabid dog, Lucien had said the first time he had saw her dress like this. She didn’t look like that now. It didn’t look like she was pretending anymore.

But the vision in the mirror, with flowers braided on her hair and a sky blue dress that slowly dawned into orange at the bottom, wasn’t her . She felt a hint of surprise every time it moved a hand at the same time she did. It was beautiful, sure, but it also came with a hollow sense of fear. Of disconnect.

She really did look like her mother. Her father had told her so Under the Mountain, but she hadn’t wanted to believe it. Now she was all her mother would have wanted to be: young, beautiful, eternal.

She started moving without thinking. She heard Alis say something behind her about how she wasn’t ready yet, but she couldn’t look at herself another second. The others would have to learn to cope. 

When she entered the dining room, she was struck by how very formal these dinners were. She’d been so tired and famished and the Court had been struggling so much that it had been hard to notice when she’d first gotten here. Now, however, Tamlin was dressed in gold and green and even if the sun was down, it looked like it could be midday. He was positively glowing . 

Lucien was saying something charming to Elain, also in full garb, while her sister was smiling demurely. Nesta had a distant expression that, surprisingly, wasn’t angry. Looked more distracted. Both of them were wearing gowns of a similar quality to hers.

A place had been left for the woman on Tamlin’s right hand side. She sat on it without saying a word and the others took a second to realize she was even there, all eyes turning to her. Feeling on the spot, she nodded stiffly at them. 

“Eat?” She suggested to the group.

As per usual, the sight of the food here made her mouth water. The greens looked lush, the meat looked tender, and the pasta entirely too complicated. There were pies and soups and she felt entirely overwhelmed by it. 

Tamlin rose his cup. 

“First, I would like to toast to your return.” 

She looked at her own cup and found it filled with wine. She took it carefully when she saw the other’s doing the same and lifted it up. She wasn’t sure what this meant. It was probably another one of those social games. 

“To your healthy return and to our promising future.”

She wasn’t sure if war was promising or if she felt all that healthy, but she drank while her companions did. She looked around herself. 

“Cyrus?” she asked. 

“He is no longer dining with us,” Tamlin asked distractedly. He seemed to have fallen into a part, the pointiest parts of him hidden again. She didn’t like it one bit. 

“Why not?” Her eyebrow lifted up. 

“Well, it sends the wrong message. He is not a part of the Court.” 

She snapped her tongue and shook her head. 

“He helped. He should be here.” 

“Many people helped,” there was a twinge of annoyance in Tamlin’s voice. 

She bit the inside of her mouth not to say not you . This wasn’t going well. She’d come here to make peace and understand. She’d wanted this to be her home before. She owed it to herself to exhaust the possibilities on that front. 

“Is it always like this?” Nesta asked, looking between the two of them. Her tone was strained and the woman noticed she didn’t let their eyes meet again. “I don’t know why, I imagined there’d be more… love involved.” 

“Oh, no, they butt heads all the time. It’s how they show affection,” Lucien assured her with a calm smile. “Of course, I would have led with ‘you look beautiful tonight, darling’, but Tamlin has his own style of wooing.” 

Elain pressed her lips together not to smile at the quip and even the woman had to admit she liked this new version of the fae male a bit better. 

But that was true. They had butt heads from day one. Perhaps that might not be how usual love went… but they weren’t usual people. She looked at him again and blinked, wondering if that’s what she needed. A shift in perspective. He looked at her too, the tension slowly draining out of his expression. 

“You do… look beautiful, I mean,” he said.

She nodded. 

“I know.”

She had eyes. And she’d like to gauge them, because it wasn’t beauty she had learned to expect when she saw her reflection. Beauty wasn’t how she fought. She wasn’t ready for what people would expect of her now that she looked like this. 

“It is good to see her like this,” Elain said in a small voice. All eyes turned to her, surprised. She smiled sheepishly. “I mean… the last time we saw her she was so little. I always did wonder what she would look like as an adult.” 

“She looks like mother,” Nesta said neutrally, voicing her biggest fear. 

The woman looked at her. 

“You too,” she murmured. 

“Because she scowls so much mostly,” Elain said and giggled. A surprise huff left the woman’s own lips. 

Nesta lifted her brows at her sister and shook her head in reprimand. 

“What was she like?” Tamlin asked. She looked at him to see genuine interest in his face. “As a child.”

“Small,” they both said at the same time. Tamlin looked at her. She shrugged. Everyone was once a cub.

“Very gentle,” Elain continued. “She would sit in a corner and entertain herself for hours with her toys. You would hardly even notice she was there.” 

“I remember a lot of crying,” Nesta added, unkindly. 

“Well… yes. I suppose she was very sensitive.” 

That wasn’t how she remembered. She only remembered crying when she was out of options. When she was so hungry or so tired or so bored she couldn’t take it anymore. When she’d tried to ask for things and be told to wait, wait and wait for it. 

She turned to Tamlin. 

“What were you like?” She asked. “As a child?” 

He shrugged. 

“Don’t know. Don’t remember. I don’t think anyone who’s still alive does.” 

The table fell quiet after that confession. 

“Two hundred years ago he had a braid phase,” Lucien offered after a few too many seconds of silence and the woman had to bite her lower lip not to smile. 

“It was the fashion at the time!” Tamlin protested. 

“They were so elaborate, Feyre. You had to be there. It was a moment.” 

“You prick. Don’t think I don’t remember your—” 

“Tam, Tam…” Lucien interrupted, sipping on his wine. “There are ladies present. Please.” 

She lifted her eyebrows at Lucien and he wiggled his back at her, but did not elaborate. 

“This is so unproper…” Nesta murmured to herself, but continued to eat. 

The woman wouldn’t know if it were. But she knew she felt better now. That this was closer to how things were supposed to go. 

Almost as soon as the meal was over, Nesta excused herself and went back to her room. She must have looked confused, because Elain supplied: 

“Miles still wakes up at night. She doesn’t like leaving him too long.” 

Right. She hadn’t even thought about her nephew. How he would be adjusting to this place. This life. These people. His own mother. He probably didn’t understand much. 

And despite not having her own child, Elain was quick to follow. And once she was out, Lucien went too. That left her and Tamlin by themselves. 

They didn’t talk at first. They silently walked out of the house and to the gardens and walked the paths they’d walked dozens of times before. She remembered where each plant he’d shown her were, though there were new ones, plumper than ever. It was good to see this place flourish. Even this time of night she could see other couples under the enchanted lamplight. There were guards on the walls. It almost felt like a miniature city. Something built to house life, instead of the tomb she had found when she came here. 

She let him take her hand. It was cold and she liked the fact that they were touching. Things seemed… easier between them when they were. 

“What did you mean before…? About people… not remembering… your childhood?” 

She knew he’d been too young to fight in the war. He’d told her so. So he couldn’t be older than 300, if her memory served her right. Even her early education had been enough to hammer the war facts in. 

“You must have noticed I am the last of my line…” He waved at someone else in passing, then turned to her. “I lost all of my family a long time ago.” 

Hm. Kind of like she had. Except she’d gotten hers back. Sort of. 

“War?” She asked. She probably shouldn’t but Alis’ words kept repeating in her head.

“No, this wasn’t war. This was personal. But you should know all about that.” 

She lifted her eyebrow. Why would she ask if she knew?

“No…?” The woman murmured. 

He huffed, looking away. 

“So Rhysand didn’t tell you everything then… only what served his purposes.” 

She huffed back. It wasn’t exactly as if Tamlin had been in a sharing mood when she’d first gotten there. She hadn’t even known there was danger circling before Cyrus was delivered half-dead to the mansion. 

“Tell me?” She asked. 

The High Lord sighed and pointed at her hand. 

“Is he listening?” 

She looked at her eye inked in black in the center own hand and shrugged, looking at him again.

“You don’t know?” She shook her head. “And that doesn’t bother you?” 

She shook her head again. 

“Nothing to hide.” 

He huffed. 

“I supposed you wouldn’t. Things are… different, when you’re part of a Court. When you’re part of this Court. It can’t be about you anymore. It has to be about what’s best for the Court. Do you understand?” 

Nothing was ever about her. She wasn’t sure what she had to give up here. 

“So… you won’t tell me?” 

He took a deep breath and lifted his head up, towards the moon. 

“It was him. He killed my brothers.”

It felt like she’d missed part of the stories. 

“Who?” 

“Rhysand.”

Chapter Text

She was quiet after the end of his story. 

“I don’t blame you,” Tamlin had continued, confusing her reticence for her usual quiet. “For not knowing. This world is new to you. I have to remember that. I have been surrounded by people older than me for a long long time.”

“Are you… going to tell me, then?” She asked him, surprised. “What I need to know?” 

“When it’s important,” he nodded. “As for the rest, I can take care of it.” 

She let a huff of air out. 

“Can’t we… share?” 

He looked at her in an infuriating way. As if she was a child. She’d thought that it was because she was human that he looked at her like that before. She had been objectively weaker. But now… they were the same. If not in age, in body. 

“Wouldn’t you rather rest? You’ve been running a long time.” 

“Rest?” She snapped her tongue. “War.” 

“Do you still trust him? After what I’ve just told you? You really think he’s telling the truth about this war?” 

She hadn’t had the time to rethink that far. If there was no war… What would she do? That was a dangerous train of thought. It had sent her spiraling before and she had no doubt it might do it again. 

“Makes sense. What he says.”

Tamlin shook his head. 

“I’m starting to think you want war. You want to fight something else. And when it’s over, you’ll just find something new. That’s no way to live.” 

She stared at him, wondering if that was truth. If the wild had broken her beyond repair like she’d always feared. That violence had been cut so deep into her bones that she could not take a world of comfort ever again. But if it did, what hope did she have? What use would she have?

“I’m tired,” she announced instead of thinking about it too much. 

Tamlin brought her hand to his face. 

“Are you?” 

“Yes,” her voice sounded faint even to her. 

He kissed the back of her hand and nodded. 

“Rest all you need. I’ll come find you tomorrow.” 

She nodded and tilted her head up for a kiss. He leaned down and their kiss was sweet. Easy. It tasted like moonlight. 

The woman pulled away first and went towards the Mansion. She felt his eyes on her back up until the door closed behind her. She leaned on it and sighed, trying to breathe through her thoughts. She looked to the side when movement caught her eye. Cyrus was hiding behind a potted tree. His dark blue skin blended into the shadow it cast. 

He waved her on and took a direction upstairs. Rising one eyebrow, she followed. They took the opposite way to her room, to another hall of rooms. He knocked on a door and waved her to follow him inside. 

Waiting in a common room between two bedrooms were her sisters. 

“Am I… in trouble?” She asked Cyrus, her only constant ally, looking between them and him.

“You? Never.” Cyrus assured her. “Your sisters just wanted to talk… in private.” 

She wondered why they hadn’t just said so in the first place during dinner, but she sat down either way. If they had gone through all this trouble to get her attention, they’d gotten it. 

Miles was in his mother’s arms, wrapped in a blanket, fast asleep against her chest. 

“He okay?” She asked before her sisters had the chance to speak. 

Nesta, who seemed about to talk, blinked, surprised. She looked down at her son and fixed his hair before looking at her again. 

“Yeah. Yes. He’s fine. Just asleep. We wanted to know when you’re leaving.” 

She wasn’t even sure if she was leaving anymore, but she still asked:

“Why?”  

Her sisters traded a look. It sent a shiver down her back. The feeling of being too close to a ledge. She knew not to doubt her instincts. She knew that, if she didn’t want to stay here before, there had to be a reason. 

At first, she’d thought her sisters just wanted her to make good on her promise to take them to the human lands. She wouldn’t, of course. As they were now, it’d mean certain death. But no. They weren’t adamant on any particular destination. They just did not want to be in Spring anymore. 

“I don’t mind it too much,” Elain said. “The weather’s… nice. And I like the gardens, but…” 

“He won’t let us leave,” Nesta interrupted. “Your High Lord.” 

On one hand, she understood. She had found out first hand this world above the wall was different from their own and she had known the human lands intimately. Her sisters had no such experience. 

“You tried?” 

“Of course. We wanted to go after you,” Elain said. “But he won’t let us out of the walls. We’ve tried sneaking, but it was a no go. After a lot of insistence, they took us out there, but they won’t let us out of their sight.” 

Little Elain going out into the woods to go look for her? She would pay to see that. She crossed her arms and leaned back. 

“I thought they were just using us to lure you back,” Nesta said, “but that doesn’t explain the redhead.” 

“Lucien?” The woman asked, lifting an eyebrow. “What about him?” 

Elain looked up at Cyrus. 

“You know more about it than we do.” 

The woman looked up at Cyrus. He sighed, crossing his arms and leaning on the armchair next to the one she was sitting in. 

“Fae – particularly High Fae – don’t… well, they don’t really marry like humans do. We mate for life.” She nodded. Some birds did that. “Our magic is somehow connected to that. We are… predestined to our mates. We are meant to find someone who will give us… everything.” 

That was beautiful, in a way. In another, it was completely demented. 

“Yes… and?” 

“It has been described that… mating bonds will… click. Sometimes it is right when mates meet… sometimes it takes a while. And it seems Lucien is convinced that Elain is… his mate.” 

Ah. Chipper mood explained then. She looked at her middle sister, who seemed wholly uncomfortable. 

“He’s… sweet, of course. But I felt no such thing. I don’t even know what something like that would feel like… And I…” She crossed her arms and shook her head, looking to the side. Nesta touched her knee. When she spoke again, her voice shook. “I don’t want…”

“It’s okay,” The woman said. She understood. She hadn’t been Graysen’s biggest fan, but they had been married at least a couple of years. That didn’t go away in a few months. And no one could make her just jump into something as serious as this if she didn’t want to. Not when, as far as she was concerned, it had been exactly this way the first time around. She was rushed into something she wasn’t ready for because she wanted to be safe. “We can leave.”

“When?” Nesta asked. 

“And where?” Elain added. “To your… boss?”

She nodded. 

“It’s safe there. Mountainside. He’s… kind enough. There’s land for us there. B-because of my contract.” She bit the inside of her thumb. She still had to mull over all of the information Tamlin had given her, but she had the bargain anyway. She doubted just not wanting to go back there would stop him when it was time to call her over. Despite her feelings about this High Lord squabble, he had signed a contract about making sure her sisters were safe, free and provided for within his lands. It was more than she could say about here. 

She could take many things. People being caged, she could not. Especially not her family. 

“Tomorrow?” She suggested. 

“Seems as good a time as any,” Nesta agreed. 

She looked at Cyrus. 

“Will you come? Or… go back to Summer?” 

He sighed. 

“Without my wings, there’s nothing for me back at Summer. My father is long gone. It would be my pleasure to stick with you. It has served me so far.” 

She smiled at him. That could not be further from the truth, but it was good to think she did some good by someone. 

The woman returned to her bedroom and changed into her nightclothes. She went out into the balcony, slowly pulling out flower by flower out of her braid and letting them fall to the grass below.

Her eyes quickly registered the guards on the walls. There didn’t used to be this many. She wondered if they had been Under the Mountain with them or if they had fled when Amarantha had come to power. When she finally got to the pins in her hair, she noticed every so often, they would look in her direction, like assessing her position like she was assessing theirs. 

Once she’d thought of this place as freedom. Freedom from the cold and the harsh work and the hard floor. Now, it was slowly proving to be the opposite. A pinch of guilt pressed on her for leaving her sisters here, for being so lost in her own suffering she hadn’t considered them, but she tried to push it away. 

They were used to cages. They walked into their own so docile before… and she was here now and she would fix it. At least until they found something else wrong with her. Not enough, Nesta had said. 

Never enough. 

The next morning, the woman asked to have her breakfast with her sisters in their quarters. There came no word from the High Lord requesting her presence, so she supposed that was good. 

The three of them ate in silence, which was a blessing. Miles kept looking at her, then at his mother and other aunt, calculating something in his little brain. 

“What?” She asked him. 

“Look like my mom,” he said, pointing at her. 

“My sister,” she responded, shrugging. The woman wasn’t sure if he remembered her at all from Under the Mountain. Perhaps it was better if he didn’t. 

“Hmm…” Miles took that information in. “I don’t have-a sister. Do I have-a sister, mama?” 

Nesta shook her head. He snapped his tongue, murmuring to himself as he finished with his porridge. 

Once they all were finished eating, they put on traveling mantles and went downstairs as they put on their gloves. She noticed they were both taking bags of things – no doubt presents given to them. She wasn’t taking anything with her. They found Cyrus lounging near the front door, a blade of grass between his teeth. 

“He’s not here,” he told her as a means of hello.

“Where?” She asked. 

“One of the villages. He does these check-ups to see how things are going.” 

She nodded. Perhaps it was better if he wasn’t here. He knew of her position. She knew of his. They could talk more at a later date. 

“Let’s go, then.” 

The woman led her small group out the doors and down the steps, like she was a mother leading her children to promenade. When they were kids, mother hated promenading, but never missed a day. She said they had to be seen to be remembered. 

She wanted neither. 

And yet, going out the backstreets, sneaking out… felt like a declaration she wasn’t quite ready to make. So the plan was to walk out of the front gates, then use her mind speech to call for extraction. That was what she had been instructed to do if there had been any problems. 

The guards at the gate closed their spears, stopping her advances. She squinted at them, pointing at the weapons. 

“What’s this for?” 

The tallest of the guards cleared his throat. 

“Sorry, my lady. Our Lord has instructed us to keep you all inside until his return. These woods are unsafe to trudge alone.” 

She cleared her throat. 

“Killed the Attor with bare hands. Can handle myself.” She made a shooing motion at them. “Out.” 

They looked at each other, as if questioning what she said was true. If they had been Under the Mountain, they had seen her take down something much bigger – albeit most people didn’t know it had been her.

“We… have express orders.” 

“And I do not have patience.” 

She grabbed each spear with one hand and pushed them until they were no longer crossed. The guards tried to keep them in place until one of them snapped, making the male lose balance. She looked at the blade in her hand, then at them, pointing at the gate.

“Open. Now.” 

They stood in place, clearly unsure what to do, when the gates did open. Surprised, she was about to step outside when a group of horses came running in and they had to step aside to avoid getting trampled. 

Fuck, she thought, recognizing the blond hair in one of the riders. He stopped his horse just next to them, looking at her standing there with a spearhead in her hand. 

“Feyre. You’re up early.” 

She pointed at the gate. 

“We’re going out.” 

His smile barely reached his eyes. 

“Where?” 

Part of her wanted to lie. To smooth out the situation. The other was roaring, wanting to get out of here. Never contained, never again. 

“Out,” she repeated. 

He looked nonchalantly at the gates that were now closing again. He took in her sisters, all dressed for travel, child in tow and Cyrus, standing right behind her. 

“I can take you where you want to go. No need to bring your guard.” 

“Not guard. Friend.” She pointed at the gates. “Don’t need company. Need passage.” 

The façade of his niceties fell. 

“Why don’t we go inside and talk this out rationally?” 

She bit the inside of her mouth, her hand gripping the spearhead tighter. Then, the feeling of Amarantha’s still beating heart making the dagger tremble in her hand popped into her head and she dropped it like it was on fire, a gasp escaping her. 

Tamlin took this as sign enough that she was backing down. He dismounted and gave the reigns to one of the guards. His arm went around her waist and reality bent in half, winnowing them. 

When she came to, they were in his study. 

“If this is how you plan to keep me here… you… will… fail.” 

She pushed him away, stomping all the way to the window. Her sisters were still standing next to the gates, looking around confused as the guards pushed Cyrus and pointed towards the house. 

“You know what’s in those woods, Feyre. It’s no place you bring your toddler nephew,” Tamlin said almost too calmly, walking to the side table and pouring himself a drink. 

The woman turned to him, showing her teeth. 

“This… is not what this is about. You know it. Are we… prisoners… here?” 

His eyebrows furrowed as he turned to her. 

“Of course not.” 

“Then let us leave .” 

He took a swig of his drink and shook his head. 

“You’re clearly upset. Why don’t we put a pin in this and talk about it again tomorrow?”

The same anger she always felt climbed its way up her chest and to her throat. Her vision started turning red. She knew what came after that. Brutal, unfiltered honesty, or a punch. This time, it was the first of the two. 

“Is that… what she told you? When you… refused her… and she cursed you all?” 

The cup stopped on its way to his lips. When she looked into his green eyes, they looked exactly as they did Under the Mountain. Empty. Like he’d hidden himself so far inside himself he didn’t know how to get out. 

Then, his power exploded into the room. 

It was only instinct that had her knelt to the floor, hands to her head to protect herself from broken glass from the windows. The recently repaired furniture was torn to shreds once again. 

When her ears stopped ringing, she looked at Tamlin, still standing in the same place, paying no mind to the glass shards and wood splinters protruding from his arms. He was breathing heavily, shaking. 

There you are , she thought, finally seeing all the pain and fear and grief he kept inside. 

The woman, however, was completely unharmed. The debris had missed her completely, forming a circle around her. Tamlin took a trembling step towards it, then pulled back, like he’d hit something solid. 

“Feyre,” he said, his voice hoarse. He extended his hand, but it stopped before touching her. “Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. She hurt Lucien, I didn’t… Don’t say…” 

He hadn’t made that wall to protect her. She had made it. A physical shield, like the one she was learning to raise in her mind. Well, that would have been useful Under the Mountain, she couldn’t help but think. 

“Feyre, please.” He said, pushing harder against her power. “I’ll be better. I’ll try… Please .”

He fell to his knees. She just watched him, uncertain. He’d used his power against her. He had… 

“I can’t… I can’t control it sometimes. The hate. I’m sorry… Today was just a bad day. The Tithe is just around the corner, people are… getting rowdy. We’ll get through this… please, don’t say…” 

Tamlin pressed his face against her shield. 

“They’re… scared… of you,” she told him. “They… were prisoners. You… locked them up again.” 

He shook his head. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t meant to… They don’t know this world, like you didn’t. I couldn’t protect you then, so I promised to do better by them. I was just trying… Let me get over this. Please.” 

She didn’t know what this was. She carefully unfolded her arms and placed both her hands on the ground. She didn’t know how to get rid of this shield and she didn’t know if she wanted to. 

“I will stay. We will talk. About war. But they… are leaving.” 

He shook his head.

“Lucien… he’s…” 

She snapped her tongue. 

“No claim… if she doesn’t… want him.” 

Tamlin didn’t look convinced, so she repeated herself.

“Talk… about war.” 

He pressed his forehead harder against the invisible wall, like he was trying to break it with his horns.

“You think you’re invincible because you have this… strength. Because you’re like me now…  but so was my family. And they were murdered so easily… they were asleep, Feyre. And he came in here and slaughtered them…” 

She sighed. He was breaking her heart. She understood fear. She understood pain. And grief. But this… using power like this… to hurt people? To imprison? That she could never understand. 

“Refusing to help… won’t make it… go away.” 

He closed his eyes. Tears streamed down his face. 

“Please, stay with me,” he murmured. “This… is bearable… if I know you’ll be here.” 

The woman looked to the side. 

“I can’t fix you, Tamlin.” With a woosh of wind, her wall fell. She felt terribly tired. He pulled back, like he was suddenly scared to touch her. The woman hugged herself. “Already… saved you. The rest… is up to you.”

Chapter Text

Rhysand was there before midday. 

Is… everything okay? he asked when the woman extended her thoughts out to him, searching. She wasn’t sure how to answer. Her chest was still numb after that entire interaction. 

He’s… being difficult. I’m trying. But I can’t keep worrying about my sisters. I need you to do good on your promise.

She found the girls in a sitting room and explained that he would be coming to take them to Night. From there… they could do whatever they wanted. They could stay there, where they would be protected by the terms of her contract… or they could go somewhere else if they wanted.

“This doesn’t sound like a solution,” Nesta had said. “How do you know that one isn’t worse than this one? You met him a month. And you trusted this one blindly too, didn’t you?” 

She shook her head. Not really. She had left him before because of similar problems. The woman just hadn’t known how bad they could get. But explaining it was beyond her capabilities.

“Don’t need… to trust him. Trust me. I’m trying… my best.” 

Her sisters traded a look. 

“I’d feel better if we could… stick together,” Elain said. “We’ve barely talked… there’s so much I want to ask…” 

“Soon,” she promised. “Come find you soon. Promise.”

It was like the entire mood of the manor had suddenly changed. Even the sun didn’t seem to burn as bright, as if it responded to Tamlin’s mood. 

He had changed and cleaned himself before coming to meet them in the sitting room. Washed his face until it looked just as regal as usual, all tear trails having been erased by cool water. They all waited in silence until they heard steps just outside. 

“What is this? A funeral?” Rhysand asked, bursting open the double doors and sliding into the room as if it were a party. He located the woman first and offered her one of his wicked smiles. “There you are, darling. Did you ring for me?” 

She nodded and pointed at her sisters. 

“They’re ready.” 

Rhysand looked at her up and down and squinted before finally turning to Tamlin, placing his hands on his pockets. 

“You should inspect your wards. Only Cauldron knows what could just waltz in here like I just did. Thought you had protected your lovely house against me… or maybe I’m just that good at breaking your walls.” 

Not helping, she told them in her head. Want him to help or not? 

Tamlin stepped forward. 

“Release her from the deal.” Both of them stared at the High Lord of Spring, both wondering what he was doing. “End her deal right here and now and I’ll give you anything. Anything you want.” 

The woman looked up at the chandelier and tried to hold back the instinct to cringe. Rhysand laughed a little hoarsely. 

“I have everything I want.”

“Stop using her as your pawn. Come and talk to me directly.” 

“And what fun would that be? You won’t listen, Tam. You never did.” He walked further into the room, stopping behind the couch where Nesta and Elain were sitting, Miles sitting in Nesta’s lap. “Now, I will leave you two for your usual business for a little longer… but I am under oath to offer land to these lovely ladies. Your sister drives a hard bargain, let me just say…” 

“Cyrus too,” she pointed at the Summer male. 

But Cyrus shook his head. 

“If you’re staying, I’m staying too.” 

Both High Lords studied him and Feyre felt a wave of warmth in her chest. She would feel better if he stayed with her sisters. They seemed to have formed a sort of bond in the time she’d been away… but the truth was she could use an ally if she was going to stay a while longer. 

“Alright,” she agreed, looking at Rhysand again. “Just the girls”. 

Remember your promise , she insisted. 

“Will do,” Rhysand said with a smile. “Do let me know when you’re ready to leave… this place is depressing .” 

With that, he vanished, taking her sisters and nephew with him. 

“You just delivered your family to that monster…” Tamlin murmured, looking at the empty air where her family had been, as if she hadn’t announced she would do that hours ago. “I had my doubts, but… you truly trust him. Over me?” 

“Have my reasons,” she said, waving at Cyrus to follow her before closing the door behind her. 

The woman asked for tea to be brought to her room for her and Cyrus. They sat at the settee in her room in astonished silence for long, long minutes, until Cyrus finally broke it. 

“I heard an explosion earlier. Is everything alright?” 

She nodded, trying to push away that feeling of distance. It was like the seriousness of all that had happened today was slowly ebbing away, like she was slowly sinking under cool water. 

“He’s… changed, I think.” 

Cyrus nodded in agreement. 

“We’re all changed.” 

She shook her head. 

“No… different.” The woman crossed her arms. “Don’t… don’t l-l-l-like… how he treats you.”

Cyrus pressed his thin lips into a line, but otherwise didn’t look too bothered. 

“I don’t blame him. That’s how High Fae treat what they consider lesser fae. It’s what people expect of him. There’s a lot of pressure on his shoulders.” 

“Fuck people,” she murmured. 

He chuckled and she felt like a child rebelling against bath time. She did not see how this behavior could be of any benefit to anyone. Did these people know nothing of packs? Of trust? Did they not know how rare it was to find a friend as loyal as Cyrus had been to her? How could someone repay him like that?

“Have you lost your mind?” 

Alis walked into the room, tea cart in tow and absolutely fuming. Even the color of the treebark that made out her skin looked different, as if she was blushing. 

“Allowing that male in here?! Delivering your sisters to him?!”

She rubbed the bridge of her nose. A headache was starting to form so deep inside her brain she couldn’t even place where it was. 

“Alis…” 

“I have stood by any strangeness you have displayed, but this… this takes the cake, girl. I am starting to think there is something truly wrong with you.” 

She didn’t expect it to hurt as much as it did. She was so used to people either ignoring her or being too scared to tell her anything that it was easy to forget other people perceived her. What Alis was saying was no surprise, though. It was nothing she hadn’t worried about herself, time and time again. 

“Yes,” she said, holding back her tears and gesturing for a cup of tea. 

“Now, miss Alis,” Cyrus lept to her defense. “No need to be this incisive. I assure you it was no easy decision. Today has been a difficult one for all.” 

“It’s been difficult because she makes it difficult. Why could she not have come here when you lot came out? Why did she have to lose herself in those woods? Couldn’t she just…” 

“Tea, please,” she interrupted, her voice low. 

Alis blinked, so surprised and wiped her hands on her apron before looking at the tea cart like she’d never seen it. She took a couple more seconds before beginning to pour the tea into a cup. 

“I don’t know why I do what I do,” she murmured as Alis worked and fell silent. She took the cup when she was offered and stared at the reflection in the dark liquid for a long time. 

She heard Alis shoot a string of new words and Cyrus pleaded with her some more, but she could not discern what they were saying anymore. She had somehow slipped entirely into that distance, into that cold indifference. This too would pass. Everything would. 

Even her life.

The woman woke up in bed. 

She had no memory of moving there. Her teacup was on top of her nightstand, untouched. It was cold now. It had somehow become night time. Cyrus was sitting on the side of her bed and saying something soft. 

“What?” She asked, rubbing her eyes. 

“Dinner was just served. Do you think you can eat?” 

She shook her head. Her stomach felt like one big knot. 

 “I told miss Alis to leave you alone until she’s calmed down. I’m sure she didn’t mean to upset you that much.” 

Her vision was still focusing and unfocusing as she tried to make his words make sense. She still wasn’t sure what had happened between when she had been sitting on the couch and now. Had she been upset?

“S’fine,” she murmured, sitting up. The headache had fully installed itself in her head, though it was duller now. “She’s… not wrong.” 

The male looked her over and crossed his arms, looking away. 

“People get built differently, miss Feyre. That doesn’t mean there’s nothing wrong with you. She shouldn’t say those things to you.” 

She wished it were that simple. When she’d been living in the woods, she didn’t think there was anything wrong with her either. She was strong. She was fast. She was smart. She was different from the other humans, yes, but she could do things they could not. 

Now… now every day was a reminder of what she failed to be. I am beginning to think you want war. Maybe she did. Wars needed fighters, right? She could fight. She’d rather die a clean death than keep crying herself to sleep every other night over things she could not change.

Her eyes drifted to Cyrus, who was eyeing her warily. She remembered him the moments before she died. Or, at least, many people who looked like him. Fighting the guards. Turning the tides so Tamlin could finish off the queen.  

“Question,” she announced. 

“Go ahead,” he encouraged. 

“What… happened… Under the Mountain? When we separated?” 

He sighed, scratching his chin. 

“This is a conversation to have over dinner. Join me?”

She didn’t feel any more like eating than she did a couple minutes ago, but she nodded anyway. 

As they sat on the table by the balcony doors, Cyrus told her what had happened. 

He had kept to the shadows. Watched the first few minutes of the fight against the worm, but had to pull away. It was impossible to watch, he said. So he turned his attention to more productive pursuits. He knew they would need more allies. And since their Spring Court friends were under so much scrutiny, they’d have better chances with someone who didn’t call so much attention. 

So, as the fight went on, he blended in with the other Summer guards. He had been one of them after all. That way, he’d managed to get an audience with the High Lord of Summer. He knew she would need help when this was over, but there was no way for him to get into the arena without his wings and he could not miss this chance to help in the long run.

Cyrus hadn’t known this High Lord. I served under his cousin, the previous High Lord , he explained. Summer had already been a part of a plan to dethrone Amarantha. That was how this High Lord had gotten to power, when his cousin was executed. That was also when I got imprisoned. Even if it was risky, they were my safest bet… If anyone would harbor resentment against her, it would be them. 

He explained to the High Lord how he knew for a fact there was a great chance they might be freed. At first, the High Lord wasn’t convinced. No one was betting on Nesta to win at these tasks. While some were impressed, others suspected this first one had been a fluke. They knew the High Queen would not play fair. Cyrus had told him to wait. He said he would return when the woman had won the second task. When he did return, the High Lord was convinced and willing to offer his aid. He had actually been planning an escape with his cousin Brutius. If this was coming, there was no need to rush things… 

Since no one knew Cyrus was there, it was up to him to slip in and out of Under the Mountain bringing in the weaponry they would use. In the end, when she guessed the riddle, they were hiding in the crowd and ready to strike. 

“Good thing… I figured it out,” she murmured. While Cyrus was eating, she was chewing on some dried meat. It tasted as amazing as usual. 

“I knew you would,” Cyrus said with a nod. “I tried to get to you when she hurt you… but there was too much happening. I was way too far into the crowd and without my wings...”

She shrugged. 

“S’fine,” she assured him, her mind slipping into the place she knew so well. That she didn’t regret the sacrifice she was making. That she would have died there. She shook her head, centering herself in this night, in this room. This was what really happened. 

“Now, what I would like to know is how this happened,” Cyrus pointed at her tattooed hand. 

The woman stared at the eye there and sighed.

“He saved me”, she traced the lines with the tip of her finger. She had rebelled against this at first, but now she’d quite grown to like it. It was the only thing she’d had as a human that had carried out to her eternal life. It was a choice she had made for herself, even if she had no other at the time. “After the worm. Healed me.” 

“In exchange for…?” 

“Two weeks every month,” she murmured. “But… I didn’t have to work for him. He just… wanted me there.” 

“Why?” Cyrus asked. 

She shrugged. 

“Think because… Tamlin wants me.” 

“So… you decided to work for him because…?” 

Even the dried meat started weighing on her stomach. 

“I’m not criticizing your decisions, by the way,” Cyrus assured. “I just want to know. This male… he worked very closely with her. For her. He’s done awful things.” 

She searched herself for the answer. People had been asking this and she didn’t know how to explain it. Didn’t she care what he had done? Didn’t she care he had a Court living below his house that was similar to Amarantha’s? Was she really that naive to allow herself to become a weapon to a person like that? 

“In the woods…” she began, trying to voice her logic. Might not make sense to anyone else, but little about her did. “Things change quickly. And you have to decide. Fast. You learn to follow… instinct.” 

“And your instinct says he’s fine?” 

She pressed her mouth into a line. 

“Owls hunt for prey. They eat all of the prey. Spit back the bones,” she tried another tactic. “They’re… silent. They could kill… all they wanted. But they have… small stomachs. Don’t kill more than need.” 

Cyrus squinted, nodding and she wondered if he too was worried about her sanity. Well, he could get in line. 

“Wolves… hunt in packs. Many of them. Gets out of control. Can kill whole family of deer. Don’t eat all of it. Leave entire carcass. And there is… no more family of deer… to grow for next year.” 

She looked at the table. These people didn’t know scarcity. Even when a killer queen was in power, these tables were ladden. But if someone was coming to take over, that might finally change. They were still weakened from almost 50 years of tyranny… 

“I had to learn… alone… that I could spend a night in a cave with owls… but could not spend night… in a cave… with wolves,” she continued. “This… is instinct. You learn… silently… over time.” 

“So… you’d spend a night in a cave with him?” He asked and she nodded. 

“He’s… done bad things… yes. But… so have I. I b-b-be… be— beeeelieve… I know the difference… when you d-d-d-o it… because you… have to. And… and… and… do it… just because you can.”

The next morning rolled around. 

At some point she heard someone serve her breakfast, but she didn’t get up to eat it. She knew she should get up, get clean, eat up and get this job done already. Instinct or not, she didn’t want her sisters alone with Rhysand too long. But Alis’ words from yesterday kept repeating in her mind. I am starting to think there is something truly wrong with you. Every time she thought to move, this came to replace it until there was so much noise she couldn’t deal with anything else. 

A knock at the door. It rang through the room like a bell. 

“Miss?” Said a voice she didn’t know. “The High Lord requires your presence. Do you require assistance?” 

Of course. Even if she was not ready for the day, it had come. She sighed, sitting up, her head throbbing. The fact Alis wasn’t here to help her get dressed told her the altercation with Cyrus yesterday had been serious, though she had a hard time remembering what went down. 

“Yes,” she told the stranger, who instantly came in. 

She was a small little thing with green skin, with small darker veins all over, as if she was entirely covered in leaves. Her hair was made out of intertwined branches. She took one look at her and said: 

“I’ll prepare a bath and let the High Lord know you will require some time.” 

That felt humiliating, but probably for the best. 

Keeping the water level on the tub low, she was able to sit in the water to clean up. It took a while, though. Hunger was starting to bother her at this point. But once she was done, the servant – had she even asked her name? – took her to Tamlin’s study instead of downstairs to the dining room. Not lunch, then. Great. 

A musical voice flowed out of the door once they neared it. The woman stepped inside to find Tamlin sitting at his desk (that had been repaired since his last loss of control). Sitting on the other side of the desk was a female. Her hair was covered in a blue veil, the same color of her flowy clothing. She let out a flowy laugh before turning around and setting her blue eyes on the woman. 

“Ah, Feyre, there you are.” Tamlin stood up and came to find her, offering his arm. “I want to introduce you to someone.” 

She took his arm, albeit hesitant. 

“This,” he said with a wave at the newcomer. “Is one of my new counselors. She’s been away from Court almost as long as we’ve been cursed. She’s the daughter of one of my father’s old counselors and in her time away, she has become a priestess.” 

The woman extended her long fingered hand and gave a feline smile. 

“Ianthe. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Chapter Text

The woman had heard Ianthe speak for all of three minutes and she already hated her. It wasn’t quite her voice or the things she said or her calm expression, but somehow the combination of all three of these things was incredibly grating to her nerves. 

“If we are going to discuss war, I thought she might want to be here,” was all the explanation Tamlin offered on why she was there at all. 

From that point forward, Ianthe had launched herself into a pretty little song of peace and Cauldrons and Mothers that was wholly ridiculous and entirely impossible to follow. The woman’s expression was fixed on what she was sure was the sourest she had ever displayed. 

Once she hit the limits of her patience – which were, admittedly, very thin –, she turned to Tamlin, interrupting the blonde priestess:

“Where’s Lucien?” 

Tamlin looked displeased, but answered right away. 

“On border duty. You sent his mate away. He will not be happy when he finds out. I’m trying to keep him busy.” 

She held back from rolling her eyes. So she wouldn’t get any help on that front. 

“Why you need someone else… to decide?” She snapped her tongue. “Work with Rhys. Or don’t. Simple.” 

“Oh, but it is not that simple, Feyre” Ianthe barged back into the conversation as the woman turned to her, incredulous. “You see… There is a lot of distrust here and it existed even much before the most recent spilled blood between the families. How can we trust someone we know nothing about?”

She leaned back on the chair. She supposed it made sense. 

“Then ask him.” 

“And what reason would he have to tell us the truth?” She asked, hands to her chest, and the woman had to fight the impulse to jump at her, bite her throat, make her submit. She had to shake her head to distract herself from the tempting vision. “But… if you were to tell us more of his plan… of his forces…” 

She shrugged. 

“Don’t know’em. Was there a month.”

“Yes, but where were you?” Tamlin insisted. “Where did you stay?” 

“Castle. In the mountains.” She shrugged. “Don’t you… have… map?” 

“No one has an updated map of the Night Court,” Ianthe said, answering questions not meant for her once more. “The oldest one we can find is over two thousand years old and is in awful condition.” 

Rhysand hadn’t been kidding. They really did need a mapmaker. 

“Don’t you think that’s suspicious?” Tamlin asked. “They never needed our help before and now they’re sending you here begging? What are they hiding in there? And if it’s so great, why would they need us for this war? We were very badly hit by Amarantha and everyone knows that.” 

She huffed. 

“Not here begging. Asking.”

“We just want to know where we’re getting ourselves into,” Ianthe said, with a nicety that grated at the woman’s teeth. Still, she couldn’t criticize the logic. She’d done the very same. “Your help would be appreciated in the decision making.” 

And so, just because it seemed like they were getting somewhere, she agreed to tell them what she knew. 

They talked all day and late into the night. 

When she wasn’t talking, Tamlin and Ianthe were discussing things that flew way over her head. They ate dinner in the study, still going over the same 20 or so questions she did not have the answers to. How big were their forces? Where was their base? Who were their commanders? The woman shrugged so much her shoulders began to hurt.

When they finally decided to call it a night, Tamlin had come closer and she’d pushed his face away when he’d tried to kiss her. She wanted to say something, but all that came out were grumbles.

She’d gone to her room angry and unsatisfied, though she wasn’t sure why. She wanted to believe that Ianthe’s presence meant good things. That she was making progress. But she didn’t really believe that.

The next day, she was asked for breakfast at the study. And before she’d even managed to get toast buttered, it had began. Incessant questions about things she didn’t know, people she hadn’t met. The insisting callbacks to the fact that she didn’t really know her new ally and should reconsider her position. Slowly, she stopped talking, letting them try and drag responses out of her. When they caught wind of that, almost by the end of the day, there was finally relent. 

“Well… I think we’re not getting anywhere today,” Ianthe said, still as pleasantly as before. “We can reconvene tomorrow, then.”

She had barely left the room when the woman turned to Tamlin. 

“Send her away. Make up your mind.” 

Tamlin raised an eyebrow.

“Or what?”

“I’ll leave,” she snarled and she meant it. 

He looked devious then. 

“Will your boss take you back if you haven’t completed your task?” 

Was that what this was about? He was stalling so she’d be fired?

“Yes,” she said, because that’s what Rhys had told her. We can find some other way for you to live here. He just wanted to know if Tamlin would fight for his own world. If the answer was no, then the answer was no. No one could say she hadn’t tried her best, even if it hadn’t been much. No one could say Rhysand hadn’t been warned that her best might not be enough. She had never convinced anyone of anything ever. “Not my boss.” 

He pressed his lips into a line and shook his head. 

“You haven’t told me a single thing that would make me trust him.” 

The woman rubbed at her face. What did he want from her? She didn’t speak for over ten years. And she had never been that convincing to begin with. 

“He could have hurt me,” she said in a low voice between her hands. “Could have… made me work. Humiliate me. He let me sleep and eat. Like you did.” 

She got up. 

“You… are more alike than… you think.”

The woman started walking to the door. His hand on her wrist stopped her. He cleared his throat before speaking. 

“Leave him. Leave him and I will do it. I will fight Hybern and I’ll work with Rhysand. Just…” 

The woman turned to him, blinking. 

“Not serious.” 

His eyes were serious though. They looked troubled in a way they hadn’t been all day as they discussed the possibility of his lands being conquered. Now that she was leaving again…

“I am. Dead serious.” 

She took a breath. 

“Could you… break the deal?” 

She wasn’t sure she wanted him to. But all she ever needed was for him to try. To do anything at all.

His face twisted into a grimace and he brought her hand to his cheek. It was strange, looking at the Night Court tattoo so near his face. They looked like they had come from very entirely different worlds, different lives she had lived. 

“No. I can’t. You did that willingly. The laws of old magic forbid me. Both of you would have to agree to break it,” he kissed her hand, eyes trained on hers. “But if you stayed… if we could be what we were meant to be… we could ask him to release you as a sign of good faith.” 

It was hard to breathe when he was this near. When he was making pretty promises like this. Hunger twisted in her stomach, both physical and something else entirely. Yearning for a life she’d never had.

“What… were we…?” She couldn’t ask. She didn’t dare. After speaking almost a day and a half, her throat was tired, hoarse. 

He kissed her and closed the door. Then, her body was pressed against it. Her arms went around his neck instantly, as if they knew the way by heart. Things were so easy when they were physical... His kiss was as hungry as she felt, his tongue exploring her mouth. 

“Marry me,” he said, pulling back, nuzzling the side of her neck. “Be my wife. Be my lady. The fae don’t really marry, but I know it’s important to humans. We can do it if that would make you feel better about this. About… forever.” 

Forever . She hated that word. How could anything last forever? How could she plan for something that never ended?

Human. This was the furthest she’d ever felt from it. Even before she’d been Changed sometimes it felt like a weak definition of all that she was. 

Marriage . For so long she had doubted she’d even make it to adulthood. She had never even considered getting married. She never thought of herself as particularly pretty and her mother had said only pretty girls got to get married. And after her own sisters got married for security, a part of her wanted to prove she could do it without resorting to this. Without giving herself up. 

And what would that even look like for them? Would he allow her to roam their lands once she was High Lady? Would he teach her to read? To speak? Could she learn what he knew? Or would it be more of what had happened two days ago? Being locked in, watched? 

So she did what she always did near Tamlin when she didn’t know what to do. She gave herself to feeling and kissed him until he fell quiet. Until all promises were put on hold until they could be finished with whatever threatened to eat them from the inside. 

She was running. 

The moon was full above her and illuminated the path ahead through the trees. She wasn’t alone. The thrumming of other paws on the ground announced another large creature was prowling next to her. She did not fear it though. She knew it. Let it approach. 

It almost didn’t fit the scene, with the golden fur and the impressive horns. It was a day creature, made to prance through open fields. And yet, there it was. Running with her in the middle of the night. It felt so wonderful that for a moment it was even hard to breathe. 

Then, the second creature’s foot was caught in a trap, stopping their run short. 

It was a nasty thing, made of black metal. It pierced meat and bone and as the creature tried to pull its leg free, it was only doing more damage. She tried and tried to open it, but she had no hands but these taloned paws, but there was a sense of unease, of something about to happen, coming to get them. 

So she looked up. The creatures’ eyes weren’t what she was expecting. They were her father’s. She turned her back on them and ran. Other traps kept closing all around her, barely missing her limbs. Clack! Clack! Clack! There were more steps now. Hunting her, gaining on her. She could see the flash of fire on the edges of her visions. No, it wasn’t fire… it was red hair against the wind. 

Her heart was thumping in her chest, so hard it was painful. And it was cold… so cold… Something grabbed her front paws and she fell painfully forward. The ground was slippery… no, it was pulsating. Then she blinked and she was in that moment again. Her hands bound, the knife in the Queen’s chest, trembling between her fingers with each heartbeat, and her eyes… there was so much hate in them. 

Instead of throwing her away, though, her pale hand closed around her throat and squeezed… 

The woman gasped, suddenly awake. 

She tumbled right out of bed. It was dark. She couldn’t find her way around. Where even was she? The ground was so cold, so smooth. Her cell? No, no, please, not again. Her stomach clenched so painfully she let out a groan. She could hear someone breathing, but she couldn’t find them. Her family? 

No, she was out. She had to be out. The sky. She had to find the sky. Then she’d know. Even if she didn’t know much about the world, she knew the stars. What time of year they were supposed to show. How much time had passed. As her eyes got used to the dark, she managed to find her way to a bathroom. There were no curtains in that window, so she could finally see outside. The moon shone a spotlight inside the room. 

Relief was so intense, she fell to her knees, throwing up the contents of her last meal – had it been lunch? Had she even had dinner? – in the toilet. 

The cold of the ground didn’t help her shaking hands, but it was something. It was real. She pressed her forehead against the porcelain of the seat, trying to will her stomach to settle down.

Spring. She was in Spring. She recognized the ivory detailing in the sink and in the tub. It was the same in her room, though this wasn’t her room. She touched her neck. It hurt. As she touched it, she remembered the flash of pain she’d felt when Tamlin had bit it, which had quickly turned to pleasure. Now, though, it only hurt. Right. They had… This was probably his room. 

Once she could stand again without her knees shaking, she got up and left the room. In bed, he didn’t even stir. Not caring if she had no clothes on or not, she found her way to her bedroom. It wasn’t much in terms of comfort, but it was something. She pulled all of the curtains open and then opened the windows to let the night air in for good measure. She made herself her nest with covers and pillows and laid inside of it. 

She closed her eyes, willing herself not to think. 

Tomorrow, everything would be fixed. The priestess would go away. They would agree on a plan. Then, they would get married. They would fight off a Hybern invasion together. And she would ask Rhys to break her deal. 

For tonight, she would not think of her sisters. Or of Mor’s easy kindness. Or of… anything else she might leave behind if she said yes to this lovesick plan.

Chapter Text

How did she get there?

How did the woman let herself get roped into this situation? Well, she was an idiot. That was how.

Now she had agreed to be married, she had been promptly rolled in gold and fabric and paraded like a prize cow off to the whole Court to see. All week, she had been introduced to people who had touched her, talked her to exhaustion, and, worst of all, followed her. There had been no bite attempts, though growling had been necessary in some instances.

And now she was to sit next to Tamlin in this Tithe thing and… just be there, really. 

No one felt too compelled to give her more instructions.

She’d try anything if he was really willing to listen to her and work with Rhysand to stop this war. Even watch as people came to deliver everything they had.  

Cyrus had given her the overview: this was how the Court filled up its coffers. But truth was Ianthe was always slinking around, trying to get her to try on this piece of jewelry or this dress or those shoes, even if she expressed severe distaste for everything she kept pushing. 

“I don’t like you,” she’d told the woman at some point, who had just waved her off. 

“You don’t have to like me. You have to work with me. Come now, red flowers or blue?” 

“Blue,” she growled, just to get the priestess off her back. 

Ianthe did not, in fact, get off her back. 

“He will take care of everything,” she had droned on and on. “All you have to do is be there. You don’t even have to speak, just as you like it.” 

So now she found herself sitting on top of a dais that had been set up in the manor’s great hall as hundreds upon hundreds of fae walked in, bearing all kinds of gifts. Food, clothing, gold… could they really not need that? Wouldn’t they miss it once winter hit? But… winter didn’t hit, she guessed. That was the point of appeasing the lord of forever spring. 

Emissaries and simple people alike knelt, presented their gifts to Lucien, who took tally of it, said a few words and left. Something about the whole motion was making her sick as it reminded her of another throne room. 

Then, one of the fae stopped before the dais, hands empty. There was a moment of stunned silence as she inclined her head in a bow. She wore nothing, her skin gray, almost iridescent when the light hit it. Her eyes, much like the long straight hair that hung limp on both sides of her shoulders, were black. 

“On behalf of the water-wraiths, I greet thee, High Lord,” she half-hissed, revealing sharp teeth behind her full lips. 

Ah. So that’s what they were called. She’d seen them before, hanging around ponds, attracting what came too close. Effective killers, if not a bit obvious. Anything with those eyes would take you too deep for light to reach. Or maybe she was just used to reading danger. 

“Welcome,” said Tamlin, which she didn’t think he meant. “What have you brought for us this day?”

The water-wraith tried to take a step closer, but Lucien placed himself between her and the steps. 

“Please, High Lord,” the faerie spoke again. “There are no fish left in the lake.” 

Oh. That wasn’t good. She looked at Tamlin, waiting. He didn’t return her look. His voice sounded as cold as the metal of his golden crown. 

“Regardless, you are expected to pay.” The water-wraith showed her hands, ready to say something else, but he didn’t let her. “There are no exceptions. You have three days to present what is owed – or offer double next Tithe.” 

She could feel her own face contorting in distaste. The faerie had nothing to eat . And he was asking her to give him food. Food he didn’t even eat. 

“Please,” she whispered through her pointed teeth, shaking. “We have nothing else.” 

“Why?” The word escaped her before she could think better of it. The moment, she was sure every single pair of eyes in the room turned to her. 

“Doesn’t matter why,” Tamlin answered, shooting her a look before addressing his subject again. “All others were able to bring what was asked. You have three days.” 

“How?” She asked him, snapping her tongue. 

Tamlin looked at her in a way he’d never done before. 

“Quiet,” he whispered. 

“No,” the woman shook her head. With all those eyes on her, she didn’t think she could say any more. So she stood up. Tamlin’s brows lifted in surprise and exasperation. “Fix the lake.” 

“I will not hand out alms. Sit back down. We’re not done.” 

The woman shook her head again. 

“I… am… done.” 

She took a step down. She felt his hand close around her wrist. The woman turned to him, raising an eyebrow. 

“Stop,” he hissed.

“Let. Go,” she said back, her throat surprisingly compliant. The red was filling her vision again. 

When he didn’t, her hand went around his wrist and squeezed, harder and harder. His face twisted into confusion as the pressure made his ulna creak until he finally let go. She might not be as strong as him, but she knew how to break a bone well enough. Snapping her tongue, she finished her journey down the steps. Everyone remained frozen in place. 

“Want gold? Here.” She told Lucien, pulling off her earrings and placing them on his hands. Then the tiara on her head. And the necklace too. Once she was done, she stepped down and offered the wraith a hand. “Up.” 

The water-wraith looked from her to the High Lord, uncertain. Finally, she made a decision, her hand cold and clammy as it touched the woman’s. She heard more than saw Tamlin stand up for his seat. 

“There will be no exceptions!” 

She looked at the female, shaking her head. 

“Go to Summer. Lots of puddles. Lots of fish.” 

The wraith shook her head. 

“We… me and my sisters have lived here for generations.” 

That hurt deeper than she’d thought. Her sisters and her would also never return home through no fault of their own. 

“Things change. Sometimes… it’s good.” She started walking forward, towards the exit doors. 

The crowd moved to let her pass. Though she prefered it that way, she couldn’t help but feel like this was rejection. She wasn’t like the humans, she wasn’t like fae, who was she like? Who were her people? Did she even have any? 

The wraith followed after her with her hand still in hers. 

She let it go on the entrance door as she turned back to look at all the others they left behind. 

“Anyone else… hungry?” 

There was a supernatural quiet to the room. Slowly, a couple more shaky hands stood up. She looked back at the dais, at Tamlin, raising one eyebrow before waving them on. 

“Come, then. Have… lunch… with me.” 

The woman ended up gathering a terrifying crowd of over thirty souls she was more than happy to feed. If anything, just to spite the nobles who accompanied her with horrified looks. The kitchens had no problem churning out food, that was for sure. And because Tamlin was throwing a hissy fit inside, she laid table cloths in the gardens and made sure everyone was eating.

People kept asking what she wanted in return, what did that meant for their debt and she just shrugged. She didn’t have the answers. She did not know if she could change anything, but today she could do this. 

Cyrus eventually joined her, looking nervous. 

“Don’t say it,” she whispered to him when he sat next to her on the tablecloth, eyes on the line of supplicants that was still going in. 

“Shouldn’t have done that,” he said anyway. 

The woman let out a sigh. 

“He doesn’t… understand. What hunger is.” 

Cyrus nodded. 

“It was a selfless act. But fae are not the most selfless of people. This might not change things. Might make your mission harder.” 

She shrugged. Tamlin had said he loved her. That he wanted this to be her home. If that was true, then she was going to change things. She would not watch people starve. 

“We will not forget it,” said the water-wraith, both hands around a bowl of fish stew. “My sisters and I”. 

The woman’s lips quivered, forming a shaky smile. 

“Has to be enough.” 

The line got shorter and shorter and eventually ended. Her companions trickled out, anxious to get home before the High Lord was finished holding court. She gave them what she could and sent them on their way with advice to look for some other place that could protect them, if Tamlin wouldn’t. She’d done it. She didn’t know why she would lie to others about it. 

Then, eventually, Tamlin came to find her in the garden. 

He looked furious. His perfect face was red. He winnowed them inside and into the study. Pacing, he said she embarrassed him. That she jeopardized his kingdom. That she had damaged what he was trying to build. 

“What? Nation o’hungry people?” She murmured, coughing. Her throat was already raw from speaking with everyone. 

Tamlin roared, his claws coming out. 

“There is tradition . Ways things have been done by my grandfather and my father and will be done by my son. We’ve been through enough, we need structure.” 

She blinked slowly. In this form, he was taller than her, but he felt so small... 

“Not… my son.” She pointed at the table cloth still spread on the grass outside. “That… is how… your wife will do it.” 

His face contorted in anger, his hands closed to fists. 

“Why? This could destroy everything!” She refused to reply when he was using this tone, so she kept silent, crossing her arms. “You gave them the jewels I gave you.” 

She shrugged. 

“Means nothing.” 

“I mean nothing?” Tamlin pressed, shaking his head as if he had a whole mane. His hair was neatly braided behind his head.  

She snapped her tongue. 

“Gold. Jewels. Crowns. Mean nothing. People mean something. People need… good living. Need… food. House… Light.” 

His expression, bit by bit, relaxed as he took in her words. Tamlin rubbed at his face. Perhaps he understood then. What it had meant to her to see a hungry girl kneeling before her to try and save her family. Why she couldn’t turn her head to the side.

“You’re right… Of course. Of course we need to work on that. But there are ways to do things. To defy me publicly like that… One would think you came here to destroy me.”

“You’re… doing it… on your own.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. 

She stood her ground, watching his next move. But it didn’t come. They stood, frozen. She wouldn’t back down first, so he had to. Eventually, he let out a big huff.

“I’ll try to be… better. For the people. More… considerate. But you can’t do things like this anymore. Alright? We have to look like a united front. If we don’t what our enemies could… You have no idea the lengths people would go to hurt me. To hurt us.”

The woman took a deep breath. That wasn’t very specific. She needed more than that. When fae were involved, all the words had to be there.

“Will you listen? When I say something?” she asked. Speaking was still so hard. Her throat hurt so much… She needed to know if she could trust that he would listen. That she wouldn’t need to repeat herself, because she might not always be able to. That he would know when she needed him to act. “When we’re married… you’ll listen?”.

“Yes,” he said, reaching out to take her hand.

“Promise?” she pressed, holding back her hand for a moment. “Even about the war?”

“I promise,” he replied and she finally allowed him to take her hand and bend down to leave a kiss on her forehead. 

She woke up a little after dawn. Tamlin had already left her room by then. The bed was cold. The room was wonderfully silent.

Without anyone needing to tell her so, she got up and cleaned herself in the basin in the bathroom. Got dressed as well as she could manage without help and ventured out into the house. There was an usual quiet inside her head. She wanted this day to begin. She couldn’t wait another second. She wanted things to happen already.

She’d done what she was asked. She’d gotten through the Tithe. Perhaps it hadn’t been what they all expected it to be, but she’d done her part. And now… he’d promised to listen. Maybe now they could make some progress.  

The halls were usually quiet this time of morning. The nobles were still asleep. Only one or two servants were flitting up and down the empty corridors, getting ready to start the day.

Her neutral mood readily spoiled when, standing just outside Tamlin’s study door, she heard voices coming from inside. 

“Yesterday was… a problem,” Ianthe’s voice was the last one she wanted to hear this early in the morning. 

“We’re… working on it,” Tamlin replied, sounding tired.

“You don’t think he was involved on her little show? To sabotage the Tithe?”

“Hard to say…” Tamlin let out a sigh. “I… do believe what you fear is true. I think he has tampered with her mind. I managed to get through to her to some extent, but… not fully. The thing at the Tithe was fully her, but the rest doesn’t sound like her. She keeps insisting on these… war ideas. She’s lived in the middle of nowhere most of her life, what does she know about armies and battles? No, I think the only way this curse will be broken is to end whatever deal it is they made...”

What does she know about armies and battles?

“It won’t be easy,” the priestess warned. “Bargains are tricky business.” 

“I know. But I can’t concentrate on anything else until I know she’s safe from his influence. Until she stops… with all this strange talk.” 

Safe from his influence ? Stop all this talk?

The woman pushed the door open. It wasn’t even locked. They weren’t hiding. They weren’t worried she would hear. Because she was useless and took too long to get ready, waiting for someone to come help her.

There was not a thought in her mind. Not a feeling in her heart. A familiar cold was spreading through her veins.

Both of the fae inside turned to look at her. 

“You don’t believe me,” she said, her voice weak, before they could muster any words. “No matter… what I do. What I say…  You won’t… believe me.” 

Tamlin stood up. 

“Feyre… we were just—” 

The glow that accompanied him in her eyes was, all of a sudden, gone. Like a candle snuffed by the wind. He had never looked more like a simple man or, at the very least, the image of one. A tingling sensation was crawling up her fingers to her hands.

“You will never… listen. Never… respect me. My choices. My thoughts. Will you?” She shook her head weakly. “You think I’m…”

  Stupid. A creature . She should have known. She should have known! Gods, she was such a foolish creature, wasn’t she? Stray puppy eager for any scraps off the table. 

The woman turned around. Slowly, she started walking to the stairs that would lead her out to the lower levels, to the front door and out of there entirely. 

“Feyre!” Tamlin called behind her, rushing to catch up. The woman just kept walking. Every time he called her name, it just sent her further and further into herself. Not her name, not her name . “Wait. Let’s talk about this.”

Talk .  

His hand went around her wrist and, without thinking, she slashed at him with claws she’d conjured. She didn’t even know where they came from or if she meant to have them out. He pulled back, in shock. She didn’t look at him, just turned around and kept walking. She was halfway down the steps when he started shouting. She couldn’t understand him. It was like moving through water, straight into another world. Words were beyond her now, like that night with Alis, but much worse.

Won’t listen. Never listen. Promised to listen. 

A flash of dark blue and Cyrus was there. He was asking her something, trying to get her to look at him. When she didn’t reply, he started shouting too, but not at her. He could feel him right behind her, standing between her and Tamlin. 

The woman made it to the door. She opened it. And as she tried to step out, she banged against an invisible barrier. She couldn’t see anything but the bright day about to begin, but, right as rain, she could feel a wall there. Her heart started racing. 

Not this. Not this again. Somewhere in her brain, she could smell salt water rising. She could hear the clink of coins passing from hand to hand as the members of her family dropped like flies. She could hear sister running to her, the time ticking down on her mind. She could see her father’s last moments as he sacrificed himself so she could live. 

She pulled back and banged against the wall with her shoulder. Again and again until it was throbbing with pain. It wouldn’t budge. Evil magic, evil magic, evil magic, her brain kept saying. 

“--top!” She heard from leagues away. “--urt yourself!” 

Her body changed shapes. She hadn’t meant to. All she knew was she needed paws and claws and more weight. None of it worked. She turned to the closest window then, breaking the glass and trying to jump through it. Beyond it, though, the barrier was just as strong, no matter how much she pushed against it. There were hands on her, trying to contain her, but she was bigger, faster. She shook them all, unable to discern friend from foe, and ran further inside the house. There was bound to be another door. Another way out. 

She found the dining room. Broke another window. No go. 

Following the scent of food, she found the kitchens, and rummaging through the terrified staff she found all the back and side doors were the same. 

Her head hurt. Her shoulders hurt. Her paws… She was bleeding. She wasn’t sure if it was the glass or if it was the banging against objects and portals alike. Her chest hurt. It was like she couldn’t breathe. Darkness was eating at the sides of her vision. People were screaming all around her and it wasn’t helping. 

“--ying! ...her out!”

Then, suddenly, the barrier was gone. One second she was digging a doorjamb with her paws to see if she could dig a tunnel under it, splinters digging into her pads, and the other, she was outside. 

The woman – the beast – did not miss a second. As people yelled for her to be caught, to be restrained, to be caged, she raced across the gardens she had grown to love and jumped over the tall walls she dreamed would protect her and into the woods that had housed her for months. 

Then past it and into the unknown. 

She was running now. She was free. It was all that mattered.

Chapter Text

The soft greens of Spring turned to harsher greens when she crossed a border. The ground turned warmer against her paws. Then, colder, as the colors started bleeding from the scenery. The cold helped the pain, so she finally slowed down. She had been running for hours and that fact was finally catching up to her. It had been early morning when she’d left and now she could see the sun almost touching down on the horizon. 

The beast realized that slowing down was a mistake when the pain also started catching up. She was no longer bleeding, she didn’t think, but her wounds were still open. She growled. The smell of her blood was everywhere. She was probably broadcasting her location to every damn predator in the area. She’d fight them, of course. Now she was this big, nothing would ever touch her again. Nothing would ever cage her. 

Something was blabbering inside her head. It had been for quite some time. She shook it to try and silence it. Her head hurt enough already without something else speaking inside of it.

Wasn’t hard to find a cave. The growls of something ancient and big came from within, but she growled back and it quieted down. She laid down and started licking her open cuts. The glass and splinters on them was a problem. There was some kind of magic at play trying to heal her, but the glass kept opening the cuts back up. And obviously, using her tongue near any of that was a very bad idea. Perhaps for the first time she felt a pang of longing for her fae body, with those long fingers and such. Still, turning back would probably be a bad idea. Not only would the glass shards and wooden splinters just be bigger in that form, but also that body thought too much. 

So, giving up for the time being, she laid down her head, let her breathing even out and finally fell asleep. 

The beast was surprised to find she now knew the scent of magic enough to recognize it. Her eyes were open in an instant and she showed her teeth to whoever had transported right in front of her. The sun had gone down and night had taken over. The pain had receded into dull aches, but she would run again if she had to. She would fight. 

But it wasn’t a threat, she didn’t think. His voice sounded like the one she heard in her head, so she let him approach, though her ears were flat against her skull and her teeth were showing. There was hate in his eyes, though not directed towards her. She understood. She felt it too, though it was subdued behind how tired she was. 

Slowly, carefully, the winged male came closer. She kept her eyes on him the entire time. Eventually, he knelt next to her and, looking at his pretty black hair, she marveled at how easy it would be to just bite his entire head off. 

Don’t , he said into her mind and she growled low in her throat in response.

He motioned to her paws and she hid them, showing her teeth once again. He kept his stance, though, waiting. She waited too, analyzing the situation. Finally, deciding she could end him if he tried anything, she offered one paw, because he had long fingers, like the ones she needed to solve her problem. 

Like he could feel what she needed, he carefully pulled out shard after shard, splinter after splinter, forming a small pile. Every so often he would say “you’re alright. You’re alright,” and she wasn’t sure who he was trying to soothe. 

“Sorry I took this long”, he said eventually, when he was done with one paw and she was dedicating herself to licking it so her magic could finally close the reopened cuts. “The Middle makes magic act… unpredictably. I couldn’t find you. Your mind is… all foggy.” 

No, it wasn’t foggy. It was… distant. Distance was good. It was what she needed. What she always needed. From where she was now, she could see things much clearer. 

“I heard it all… even through your shields… as per usual,” he said between his teeth. After analyzing him for a few more minutes, she offered her second paw. Rhysand started working on it right away. Her eyes watched his as he worked. “I’m sorry about what he did. He never should have tried to…” 

Cage me, she thought. 

A relieved exhale came out of his mouth. 

“Yes. That.” 

With a short nod, he was silent until he finished picking out the debris. She leaned down to lick it too and the last of the wounds closed up. Now she was ready to run again. But run where?

“Can you… turn back? To your usual form?” The male asked.

She yawned, laying her head on her paws.

Don’t want to, she thought. Tired. 

The beast waited for him to say something, but he never did. So she closed her eyes to rest. After a few minutes, she felt his hand go through her mane. Tentatively at first, but when she didn’t react, he kept going. Up and down, up and down. This was nice. It shouldn’t feel this nice.

I didn’t do it, she thought, when she was ready. I didn’t convince him. 

“If you couldn’t do it, no one could”, his answer came promptly. “His stubbornness is his own fault, not yours. We’ll just have to think of something else.” 

A sadness that was entirely human, however, had settled in her chest. She’d failed her first task. She feared for her position. Then, she feared for her sister’s positions. And it must have been too much for the Beast to take, because the next moment, she was herself and she was lying on the dirt, glass that had been lost in her mane still on top of her head. 

With a sigh, she sat up, shaking her head to rid it from Tamlin’s window’s remains.

“Good while it lasted…” she commented. 

Rhysand’s hand was still in the air, where it had rested on her head. It floated there a second more, like he was inclined to touch her again, but he retreated. 

“Tell you what. We’re actually in the vicinity of an errand I need you to run for me. Why don’t we get that sorted out before we head home? I’m sure it will get your mind off of things and get rid of that first mission funk.” 

Home, her head caught at that word. Would she even know a home if she saw one? Was she ever to find one that was all hers? That she could return to when the weather was bad? That she could trust the years couldn’t destroy?

I… left Cyrus… behind . She couldn’t stop doing that, it seemed. How long until he got tired of it? Of her. I have to…

“I’ll send someone for him. Don’t worry. Something tells me he wasn’t that far behind you.” Rhysand stood up and offered his hand. “Come now, darling. We have nightmares to spread.”

She looked at his hand for a second. Following him took her back to the road filled with the company of other people. Of constantly trying to fit herself into shapes she could never fill. Was she just making the same mistake with a different coloring?

But that road also took her back to her sisters. To duties preordained. Though it was all she wanted, she couldn’t hide in the woods forever. She sighed before taking his hand and standing up. 

Fine.

This forest was older, more alert than the ones she’d been before. It was damp too, which made her thankful to have her hair shaven, lest it might become a tangled mess. He’d mentioned The Middle and she remembered seeing it on Tamlin’s maps back at his library. It was what grew around the Mountain she’d lived under for a couple of months. Where… 

The Mountain used to be sacred, he told her and she already knew that. This place is neutral ground. The law is that of the strongest, cruelest, most… resourceful. And the Weaver of the Wood is at the top of that food chain. 

That’s a stupid name, she thought, kicking a rock. It hit a log and a small hand came from under it and grabbed it. She stepped closer to Rhysand, her eyes widening, glad they weren’t speaking out loud. Why didn’t Amarantha take them out? 

Because Amarantha was no fool. I would know. I tried to convince her to make that mistake, but she never fell for it. 

She bit the inside of her mouth. 

And now we’re disturbing her? Fantastic . Guess that makes me officially more foolish than her .  

He chuckled darkly.

As the new day dawned around them, they eventually made it to a clearing, with a small, whitewashed cottage with a thatched roof and a half-crumbling chimney in the center. There was a well on the side, with a bucket waiting to be lowered. Wood under the window. Reminded her of her home, back in the human lands, before she got lost. 

The only evidence this might not be your usual human home was the absolute silence. No birds, no critters. Rhys pointed towards the cottage, as if telling her to pay closer attention. As she did, she noticed it: coming from inside, the faint sound of humming. 

Yikes, was all she could think to say. Do I need to go in there?

I trust your stealth. Just go in there and find something for me. Then run. Fast, preferably. 

Trust. He trusted her. 

The door was cracked already. There was a clear path of mossy stones leading up to it. A trap for hungry prey, too tired to notice the warning signs. 

Why don’t you go and get it? But he was gone. Bastard . 

Heard that. I’ll let you know when I see what I need . 

She bit the inside of her mouth, seriously considering running away again. Not dying was always a better use of her time than trying to die by meddling with something ancient . But the thought of having failed her first task returned. She couldn’t fail again. 

So she set herself on the path, avoiding leaves, sticks and stones. Anything that might make a sound. To this, her body was quick to adapt too. This no fae king had given to her. This rhythm she had earned. 

On the threshold, she could hear the song better: 

There two sisters, they went playing

To see their father’s ships come sailing

And when they came unto the sea-brim

The elder did push the younger in

What a loon, she thought, though the voice was beautiful. She tried to convince herself these lyrics weren’t for her. The Weaver had no way to know she was there. There was the sound of something else working, the clattering of wooden, string and metal working together in some sort of device. 

Somemtimes she sank and sometimes she swam

‘Til her corpse came to the miller’s da

Controlling even her breath, the woman inched the door open. There was no squeaky, no rusty hinges. Another piece of the trap. It invited people in, it spoke of an easy mark. Even the doorway seemed threaded by many boots, smoothed over by use. 

Once the door was open enough, she slid in. She was inside one large main room with a small door in the back. The walls were entirely lined with shelves where all sorts of knick-knacks were stored, from books to dolls, from jewels to herbs. 

Do you see what you want yet? she asked mentally. No one replied. 

Well, shit. 

In the middle of the cottage, sat a large spinning wheel. And sitting before it, her back to the woman, was the Weaver. 

She looked young, dressed in simple gray, black hair falling over her back as she sang. 

But what did he do with her breastbone? 

He made him a viol to play on

What’d he do with her fingers so small? 

He made pegs to his viol withall. 

The Weaver was spinning something into thread, but it didn’t look like wool. Unwilling to figure out what it was, she focused on her path, avoiding items scattered on the floor. 

And what did he do with her nose-ridge?

Unto his viol he made a bridge

What did he dod with her veins so blue?

He made strings to his viol thereto

She did not appreciate the musical background, but it did provide a sound proof that the Weaver was distracted. She started looking to each item, pointedly sending the image of them out into that mysterious bridge between her and the man she was working with. For. Whatever. It would take forever and she wouldn’t have forever. 

The woman painstakingly looked at the objects, always keeping her eyes on the predator nearby, when something gave a tug to her brain. It… felt like Rhys, but it wasn’t Rhys. Hello, it seemed to say, but didn’t really. Have you come to claim me at last? 

She took one step, then another towards the shelf near the hearth. 

What did he do with her eyes so bright? 

On his viol he set at first light. 

What did he do with her tongue so rough?

‘Twas the new till and it spoke enough

Nearing the shelf, she peered in. A letter knife, some books, a candle, a bunch of acorns, a crown… and a ring. Another pull came then, as she looked at the star shaped sapphire. I’m here! She did not need his voice in her head to know. That was what she came in there for. 

Seemed awfully wasteful to get a hunter to get you a ring, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. At least this task was easy. She hoped this wasn’t just some busy work to patronize her. She hated patronizing. 

Then bespake the treble string

‘O yonder is my father the king’

The woman looked at the Weaver for a moment, calculating how fast she would have to run. If she shifted, she would be much faster and would be better equipped to defend herself, but she had yet to do it on command. No, stealth was better for now.

Then bespake the second string

‘O yonder sits my mother the queen’

She stood at the tip of her toes and reached out, hand going around the ring. 

Then bespake the strings all three

‘Yonder is my sister that drowned me’

As she took her first step towards the door, towards freedom, the Weaver stopped singing. The wheel slowed down until she reached down with a pale hand and stopped it. 

The woman stopped too, waiting, not daring to even breathe. The silence was maddening after all that infernal singing. Surely she would pick up more not wool and continue, right? She would pick up a new song. 

“Who,” she said softly, “is in my house?” 

So much for that hope. 

Chapter Text

Frozen, she stood. Waiting. 

The door was still ajar where she had entered, inviting her out, but she’d set such traps before. Trying the most obvious route out was how she got stuck. The sole window was so thick the image that came through it looked warped. Even her paws might have trouble breaking them. 

Her only chance was to use her usual strategy: surprise her opponent. 

The Weaver turned. Her young body contrasted with a decaying face, lost to time: a mouth full of rotten pointed teeth, a nose barely more than a gaping hole and eyes that were nothing but pools of emptiness. 

“What are you?” the Weaver asked, her voice just as deceivingly young as it was when she was singing. I was about to ask you the same thing, she thought. “What is like all,” the creature continued, rising from the stool, “but unlike all?” 

“A Beast,” her voice escaped her beyond any control. It boomed in the supernaturally silent room. 

The Weaver showed her teeth in the mockery of a smile. 

“Yes. That is right. Only a true beast would meddle in things they did not understand. Claim things that did not belong to them.” 

Anger rose up in her chest as she thought of Tamlin taking her away from all she’d known. Putting her on this path only to try and cage her. And there she was: endangered again. 

Even Amarantha hadn’t dared to go against this creature. But she had killed Amarantha. She’d bested her in her own games. What would be one more? Rhysand sure seemed confident she was going to do it, for all his silence inside her head. 

The Weaver took a step towards her. Close enough. 

The woman attacked, lunging for the sole candle on top of a table at the center of the room and immediately hurling it at the pile of fabric hanging from the loom. The smell immediately confirmed that it was not fabric at all. The Weaver shrieked so loud, it made the woman’s head hurt. She dashed for the flames, pale hands trying to put out the fire as she screamed bloody murder. 

Now. 

Placing the ring on the pocket of her odious dress, her body shifted, the ring safe where it was her clothes went when she changed. Her other form was becoming second nature, especially when her heart was racing this much. 

She’d followed her usual trick – running straight towards an opponent that wouldn’t expect her too – but with an elegant twist. Well, she thought it was elegant. 

The Beast landed on the Weaver’s back, paws to her shoulders, messing with her balance and pushing her face down onto the flames. The Weaver screeched louder, her dry hair catching like hay. Unexpectedly, though, her arms twisted like broken by an invisible force and the hands, still fully functional, grabbed her paws, claws sinking painfully to the flesh. 

“You will pay!” Yelled the Weaver through a new mouth that opened on the back of her neck, equally burned, gaping, bloody. The flames were consuming her body, her stool, catching on the wooden table, singing the woman’s fur. 

I already have, the Beast thought. She bit the hands holding her, once, twice, fast, hard, the taste of rotten flesh and clotted blood filling her tongue. One hand came away between her teeth, dark blood dripping and old sinews tearing and the Weaver relented with a new round of screams. The beast jumped off of her, already rolling to put her own fur out. Once she stood, she allowed herself two seconds to think. 

Movement called her attention to the fireplace. Smoke was billowing out through the chimney flute. It was much closer than the door and harder to block. The next second, she was upon it, jumping up. The old stone groaned against her ample size. More smoke started filling up the tight space. For a moment, it felt like being Under the Mountain again, grabbing on to the worm, being dragged against rock. 

A phantom pain in her arm shocked her back to her fae body. At first, she started to slip down, now significantly smaller than the beast, but she grabbed on to the greasy stones. She had just started to climb when the still flaming Waver screamed up the chute, starting to climb after her. 

“Monster!” It screeched. “You cannot win!” 

Sometimes monsters do win, she thought. The blackened grease was now starting to burn, filling the space with even darker smoke. She coughed, her lungs filled with the stuff, blinking to try and clear her vision. All she could think about was hand, foot, hand, foot, up, up, up. The chimney was so tight it became hard to even grab on to anything. The stone was heating up too, burning her hands, dried up mortar slipping between her fingers. 

A skeletal hand grabbed her ankle. Grabbing the wall with both hands, the Beast kicked, kicked and kicked with her small, feeble feet, until she heard something crack and the pressure was gone. She barely squeezed herself out the top of the chimney and she was already running across the roof. 

The open air outside offered no reprieve. The roof too was burning from the inside out, crumbling beneath her as the centuries old wood collapsed. Running only made her sink faster into what was, again, not grass or hay but hair . Human, presumably. The grease that coated her was clinging to the threads, making a deadly, disgusting trap. 

But this she knew. This particular silence in her brain. Death knocking on her door. An old friend by now. Almost an ally. The presence of it allowed the Beast to do her best work. Her body shifted again, gracefully spreading her now bigger weight between three great strides before jumping off the collapsing roof. As she ran, fire started to spread through the trees that stood very close to each other around the little cottage, almost like prison bars, but something made it stop, a sudden white steam fighting the flame.

For that, at least, she was glad. Forest fires were the closest thing to hell she’d ever seen, even if she’d only seen one from far away. 

What did you do?! She was almost relieved to hear the voice in her mind again. 

Barbecue, she promptly replied, pressing her muscles to run faster, to test her limits. The burn in them spoke louder than the actual burns on her fur, on her flesh, already healing from the contact with the cold ground. She felt free and strong and powerful. 

That was… one way to do it. So much for stealth…

I got the job done, didn’t I? 

You made a very powerful enemy, that’s what you did. 

Eh, she can get in line, she huffed, slowing down, but not stopping. How far would be far enough? 

Ready to go home? That word again. Why did she keep getting hung up on it? It was just an expression. I have something new to show you. Try to remain open minded? 

As long as it was a brand new bed to sleep in, she was in. The beast slowed down and Rhys dropped in from above the trees, landing right beside her. He touched her neck and spirited them both away. 

They both materialized a few feet up in the air, which she thought was unnecessary. Still, the Beast within her knew how to fall gracefully and so she did, landing right beside Rhysand.

She didn’t expect, however, the mirror on the wall. All of her powerful body was coated in boiled fat, mortar dust, soot and singed hair. Spots of her fur were burned clear off, red burns still pestering some areas. She blinked at herself, being shocked right back to her fae form – which wasn’t better in any way . Only then did she finally notice Cassian and Amren standing there, halfway through a conversation that seemed entirely forgotten. 

“You smell like barbecue,” Amren said as a means of hello, cringing. 

“Thanks,” she murmured back, trying to breathe through her mouth. That didn’t help. Her tongue still held traces of Weaver in it. 

“You kill her or something?” Cassian asked. 

Though she was sure she looked like a demon crawled right out of a religious book to singe the earth, she smiled wickedly. On the one hand, she did feel a bit odd that the others knew about her task. On the other, it was good to think she could have killed something even Amarantha didn’t dare approach.

“Not sure,” Rhysand said when she didn’t reply. “The Weaver was screaming a lot and the cottage is… pretty much gone. But you know how she is. Either way, Feyre darling did a very big number out there.” 

He didn’t sound all that pleased, which was not the kind of energy she wanted him to have after she’d succeeded doing the dirty task he assigned her to.  

Here, take this, she thought, pretending to reach for the pocket of her dress. He came closer, eyes shining, extending his hand, ready to receive the ring. She scraped the side of her chest, where gunk had accumulated and dropped a handful on his open palm. She smiled as it stained his perfect manicured hands. Cassian threw his head back and let out a thunderous laugh. 

“Could have… used help,” she grumbled. 

“You survived,” he responded in the same tone, making the mess vanish with a disgusted wave of a hand. She knew for a fact he had been able to hear everything that had went on in her head: the panic, the fight. He’d let her do it on her own. Why? “I knew you would.” 

She spit on the floor, uncaring for the looks of disgust from the others. 

“Not a task. A test.” 

“Of sorts,” he agreed. “Your shapeshifting is very tied to your emotions. It will be very useful to get it under control, lest you end up like Tamlin dearest. I thought this was a great chance to get some practice.”  

She snarled, shaking her head incredulously.

“Brutal, but effective,” said Amren with a shake of her head. 

“Prickish, one might say,” Cassian countered. 

“As if you wouldn’t do the same,” Rhys tucked in his wings with a snap, waving off his general. Cassian shrugged and that only made her angrier. Did no one see this was not normal behavior? And this was her saying this!

“ Warning would be good,” she growled, ready to hurl one of those gunk balls right into his stupid grin. 

But what would be the point? She’d done what she set out to do. The job was done. She’d passed the test. 

“Bath. Now,” she requested, closing her hands to fists even if she was still shaking. 

“Can I have my item back?” 

With a huff, she reached inside her pocket and purposefully dropped the ring on the floor. It clinked against the red marble. He looked at it, then at her, and raised an eyebrow. 

“So eager to see me on my knees, darling?” 

“All… males… are good for,” she murmured. 

The side of his mouth flickered up and he just magicked the ring back onto his palm, now clear of all the burnt human remains that still coated all of her. 

“It was my mother’s ring,” he began what she felt like was a backstory entirely too long that she would be wholly uninterested in. 

“Great. Bath. Now.”

“How did you know to get it?”

She remained silent, wondering if any of her new powers included drilling a hole in him just by looking. He sighed. 

“Very well. Say your goodbyes and follow me.” 

She waved at the two fae and stormed off, taking some pleasure to leave footprints on what seemed to be an entirely different palace than the one she’d seen before. 

“This is the House of Wind. It’s another one of my residences,” Rhysand explained and that sounded, yet again, like a bit of introduction she was in no mood to receive. “I can show you more of it once you’re clean.” 

You sure are chatty today, she thought out loud. Except, you know, when I’m in mortal danger. 

He didn’t answer. 

Unlike what she would have done on other occasions, she barely took notice of all the hallways carved out of red stone. No need to map it if she wasn’t even sure she would stay for long. Who knew how many residences this male had?

All that mattered was that when they finally got to a room, it already had a tub half filled with steaming water. 

“You did good today,” Rhysand said, in what she hoped was a good-bye. “You’ll be a good asset in time. I’m surprised Spring would let you go that easy”. 

She raised one eyebrow. It wasn’t easy. She’d nearly broken her entire body trying every single exit she could think of and fully willing to make new ones just to be free.

“What I mean is… that priestess with Tamlin, Ianthe? She’s bad news. The leader of an order that was once great… and is now a perversion of what they promised to be”.

She absentmindedly raised her shield to hide the sudden feeling that she was exactly like he’d described. And instead of answering, she just nodded, inching towards the tub, wondering how much longer he was going to stand there. She couldn’t get in with him there, even though he knew about her problems with flashbacks. 

“All of this to say I’m surprised she didn’t try to carve you up just to see your power squirm inside you.” 

She huffed. 

“Could try. Can take her.” 

Rhys let out a surprised huff. 

“After today, I believe you. Though we shouldn’t count these priestesses out of the game. They’ve been ingraining themselves into almost every Court. Wouldn’t put it past Ianthe to sink her teeth onto Spring now you’re not there.” 

You sound like you know her, she told him, tilting her head. He nodded. Though there was a spark of interest on her side, he just snapped his fingers. Suddenly, all of the goop was gone, leaving only the lasting feeling of human remains on her. 

“A story for another time,” he promised. “If you need any further help cleaning, all you have to do is ask.” 

You could have done this the entire— Rhys left the room with a wave and closed the door behind him, just in time for a bar of soap to just miss him. 

This tub was much smaller than the one at the palace. The contact with the metal all around her helped, though she kept at least one hand on the lip of the tub at all times, as if she could slip and drown on a few inches of water. Keeping the water level low also helped in that front, though didn’t help her bathe. Took her almost two hours to feel clean again. 

And as she dragged herself to the room and found new clothes, her muscles started hurting. The cuts from her escape were all healed by now, but she could feel the distant pang of them, a soreness of her very skin. And even if the burns from the fire had mostly healed, she felt hot and sensitive. And even if the sleeping clothes she found were soft, to even think of laying down made her skin crawl. When she touched the bed, it felt like it had teeth all over.

The reddish rock walls were too closed off, even if the windows allowed the view to slip in. Another mountain, another cage.

I want to go somewhere else, she announced, grappling in the dark for Rhysand’s mind as she pulled on one of the Night Court day sets she was getting used to. There came a flash of a vision: a room filled with books. It was massive. She could feel his surprise as she got pushed out. 

You’re tired, came the response almost instantly. Rest. Your sisters are here. You’ll have the House all to yourselves as I take care of some business. 

Rest, she could hear Tamlin say, as if he knew what was good for her. As if her opinion didn’t matter. As usual. 

Her family being there was all the more reason to get away. She didn’t want a House. She’d never had one, at least not one that counted. She didn’t need a family. Surely she’d never fit back into one after all these years. No. All she could trust was the open air. And most of all, she didn’t want to see anyone who would require more things from her.  

Can’t. Won’t. You said I could go anywhere in Court if I worked for you. I’m working. I want to go outside. 

In the milliseconds it took for him to respond, she was out of the room and running down the corridor. Panic gripped her chest, her body moving without her input. Had she fallen into another trap? She’d fought her way out twice now and she’d do it again. 

I can’t winnow inside the House. We’d have to fly down to the city, came his leveled inner voice . 

Then fly me down. Where are you?

She walked the hallways, lost, wishing she’d paid more attention coming in. The mud had been cleaned off the floors, but there was a remaining scent of smoke she could follow. Her heart skipped a beat at his sudden silence, but the next second he appeared at the end of the hallway. A wave of relief flooded her senses as Rhys offered his hand. She promptly took it. 

“Anywhere specific you want to go?” He asked as he led her towards doors that opened into a balcony, his wings manifesting behind them. 

“Anywhere open,” she said, her exhaustion showing in her voice. You can go do your things. I won’t be a bother. I just…

You never are, he assured her, leading her out. The cool air of early morning hit her in full force and she already felt stronger. Down, she could see a spreading city. She could see golden domes and elaborate roofs shining under the sun, a swirling river cutting the buildings in half, peppered with bridges all over. The slight tang of saltwater hit her, even up there, coming from where the river met the sea.

What is this place? She asked, suddenly disarmed by the sight of it. 

Velaris, he said, closing his arms around her middle and spreading his wings. The city of starlight. 

And then they were airborne.

Chapter Text

The woman had felt a lot of fear in her life. 

Flying… that sent her to a new level of it. Her stomach sank, her heart raced and the lack of ground under her feet had her grabbing onto Rhysand’s arms around her waist with all her might. Which, as they had previously discussed, was a lot. 

“Steady now, darling,” he said in her ear. “I cannot carry you with broken arms. Here, let’s get you more comfortable.” 

With a sudden movement she did not appreciate, he put his left arm around her legs, keeping another safely around her back. She traded his arms for his neck, desperate for something to hold. Behind him, his wings looked translucent under the light as the sun hit them from the back. Before, she’d thought they were completely black, but now she could see the color variation in the tips of them. The strength of every powerful flap was obvious as she felt the muscles of his back working with each one. 

Look down, little nightmare. You’ll miss the view. 

She doubted she would miss much about looking down, but she did anyway. 

The city below was just as beautiful as it had been from the balcony. From a closer view, it looked more real. She could see fae coming and going, living a calm life she’d never known, never dreamed of. She couldn’t even see the bad things the human settlements had, like outhouses and trash dumps. It was just… life as far as the eye could see. 

The woman kept her shields firmly in place, noticing Rhys watching her every reaction. 

Wasn’t in the map, she told him. 

No, you won’t find Velaris in any map. That is by design.

She huffed. 

Not how maps supposed to work . 

He laughed, though there was an edge to his chuckle. 

No unauthorized outsider has breached this city in five thousand years. 

She blinked. Five thousand years… that was unfathomable time. 

How old are you?, she asked, a bit dizzy. Could be the heights, though. 

Now he laughed easier. 

Not that old. Five hundred, give or take. The specific number gets fuzzy . 

She knew. She herself wasn’t sure how old she was, and she’d had a lot less years than he did. 

They started flying down to a specific part of town with townhouses lined up on both sides of the river, painted in different vibrant colors. They sent a shiver of amusement up her spin, and she felt the itch to register them on a map. But no. There were no maps here. 

Let me guess, she thought when he finally set her down on the balcony of one of such houses. Another home?

My only home, he agreed with a nod, wiping off dust that had settled on the leather armor he was wearing. The others are just houses . 

That remark pulled at something inside of her. She supposed she wouldn’t know the difference. It had been a long time since she experienced having either, try as she might. 

You can rest here. And when you’re up, feel free to explore. There’s a park not far from here. Just cross the river and keep heading north. 

He pointed in the direction of it and she could see the top of the trees. She had no idea what a park was, but it looked like some kind of urban forest. The woman nodded and Rhys opened the door that went to the inside of a room. 

It was… surprisingly homey. She’d never had the curiosity to look inside his other rooms at the other mansions, but this felt like an entirely different world away from Tamlin’s. Because he was the only lord of his manor, his things were spread out in several rooms: his study, the library, the weapons room… His bedroom had been very clearly merely the place where he slept. 

This was different. She could scent Rhys all over here. It was small compared to the bedrooms she’d had since she’d gotten back to civilization. The wood was dark, reliable. The sheets were dark and lush. There were books piling up on the bedside table and wax residue on the wood. 

Unbelievable. The feared High Lord all her friends kept warning her about… had a cozy little bedroom. 

“Is there… something wrong?” Rhys asked when she didn’t follow him inside at first. 

Cute, she commented. 

He smiled – was that… bashfulness she was seeing? 

“There’s a room for you here. Stay as long as you need.” 

He led her to a hallway full of doors. As usual, it was beautifully done, but there was a lack of the excessive luxury she’d come to resent these past few months. It was clearly expensive… but sturdy. 

“I really have to go,” he said, opening one of the doors for her. It was similar to his own, though the furniture was simpler and the sheets were white. A blank slate. “Listen… the front door here is magic and will not open to anyone unless you allow it, alright? You’ll be safe here. Feel free to explore.” 

She nodded. Now she was near to the ground, that she could see several exit points, her body was finally relaxing. She was exhausted. Still, she hesitated to go inside the room, rubbing her hands together. Rhysand looked about to go back to the balcony to leave, but he hesitated too. He tried to touch her shoulder, but she flinched, her eyes widening as she looked at him again. 

“The door will open for you if you need to get out,” he said slowly, pulling his hand back. The woman wasn’t sure he’d read that in her mind or if she was just that obvious, but she couldn’t help but feel grateful for the reassurance. “You’re free to leave whenever. Leave now if you want to. You can go anywhere. I promised you and I’m keeping that promise. I would ask you don’t leave the Court… you still owe me a couple weeks, you know.”

The woman was silent for a while, keeping her eyes on him. He hadn’t lied to her yet, even if he had withheld information on more than one occasion. This had to be enough, at least to get through some hours of sleep. She could think better after a nice nap and some food on her belly.

“A-Alright,” she said in a manner of thanks and good-bye, before walking into the room and closing the door behind her.

From the inside, she heard him hesitate at her door before returning to his room and taking off from his balcony. She went to the window to see him leave and spread the window panes open all the way. Just to make sure, she stretched her arm outside. It passed the windowsill with no problem. There was a pleasant breeze blowing in. She closed her eyes, taking it in. When she realized she was falling asleep standing up, she just walked a couple steps to the side and collapsed in the bed, falling asleep within minutes.

The woman woke up hours later with the feeling that she had just gone to sleep. The sun had traveled all the way up to its midday position and was already halfway down. The woman sat up all at once, trying to place herself. 

She wasn’t in Spring. She wasn’t trapped, or so she’d been told. But she had to see it for herself. Without even pausing for shoes, she was out of her room in an instant, then down the stairs and outside, to the small courtyard of the townhouse. 

And beyond her, the city. 

She watched, probably like a madwoman, the people walking down the street. They were waking up in the nearby buildings, getting out into the street, buying food from fragrant stalls and drinking from steaming mugs on small tables set outside. They looked so different from the Spring Court supplicants she had seen just a couple of days ago… They looked at her curiously, but no one tried to approach, to ask her anything, to thank her for anything she wouldn’t know how to respond to. 

The way she saw it, she had two alternatives. Stay inside waiting for the High Lord to grace her with his presence… 

Or go snoop around on where he lived. 

Wasn’t hard to find shoes. She thought they might belong to someone because they were in another room, but they fit her and the doors weren’t locked, so she took them. She also swiped a piece of paper and a pencil from what seemed to be a study. 

And for the first time in a long time, she got started on a map. 

She wasn’t actually trying to get a handle on the land. Her only objective was not getting lost. So she took note of things that called her attention. A water spout on the corner of a street. A bridge with a lock on it. A house with a small dog in the yard. This way, she’d be able to find her way back to the townhouse when she was done exploring.

But it was almost too much to take in all at once. At first, she had planned to just go a few blocks ahead, see if there was any danger around the neighboring houses. If there was a water source, maybe a market where she could secure food. But the city just never ended. It gobbled her up. There was always something new to follow: the sound of music playing out of a window, a group of performers on the street, a street fair where people were announcing their goods. 

And there were so many people here. They were less varied than what she was used to from Spring. Mostly humanoids, though there were a lot more winged people here, not all of them illyrians. They wore winter clothing to protect from the autumn chill, but also riding gear, and some even wore human styles, with heavier dresses and frills. 

It was like seeing a children’s tale brought to life. She’d only heard of places like this when she was a child. Her father told her of the human cities that had flourished on the mainland in the way they had never been able to do in Prythian. 

Her biggest delight was finding the river that cut the city in half. From there, she could see the army of bridges that connected both sides. And there, in the distance, a large mass of water. The same sea she saw the first time she had ever seen any saltwater – though considerably further up north than she was used to. 

Following the river up the other way, towards the mountains, she saw two different ranges meeting halfway. One of red stone, another of dark, ancient, black earth. They closed around the shape of the city like two giant arms protecting it.

How does this even exist? she thought to herself, eyes being brought back to the houses. Lights were lighting up within the rooms with the fall of twilight. She saw families meet for dinner through the windows. Row after row of neat houses stacked one on top of the other, she saw nothing but abundance. There were no people begging on the streets. No dirty children scraping for what they could get. There was no mud on the stones and no latrines on the yards. 

It was too good. 

If such a place was possible, why wasn’t it possible anywhere else? 

She kept walking and walking, trying to push back those thoughts, but they weighted on her bones at every step. 

Why was it fair that these people got to stay here, drinking and eating and laughing while all of that suffering raged outside? Why had these people allowed someone like Amarantha to eat away at the rest of the continent for fifty years? Why did she, who didn’t have a home or food or shoes to her name, had to go and take her down when these people had everything and had chosen not to do anything? It had been Cyrus who had come to her rescue, not any of them… Why did she have to give up everything to save a family that did not want her and these people… 

Her feet were hurting now. She’d walked and walked without paying attention to where. She wasn’t even sure how long it’d been. Her map had been crumpled between her fingers and she’d lost her pencil. It was useless now. She was completely turned around without anything familiar to go by. The city had transformed now that night had fallen anyway.  

Contrary to what happened in the human settlements she’d known, more people were out now that it was dark. Meeting each other, hugging, yelling greetings. Music came out into the street more frequently, from basements and rooftops alike.

This movement helped. Felt like these people, who completely ignored her, were saying: we do not care. You may rage and yet we dance and yet we celebrate . Like the sea that would still have waves if no one sailed on them and the wilds that would continue to live on if she didn’t make it through the night, the entire city said, again and again, with walls that had never been breeched, this too will pass. This storm you feel may wreck you, but it does not affect the whole world. Just you . 

 Movement on the other side of the street caught her eye.

The woman stood there, watching. 

A child excitedly moved their hands. The parent, for reasons the woman did not understand, watched intently. The child’s lips did not move and yet, the parent started nodding in agreement as if they’d said something. When the child paused, the parent moved their own hands as if in response, prompting the child to burst into giggles. 

“There you are, darling,” Rhysand casually slid next to her. She wasn’t sure where he’d come from. A hand tentatively touched the base of her spine and she felt a chill climb up it and stepped away. “Are you… okay? I felt you just now and you seemed troubled.” 

Too curious to feel relieved, the woman pointed at the mother and child, her eyebrows furrowing. 

What are they doing?

He followed her gaze, watching the kid sign something to the parent as they ordered something from a sweet treat shop. The attendant quickly produced something colorful served inside a small waffle cone. 

“Ah. They are… speaking to each other. That’s Night Court Sign Language.” 

She blinked, one eyebrow raising. 

They speak… with their hands? How?

Rhys looked at her, as if assessing her curiosity, then smiled sheepishly. 

“Well… I’m not sure actually. I know very little of it. Azriel knows it, though.” He lifted his pinky while the rest of his fingers formed a circle. “This is how you say Hi . Every word is a different hand position and movement.”

Why? She watched the parent and child sit at a metal table just outside a shop and lick at their treats with not a care in the world. None of them looked like they were raised in a forest and couldn’t speak – though they were hairless and opalescent, with a slight glow coming from within them. 

Deaf fae use it a lot. Some species of us live mostly underwater, where there’s less need for hearing. Others fly a lot and it’s easier to communicate that way . I obviously never learned it because I had this , he touched his own forehead.

“Huh,” she murmured. I’d like… to learn it. The handspeak, not your… mind thing . The thought she might not have to hear her voice ever again was tempting. Do many people speak it?

In Velaris? Quite a lot. It’s still rare on other places, though. I know Summer has a very strong Sign Language, but it’s different from the one we have here, completely independent. 

Watching the child, she tried to pick out the individual signs like the one he’d shown her, but they weren’t clear in the round, chubby hand. As she did, she felt Rhys watching her. 

I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before. I’ll talk to Az and see if he can take some time to teach you some of it when he’s free . 

Right. They were trying to stop a war. There were more important things than teaching her a basic life skill. 

I got lost, her thought was low and regretful. 

It’s alright. They say that’s the way to truly know a city. And I do want you to get comfortable, he said carefully. But… we’re all meeting up tonight. There is news. 

The woman let out air with a huff and, with a last sidelong look to the child and parent, nodded.

Duty calls, she offered him her hand. 

Always does, he agreed, winnowing them out of the square.

Chapter Text

It seemed like a hurricane had gone through the townhouse. Where it had been neat and serene when she had completely ignored it in favor of going outside earlier, it was now filled with chatter and movement while Rhysand’s Inner Circle was spread over the couches in the living room, a fire roaring at the fireplace. 

“Hey, you’re back!” Mor said when she noticed them coming in. 

The woman nodded and went to sit next to her. Mor looked eager to touch her, but kept her hands fully tucked between her legs. 

Rhysand took the central spot in the room, right in front of the fire. It was, of course, the place where he could get the most dramatic lighting. 

“Thank you all for taking time out of your busy schedule for this meeting. I have come across a piece of information that will indeed make it worth it. Because I have the first order of business in stopping this war and it is to figure out how the king of Hybern hopes to resurrect Jurian to win.” 

The woman blinked, trying to place where she’d heard the name before. Amarantha’s lover? Something about a fingerbone? An eye? 

“Bullshit,” called Cassian. “There’s no way to do that.” 

Amren had gone still, though all eyes in the room were on her now. 

“And who would want Jurian back, anyway?” Mor asked, leaning back on the cushions. “He was an ass. All he did was talk about himself.” 

The woman once again was confronted with the fact that everyone here except her had lived the history she barely remembered. What the hell am I doing here?

“Good questions. That’s what we need to figure out.” 

“Maybe the king heard how Feyre and her sisters were Made. Perhaps he’s hoping to look into the process,” Amren finally mused. 

The woman moved uncomfortably in place hearing her name said by something so ancient. 

“Yeah, but gathering bits of seven High Lords seems like a lot of trouble. Even Amarantha didn’t get them all. He will surely go another route” said Mor, tapping her chin. Her eyes set on Rhys and she raised an eyebrow. “The attacks on the priestess temples… Do you think it’s connected?” 

“Yes. I wasn’t sure, but Az just got confirmation after Sangravah three days ago.” Azriel nodded in agreement. “The bone and the eye went missing. I thought the Attor had it, but Feyre dearest already took care of that threat for us.” 

All eyes were suddenly on hers and she gave them a sheepish press of her lips. Oops . 

“He probably had time to give it to the king. But how do you get bits of a person and turn it into a man again? And how does it help him and how do we stop it?” 

Amren rolled her eyes. 

“Just say you want to get down to the Prison and talk to the Bone Carver.” 

“Well, I don’t. It’s bloody cold and depressing in there. But… it is a good lead.” Amren shrugged as if to say called it . “So… I thought you’d be the most efficient one for the job. Since…” 

“I am cold and depressing? Good try. I won’t set foot in the place, Rhysand, and you know it. Go alone or send one of your hounds.” 

Cassian smiled, looking from one to the other like watching a sports match, pretending to bite the air. The woman let out an entertained huff. 

Azriel just shook his head.

“I’ll go. The sentinels know me already, it won’t be a problem.” 

Rhysand looked at all of his friends and his eyes settled on her. 

“I’ll go. And I’ll bring Feyre.” 

She looked around just in case he was talking to someone else of the same name standing nearby. He was not. He was just insane. 

“No, you won’t,” Mor said, waving him off. 

“He won’t talk to Rhysand,” Amren came in support of his ludicrous idea “or Azriel or any one of us. We don’t have anything it wants. But an immortal with a mortal soul... She’s new meat. He might be willing to talk to her.” 

All their eyes turned to her again. She sighed, shaking her head. It’s not that she was scared. The forest had killed the fear of monsters long ago inside of her. Whatever it had left behind had died with the Middengard worm. But…

“Can’t speak.” 

“That should be the least of your worries,” Amren warned. 

As per usual, she wasn’t reacting properly to things. What big news. She shrugged. 

“I’ll… do it… if you think it… will help”, she managed to say in a low voice. 

“It is your choice,” Rhys insisted.

No, it isn’t, she thought to herself, turning her head to the side as she nodded, not cluing the others on to what she was thinking. But she knew Rhys could hear even over her shields. It never is. 

Eventually the company trickled out, leaving only the two of them in the townhouse. Rhysand brought a plate of dinner she had not asked for, and the woman ate silently, looking at the fire, barely feeling the taste of it. 

“How did you like the city?” He asked at some point. 

She looked out the windows behind him, to the lights that could be seen beyond. The city of starlight . 

“What did it cost?” She asked, surprising herself on how the words didn’t stutter this time. “To have it… like this.” 

“You know what it cost,” he answered, turning his head. 

Amarantha’s whore . Right. 

“That was only part of it,” Rhys admitted. “When she locked away our powers, I still had more than most. And I used every drop of it to make everyone forget this place, avoid this area, turn their minds away from the very idea of a Night Court city.” 

She looked at him. The light of the fire danced on his dark heir, on his light eyes. This was a different beauty from Tamlin’s. Something quiet, but not less dangerous. 

“Think about… other places?”

The woman didn’t mean for her voice to have such an edge to it. 

“There wasn’t enough power. I had to keep control every minute of every day over the subjects I had there. They had to forget their home, their families… my family. I could only do it for one place, one that history had already protected. I made a choice and I try to live with it.” 

Her father’s eyes flashed in her memory and she shivered. She knew what that was like. 

“How…” Her voice failed and she cleared her throat. How do you deal… with the people? With what they say?

In the wild, none of that mattered. Whatever anyone thought of her, it wouldn’t change the fact there were things that needed doing, things she was able to do. Here, she kept stumbling over connecting people, because most things she needed help with. It seemed like the difference between thriving and failing in these environments was to maintain relationships to people who knew how this place worked. One she wasn’t sure she could bridge. 

His violet eyes met hers. 

“As long as the people who matter know the truth about you, little nightmare, you don’t have to care about the rest.” He got up, brushed the dust off his clothes and pointed upwards toward the second floor. “Sleep a little. Early rise tomorrow.”

When she wakes up, the woman is surrounded by silk on all sides. 

Golden yellow, pumpkin orange and dark umber went up and up, as far as the eye could see as if she was encased in a giant hammock. She sat up, touching the fabric. Her fingers glided on top of it as she looked for where one sheet ended and another started. 

The woman tried to get to her feet, but there wasn’t anything beneath her. She fell on her back again. She tried to jump up, towards the light above, but she just slid back down with nothing to grab onto. With her heart thundering in her chest, she started trying again and again. She slid between layers, thinking at some point she’d have to fall.

But the silk then started unfurling, multiplying. There were only more and more layers. And the more she tried to escape, more of it was wrapping around her limbs, her middle, her throat. She kicked, she thrashed, trying to slash at it with her fingernails.

What could she do but fight? Resist the motions? It was all she knew how to do. Even if it destroyed her, if it killed her. She just didn’t learn. 

The silk turned into hands. Touching her, squeezing her, shaking her. She thrashed even harder against them. No one could touch her, no one could have her, not after… Her throat hurt from screaming.

“Feyre!” The primal dominance in the voice made the creature within her respond to it right away. “Feyre, open your eyes.” 

She obeyed. 

In the wild, when she woke up in the middle of the night, her eyes would make quick inventory. First, threat: her throat ached, her mouth full of ash, the smell of smoke permeating the environment, but no fire in sight. Rhysand was standing above her, hands on her shoulders. He’d been the one shaking her, but there was nothing threatening about him. That was, except for those exposed muscles. If her heart wasn’t thundering in her chest, she’d think about them at least a second more. 

Then, where: a room. Known? Familiar. Finally, time: out the window, still night. 

“It was a dream,” Rhysand said, his breathing as hard as hers. “Just a dream.” 

Right. She was in Velaris, in his house. 

And she’d just ruined his sheets. Looking down, she saw they had been singed in wild lines around her body. And when she looked at her hands… they were burning. Not literally, the woman quickly noticed. They didn’t hurt, though there were simmering embers still shining, extending out from her fingers. 

Stay still, girl, so we can cauterize it… She pushed him off of her, fell out of bed and hurtled into the bathroom, falling to her knees in front of the toilet and filling it with the remnants of her dinner. Her fingers hissed against the porcelain, still alight. The sight of them made her heave again. 

“Breathe,” Rhys said, right behind her. “Imagine them winking out like candles, one by one.” 

She couldn’t imagine anything in the state she was, but she did try to breathe through her watering mouth and her aching throat. It felt weirdly open in here, with her stomach revolting and someone watching. Something animal in her didn’t like letting someone see her back while she was vulnerable. 

When the breathing didn’t work, she opened the faucet in the bathtub and put her hands under the water. They hissed as they went out, smoke billowing out. Twinges of pain went up her fingers, but she ignored them in favor of turning towards the toilet again as another wave of nausea hit her. She waited, but nothing came up.

A touch, feather-light, on her back. She tensed up, not expecting it, waiting for his next move. One long, soothing line, down the curve of her spine. Tentative. A question. Is this okay? 

She didn’t move. It wasn’t… unpleasant. But she wasn’t one for careful touches.

I never… did this before, she told him mentally. The flames.

“They probably came from Autumn.”

She nodded, pressing her forehead against the seat of the toilet. 

“What about your nightmare? Is it always the same one or does it change?”

Changes , she said. That’s why she never knew she was dreaming until it was too late. 

“Mine are mostly the same” he confessed in a low voice. “Which is more infuriating, because I’m supposed to know what they are by now. When you see the same thing time and time again, you’d think I would have learned how to deal with it.” 

And surprisingly, the corners of her mouth turned up at that. 

We never learn. 

The woman was weak and miserable when they winnowed to a place with brutal cliffs surrounded by violent waters below and started climbing the sharp grassy slope of the small mountain. Even if Rhys changed her sheets, she was restless the rest of the night, her stomach never settling. He had asked if she was sure she wanted to go, but she said there was no guarantee she wouldn’t have another nightmare the next day. No time like the present. 

Rhysand looked as poised as ever in a jacket that accommodated his wings, fully out this morning in a way they very rarely were. Under it, he wore skin tight leather armor, made in scale-like plates. That, along with the double-edged sword sheathed down his spine and knives strapped to his legs led her to believe this place could be dangerous. 

Now that she was a weapon, she didn’t worry about carrying them so much. Still, the weight of a couple of knives in her own belt calmed her. 

 “That,” Rhysand said, pointing at the mountain that rose above them. “Is the Prison.”

She blinked, putting her hands on her hips. 

“Issa rock.” 

He laughed, probably surprised by the hoarse sound of her voice. 

“The rock is the Prison. And under it, our worst criminals.” 

Uh oh . Another mountain? That wasn’t part of the deal. She tried to push her anxiety down. 

Why won’t Amren come? The woman sent the thought ahead.

“Because she was a prisoner here once.” He pointed at the mammoth of a mountain rising way above them. “This place was built before High Lords even existed. Before Prythian was Prythian. Some of the inmates remember those days. That’s why we’re asking them if they know something we might have forgotten about resurrection.” 

She emitted a non-committal hmm sound. 

Rhys kept explaining they couldn’t just winnow in, but had to walk the long way down. Down . She wasn’t listening anymore. She tried to focus on her next steps, as she did when things looked too monumental. But the next steps felt darker and damper and she wanted a map, she needed a map, she needed to see where…

“It helps…” Rhys said, slowing down to walk next to her “with my panic… to remind myself that I got out. That we all got out.” 

“Not me,” she said. Not Feyre. Whatever had come out was something else entirely. Perhaps something the girl had carried during her life, but surely not the same. 

“We got out,” he insisted “but all of that might happen again if we don’t go inside this place. If we don’t make sure it can never happen again.” 

She took a step towards it, then another. And she remembered the dark mountain she’d walk willingly to not once, but twice. To save her sisters. To save her love. Why was it always her job to save everyone? 

Her body stopped against her will. Only then she became aware of the mist biting at her skin. Of the wind roaring around them. There was a chill deep in her bones, making her tremble. Her exhaustion weighed on her bones. She thought of the levels upon levels of fae living in the dark. Working fields and falling dead where they stood. She remembered tall steps made for and by giants that she had to jump to reach, Cyrus leading the way. 

Rhys stood next to her, waiting. Watching. She knew Cyrus wouldn’t have left her alone Under the Mountain if she hadn’t forced his hand. Could she say the same about her new boss after the entire Weaver debacle?

“C-c-can’t,” she said through chattering teeth, shaking her head. Yes, it would mean she failed another assignment, but she’d never promised to be better than this. She had tried, at every step, to warn them that she was fallible at everything but violence. 

Without saying a word, Rhysand gripped her hand and brought them back to the sun and rich colors of Velaris.

Chapter Text

The woman fell asleep promptly upon arriving. 

Once she woke up, feeling heavy and groggy, she rolled in her covers until they formed the nest she liked to sleep in. She stayed in bed, wishing to slip under it like she did her first days in Spring Court. A wall to her back, a defendable hideout. Somewhere to wait until the other shoe dropped.

How long until her benefactor caught wind to the fact she wasn’t the asset he thought she was? Until he realized she was more trouble than she was worth? She needed a plan. 

She had to make sure her failure that morning and any that would come later wouldn’t hurt anyone else. So she sent out a thought to Rhysand. 

I want to see my sisters now . 

Her contract had listed them. They were entitled to land and they could use her money. Even if the money stopped coming, she doubted the land would be taken back. So she had to see where they were at, if they already had somewhere in mind or if they needed more time to get back on their feet. She already had her suspicions on what she would find, but there was no harm in trying. Once they were set up, she’d be free to fail at her heart’s content (and she probably would). 

If they needed more time… If they needed her to, she could force herself to go under that mountain prison, or at least she thought so. 

You sure got good at requiring things from our bond, Rhysand responded, but there was only amusement in his thoughts. I’m just finishing up a letter. I’ll come find you in a couple of minutes and we can fly up there. 

She nodded, sitting up and going through the automatic motions of changing into whatever clothing had been left for her there. She wasn’t sure who made these… or shopped for them, she supposed. The measurements of them were on point, if a little loose.

The woman dragged herself to the bathroom and scrubbed her face until she didn’t feel like falling asleep all over again. She had things to do. Why did her body keep shutting down like this? 

“Ready to go?” She heard the voice right behind her and turned, already showing her teeth. It was just Rhysand. She growled weakly and went around him back to the room with a nod. “Back to growling then? Good. That will be a hoot with your sisters.”

She showed him her middle finger, sure this would also be a blast. 

 Night was falling when they flew up this time. 

It was different, watching the city transform from above. Quieter and still undoubtedly alive. She watched it distantly, wishing she could better admire it. To her, from up there, it was just a lot of people and a lot of noise and a lot of light. All things that could get you killed in the wild. 

The flight was longer this time. She wasn't sure if Rhysand wasn't in such a hurry tonight or if she was just more alert this time. She had a better view of the House of Wind now, cut into the side of the mountain like it was. The twilight painted it orange and yellow and it reminded her of nightfall back home. 

The woman never thought she'd be homesick from the woods. 

They touched down onto one of the balconies and Rhysand gingerly placed her down. She wondered if she was supposed to tell him something. Her distant memories of an education told her that she probably should thank him. For helping her the night before, for not forcing her to follow him into that mountain, for flying her here, for taking care of her sisters. But why was it so hard to find the words?

"You're good," she said. 

"What’s that?" Rhysand blinked at her, distracted. 

The woman cleared her throat. 

"I said… you are… good." He was a good person. That was what she thought. Might not count for much, but she hadn't met many.

So that was that. She turned around and stormed into the house. 

She didn't find her sisters as much as her sister found her. 

Or, rather, her nephew.

There was a little gasp followed by a screech that the woman thought was "other aunty!". Moments later, she had little arms around one of her legs. She looked down to find Miles there, little eyes glowing, little arms around her left leg. She lifted one eyebrow. 

"Miles," she said. 

"Other aunty!" He pointed upwards at her and turned back to where he had come from. Nesta was standing by the end of the hallway with her arms crossed.

"Well, there she is. You found her. You had more luck than any of us at that."

Miles didn't look too interested in that statement — or in her for that matter — and promptly ran off to investigate something else. The woman swallowed, preparing to speak.

"So… finally remembered you have a family?" Nesta asked, keeping her eyes on her son. But the girl knew that had been directed at her. 

"Had… to work."

"Oh? That's why I heard you begging to leave the other day? Anywhere was the word you used if I’m not mistaken." She stopped next to her, still without making eye contact. Like a wolf shunning out another who jeopardized the pack. "We've been fine, thank you for asking".

She had been about to ask. That was the entire reason why she was there. The woman bit the inside of her mouth. 

"Where's Elaine?" It would probably be easier to talk to her when Nesta got that way. 

Nesta took a sharp breath. 

"Go see her and ask her yourself" she said between gritted teeth. "She's in her room."

Without any further direction, Nesta followed her son to the other hallway, leaving her alone to digest what had just happened. 

Proving her sense of direction was as good as ever, the woman was able to recall the way to the bedrooms. She wasn't sure which one her sister would be on, so she just opened every door. 

She was about to close another one when she noticed movement. Breathing. 

Elaine was sitting in a chair, looking out the window. At first, the woman thought she was asleep, but she saw her blink. She didn't do much else but stare out, as if something could be found in the early night sky.

"Elaine?" The woman asked. She turned with a weak gasp, as if she hadn't expected anyone. She was quick to wipe a tear away. 

"Oh. Hello."

She awkwardly walked inside. The experience with Nesta hadn't left her all that confident for this. She had come here to think of a plan. To ask them what they wanted to do. Didn’t look like she had much to work with. 

“You… alright?” 

She sighed, turning back to where she had been looking before. 

“Things are catching up with me now...” She held her hands together, turning the ring on her fourth finger. Her wedding ring, the woman guessed. It had a dark color, like it was made out of iron. “It is lovely here. We’ve been taken down to the city. They told us we can… pick a spot. Just like that. The money… your money… it would be enough, they said. It’s just… a lot.” 

The woman looked around at the comfortable room. 

“What?” 

Elaine looked at her, as if puzzled. 

“Grief. Change.” 

“Ah,” the woman cleared her throat. She supposed so. Except the way she dealt with it was to get up and go do something about it. This sitting business… Didn’t seem to be helping. “Will you stay then? Here?” 

There was a long sigh. 

“I don’t know. It’s like I can’t think”. 

The woman sat down at the bed. 

“I’m staying. I think. For now.” 

Elaine shook her head, tears filling her beautiful eyes. Gods, the way she looked was just unfair. She huffed, hugging herself.

“Do you not care about anything at all?” 

The woman looked down at her hands. She rubbed them, still feeling a bit of the cold she had felt on that island that morning. Not for the first time, she missed the scars in them.

“I care. Just… different. Than… you two.” 

Elaine nodded, turning her eyes away.

“Hm.” 

She stood up. Maybe she should try Nesta again. Or maybe she should find a nice cave and bury herself in it. Looked like as good an option as any. Still, she forced herself to stay in place, to finish what she had come here to do. 

“Job’s not… going so great.” The words came out before she could hold them back. Elaine froze, but she knew her sister had heard it. “I… I’m not good… at it.” 

At anything that wasn’t biting and scratching, it seemed.

“Will we… have to leave again?” Elaine asked. 

Of course. Because that’s what really mattered. That was the reason she’s there. Not because she wanted any kind of comfort… not because she’d hoped to hear… She shook her head.

“I don’t think so… He said no… but I… would… feel better… if you had… your own place.” She crossed her arms, rolling on the balls of her feet. “T-t-they’re… kind. But… kindness… ends. Just… letting… you know. M’doing… what I can.” 

She walked to the door, set on leaving, when her sister’s voice reached her again. 

“What are you going to do?” 

She couldn’t go too far. She owed half her life anyway. And with war on the horizon, it was unlikely to find a quiet forest to rot in. It would be too much to expect there would be a room for her wherever her sisters decided to go, so staying with them was a no go. And she couldn’t see herself owning land, building a business, going to shops. What was there left except for what she was already doing, seeing this through to the bitter end?

So she shrugged. 

“Not enough.” As usual . 

The woman stood in the hallway for a long time, staring at a vein in the rock of the floor. There was a worrying silence in her brain. She was out of ideas. What now? 

“Miss Feyre?” 

There was only one person who called her that. The woman lifted her eyes to find Cyrus standing at the end of the hallway.

“Mrs. Mandray was more snappy than usual. I assumed you were back.” 

Even if she wished he never called Nesta that again, it seemed her natural response to finding Cyrus was to always run to him and put her arms around him. He chuckled, tapping her back. 

“Sorry… I left you,” she murmured. 

“I’m just glad to see you in one piece. I thought that no good Spring male would make us all watch you splat your brains against a wall before letting you go.” He squeezed her arms around her a little tighter and she pulled back, the memories from that day making every nerve in her body feel on fire. 

She blinked fast, trying to push this feeling down. 

“Did you get away?” 

“Right behind you. But I wasn’t as fast. They tried to get me when they realized they couldn’t keep up with you either, but your friends came to pick me up. They look decent enough.” 

She nodded, thinking of what she’d said to Rhys earlier. 

“They’re good.” She lifted her eyes to his face. His dark blue skin, his pointy teeth, the leathery skin. She’d learned to like it. “They… treat you… alright?” 

He nodded. 

“Well enough. They’re barely around anyway. But so far, they’ve treated me like a guest.” 

The woman huffed. Right. That was how it was supposed to be. 

“What you… wanna do now?” 

He crossed his arms behind him and bowed slightly. She moved her hands as if to gesture for him to stop being silly like that. 

“Like I’ve said before, my lady, I would like to stay by your side. I’ll follow you where you go.” 

“No lady,” she insisted, shaking her head. “Owe me nothing.” 

“Even so. I’ve trusted you before and you haven’t let me down. You’ve freed us before and you’ll help us make sure it won’t happen again. I just know it.” 

The woman snapped her tongue. He made it sound like she hadn’t died in the process. Or left him behind every step of her way. She’d been a terrible friend and still he had been here. Offering help, offering counsel, wanting nothing in return.

That was exactly what she tried to do with her family. And maybe this was just her being petty, but she wanted to be better than them in that sense. Why not take help where she could get it? She could use a friend that was hers. A friend who had known her before she had become this thing that could eat through walls. Who remembered her half wild and liked her anyway. 

So… she nodded. 

“Dinner?” She invited and he smiled and nodded in agreement. 

Tomorrow, she’d walk into that mountain. She’d do what was required of her. And when she came out, she would make sure Cyrus would also be included into her agreement. 

Chapter Text

The next morning, the woman was just thinking she would quite enjoy the challenge of climbing such steep rock — it had been a while — when Rhys placed his hand against the stone of the mountain and it vanished into nothing, revealing pearly white gates inside. 

Of course. Had to be magic. Why would anyone take her somewhere to do something she was actually good at?

The gates were made out of bleached bones, fit together by precise cuts in intricate patterns. She touched them, admiring the craftsmanship. She’d worked her fair share of bones into weapons and tools, but never something this sophisticated. When she looked away, Rhys was looking at her worriedly. She crossed her arms behind her back and gestured with her head for him to go on. 

The bones did not even creek when the gates swung open. And beyond them, inky blackness. 

She froze in place. Rhysand unsheathed his sword, touching the base of her spine. 

“Breathe,” he said in her ear. “In. Then out.”

She did so, pushing past the tightness in her lungs. 

“There are guards that dwell within the rock,” he said, delicately pushing her to take one more step by his side. “They’re an ancient spell and only come out when it’s feeding time or when the prisoners get too restless.”

“M’restless,” she murmured. Her voice sounded awful in this place. 

Three bits of moonlight bobbed ahead, illuminating rough-hewn bits of faces carved into the wall, mere inches at a time. They kept walking. The woman kept her focus on Rhys’ steps. When he walked, she walked.

They rounded a bend and the world faded into inky black, all light from the outside world swallowed by the rock around them. She breathed again, then one more time. The last time she’d been in such a place, Cyrus had been with her. He was why she was here. He had gotten Under the Mountain again for her when he had almost died the previous time. She owed him this much. 

The path kept going down. Rhys’ hand left her back and found her own. Usually, she would rather have her movements free, but she found this tether weirdly comforting. 

There was no sound. No trickle of water. No gust of wind. No doors. But she could feel them. Sleeping. Pacing. Running claws over the other side of the walls. They were ancient, that much was clear. There was cruelty here, not unlike that of nature. The creatures here did not care about anything .

“How… long…” Her throat seemed to constrict at the sound it made. “Was she…”

“Long. Before written word, probably. Before the courts. When the world formed, the fabric of its reality was thin and allowed other creatures to cross from… other places.”

Thinking about how long that was made her head hurt. Could just be the cold though. Even if she had been given fur lined leather, her breath was clouding right in front of her. 

Time lost meaning. She wasn’t sure if it was minutes or hours. At some point, they had been walking so long her comfortable shoes made her feet hurt. They stopped for water periodically, still holding hands. The woman didn’t like stopping. If she stopped focusing on the sound of her steps, the reek of her own dungeon cell reached her, the scent of moldy hay…

“Just a bit further,” Rhys said, hand tightening around hers. “We’re just past the bottom. The Bone Carver is caged beneath the roots of the mountain.”

“Who… or what… is he?”

“No one knows. He’ll appear as he wants to. And he’ll have a different shape for everyone that sees him.”

They finally stopped. Rhys let go of her hand. With her fingers already freezing up, she reached into her belt, where she finally had a pair of decent knives. The woman tried to tap into the courage she’d had when she entered this world. With such a knife, she could take anything. 

Nothing could hold her. Nothing could harm her if she didn’t allow it to. 

Rhys placed his hand against a slab of stone and it shifted beneath his hands to form another pair of bone gates. These were even more elaborately built, but this time, there were also images carved: plants and animals, seas and clouds, stars and moons, creatures, fair and foul…

It opened… but the darkness continued inside. 

“I have carved the doors for every prisoner in this place,” said a small voice within, “but my own remains my favorite”.

“I’d have to agree,” Rhysand said. He stepped inside, his bits of light bobbing ahead to illuminate… a boy. A dark-haired boy sat against the far wall, blue eyes not unlike Rhysand’s, first taking the High Lord in… then her. 

Her first human instinct was to revolt against a child in such a dank place. Then, she saw its eyes and there was no doubt this thing was anything but young.

Rhys summoned something from the pocket between realms the High Lords used to store their things. It was white and curved and it clinked against the stone floor when Rhys threw it. The Bone Carver didn’t even look at it.

“One of the beast teeth Feyre used to kill the Middengard Wyrm”, Rhys said. 

Her eyes widened. She would have liked to keep that, if she knew it was an option. But she’d sacrifice such a boon for the greater good, if necessary. 

“Come inside,” said the Bone Carver. Though it was a child’s voice, there was nothing naive about it. “It’s been an age since something new came into this world. How novel.”

The boy smiled and she recognized the predator in him. More than that. He wasn’t an equal. Not something that could be fought. He was a force of nature, to which all others had to bow to. 

“Feyre…” the boy murmured, standing up and cocking his head. “Where did you go when you died?”

“Question… for… question,” she replied as she had been instructed to do over breakfast. Never lie , had also been a rule of thumb to follow. 

“Very well,” the child purred, one eyebrow raising. 

Rhys nodded stiffly, but still seemed worried. What the Bone Carver had asked… So much had happened in mere minutes. But she’d always remember. 

“Something had… ripped my lung. I couldn’t breathe,” Rhys’ head turned toward her. “Then the cold came. I was tired. So I looked up… and it all went dark.”

The Bone Carver’s violet eyes seemed to glow brighter.

“It was… different… diff— different kind… of d-d-dark. But… there was… something. A… thread. I followed.” She pointed her knife towards Rhys. “I was… looking through him. At me… dead. Something of me… still inside… him. B-b-because of… bargain.”

“But was anyone there— were you seeing anything beyond?”

She shook her head. There wasn’t anyone else there. She had barely been hanging on as it was. 

Rhysand’s face had gone pale, his mouth turning to a tight line. 

“Then… I woke up.”

“There was no other world?”, the Bone Carver pushed. 

She shook her head once again. 

“No light, no portal?” 

She snapped her tongue and shook her head one more time. 

“Did you have a body?”

Another shake of her head. 

“Did—” 

“Enough,” Rhysand interrupted, the same tone he’d used in Tamlin’s dining room all that long ago. A velvety ironic tone she’d learn to associate with his role as High Lord. “She said a question for a question. And you’ve asked six.”

The Bone Carver leaned back against the wall. 

“Thousands and thousands of years and I had yet to meet someone who came back from true death. Even I shall venture to these other realms one day. I would like to know what they’ll be like.” The woman made a face. Oh, she wished there would be no more realms. Just… sleep. “Ask, girl.”

She nodded to herself, willing her throat to work. 

“If… there is… no body… but a bit of… b— bone… can one be… resur— resur—” Please, please, come on, not now!

“Resurrected?” Rhys offered. She nodded.

The Bone Carver looked from one to the other with glinting eyes, like he could see more than they could. 

“Depends on how much you believe old stories.”

“That’s not an answer,” Rhys pressed. 

“Truth often isn’t the answer that satisfies people. A correct answer would be that no, it is not possible, even if you somehow preserve a soul. But if you had access to something ancient that Made all things, then the rules may change. Not telling you that would be an answer, but it wouldn’t be the entire answer, you understand?”

If the woman had been alone, she probably would have shaken her head. She didn’t understand. But Rhys seemed to know what he was talking about. 

“They say the Cauldron was hidden. Do you know where it is?”

“Tell me a secret no one else knows, High Lord, and I shall tell you mine.”

She looked at him, curious. He looked absolutely calm when he said: 

“My right knee hurts when it rains. I hurt it in the war and it hurts ever since.”

The Bone Carver laughed — and had never looked more different than a child. His laugh was grovely, as if unused for too long. 

“You were always my favorite, Night… Very well, then. It has been widely believed to be lost in a frozen lake in Lapplund, and that was true at some point. But it has been recovered since then. What I do know is that its three feet have been broken off and separated in an attempt to fracture the power. It worked, though barely. The feet were hidden in three temples: Cesere, Sangravah and Itica. If they’re missing, the Cauldron may as well be active again and in its full power.”

“I suppose you don’t know who has it?”

The Bone Carver’s eyes turned to her and a smile took over the little face. She showed her teeth instinctively.

“Promise me her bones when she dies and I’ll think about it”. 

Rhys’ expression was nothing short of stormy. He opened his mouth to speak—

“Done,” she said. 

Rhysand looked back at her in alarm. She shrugged. 

“Just… wait until… there’s no more meat in them.” 

It wasn’t as if she would have much use for them anyway. When she looked at the creature again, it was regarding her with raised eyebrows.

“You’re not like the lot of them, are you?”

She shook her head. 

“Not like anyone.”

The Bone Carver nodded. 

“I know what that is like. Alas, you know who has the Cauldron, Rhysand. Whoever has been pillaging the temples. You just wanted confirmation.”

“The King of Hybern,” Rhysand said. 

But the creature was looking at the woman. Waiting for another piece of the truth to trade. 

“I g-g-gave up.” Her voice sounded like a boom in the quiet room. She had never said this out loud, never dared to dignify the idea. She looked down to the ground, unable to face the hungry expression on the Bone Carver’s face, the devastation in Rhys’ expression. “When the Attor… when… when it attacked me… I c-c-could… I could… could have held on a bit… longer. But when the Bogge came and— and— and… when it hurt… my sisters… I knew to look away. I looked right at it.”

There was a moment of silence and for a moment, she feared she had offered that up for nothing. That the creature would deny more information. That it would sniff the weakness in her and push them out. Then, almost gently, the child that was no child said:

“The Cauldron is good for more than raising the dead. It could shatter the wall. Resurrection was probably just a test once he has all of the pieces. It will have used a lot of energy and needs to charge up. And in the meantime, he will learn what there is to know about it.”

“How do we stop it?” Rhysand asked, his voice less confident than it had been before. 

There was a moment of silence. She readied more truth, but then:

“When the Cauldron was made, it was a part of a set. From the same molten ore that formed it, forged a book called The Book of Breathings. It has since been cleaved in two: one remained with the fae, the rest are with the six human queens. All symbolic, of course, since the Cauldron has gone missing thousands of years ago. Without it, it’s harmless. But it has spells to negate the Cauldron’s power… or control it. Only something that is Made can cast them, though… Since no creature born on earth could wield it, it was useless… But there are newly Made things in the world now, aren’t there?”

The woman swallowed, her mind going to her sisters before going to herself. None of them knew how to work spells… but that still made them targets. 

“The Lord of Summer has one half… human queens have another. Both enchanted to be tied by blood and must be freely given. Reunite both and your efforts might result. Of course, before it gains full power and brings down the wall again”. 

She let a breath go. So it was true. There would be a war and there was a way to stop it. She didn’t realize how much she needed this. To know she was right, to know there was something to fight. To keep going after. To bite. 

“I’ll carve shall carve your death in here, Feyre,” the Carver said, picking up the bone Rhys had thrown at it. 

“Make sure… it is… a good one,” she said, before turning around and leaving the cell. 

Her plan was to just storm ahead and not have to look at Rhysand during the hours it would take to climb back up. Perhaps, by then, he’d be so worried about the future ahead he would not think less of her for what she had done in her last human moments. For what she’d given up, without the wildest dream anyone would even think to give her a second chance. 

His hand caught hers as he easily kept up with her. 

“What did you see?” He asked. “The Bone Carver, what shape did it take?

“Boy,” felt weird to just chat after all that had happened inside the cell, and yet she was thankful for it. “Young. Dark hair. Blue eyes… What did you…?”

“Jurian,” Rhys said. “Just like he was the last time I saw him: fighting Amarantha until his death”.

That made her kind of glad to see someone else, even if she didn’t know who that child was.

Chapter Text

Everyone was waiting for them at the townhouse when they arrived. 

Mor ejected Cassian from the seat next to her with a shove, patting the spot for the woman to sit in. She promptly took the warm seat next to the fire, showing her tongue to the general, who just let out a scoff and went to sit somewhere else. 

Azriel lingered by the window and Amren was nowhere to be seen. 

“Good news is…” Rhys began, tooking the seat opposite to her on the other side of the center table “we got the information.” 

“And the bad news?” Cassian pressed, his wings being accommodated by the couch. The woman looked at the shape of the furniture, noticing how it had been constructed differently than what she was used to seeing. She’d thought it was just a stylistic choice. 

“We’re already behind on the schedule”. 

As Rhys caught them up on the Cauldron, its legs, the reason for the temple pillagings — apparently, they’d been monitoring these situations since the day the woman arrived — and finally, the book and their next steps, the woman took the time to work the cold out of her hands, rubbing them in circular motions. 

“So we’re going to Summer,” Rhys said. “Since the book is spelled to one particular High Lord, and only they can find it, we have our detector right here.”

She lifted her head to find everyone looking at her. She made a face. 

“You sure?” 

“Pretty sure. You did find my ring in the Weaver’s house, didn’t you? I didn’t give you any description. I’m sure she has no shortage of jewelry there. But you knew which one it was.” 

Huh . So it hadn’t just been a matter of testing if she could survive. He was testing the limits of her magic. She wasn’t sure if that made him more or less of a prick. 

“That part will be easy, though I do caution against the use of arson in the Summer Court. They won’t be as lenient about that. But my worry is the other bit.” 

“The Human Queens,” Azriel guessed. “I have contacts in the human lands. I can reach out to them. If we have a location, I can go retrieve it.”

Rhys shook his head. 

“Afraid it has to be freely given.”

“They won’t give anything,” Mor warned, rubbing the bridge of her nose. 

“I don’t know… we have three humans turned immortal… If I was mortal, I would want to look into that process…” Rhys said, the stars in his eyes dancing as he looked at the woman. She looked away. “If they asked… I think the queens will come.” 

“Come where?” Cassian asked. 

“I’m sure we can find a nice spot in the human lands to set up a meeting.” 

“The Human lands border on Spring. If we’re caught there…” The general pressed. 

“We’ll fly offshore. I’m only hearing problems, I’d like to hear some solutions.” 

The living room quieted. 

“Elain is good…. at… words…” she said. Even as a young girl, Elain could get anyone to do anything she wanted. Not in a manipulative way. She just expected things to be done for her, so she saw no harm in asking. “We can ask her.” 

“See? That looks like a solution,” Rhys nodded, snapping his finger. 

“Alright, so we’ll have the Book. We’ll need to go to the Cauldron. If it’s in Hybern...” Cassian started.

“We’ll need to be ready to move,” agreed Rhys. “Through their wards and spells. And that’s what you lot will be researching while we galavant through Summer.”

“Great,” Cassian grumbled. 

“Should I point out that Feyre, Mother bless her, knows nothing about how to cast a spell?” Mor asked and the woman nodded thankfully. Yes, could they talk about that?

“I’ll be taking over her training in that regard,” Rhys said. “As soon as we’re back from Summer.” 

“And fighting,” she spoke up. Why did her voice kept getting everyone turning her way? 

“I can help with that,” Cassian said, looking more optimistic about this than about the thought of invading Hybern. “I’ve been told you’re tough. How tough are we talking?” 

“Tough,” she said. 

His smile only grew. 

“We’ll see how fast you’ll be calling me prick when we begin.” 

Mor took off her shoe and threw it at her friend. 

“Stop flirting with her!” 

He threw the shoe back. 

“I was not!”

“I know that smile! Stop it now before she breaks your little heart.” 

The woman snorted as Mor turned to her and took her arm. Her arm was warm, so she placed her cold hands there. Was this what it was like to have a female friend who you actually liked? 

“I can take rejection,” he said, hands on his chest. “If needed. Which usually isn’t.”

“Glad to see you lot are dealing well with imminent war,” Rhys had relaxed on the couch, though his expression was still tense. 

“What else can we do?” Mor said, winking at him, then looking at her. “If we’re still above ground, we’re living it up.” 

The woman liked this bedroom better than the one’s she’d had before. 

 It didn’t have a flowing river in it, for one. That already ranked it higher than the previous one. She honestly couldn’t remember the one at the House of Wind. And this one was much smaller than the one in Spring, which already made her feel safer. It only had one door in, so it was defensible. The windows let in light and wind, so she didn’t feel trapped. 

The only thing she did not like was all the noise. There was always someone walking down the street. Children laughing, yelling, running. Distant music. Clop of hooves from the eventual carriage. 

The human village eventually quieted down at night. This place never did. 

When she woke up, it was always jumping from one sound or the other. Sleep was elusive and hard to catch more than once at night. She always found herself by the window, watching. She looked at her crumpled map from the other day and shook her head. 

She’d just get lost again if she left the house. And hadn’t she embarrassed herself enough? If she was going to be a pet, she was going to be a good pet. Stay put. Eat when told. The works. 

Except… she wasn’t told. 

The next couple of days, she found she had the house to herself. Everyone else was busy preparing for war and there were no other servants… So she messed around with the place. Poked around the books. Her reading skills hadn’t improved since her first attempts, but she could now recognize some words. She raided the pantry when she was hungry. Napped where it looked comfy enough. 

And all the while, the sounds of the city traveled in through the windows. 

“You’re still inside?” She was napping on the couch after a sleepless night when Rhys came in. She nodded and yawned, stretching. 

“Summer?” She asked, ready to go. Something to do . 

“No, still waiting on a response to my letter. Why didn’t you go outside? There’s not even a whiff of your scent out the door.” 

She opened one eye and saw him standing, half wet with a weak snowfall. His dark hair was clinging to his forehead. She remembered it looking like that when they were going up the hill towards the Prison. She remembered coming back here after not being able to handle her first day. Shame bubbled inside her chest again. She closed her eye again and shrugged. 

“You couldn’t wait to go outside back in Spring. Now you want me to believe you want to stay in and…” He picked up a book she’d been perusing. “Ah, this one is actually quite good. Good choice. How did you find reading it?” 

She grunted. 

“It said breast.” 

“Lovely,” he murmured. “Did you even eat?” 

“Yes, mother,” she growled, turning around so she was facing the back of the couch. Conversation over . But it wasn’t really. She could feel him hovering.

“I just want to help,” he said. 

Help with what? As if he hadn’t been more than enough help already. She was better now than she had been most of her life. A roof over her head, food easily accessed… what else did he want from her? More things she could not see, that she could not offer?

“She wins,” he continued, though she wasn’t sure if he had peeked at her thoughts through their bond or just sensed her mood growing sour from the memories of all she’d failed to be. “That bitch wins if you let yourself fall apart.”

The woman growled involuntarily. She saw movement at the edge of her vision and looked up. He was standing next to the back of the couch. 

“If you need to let some of that anger out, do… it has a way of poisoning us if you keep it in for too long.”

When she didn’t do whatever it was the High Lord expected of her, he brought out the big weapons. 

“He… sent you… because… I won’t be mean… to you,” she told Mor when she opened the door to her room after a cheerful nod. 

“I know, isn’t it so cute? Though I prefer you use the word friend . It’s shorter, just like you like it.” She shook a pair of leather boots in her hand. “I come bearing gifts so you’ll stop stealing my shoes from my room.” 

She snapped her tongue. 

“They are… Good quality.” 

“Those were made for gala events, not for hiding Rhys’ socks in random places.” 

She chuckled to herself. Those had been a fun couple hours, though they had been promptly returned to their rightful place via magic as soon as he had returned to his room. A note had appeared on her nightstand and she’d taken a long time to decode it: Go find something else to do . 

Hence… Morrigan. 

“Put these on and let’s have adventures.” 

She did put them on. They were the perfect size and wearing them was like stepping on air. She decided that if anything were to ever happen to those boots, she would wreak havoc upon the world. Even if she didn’t feel like leaving the house… she did want to put these babies to the test. 

Damn, Morrigan was good. 

“Thanks,” the woman murmured, looking down at the shoes. 

“Sure thing. About time I took you shopping. You’ll need some heavier stuff before winter gets here… and lighter stuff to wear when you’re in Summer. Lucky for you, I’m an expert in all seasons.” 

“Humble,” she commented, allowing herself to be herded out of her room. The woman still wasn’t a fan of going outside into the crowds, but she guessed she wouldn’t embarrass herself too much if Mor was there to guide her, right?

If the woman was less used to walking, her feet would be hurting by now. 

Not that they walked all that far. It was all the walking in circles that made this worse. Apparently, Velaris had these markets called Palaces. And now she had left half of her newly acquired boot’s heels all around the floor of the Palace of Thread and Jewels. 

It sold clothing and jewelry and it was absolutely maddening. 

How could anyone choose when they could have anything? When they didn’t have to steal it from hanging lines? When they didn’t have to kill a beast, then skin it, then condition the leather, then cut it, then sew it? When they could have soft and water resistant and strong and easy to move in? 

Money, as she found out, was no issue. Before they made it to the Palace, she was taken to the bank. She was given the number of her account and instructions on how to access it. She was sure she had read the paper wrong when the worker brought her a slip with the amount she had sitting in her account. 

Her head was spinning by the middle of the day and Mor had barely managed to get her to buy basics yet: pants in less gaudy colors, simple white tunics. People kept asking her things: what she wanted, what she liked . Like she had preferences. She wanted to be covered and she wanted to be warm. She barely saw the difference between the colors presented to her most of the time. 

Taking pity on her, Mor sat her down at a place to eat. As she managed to comprehend, it was an inn… that only served food. A restaurant . You paid them and they fed you. Was there anything these people’s money couldn’t buy? 

“Are… you okay? You look a little green,” her friend said, pouring her some water. She watched the clear liquid. It was cold . Someone here had a cold box . When Clare Beddor’s family got a cold box, they all had to travel there to stare at it. 

“Not… used to…” She said, scribbling shapes on the sweat of the cup. 

Mor smiled in solidarity. 

“I thought I would never get used to the sunlight. Or moonlight. Seemed like it followed me everywhere. Sleeping was a nightmare once I first moved out here. It was too light at all times.”

She thought of herself trying to sleep through the sounds and nodded. She remembered what she’d been told, about the Court under the first palace she’d visited when she came there. 

“How long?” the woman asked. 

“Ah, a long while now. Used to it now. The problem is the other way around. I can’t get used to the dark anymore. It’s easy to get used to good things. Like light.” 

She looked at the empty place. The fragrancy of the food was making her mouth water, when she’d eaten just before they left.

“Food,” she agreed.

“Point being… you don’t have to feel guilty for having good things,” Mor finished, her finger going around the rim of her own cup. 

But it wasn’t that. It wasn’t that at all. She didn’t feel guilty for having those things. At least, not anymore. 

It was just… so much had changed so fast. This time the year prior, she had frostbite all over and had to gnaw on bones to fill her stomach and now… How could she trust that this would be her forever? These people had been born into this. Maybe not into greatness, but into immortality. They knew they had the time to fix it, to build things. 

If it all had changed so fast… how could she expect it to remain this way, especially with a war on the way? When she could only do half of most of the things she was ordered to do?

So she didn’t want to get used to the clothing. To the new shoes. To lunch with friends. Because when it was gone… 

“Out loud, please,” Mor asked, taking a swig of her wine. 

The woman wanted to show her tongue, but held it in. Her mother’s voice came to mind telling her to stop with those childish habits — her being a child at the time not being really important to mention. She couldn’t very much just say that was what she was afraid of… she didn’t doubt their kindness. She just knew kindness sometimes wasn’t enough. 

“That bad, hmm?” Her friend asked. 

She shrugged. 

“My sister said… things are… catching up… with her.” She said, finally, after a bit more deliberation. “I think… it’s the same… for me.” 

Her friend nodded. 

“Takes time. That’s true. It’s hard to notice where you are when you’re still running.” 

She took a deep breath, because it felt like her chest was hurting. It was almost surprising when all the words came out at once.

“I’ve always been running.”

Chapter Text

After lunch, Mor and the woman returned to their previous affairs, though at a slower pace now. She let Morrigan have her fun while she looked around. Every so often, she pulled out a little piece of paper — her map, unfortunately, was useless, because she had come nowhere near this palace in her first incursion into the city — and made a little note. Just so, if she was still here in a year and it looked like things were really permanent, she could find her way back. 

Once they were done, Mor took her to the river, where they could have a better view and pointed to the other Palaces. She was more interested in literally every single one of them better than the one they’d just spent the entire day in, but she guessed that was just an incentive for her to get out again. 

She wished these fae could just get off her case about this already. 

By early twilight, they went back to the townhouse to leave their bags. They were immediately swamped by the rest of the Inner Circle. 

“Finally! Let’s go somewhere to eat!” Cassian said, already half out the door. 

“Let’s just order something. We walked all day…” Mor complained, putting her bags down. 

“It will be fun,” Azriel promised her on his way out. 

“Nice boots,” Rhys said, coming down the stairs still buttoning the sleeves on his dark shirt. 

“Thank you,” Mor responded, which made her smile a bit. 

“Gift,” the woman explained, leaving her own bags inside the house. 

Even if they had walked all day, she didn’t feel ready to go back to bed yet. She felt full of nervous energy, like she was forgetting something. Like she had been waiting for something and it hadn’t happened yet, so she had to stand on attention. 

“Let’s go eat,” Rhys pointed at the door. 

She nodded, turning around and walking outside. 

“First night on the town!” Cassian said to her, obviously more excited about it than she was. 

“Not really. Our dear little nightmare went bumping in the night once before,” Rhys said, holding the door open for Amren and Mor to step out. 

“How’d you find it?” Azriel asked, leaning on the small fence that separated the small yard from the street. 

“Noisy,” she answered readily, to which the others laughed. 

“That’s our city, alright,” Cassian agreed. 

The six of them left the townhouse and joined the gathering crowds on the streets, keeping light conversation. She watched them talk about music and shops and… a sport? Maybe? 

This might have been the first time she saw adult people who just… liked each other. Liked the company of one another. Not to watch their backs hunting. Not to be another hand to push something heavy. They just… liked being here. There wasn’t even any reference to the immense tasks they’d have to accomplish in the next few weeks. 

The streets near the river were even fuller. Almost every establishment had tables and chairs out and people filled each and every one. It was even hard to walk or to hear each other with all that ruckus. She stepped closer to Rhys and his hand laid on the base of her spine, guiding her forward. 

They finally found somewhere to sit in a restaurant where the owner clearly knew them. She led them up to a terrace where there were more tables laid out. Small round lights in strings had been put up in fences, which she thought was wasteful, considering how light the night sky was here, laden with stars as it was. The effect was gorgeous though. 

Then the food started coming. It was different than the one they’d had at lunch. That had been hearty and warm. This, however, was exuberant, filled to the brim with spices. A bite had aftertaste after aftertaste and all of them were incredible. It was hard to even decide what to have. And it just kept coming. 

The owner came to chat. She expressed worry over Hybern. Rhys promised they would try to keep the prices down. She told them it was nice to have access to outside spices again now that things had gotten better… 

This was nice. Even all the way here, their actions had made life better. She wouldn’t even had thought how Amarantha had affected commerce. That was her father’s business, after all. 

She blinked when she saw all eyes on her unexpectedly. 

“Is it to your liking, miss?” The owner repeated.

She blinked again. Right. People could see her. Interact with her. She wasn’t just watching it from the outside anymore. The woman was smiling, looking at how her plate was surrounded by a myriad of little plates, all wiped clean. Her fingers were red and hurting from the pepper sauce. 

“So good,” she managed to say, with several nods of her head. She must have shown in her eyes how much she meant it, because everyone laughed. But… it wasn’t embarrassing. It didn’t feel like they were shaming her for giving into her instincts. It was… companionable. Like they… enjoyed it when she did these things?

 Once the owner was gone, the woman dedicated herself to cleaning her hands, but she could feel Rhys’ eyes still on her. 

What ? She asked across the bridge that connected them. 

He didn’t answer. Figures. 

They finished up. Talked a bit more. Then got up to leave. Rhysand paid, though the owner protested and the group ended up in the street again. New groups had taken the place of those who had already left the restaurants around them. Music came from somewhere. 

“Alright, Rita’s it is!” Mor said, pointing one direction. 

“Weren’t you the one who was tired from walking all day?” Cassian teased. 

Mor snapped her tongue and dismissed his comment with a wave of her hand.

“I’m never too tired for dancing. Who’s in?” 

“I am,” Azriel said. 

“Surprise, surprise. Don’t you have to leave at dawn?” Cassian continued. 

There was a moment of stuttered silence. It had been the first time that night someone had broached the topic of the mission.

Azriel pointed upwards. 

“Dawn’s not here. Rita’s still open. You in or not?” 

“He can’t,” Mor said, projecting her bottom lip. “He has plans to watch his own muscles in the mirror.” 

Cassian shrugged. 

“Joke’s on you. I can always see them from the corners of my eyes. And it would be very sad to deny the citizens of Velaris this view.” 

The three of them turned to her. She looked around to know what the others were wanting to do. Amren was no longer there.

She’s grabbing a snack to take home , Rhys explained. She remembered seeing her drink that dark liquid back when they first met. Right. Would you like to go dancing? 

She thought about it. She had been human the last time she danced, back in Spring, during the Solstice. It had been fun. 

Maybe it was better not to go. Not to indulge. Not to fall in love with the noise and the light and the food. This couldn’t be permanent, not with death looming on the horizon.

And yet… since when did she do what was better for her? 

“Yeah, let’s go,” the told the group, who woowoo ’d in return. 

Mor grabbed each Illyrian by one arm and started dragging them towards the end of the block. Rhys and the woman followed close behind.

At some point, he pointed at the other side of the river, where the houses were painted bright and colorful and even at night, it seemed to glow from the light that came from everywhere. 

“It’s the Artist’s Quarter. We call it The Rainbow. It was my sister’s favorite place in Velaris. I bet you might find a map maker here.” 

She nodded appreciatively. Of course, she couldn’t find her way back here on her own, but the colors might help if she found someway to look from above. 

It’s my favorite view of the city, he said in her mind. 

Your house is on the other side, though , she replied, pointing the other direction. 

Yes, but I wanted a quieter place. So I could escape the mess when it got too much . 

Well, then you chose wrong. It’s noisy out there too. It was weird to make a facial expression for words she had not pronounced, but the woman found herself scrunching her nose even so. Not as noisy as here, but still . 

I’m used to that level of noise. I barely even hear it anymore .

She didn’t think that was ever going to happen to her. No matter how many nights she woke up with a roof above her head, she always checked for rain, for predators, for danger. Her eyes set on the group ahead of them. 

What’s going on there? She asked, indicating them with her head. Flashes of the little bits she’d picked up the last few weeks popped into her mind.

History. I find it better to stay out of it. You should do the same . 

The woman sighed dramatically.

Fine. Keep your secrets . 

He chuckled. 

We don’t have to stay as long as they do. Once you’re tired, let me know and I’ll take you home.

She nodded, though the word kept repeating in her mind. Home . 

Rita’s was a square building from which music flew out of. It was one of many in the region. They waited in a small line, to which the people in front of them let them — actually, insisted that they — cut. 

There were two floors. The bottom one, with the bar, the booths and the open dance floor and the second one, a mezzanine, allowed a view of the dancers below. 

The dance floor itself was open to the elements. The moon and the stars themselves seemed to shine upon it. This effect happened due to glass-looking tiles that made out the floor. Light got trapped there and reflected, refracted into the dancers.

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Mor asked. The woman looked at her and wondered how she already had a drink in her hand. Apparently, she’d been standing there staring for a while. Rhys and Azriel were by the bar, while Cassian was already dancing. “I love it here. Plus, Rita is a sweetheart. Want to go dance?” 

That was what she had come to do, after all. She nodded.

“That’s my girl.”

This was different than that night in Spring. That had been half desperate, driven by fae wine. There was a feeling of finiteness to Solstice. A golden spark. Something that had to be appreciated quickly and wildly, because it might be a while before it happened again. 

But this… this was silver and slow burning. It filled the lungs until she felt intoxicated. Five thousand years this city had been here. Tomorrow, this place would open its doors again and people would come dance. Then, the next day. And the next. It maybe closed a day or two for the owners to rest, but there would always be another week. Another month. Bodies jumping over the glass tiles, the moon above them turn after turn after turn. 

Even if it might have bothered her when she was standing still, she was moving now. Probably not how people expected her to, because there were giggles. But they were followed by encouragement, so she kept at it. The music was light and bouncy, played with instruments made of metal. Pairs would twirl their partners, making the entire place erupt in cheers. This was nothing like the balls she’d observed from afar as a child.

This party was a celebration of nothing. A celebration of everything. One that left her with aching feet and the taste of sweetness in her lips. She was tired before her companions, though. She came to find Rhys sitting at a table, surrounded by people — admirers, she quickly found out. 

She broke through the small crowd and sat heavily on the other side of the booth he was in. His eyes immediately turned to her and he asked the others to excuse him for a second.

“Ready to go?” He asked. 

She looked at him, her brows furrowing. 

Yes . She did come here to ask that. But… he hadn’t danced. She looked around, to the people who had spread out to other tables in small groups. Was she in the way of something? Should she have waited? 

Just because she couldn’t think of being touched without feeling sick, that didn’t mean he felt the same, even with what she knew from Under the Mountain. 

Everything okay? He asked, the usual dark tendrils feeling at her shields. 

The woman nodded. 

Yes. I’m… tired. Can we go? 

With no hesitation, he stood up. She waited a second longer before following him. They got into a line to pay, which was useless, because the person at the bar wouldn’t let them. 

Then they went out into the cold street.

With all of the running and court hopping, she’d completely lost count of what season they were supposed to be on. Since it was getting colder and there was no sign of snow sticking to the ground, she supposed it should be autumn. 

The madness of the street gave no sign of slowing down. They weren’t kidding about this city of starlight thing. She doubted anyone would see their beds before the stars went to sleep. 

They walked in silence, which she enjoyed. It reminded her of pack hunters who never went out alone. To be more effective killers, for sure, but she always wondered if there was something more behind it. Something she might never be able to access. 

Those people at the table… were they your friends?

He shook his head. 

Some were acquaintances. Some I’ve never met. Most were very drunk and trying their luck. 

Their luck ? She looked at him. 

He nodded, but did not elaborate. She bit the inside of her mouth, but the next words came out anyway. 

How come you’re not married ?

His eyebrows shot up. 

So many questions tonight . 

The woman shrugged. She knew at least some High Lords were married. Why not him? 

Marrying me means living a life with a target on their backs. If we have children, they will also be hunted pretty much since conception. Everyone knows what happened to my family… but sometimes, when the moon looks this beautiful and you drink just enough… Rhys looked at her and his eyes seemed to reflect the entire sky above them. You start wanting things you shouldn’t want. And that’s why people were at our table . 

She let out a huff of air that came out as a puff of vapor and looked away. 

I understand , she thought.

Do you ? 

She nodded. All she knew was wanting things she shouldn’t. Letting herself get carried away by food and affection and drinking and forgetting about the cold. About the monsters. 

Almost as if he could feel the dark turn of her thoughts, he launched into a monologue about how the court had been split a long time ago. How the city had been built, how it had been spelled to remain hidden, to remain unknown. She lost herself in the story, thinking how nice it was to know where you came from. To know there were people with your blood who thought the same as you, even if you didn’t get to meet them. To have a mission from birth you were actually equipped to fulfill. 

And when he was done… they were home.

Chapter Text

“I want to see how you throw a punch,” said Cassian after they stretched and ran in circles for a bit to warm up. 

She immediately punched him on the side. Though he didn’t move an inch and his middle felt like it was hard rock, his head slowly turned to her and she could have sworn she heard Mor holding her laughter on the bench she was sitting by the sidelines. 

The air, kid,” he said, voice half strained. “Punch the air.”

She smiled sheepishly and punched the air like he asked.

These first movements he taught her were a breeze. She had the muscle memory for most of them, even if she felt silly just simulating hitting something. All he was asking was to shift her stance slightly here and there. More balance on her knees and core instead of on her back. More strength than speed now that she actually had any. Things like that. 

It felt good to be moving again. Though the sun was unusually warm up here on the training ring at the House of Wind, she didn’t mind it in her eyes. When she had stopped for some water, Cyrus came in, waving at her. She waved back and ran to the entrance to greet him. 

“I see you’re holding back,” Cyrus said when she came closer. 

She shrugged. 

“M’strong now. Still learning.” She pointed at the ring. “Come help?”

“I just came to watch. I’m better off on your side than on the opposite end of those weapons,” he pointed at her bare hands. “Your sisters might come over later. I told them you’d be here.”

The woman couldn’t hold back her sigh. She had meant to come see them more often, try to talk to them more. Be… present. But it felt like touching hot metal. Once you were burned, it was hard to convince herself to grab on again.

“Alright,” she turned around and went back to the ring, hoping to drown the worry out with some more footwork.

Every once in a while, when she executed a movement particularly well, Cyrus and Mor let out little whelps of encouragement. 

“How come I don’t get cheerleaders when I train?” Cassian asked them from across the ring.

“Because you’re a grown man with dick and balls. I expect you to break a mountain in half. She’s the cutest little thing who takes down giant monsters. Now that’s something to cheer for,” Mor answered, to which Cyrus just nodded. 

“Not little,” the woman murmured, punching the air. 

“So you admit you’re cute?” Cassian lifted an eyebrow. 

She tried to punch him on the side, which he quickly evaded, laughing. 

It was nice. Not having to hold back. Knowing he could take it if she acted out. And no one would tell her that wasn’t done that way. She could just… be herself. 

Which was, of course, the moment when her sisters decided to show up. Because she couldn’t have anything. She didn’t see them come in, she just heard their steps and she heard Cyrus and Mor greet them. Apparently, Mor had already been introduced to them. 

Cassian must have noticed she tensed up, because he just said: 

“Let’s go. Give me thirty one-two punches; then forty; then fifty,” He lifted the little hand pillows he wore to absorb her blows. 

She didn’t think she could count that high, but she figured he would tell her if she went above. 

“Is this what you brutes do all day?” She heard Nesta ask. 

She punched harder. 

“Someone has to,” Cassian said over her shoulder, looking at her sister. “Not all of us can hide out here while others do our dirty work.” 

The woman was so surprised she missed her rhythm and stopped for a second. He winked at her and waved his head at the pads for her to keep punching. She took a deep breath and started again. 

“Emphasis on dirty,” her sister pressed on. 

“This place is enormous,” Elaine commented, as if Nesta hadn’t just insulted everyone in the room. Her tone was neutral. Different than what it had been when the woman had visited her last. 

“The perks of building up in the mountains,” Mor answered pleasantly. “Lots of space.” 

There were some moments of peaceful silence in which she could focus on her punches before Nesta spoke up again. 

“How long is this going to take?” 

She missed the pad and punched the air, letting out another puff of air. Cassian tapped her shoulder, as if to say to take a break. 

“Care to join us, sweetheart?” He yelled out. “It’s a lot more fun than just watching.” 

And that stunned her sister into silence. 

“Should… talk to them,” she murmured down at her bandaged hands, opening and closing her fingers. They didn’t hurt nearly as much as they used to when she was human and punched things repeatedly. 

“Don’t let them bully you,” he told her, pulling the pads out from his hands and crossing his arms. “They owe you much more than you owe them. Remember that.” 

Her eyes widened. Is that what he thought? She turned around and walked to her sisters, placing her hands on her waist. 

“M’busy,” she said in lieu of greeting. 

“We’ve noticed,” Nesta replied. “Miles is down for his nap. I want to be back before he wakes up. We’re having a talk.” 

It wasn’t a question so she just squared her feet and readied for the blow. Nesta looked around, mostly at Mor and Cyrus, who were watching their exchange intently. 

“You want to talk here?”

The woman shrugged. It didn’t make a difference if other people witnessed it. They would probably be able to hear them anyway, depending on how close of a room they chose. 

Nesta’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but she rose up her chin in defiance.

“Fine. What’s this about us having to move?”

The woman sighed, looking at Elaine. 

“I never said that.” 

“Well, what did you say? Why did you tell all of this to Elaine and not to me?” 

She lifted her arms. 

“You… told me to go see her… and left!” She pointed at Elaine. “So I… told her.” 

“Terrified her, you mean. What? Your new fuck buddy can’t harbor two people and a child? Your old one never complained about it.” 

“Careful,” Morrigan said, showing her teeth. 

Behind her, she also heard growling. The woman’s throat started hurting, begging her not to say anything, just to close her teeth around something and bite, bite, bite. 

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her heart, like she was hiding from a predator. 

“I said… I would… feel better… if you got… your own home. You have… the means. Because… of my work. Just… pick… a place.” 

“Why?! So you can ignore us easier? Forget you were ever human?” 

Now she understood the need to go somewhere else to have this conversation. She could feel her friends wanting to intervene around them. At least they knew to let her handle it. 

“I d-d-don’t…” She coughed, her throat closing her as she tried to fight it, tried to squeeze the hard words through her trachea. “I… don’t… want you… to depend on me.” 

“ Why? Isn’t it just fair after you gave my name ?” 

She swallowed again, keeping her eyes on her sister. Never look away from a predator . 

“B-b-because I… will… I’ll… I…” 

Nesta stood up. 

“Speak up!”

Her heart went into overdrive. Her hands turned to fists. Her instinct took over. She sent her power ahead and it crashed through Nesta’s inexistent walls directly into her head. 

I can’t speak up, she said in her mind. Nesta’s eyes widened and she tried to take a step back, but she was cornered against the bench. I can’t speak up because I spent years not speaking to anyone. Sleeping in caves and in animal dens and on top of trees. I can’t speak up because when I do my throat hurts because I’m scared of other people. 

She sent the feeling of her throat closing up, of her heart in her ears, of trying to get words out and not being able to. Her sister gagged, as if the experience was too much all at once. 

We’ve been through this. You pushed me to the mud. You sent me back to that. You killed whatever future I might have had. Whatever name I gave to that bitch was revenge for that and it was well earned. You are not fully innocent in this story. Her claws were coming out of her hands. She fought to push them back in. And yet I sent you to safety before I could get there myself. I almost didn’t get away from my last fuck buddy. 

She shared the feeling of the glass and the wood buried in her paws, in her back, in her head as she banged her body against walls and doors and windows to try and escape. Nesta let out a terrified scream. Elaine stood up, but tripped backwards, away from them. 

“What’s happening?! What are you doing to her?!”

I put you in my contract. I thought of everything. I can’t read or write, but I wrote a contract so that no one could touch you, no would could starve you and no one could use money to force you into anything. But it is not enough. It is never enough. 

To her surprise, she felt resistance. A mad scramble for a shield her sister didn’t know was possible. Pure iron will pushing against hers. 

I sent you away to protect you, you know that , she heard Nesta’s voice . Tomas was a violent, disgusting man. He hit me and he hit dad and he hit Elaine and he hit Miles and he would hit you too if you stayed. When you showed up, you looked so much like mom and I… I panicked. 

She saw the image of herself at fourteen. Begging to come back home. Telling her sister she loved her for the first time in years. In Nesta’s memory, she could see how thin she was. How hollow were her eyes, how bad was her frostbite. She looked a lot like mother… when she had died. But also… how young she looked, her growth stunted by the lack of… everything. It just made her angrier. How she looked at that and still did what she did.

He… he did what he wanted with me , Nesta continued . With us. And I was embarrassed… I thought mother had come back from the grave to haunt me… So I just… acted…

And why won’t you trust me now? The woman asked, showing her teeth. Have I not proven my worth? What is it with all of those pointy words, insulting the people I like, the people who are helping us? 

There was a hesitation in her sister’s mind. Her eyes were wide, like a deer caught under a huntsman’s mark.

I… I don’t know. Nesta blinked fast. We’re just as powerless now in this magic world as we were before, but now we don’t know the rules. You brought us into this mess, you have to show us a way out.

I am trying! Even if she was speaking in her head, it was hard to breathe. If I’m telling you to go somewhere safe, it’s because I am just as worthless in this life as I was in the last. Because I’m a creature of teeth and claws and I bite and that’s all I know how to do. And everyone is requiring me to do things other than that, to fit into another part. And I have been tripping the entire time because, growing up in those woods, I wasn’t built for anything but violence. And once they realize that, I want you not to get caught up in the fallout. I don’t want you to depend on me because I can’t be depended on. When you let out a wild animal, it will eventually bite someone. You told me I’m not doing enough, I’m warning you I can never do enough. But I’m doing what I can. Do you understand? 

“That’s enough, darling,” she felt her warm body fizzle out as it was enveloped by cool night. When she blinked, she noticed her hands had frosted over, as well as the ground around her, but there had been fire in her fingers, around her fist. A hand touched her shoulder and all of it disappeared with her surprise. She blinked and tears escaped her eyes. “I believe your sister got the message.” 

Nesta didn’t look that much better than her. She was also crying, but now the tension in her body had relaxed now she wasn’t gripping her mind anymore. But her stare was sharp.

“You’re not worthless,” Nesta murmured, as if that had been the only thing she apprehended from the entire conversation. 

“Home. Please,” she asked Rhys. She craved the city and its noise that had nothing to do with her. She craved her room and the space under her bed that she could pretend was a cave. She craved a place her sisters had never touched. So without another word, they walked out of the training grounds, to the nearest window and down to the city. 

No one mentioned the incident with her sister, which was suspicious with this crowd. They came over to the townhouse all the time during the next week, always with some pretext that didn’t quite make sense. And yet no one broached the subject. 

Except for Cyrus, who came down to see her — apparently, there was a staircase that led him there, but it was 10 thousand steps. He told her the girls had started seriously looking for a place to live in the city. The problem now was coming to an agreement. 

“Mrs. Mondray wants a simple apartment. Mrs. Devin wants somewhere with a garden, or at least space enough for some flowerpots. It’s been a fierce debate,” he told her. She bet. She wanted to ask him not to call her sisters by their married names, but she hadn’t said much since that day. Cyrus, to his credit, didn’t seem to mind. She showed him the townhouse she’d been living in. 

“And what do you do all day?” 

She shrugged. Mostly slept. Ate. Sometimes walked around town, just to feel that other people had other problems and their world wasn’t ruined by their own uselessness. 

She showed him around, to the bakery in the corner who always gave her free cookies when she bought other things, to the riverside bar that always had music playing and to the cold treat shop where she’d seen the little kid who spoke with their hands, which she found out was called ice cream and was incredibly delicious, even in the cold weather. 

“This place sure is incredible, isn’t it, miss?” Cyrus said, with white cream dripping from his chin as he tried to eat his with his pointy teeth. 

She nodded, looking at the river, shining with the twilight sun. 

“The High Lord came to speak with me,” he told her. The woman looked at him again. “He told me what you did, going into that Prison. And what you asked for in return.”

She had asked for Cyrus to be included in their deal. To be a free male, to be allowed to work and to own land, and to be taken care of while he came up with the means to do so. She nodded and managed to smile at him. He deserved it.

“He offered me employment,” Cyrus continued. That much she didn’t know. “I won’t be part of your group and I wouldn’t want to intrude in it anyway. I’m not one for leading or taking big decisions. But I am good muscle and I told him I would be honored to be your knight. If… you’ll allow me.” 

She hadn’t thought of that before. She’d never had anyone working for her, obviously. And there was something weird about paying someone to stand by you. But he’d done it for free and she wanted him to have a reward. To have a home and a place where he’d be safe. And, if anything, she was glad to have Cyrus with her.

Part of her wanted him to stay safe though. It was the first time they had together that they could just exist since those early days of Spring when he was still healing. She wished he could have this, even if she couldn’t. But he’d said, time and time again, that he preferred to follow. And wasn’t that exactly what Tamlin had not done for her? Not listened?

“I’ll go… to Summer… soon,” she told him. “For… diplomacy. Come… with me?” 

It would be nice to have someone who knew the place, the people. Plus, she knew he would stand up for her if someone didn’t understand her motives. He nodded, showing his pointy teeth. 

“It would be my honor.”

Since she’d arrived at Night Court, she’d learned to read and write (more or less), build mental shields (with a bit more success) and to fight (eh). 

But by far her favorite one to learn had been sign language. 

Azriel was a diligent teacher. Her favorite part was being able to spend all that time with someone she didn’t know all that well and not have to say a single word. 

They went over basic signs first. Small phrases so she could use to communicate her needs if speaking got to be too hard. She thought it might be a while before she was actually able to say things , but she was surprised to find how easy it was turning out to be. For simple, day-to-day things, it was very intuitive. The fact the expression was a part of the language fascinated her. 

Even when she wasn’t in class, she would practice the expressions when she caught herself in mirrors, when a bit before she would avoid them at all costs. She would tell herself go eat or nice boots or time to sleep and then giggle to herself. She was talking . Only one person around her knew what she was saying, but it was already better than the alternative. 

“Sorry to interrupt such a moment,” said Rhys, parked at the nearest arch, watching her tell herself you look good in the hallway with one eyebrow tilted up. 

She shook her finger. No, you’re not.

He gave her his best grin and lifted a piece of paper. 

“We got an answer. Amren and Cyrus are on their way here. We leave first thing tomorrow” He stepped closer to her, and she looked at him standing in the mirror next to her. Now that she was eating and exercising, she looked a lot more like him. Powerful. Immortal. He, however, was only looking at her. “Ready for summer vacation?”.

Chapter Text

The group winnowed to a landing platform at the base of a tan stone palace. 

The palace was built atop a mountain in an island surrounded by a moon shaped bay. From where she was standing, the woman could see the entire city below with all of its white houses perched one on top of each other on the cliffs. They looked like mirrors of the ones in the continent. Many bridges connected the two parts of the city. As she watched, one of them broke into two and lifted the two parts to allow passage to a many masted ship. She had to bite the inside of her mouth not to ask about that. Small boats roamed the waters below, nets being thrown left and right. Ferries carried people from one side of the bay to the other.

Above them, there were towers and turrets and spires and not a cloud to be seen. Gulls crossed the sky to and fro, yelling at each other, then diving to go bother some fisherman. 

This was so different from the small bit of it she had seen the year prior… 

Before them, there were six people waiting. The tallest male, standing in the middle, said:

“Welcome to Adriata.” 

She remembered him. Not only from seeing him Under the Mountain, or from Cyrus’ tales of what happened behind the scenes, but also from something inside her. A drop of power that said I know you. You and I are the same . 

“Thank you,” drawled Rhys in a way she hadn’t heard in a while. His favorite mask was back on, along with the dark clothing with silver embroidery. Very stuffy for such a sunny day, but alas, these people hardly ever considered practicality. “It’s good to see you again, Tarquin. In better circumstances anyway.” 

The five other people behind the High Lord of Summer traded loaded looks. Like their High Lord, they all had black skin and silver or white hair, a combination the woman had rarely seen before. Their eyes, that looked over her, Amren and Cyrus, were multicolored. 

Rhys was quick to notice the same. 

“Amren, I’m sure you know, though you’ve probably haven’t seen her since your… promotion,” he smiled to soften his words, a trick she ought to remember. 

Tarquin gave Amren the briefest of nods. “Welcome back to the city, lady”.

Amren didn’t nod or bow or curtsy. She just looked him up and down and said: “At least you are far more handsome than your cousin. Condolences, of course, but he was an eyesore.” 

The female behind Tarquin glared, but that just made Amren smile. It was good not to be on the receiving end of that smile. They acted differently here than they did at home. 

“You also remember Cyrus, I’m sure, from your lovely time planning an uprising,” Rhys pointed at where Cyrus was standing, right behind the woman. Cyrus did bow, at which Tarquin nodded in acknowledgement. “And of course, the star of the show. I don’t believe you got the chance to be properly introduced. Tarquin, this is Feyre. Feyre, this is Tarquin.” 

No last names, no titles. She liked this. 

The High Lord’s eyes, crystal blue, fixed on her. He did not smile. And as a greeting, he just said:

“It seems you have a tale to tell.” 

Not her, she hoped. 

“We have many tales to tell,” Rhys answered promptly, waving to the glass doors behind them. “Shall we get comfortable?” 

The female behind Tarquin inched closer. 

“We have refreshments prepared.” 

Tarquin put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Allow me to introduce Cresseida, Princess of Adriata.” 

A wife? Or a sister? There was no ring, but she already knew the fae did not marry like humans did. 

“A pleasure,” said the princess, as if speaking directly to her “and an honor.” 

She nodded at the woman, looking away. 

The three other males were presented as counselors and the fourth was Varian, prince of Adriata, captain of Tarquin’s guard and Cresseida’s younger brother. He never took his eyes off Amren, which was fair considering she was probably the biggest threat there. She would probably do the same in his place.

And to Amren’s credit, she looked delighted at his stare, as if it were a compliment on itself. 

“The repairs are going well, I take it,” Rhys said as they all walked through one of the many walkways of the castle, overlooking the city below. A lovely breeze cut through the open areas, providing relief from the sun above. 

“Mostly,” admitted Tarquin. “There is still a lot to be done. The back half of the castle is still a wreck. But the inside is mostly finished. The city, of course, was the main focus. Those repairs are still ongoing.” 

“I hope nothing was lost during the occupation,” said Rhys, as if feeling her confusion. Ah . Amarantha’s doing, very probably.

“Not the most important things, thank the Mother,” Tarquin replied. 

They lost the three advisors somewhere along the way, as they murmured about other duties to attend to. Eventually, the seven of them ended up in a room of white oak and green glass overlooking the mouth of the bay and the sea that stretched on forever. 

The sea she’d first seen had always been dark. Green, blue and sometimes, when it rained, it almost looked purple. Since she’d left, though, she’d seen so many more colors. This green, however, almost turquoise in its vibrancy, was new. 

“It’s my favorite view,” Tarquin said beside her, noticing she had paused next to one of the windows as the others had taken seats around the mother-of-pearl table in the center of the room. 

“Stunning,” she said, hoping not to sound as breathless as she felt. The novelty of the fae world had to fade off at some point, but not yet.

“How does it compare to the ones you’ve seen?”

She had to chuckle. 

“Doesn’t. Human seas… are… dark and stormy. At best.” 

Cold as hell, too. Hard to fish in. Not to mention good for swallowing up ships. 

“And is being immortal lovelier than being human?” 

The woman could feel everyone’s attention on their conversation, even if there was another happening between Rhys and the royal siblings. She let out a breath of air, not sure how to answer the High Lord, who was still waiting. As a human, she hadn’t had a particular love for what she was. As predators came, humans were not the best ones to be where she lived. Her teeth were never sharp enough, her legs never fast enough, her arms never strong enough. She had hated being fae at first, but now, as she grew into her powers… she didn’t think it was being fae she hated. 

She just hated being alive. Being herself. Being fae had nothing to do with it. She would get used to it eventually.

“No. It’s… different. A lot… to get used to.” 

He nodded, taking in her answer. This felt like a test. 

“Your friend Cyrus talked a lot about you in the brief interaction we had Under the Mountain. Even though we hadn’t seen you in action, or we thought we hadn’t, he seemed absolutely convinced you were a pearl.” She looked up at him, even if she was reluctant to look away from the sea. “I think he was right. But do tell me, where is it that you fit within Rhysand’s court?” 

It was because she knew he was listening that she shrugged and looked away. 

“I’m his pet.” 

On the table, Rhysand snapped his tongue and spoke for the entire room to hear.

“Feyre is a member of my Inner Circle and my Emissary to the Mortal Lands.” 

She looked at the High Lord of Summer before her and winked. 

“Pet,” she insisted as she moved to the table, finding her seat next to Amren, across from Rhys. 

Cyrus, she noticed, had assumed position next to the door, next to a pair of guards. They were the same species of fae as he was, though their wings were intact. Still, he stood proud. She wished he could just sit with them. He deserved to feel proud here. She opened his mouth to say something, but her friend caught her eye and shook his head once. Not here. It’s alright.

“Something wrong?” Tarquin asked, taking the seat at the head of the table between Rhys and Amren. One of his eyebrows was up. She hesitated another second. Feyre would have said something. But she was the Beast and she was working. She couldn’t mess this up. For Cyrus’ future. For her sisters’ and nephew’s.

She shook her head and sat down. She could feel Rhysand’s eyes on her for a second before they carried on. 

“Do you have much contact with the mortal realm?” Cresseida asked.

“We’re trying to start a conversation,” Rhysand sniffed at his white, sparkling wine and it only seemed to piss off the hosts. She wondered if that was his point. “With Hybern on the horizon, that seems to be in our best interest.” 

That was finally enough to draw Varian’s attention away from Amren. 

“So it’s true? Hybern is readying for war.” 

“Oh, they’re ready,” Rhys drawled. Servants had placed plates down for them full of colorful seafood, arranged between lush greens. It was so artful she felt kind of bad for destroying it. “War is imminent.” 

“You did mention that in your letter,” Tarquin said. “And you know that against Hybern we will fight. We lost enough good people Under the Mountain. I have no interest in being slaves again. But if you are here to ask me to fight another war, Rhysand—”

“That is not a possibility,” Rhys cut in. “No laws were broken. She left on her own accord. He let her go himself.” 

Oh . Was this… about her? They thought… Tamlin might attack over her? She snapped her tongue. 

“Can’t even feed his people… not going to attack anyone,” she said, before she could stop it. All eyes turned to her as if she had grown a second head. The woman blinked, looking down at her plate. 

“Well, I for one think it’s a relief,” Cresseida said, sipping from her own white wine and cracking a crab claw, “that you weren’t stolen, that is. It would be a bother to have to return you to your master as the law demands. Or as any wise person might do to keep trouble off of their doorstep.” 

Amren had gone still next to her, probably predicting her reaction. 

“No one… is my master.” 

Cresseida shrugged. 

“The law is the law. You are… or were, at least… his bride. If he asked us to return you, we would have to obey or risk war. It’s a good thing he respects your decisions.” 

It was a big stretch to call it that, considering all the conversations they had those last few days were precisely about him not listening. Considering she almost splattered her brains on his wall trying to get away from him and he held her there as he watched her do it.

Her stomach turned, but she managed to remain quiet. Do not mess this up , she told herself again, biting her will not fix things . Rhysand sighed. 

“You are always a joy, Cresseida.” 

“Careful, High Lord,” warned Varian, “my sister speaks true.” 

Tarquin laid a hand on the table, calling attention back to him. 

“No need to catastrophize. Rhysand is our guest and so are his courtiers. And we will treat them as such. We will treat them, Cresseida, as we treat people who saved our necks when they could have said one word and have us very very dead. Was I clear?” 

The princess looked away, sipping at her wine. 

“Crystal.” 

Tarquin turned to Rhys again. 

“You will forgive the princess if she is protective of our peace. Rebuilding has been long and hard and we would hate to see it go to waste. Still, your visit is cause for celebration. Tonight, I’m throwing you a party on my pleasure barge. After that, you are free to roam the city as you wish.” 

“Sounds lovely,” Rhys said, though his usual boredom had grown unusually sharp. “Though, for the record, I would like to remind the princess that, despite any sacrifices she might have made, we are all sitting here today because of the sacrifices Feyre made. And if anyone tries to go against her choice of leaving Spring, their lives will be forfeit.” 

The breeze stopped, as if it was holding its breath.

“Do not threaten me in my own home, Rhysand,” Tarquin said. “Gratitude only gets you so far.” 

“Oh, it is not a threat,” Rhys countered with his crooked smile again. “It’s a promise.” 

The woman picked up her wine cup and took a long sip. This was sweet, more similar to the ones they had in Spring then the driest variety of Night Court. She was starting to develop a taste for it. Then she could blame the liquid for the warmth she felt in her face. Leaning back on her chair, catching the High Lord of Summer’s eye. 

“Like I said… a lot… to get used to,” she murmured. 

Tarquin chuckled at that and let out a relieved breath. The breeze came back, as well as the clatter of cutlery against the plates as the tension devolved into a usual lunch between dignitaries — though she hadn’t been to many to know. 

All the while, though, she could feel Rhys’ approval through the bridge between them. 

“The problem,” Rhys said, invading her room and leaning on the door behind him, “will be that I like Tarquin. Even Cresseida sometimes. Varian, I could live without, but I bet he would be good friends with Azriel and Cassian and so I would have to learn to like him.” 

She lifted one eyebrow, getting up from the shell shaped bed. Her room had been decorated in seafoam, blue and gold. It was one of the three connected to a round common room in the middle. She had just said good-bye to Cyrus, who told her he would be at the servants’ quarters with Nuala and Cerridwen, who had apparently arrived later. He had assured her this was just how things were here and they had to focus on their mission. That didn’t make her chest hurt less at this. 

“So we have to find a way to do it without making enemies out of them.”

They would either steal it or ask for it, then. She hadn’t planned to take it anyway. There were too many people around, which she bet were a lot more comfortable with their own powers as she was. The woman nodded and waited. Since he hadn’t moved, he probably wasn’t done. 

“Tarquin can’t stop looking at you. I’m not sure if he wants you or if he wants your power,” Rhys continued.

She pointed at her own lithe body. 

“Female.” 

His brow furrowed. 

“I’ve noticed.”

Have you ? She asked gingerly just outside his walls, giving him a devilish grin. He smirked, but deflected her comment with a wave of his hand. 

“All I’m saying is having a High Lord lusting after you is a dangerous game, one you’ve experienced first hand.”

I can handle myself , she guaranteed. Now she was a Beast, she would fear no man. Rhys watched her intently and walked to where she was standing near her dresser. 

“You have one task here. Get that book. Do anything you have to in order to accomplish it. And don’t. Get. Caught.”

“Anything?” She repeated, raising one eyebrow. “Fuck him, then?”

Would you ask that of me ? His nostrils flared and his gaze dropped to her mouth for only a second before lifting up to her eyes. 

“You’re free to do anything you want with whomever you want. But only if you want to.”

It seemed like he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t, so she just huffed. His power surrounded her as if in warning. 

“Do not jeopardize this mission.” It had been a while since she’d heard his voice so cold.

I know the cost , she told him, her own power surging against his. Salt and sea and breeze seemed to move, instead of the usual fire and ice. Oh, what now?

Rhys looked out the window, at the unusually active sea below her window. 

“I suggest you don’t show that particular bedroom trick. Like we told you, we don’t know him, how trustworthy he is. Cresseida’s comment today wasn’t a good beginning.”

She thought about what the princess had said. You are… were… his bride . Could Tamlin really use her word against her? Use it to bring her back? If it was clear she wouldn’t be happy? If it was clear she would rather die than live imprisoned? Was love this selfish? If it was, why did people let themselves get caught in it?

The water below crashed against the tower they were at and when she looked down, their feet were in a few centimeters of salt water. She grumbled, stepping on it so it would splash Rhys’ pants. He gasped, stepping to the side. 

Will he really go to war? Over me? She asked. 

The woman didn’t have to say who. Seeming to have forgotten about the splash already, his expression relaxed into lethal calm. 

“I don’t know.” He crossed his arms. “Would you go back if he did? Would that make you want to go back? If he did this grand gesture?”

All she ever wanted was someone strong enough to protect her. She had to become that someone once nobody came, but something of that desire lingered.  A wish that she didn’t always have to be on guard, ready to bite. That someone could also bite in her name. 

Now, though… She didn’t think it would be enough. Not if it meant she had to fight him too. 

She shook her head. 

No. She thought of Rhys, sacrificing his freedom so his Court could be free. Feyre might have done that. She had sacrificed her life to free her family, to free her love. Now she was unsure of both. Maybe that makes me selfish. No one should fight for me.

Rhys looked at her from above. She had gotten taller when she had been Made, but he still towered above. She noticed his hands flex at his sides with the corner of her eyes. 

“I disagree. Everyone should fight for you. Everyone must recognize you for the treasure you are. You are worth more than land or gold or jewels. Tamlin was just the first one to realize it. That’s why he tried to lock you up.”

She growled low in her throat. 

Not a thing to be owned , she said, though she had joked about being a pet. He did love me. That’s just how he learned how to love.

Rhys pulled back, walking towards the door, leaving wet footprints from his drenched shoes. 

And was it enough? He asked, hand in the sea urchin-shaped door handle. 

She shook her head, taking off her shoes and splashing the cold water. 

Love is nothing without trust, she told him. 

And then he was gone.

Chapter Text

“Just come…” The woman grumbled to Cyrus as they walked down the docks towards the massive pleasure barge, carved in wood and gold. It could easily fit a hundred fae (and it did). What would be one more? “Please?”

“There’s plenty of guards in there. If I went, it would be a sign we don’t trust them to protect us, which is not true,” Cyrus said calmly, walking with his arms crossed behind his back. 

“If I… didn’t… I would… say so,” she said with a sigh. Nuala had helped her get ready. Now her hair was growing to more than the short stubs she had left when she had first arrived at Night Court, it was requiring more help than she thought might be necessary to have it look right. She did like wearing the flowing textiles from here. The air passed through them and it made the heat bearable. Her top ended a palm above her navel and her skirt had a secret pair of shorts underneath. “You’re my friend. Not… just my… guard. Don’t like… games.” 

“I know. But you are High Fae now. Just… give it a try? Most of them like it”. 

She sighed. She knew Cyrus was only kidding, but the idea he thought she would change her mind and push him aside once she got used to being High Fae made her stomach turn. 

Even though she didn’t need it, the woman took his help to climb onto the vessel, and she waved at him as the barge began to move. Cyrus waved back. When she turned, there seemed to be a sea of royals staring at her like she was completely naked. 

It wasn’t hard to find Rhysand and Amren, who were sitting near the middle of the vessel, around a center table filled with food. Cresseida and Varian were sitting between them, and the four of them looked deep in conversation. So she stood there, unsure if she should interrupt. 

“You should have told Cyrus to come.” 

When she looked up, Tarquin looked like summer itself, dressed in turquoise and gold, with emeralds shining on the buttons of his shirt, on the earrings on his ears and on the engravings of his rings. A crown of sapphire and white gold was sitting crooked on top of his white hair. 

“I did,” she told him. “He wouldn’t.” 

He nodded. 

“One of the hardest things, I’ve found, is to convince the people most affected by it that this system is no good.” 

The woman could not hide the look of surprise in her eyes. At least it made the High Lord laugh. 

“I know, I know. I’m inexperienced and foolish.” 

She snapped her tongue and showed him two fingers. That makes two of us . 

Tarquin regarded her and nodded. 

“That is true. I am used to being the youngest in a room. But I am a little over eighty. That must feel like a lot more to you.” 

The woman nodded, but she didn’t want to move away from the subject. 

“You like… lesser fae?” 

He nodded. 

“Yes. But it’s not only about liking them. It’s about wanting them to have a decent life. In some courts, the lowest of High Fae servants has more rights than the wealthiest of lesser fairies. Even the term we use suggests a level of unfairness. Why are some of us more fae than others just because of how we were born?” 

She shrugged. 

“When I ask… No one answers,” the woman said honestly. 

His smile was sad as he leaned against the railing, looking out into sea as they moved lazily through the bay. She always thought boats were supposed to move faster. She didn’t see much pleasure in being slow. 

“I would like to one day see a Prythian in which everyone has a voice. Not only in my home but in the world beyond it.” 

The woman nodded. That sounded… wonderful, really. She thought of Alis and her boys. Of Cyrus, loyally waiting on the loading deck. Nuala and Cerridwen. People who had helped her every step of the way. They deserved to be safe. To be happy. 

“Tell me what that look means,” Tarquin said. She noticed she had been staring intently into the floor. 

The woman regarded him. She was never sure how much the High Lords knew about her. Rhysand had said he had told the ones who wanted to listen the real story, but how much did he know anyway? She swallowed and reached out for one of the trays being passed around, picking up a flute of a golden liquid. 

“When I… was human…” she said after taking a sip that left her lips tingling “I didn’t have… anything. Had to… hunt for survival. This… is no life. People need… good living. I believe so.” 

He nodded. 

“What was it like? The mortal world?” There was genuine curiosity in his voice. A boy never allowed to leave the limits of his shielded life. A boy four times her senior and yet hadn’t seen much of what she had. 

“Cold,” she looked at the open sky, at the flying gulls, at the beautiful city ahead. “Unfriendly. But… beautiful. In a way… How… wild things are.” 

“You think wild things are beautiful?” 

She nodded. 

“I mostly saw… wild. Wasn’t… welcome… in towns. My father though… he was called… Prince of Merchants.” The words felt foreign in her tongue. It was weird calling him this. Thinking of him as the person he had been all those years ago, in that period she barely remembered. “He used to voyage… everywhere.” 

“And what happened?” He asked. The High Lord probably remembered her father as the humble man who had traded places with her during the second task. She looked at the water below and felt sick, so she looked to the side. The view of Rhys watching their conversation didn’t exactly help her nerves. She remembered all that was hanging on the balance of getting close to these people. 

“Shipment got lost… near Bharat. So… we were poor. And I… got lost too.” She waved her hand, as if she could distance herself from that. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, seeming genuine. She shook her head. No need for sorry. 

“I… would like… if… no other girl… ever went through that,” she confessed. “If humans could… care less about… money. Have… better leaders. Like…” 

She gestured at him. The High Lord seemed taken aback and blinked, before looking into her eyes. 

“If war came… would you spare them as they are? Humans, I mean? Do you believe they can change?”

That was a loaded question. One she hoped she wouldn’t have to be the one to answer. She wanted the innocent to be spared. And as evil as some humans had been to her, most of them had nothing to do with this conflict. The war that started this conflict happened generations before the people who were alive there now.

So she just shrugged. 

“I would try.”

The High Lord regarded her again. Why were all these powerful men so damn tall?

“I see why Cyrus treasures your friendship so much. It seems it would be easy to call you a friend. It would be very easy to love you.” 

She chuckled and shook her head. 

“You… are not… paying attention, then.” 

He shook his head. 

“Oh, no. I’ve been paying plenty.” 

When she looked to the side, sipping her golden wine, Cresseida had inched closer and closer to Rhysand until she was almost sitting in his lap. He was no longer looking at the woman, but tracing lazy circles on the back of her hand. She was beaming. Just like her cousin, her smile illuminated the day. 

She wondered what it would be like to feel like that. Unencumbered. Unafraid. Ready to love a beautiful man and certain to be loved back. 

“It has been many years since I saw her look like that,” Tarquin mused. 

That didn’t make her feel better. Her eyes focused on Rhys: his intent stare, his half-smile. How was he ready for this so fast after Amarantha? After all she had done... How did he find the guts to be near someone like that so fast? He leaned in to say something in Cresseida’s ear and the woman was filled with the unstoppable vision of herself biting her dark skin, ripping flesh from bone from touching… 

What? Something that belonged to her? But that wasn’t true, was it? Rhysand was her boss. She would hesitate to call him a friend even. The incident with the Weaver came to mind when she tried. Then the Prison. She was never sure if she could trust him to have her best interest in mind.

His eyes shifted towards her and there was nothing on his face. No emotion. Nothing coming through their bond. Then the moment passed and he was back to chuckling at something Cresseida was saying. When she looked away, she caught Tarquin watching her. 

She pointed at his crown. 

“Crooked,” she said, if anything, to distract herself. 

He smiled sheepishly. 

“You’d think our skilled jewelers would make one easier to wear. It digs in horribly and it keeps tilting to the side.” 

She didn’t mind it. Pristine kings were a sore subject for her. 

“I hid it myself, you know? Our treasure. My cousin, my predecessor, managed to warn me when the territory was about to fall, so I could hide the trove.” 

“Like the weapons?” The woman asked, thinking back to when she and Cyrus had stopped by an old Summer camp and found the weapons they had stashed there to be used in case of need. 

His eyes glimmered. 

“More or less, yes. Is this not your first time in Summer, then?” 

She shook her head.

“Though… what I saw… was very different… from this.” 

He nodded slowly, picking a flute of bubbly golden wine himself and starting to walk. People hurried to get out of the way as she followed him. Stares followed them all the way. 

“I always wondered what it was like, living along my people. Tell me… what did you find?”

And thought she had spoken more than she planned to, she cleared her throat and talked about it. The beach, the fishing, the small town nearby. Back when she had tried to be selfish and failed. And when she had made the sacrifice that had changed everything. 

It was weird, talking about those times. Cyrus and Alis were the only ones that knew. It didn’t feel important to mention it to others. And yet… she thought fondly of those short days. 

Her throat felt raw by the end of it. But the High Lord seemed pleased. 

“It makes me sad we couldn’t protect you for longer than that.”

She shook her head. Summer had been plenty of help that night at the final task. And now, they were all free. They fell silent for a moment, until he said: 

“You’ve seen us at our lowest. Allow me to show you what else we have to offer. Tomorrow at lunch?” 

The woman hesitated. Without the others? Would this jeopardize this plan? Was this a part of the plan? 

Finally, she decided it wouldn’t hurt. Perhaps she could ask about the Book then. So, the woman nodded. 

When they unboarded and met Cyrus at the docks, Rhys and Cresseida were nowhere to be seen. Her, Tarquin, Amren and Varian waited as the crowd dwindled, but soon it was clear they weren’t coming. The woman looked at Amren for directions, but she just had gone stiff-backed and started the walk back to the castle. 

They weren’t at the common room either and there was no sound coming from Rhys’ room. She wondered if she should worry, but since Amren didn’t look worried, she decided she wouldn’t either. 

Even when she woke up from a nightmare where the sea was rising over the town and swallowing everything in its path — including her father, shackled to the bottom of it — and didn’t recognize where she was, she didn’t feel the usual wave of darkness touch her consciousness to check on her. 

This was what she expected all along. She didn’t know why that surprised her so much. She might be a treasure all should fight for, but now he had a new toy to play with. Rhysand was just a man. She was finding out fae males weren’t all that different from human ones. 

She woke up late after a sleepless night and rubbed her face. She didn’t want to go out and show how tired she was, so she stayed in the room until the servants came inside to clean. They were about to leave, but she told them to stay. So she hid in the bathroom for a while, then actually had her bath. 

The woman looked at her own reflection in the low level of water in the tub. Bathing hadn’t gotten any easier, and after her nightmare, it wasn’t her favorite activity. Yet, she forced herself to breathe through it. Then, she reached into the power that kept singing inside her since she’d arrived and pulled it to the surface.

The water responded, swirling in small whirlpools. She lifted small spheres out of the surface. The shapes were hard to keep and soon dropped into the tub with a splash but she smiled to herself. 

She could do this. She could. Once she was done and was leaving the bathroom, Nuala crossed straight through a wall and started asking what she was thinking of wearing for her lunch date. She shrugged. 

“Trust you,” was the entire scope of her plan. And it paid out. She got dressed in a seafoam green set with the same flowy skirt with secret shorts inside. She wore a halo of rose gold and pearls and wondered who had packed all of this jewelry for her. Her strongest bet was Mor. The servant even coaxed her into wearing some makeup. Though it felt like dirt smeared on her face, it looked wonderful. 

When she finally walked out of the room, ready, only Cyrus was waiting in the common room and he escorted her to the main hall. Looked like a boring job, just walking her places. But she was glad for his company anyway. Especially when Tarquin arrived, in the company of all the rest of her traveling companions. Rhysand and Cresseida, side by side again. Amren next to Tarquin as Varian strode off to talk to some nearby guards.

Tarquin was wearing the same tone of seafoam green. She vaguely remembered Rhys telling her Nuala and Cerridwen had done some spying for him Under the Mountain. Seemed old habits died hard. 

“One of us is going to have to change,” Tarquin told the woman with a smile. She looked at Cyrus for an explanation — she thought she looked fine. Cyrus pointed at the High Lord’s clothing. 

“It’s a joke,” Cyrus whispered. “Because you’re wearing the same colors.”

“You look good,” the High Lord amended, noticing her confusion. 

The woman smiled. That was what you were supposed to do when people told jokes, even if you didn’t understand them. The action felt weird, as if her new face didn’t know how to replicate the expression she used to know just yet. She felt Rhys assessing her and kept her eyes facing forward. 

“Thank you. Am I…” She tried to form interrupting with her lips, but she knew she would just trip over it, “in… the way?”

It was Amren who replied, shaking her head. 

“We were just finishing talks about armadas. Did you know Tarquin and Varian used to lead Nostrus’ fleet?”

The woman wondered if that was a clue she was supposed to remember.

“Sailor, then?” She asked. 

“I was planning to share that information during our tour…” Tarquin sighed, offering an arm to her. “I suppose I’ll have to improvise more charming conversation topics. Shall we?”

She looped her arm through his, not offering a word to the others as they walked off. 

Just as she had turned her back, something brushed against her shields. Something dark and powerful. Too little, too late. If he wanted to play silence, she’d play silence. She was the best at that game. 

Tarquin took her to a treasure trove. It was locked behind a magic door that opened when he placed his hand on it. Nifty, she thought. It was below sea level, he said, but it was well lit enough and airy enough that she pushed her anxiety down and followed him inside. 

According to him, it was just one of the troves. It was hard to imagine one person inheriting all of this. If he wore several jewels a day for the rest of his long, long life, he still wouldn’t go through all of the pieces. There was armor and swords and chalices. Dresses made out of materials that shouldn’t make fabric. 

But no books. 

“You don’t look impressed,” he told her after they’d been exploring a while. 

She smiled sheepishly. 

“These don’t… mean… a lot to me. I know… they are… expensive. But…” The woman shrugged. 

“That would be a first,” Tarquin said, “a lady friend not impressed by my riches. If that doesn’t impress you, what does?”

She wasn’t sure. Violence, mostly. 

“Loyalty,” the woman answered instead. 

Tarquin shrugged, leaning on a box containing enough gold to buy her entire town. 

“Well, this is not really something you can lock behind a door like this. I was hoping something would strike your fancy so I could gift it to you. It would be romantic.” 

She chuckled and shook her head. She had more than enough. 

“Why… gift… me?”

“As a thank you. For Under the Mountain. And also for not laughing at my idea to break down class barriers. Not even Cresseida was able to indulge me. We’ve grown complacent. But you give me hope that life could be different.”

She looked at him. Rhys had told her to be careful. Not to trust so much. And she normally wouldn’t. But down here, just as he could lock her in this room with his magic door… she could turn into a creature he would not expect. They were in equal footing even if he didn’t know it. 

If someone could really make things equal in the future she did not want to live in… she wanted this person to be on her side. 

“We… actually… want some… some… something. Something… we c-c-came here for.” 

Tarquin’s brows furrowed. 

“The others warned me that might be the case. I guess it would be foolish to expect declarations of friendship.” 

She shook her head. 

“He won’t ask. But… I will.”

“Why?” He asked. “We just met.” 

The woman shrugged. 

“Same reason… you’d g-g-g-give me… a j-j-j-jewel,” she managed through her aching throat, as if it could sense her about to disobey her orders. “I t-t-trust you’ll listen.” 

Tarquin stood up straighter, crossing his arms behind his back. 

“I won’t betray my people, if that’s what you’re asking.”

She shook her head. 

“You… w-w-won’t. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t… was… wasn’t… imp— imp— fuck.” 

The woman closed her eyes, trying to calm her breathing. This was fine. It was going to be fine. She could trust her gut. She flinched when he touched her shoulder. 

“Is… everything okay?”

She sighed, rubbing her throat. She hated admitting vulnerability, but… she’d do it more if she managed to say what she had to say. 

“Speaking is… hard… when I’m…  I’m… m’nervous.” 

To her surprise, he moved her hands in a sign she recognized. It’s alright, it said. 

“It’s alright,” he repeated out loud. “We can sign if you find it easier.”

Difficult , she signed back. “Still l-l-learning.”

Tarquin made a face.

 “I don’t know that one. I suppose, though there might be some common ground, that Night Court Sign Language is a completely different language.”

She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. 

“I… c-can d-do it. It… it… it… just… might… take a while.”