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Chapter Text

“Janet wore a mantel green

And wolf-keen was her will.

Into the forest's heart she went

while stars shone on the hills”

Tamlin and the Fairy Queen by Faun

When the beast broke through the door of their cabin, Nesta had been lying on her thin and scratchy strawbed, wrapping the old threadbare blanket around herself trying to lull herself into sleep despite the winter cold. One moment the freezing night had been silent except for the soft breathing of her sisters next to her and their father‘s uneven wheeze, the next the shabby room erupted into chaos.

An explosion of golden fur, deadly claws and sharp teeth tore through wood and wardings alike. A bellowing roar shook the small building, vibrating through her bones. For a brief heartbeat, Nesta stared up at the creature, her blood freezing in her veins, it had to be a dream… just a nightmare. With a loud shriek, she barely registered as her own, she scrambeled out of the beast’s way. No. No, this was real! In her panic to get away from the black claws and snapping jaws, she stumbled over something. No, not something. Someone. Elain, in her terror, could barely stand. Nesta grabbed her younger sister and tore her to her feet. Pulling both of them as far away from the raging beast as they could in the small space of their cabin. Nesta‘s back hit the rough stone of the hearth. Elain clung to her, whimpering desperately into Nesta‘s shoulder. Nesta pulled them both down, wrapping her arms around her sister, trying to shield her. Cowering low to the ground, making them as small of a target as possible might keep them safe. It was a ridiculous thought. A desperate thought.

Another bellow shook the walls, belatedly Nesta realised that she could understand the beast.

“MURDERERS!“

The thundering beat of her heart almost stopped in her chest. She had thought herself terrified before, but now the new realisation swept over her like a cold wave.

She didn‘t know what type of wild beast she had thought was attacking them. Maybe a bear had woken from its winter slumber or a starving mountain lion. In truth, the panic of the moment had driven any rational thought she could have had from her mind.

But as she cowered in front of the hearth holding a whimpering Elain, her mind, briefly paralyzed by fear, haltingly caught up with what was happening around her. Nesta instinctively jerked one of her arms out of Elain‘s clammy grip, the thin iron bracelet suddenly feeling cold against her skin.

The Beast stood tall in the middle of the room. Its golden catlike body was unlike any mountain lion in both size or colour. The head was shaped like that of an enormous wolf. A set of many-pronged antlers scratched at the roof of their home. She knew this wasn‘t any ordinary wild beast. It was a Faerie. 

And just in front of it, only the broken table between them, stood Feyre. Stupid, proud and brave. Foolishly brave to a fault, as she had always been.

Nesta stared in horror at her youngest sister, who put herself directly in front of the maw of the beast. Directly behind Feyre, only a few feet from Nesta and Elain, lay their father. At a glance Nesta could tell that in a desperate attempt to get out of the beast‘s way his knee must have given out. From his scrambling attempts to get back up on his feet, she knew something must have given out. 

„P-please,“ their father stammered in his futile attempt to get up,“Whatever we have done, we did so unknowingly, and—„ 

The cold fleeting thought passed her mind, that it didn‘t matter anymore. The Faerie beast would devour them all and then she wouldn‘t ever have to hate her father ever again. With a shuddering breath she pushed the ugly thought back down.

“W-w-we didn‘t kill anyone,“ to her shame, her own voice sounded no less fearful and uncertain than her father‘s. The faerie‘s glowing green eyes shifted from Feyre to their father and lastly to Nesta. She held out her shaking arm with the iron band, forcing herself to not cringe away under its eerie gaze. She desperately tried to silence the voice in her head that screamed how utterly ridiculous she was for believing a mere scrap of metal could protect her from this creature.

Iron was supposed to repel Faeries. Everybody said so…

But the wards had not kept out this Faerie either.

Suddenly Feyre dashed forward. Nesta surpressed a startled cry. What was she doing? Did she mean to attack the beast.

In response the beast raised itself higher, its earthshattering roar overshadowing the cracking wood where its antlers brook the boards of the ceiling. Feyre wisely took a few steps back, clutching something in her hands. A knife?

“Get out, and begone,“ Feyre demanded.

Nesta wanted to scream at her sister, but her voice failed her, only a whimper managed to leave her throat.

The beast lunched toward Feyre. She managed to stumble back just in time, evading the swiping claws and snapping jaws only at a hair’s breath. In retaliation she threw the knife at the beast, but the aim was off, and it swatted the useless weapon behind itself out of Feyre‘s reach. Finally Feyre retreated further back, their father grabbed his youngest pulling her down next to him. Nesta realised that the useless man might finally try to protect them now that their final hour had arrived.

“WHO KILLED HIM?“, the beast prowled closer,  shattering the broken table under its paws.

Suddenly a small desperate hope bloomed in her chest. It hadn't killed them yet and no matter how cruel and gruesome the tales made faeries out to be, there had to be a reason.

Nesta frantically raked her thoughts. Who was it talking about? Who did it think they had killed? Maybe… maybe there had been a misunderstanding… She almost could have laughed at the stupidity of her own thoughts. 

Feyre, foolishly, bravely stepped in front of the beast again.

Relief flooded Nesta, when the beast did not immediately rip her sister in shreds.

It growled low and viciously.

„The wolf.“

No. Oh no. Nesta wanted to wail. There had been no misunderstanding after all. Desperately she hoped that with the pelt gone the beast might still be convinced…

“A wolf?“

Elain‘s quiet voice startled Nesta. Her sister stared at the beast with wide eyes, her glance briefly flicking to Feyre. No, there would be no deceiving that creature. Not with the murderer it was looking for stood proudly in front of it.

“A large wolf with a gray coat,“ the beast snarled.

Bracing her shaking knees she grabbed at the rough stones behind her, pulling herself slowly upright. Elain looked up at her, fearful and confused. She grabbed at Nesta trying to pull her back. Nesta silently batted away Elain‘s feeble attempts to hold her back. Her gaze was firmly locked onto Feyre. Foolishly brave Feyre. 

Her youngest sister stood tall and straight. Betraying no outward sign of fear. She lifted her chin proudly as she spoke.

“If it was mistakenly killed what payment could we offer in exchange?“

Forcing herself to take calm and measured steps Nesta stepped up next to Feyre.

“The payment you must offer is the one demanded by the treaty between our realms.“

The beast’s eyes flickered to her, taking her measure. It seemed even more giant up close. More real. Less like a nightmare made of shades and smoke, bound to vanish come morning. There was no denying that it was made of real flesh and blood. A living breathing creature, and no less dangerous for it. It had come to hunt down the murderer of a wolf. Nesta tried not to wonder why a faerie would concern itself with the death of a mere animal. It truly didn‘t matter. The only thing that mattered now was making sure her foolish, brave sister didn‘t get herself killed for the sake of her own stupid pride. Feyre‘s eyes flickered over to Nesta. Surprise, disbelief, and behind it all a glimmer of fear in her eyes. Taking a shaking breath, brazing herself for what she had to do. Nesta pushed Feyre back. Her sister stumbled next to their father, who had finally managed to right himself on his knees if not his feet. 

„Keep her from spewing anymore nonsense, father,“ Nesta hissed.

Feyre’s surprise left her unsteady enough for their father to pull her back down next to him. Her confused eyes sought out Nesta‘s, demanding an explanation.

Nesta had no time for that. Swirling back around she faced the beast. It‘s emerald gaze focused on her, regarding her with… surprise…distaste…interest? She wasn't sure. Keeping her spine rigid and her knees locked to keep her limbs from shaking, she raised her chin.

“You break into our home in the middle of the night. What payment do we need to offer you greater than what you‘ve already taken from us?“

Nesta had finally mastered her voice, it no longer shook as it had before.

The beast let out a barking shout, almost a laugh.

“I care not for your home. Who killed the wolf?“

“I did.“ 

A gasp went through the room. Nesta wasn't sure if it had been Elain or Feyre. Like so many things it didn‘t really matter anyway. The only important thing now was for the beast to believe her lie.

The faerie lowered it head, bringing its eyes level with hers. Its emerald green gaze searching. Nesta kept her head raised, her own gaze steely.

The beast let out a low growl.

“You do not strike me as a huntress,“ it shot a glance behind her in Feyre‘s direction, „Do you think lying will protect her?“  

Nesta forced out a derisive snort into the tense silence.

“My sister is impulsive and brash. A cow stomping through the undergrowth in the woods. As much as she might style herself a huntress, that girl is useless for such work. I‘ve been trying to teach her for years.“

Sweat ran down her nape, but still Nesta‘s will held firm. Her voice didn‘t shake or trip nor did her gaze waver as she loudly proclaimed her lies.

The beast regarded her silently for what seemed to her an eternity before it finally spoke again.

“Let her speak.“

Confused, Nesta followed its movement as the beast stepped past her and stared down at her youngest sister and her father. New found terror rose inside her as she realised that the only reason Feyre hadn‘t yet destroyed Nesta‘s ruse was because their father had silenced her. He held his youngest daughter down with one arm and clasped one hand over her mouth muffling any protest she could have offered.

Hesitantly he let her go as the beast directed his green gaze at him.

“No! I did it! I killed the wolf! Nesta is lying. She is no hunter.“

Nesta‘s stomach sank into a pit. Foolishly brave, as always. She wanted to weep. Didn‘t her sister understand that she was trying to save her. To save all of them. How often had Feyre complained that Nesta didn't contribute enough. That she should marry and get out of the house. That she was just a burden on Feyre‘s back. No. Nesta wouldn‘t be a burden anymore.

She started to laugh. It was an ugly mocking laugh and it made Feyre finally shut up.

The beast cocked its head regarding her curiously.

“I don‘t know what type of payment you want, Faerie,“ Nesta spat, „but if you want blood in exchange for your wolf, then you can have her. She has always just been a mean spiteful jealous little thing. Too good to cook and clean. Too good to toil with the rest of us. Prancing through the woods and styling herself a mystical huntress out of the storybook.“

Nesta directed her gaze at Feyre, trying to ignore the hate and rage in her youngest sister‘s eyes. That was fine. She could hate Nesta all she wanted. Soon it wouldn‘t matter anymore. Nesta would be gone and Feyre could go on hating her for the rest of her life.

“Your jealous lies really know no bounds, Feyre. I cook and clean for you. I mend your clothes. I even bring you on the hunt but then you just have to botch it. You thought to bring down a wolf?,“ Nesta let out a barking laugh,“ You spooked it, and then I had to bring it down!“

The Beast took a step closer to Nesta.

„You speak the truth?“

Before Nesta could respond, her father spoke up.

“It- It is true. My youngest daughter she- she is a willful girl. Her head is filled with fanciful tales that she is always chasing…  I apologise if her lies have offended you, Master Faerie.“

The beast almost seemed to flinch away from their father. Nesta tensed, nervous that something he had said might set the beast off. But it only stepped away from her father and sister, turning back to her.

“As payment I demand a life for a life,“ Nesta couldn‘t hide her flinch as the beast‘s words confirmed what she had suspected, „Any unprovoked attacks on faerie-kind by humans are to be paid only by a human life in exchange.“

Silence fell over the cabin, the only sounds the ragged fearful breathing of their father and Elain‘s weeping.

“Most of you mortals have chosen to forget that part of the Treaty,“ the beast said.

Nesta‘s own breath started growing louder, threateningly close to turning into gasps.

“I- I- plea…,“ horrified she fell silent again as she realised that faced with her own death her speech had reverted back to panicked whimpers.

“You can die tonight or offer your life to Prythian by living in it forever, forsaking the human realm.“

“W-What?“ Live in Prythian? In her own terror, Nesta barely felt capable of following the Faerie’s speech.

“Do it, Nesta,“ her father‘s voice rooted in the moment, „Go.“

How dare he. How dare he do this now. The age old rage helped ground her. It didn‘t stave off the fear, but it reminded her to steel her spine.

She gave the beast a jerky nod. She didn‘t yet trust her voice not to shake.

“Then come,“ it commanded brusquely and turned to leave.

Nesta shot a hesitant glance back at her family. Elain sat still huddled in the back, where Nesta had left her, looking up at her with large tearfilled eyes. Feyre sat next to their father looking at her with complete disbelief and something else. Nesta wasn‘t sure. Their father one hand still clasped around Feyre‘s, not fully trusting that his daughter wouldn‘t storm forward again.

Nesta almost stepped back towards them. But a growl behind her stopped her. She turned around and stared at the beast. It stood in the ruined doorframed, backlit by the cold silvery light of the moon. In this light its golden fur and glowing green eyes had an unearthly glow to it, in all its sharp clawed viciousness cramped in their little dark cabin it had never looked as intimidating and powerful as it did now. Swallowing down her fear, Nesta raised her chin, feining an authority she did not possess.

“I wish to say goodbye. Isn‘t it customary in Prythian to allow the condemned their last word.“

The beast did not answer, except for a twitch of its ear, but it did not move either. It seemed to be waiting. Deciding to take this as permission Nesta hurried back to her family. Feyre rose to her feet next to their father, who still had not let go of her. Nesta hesitated briefly before grabbing her sister in a hug.

Feyre stiffened in her arms, before finally returning the hug.

“Nesta, why would -“

“Shshsh…,“ squeezing her sister harder, Nesta gently silenced Feyre. It wouldn‘t do now for their goodbye to ruin everything. A second body squeezed in next to them. Elain had managed to leave her place by the hearth. Nesta let go of Feyre to wrap her arms around her other sister one last time. After too brief a moment she let go and slowly stepped back. She directed her gaze down to their father who still knelt on the ground. His head was lowered his shoulders hunched. Whitehot anger sparked in Nesta‘s chest.

“Don‘t you dare do nothing again.“

Elain gave a shocked little gasp. Feyre remained silent.

Slowly their father raised his head and looked up at her.

“You can‘t do nothing. They will need you. Do you understand?“

A slow nod was her only answer. No, he not would do anything. Nesta knew. She could spent her last moment here screaming at him. He would not do anything.

„Here,“ surprised Nesta looked up. Elain held out her cloak. It was almost threadbare and its faded colour was closer to grey than the tranquil green it had been years ago. Feyre took the cloak from Elain and silently wrapped it around Nesta‘s shoulders.

Nesta squeezed Feyre‘s hand, as her sister tied the cloak at her throat. Her fingers twitched before Nesta let go. She met Elain and Feyre‘s gazes one after the other. There were so many things that had to be left unsaid. Forcing a small smile, she turned around and stepped towards the beast. Steadying her steps, keeping her back straight. Whatever hellish faerie realm this creature intended to lead her to, she would face it with her head held high and her back unbent.

Chapter Text

“Janet sits in a lonely room

Sewing a silken seam

Looking out on Carterhaugh

Among the roses green”

Tam Lin (Child 39) by Anaïs Mitchell and Jefferson Hamer

Nesta‘s room at the manor was truly lavish. Its pure white walls were trimmed with gilded etchings of golden leaves and floral ornaments. The canopied bed could have fitted her and her sister two times over without any danger of being woken by sharp elbows or cold feet in the middle of the night. The beddings were made out of soft silk and crushed velvet. Heavy curtains framed the window sill where Nesta sat hidden from the exquisite luxuries that surrounded her. Like the rooms she had been put in, she was dressed in the same rich silks and velvets. Her new silken chemise and the soft turquoise fabric of the expensive dress almost felt familiar. It reminded her of the time before the drafty cabin. 

Nesta hated it. The gilded room felt like a cage. It was all an elaborate pretty lie.

She wasn't sure yet what twisted game the faeries thought they were playing, but she would not let herself be used as their plaything. 

The glass was cool against her cheek, as she leant into the window. Closing her eyes she imagined herself back home with her sisters. The shabby little hut that had been their measly home for the last few years. She imagined Elain’s gentle voice telling her about all the new plants she intended to grow come spring. Feyre would crash through the door any minute now. Rosy cheeks flushed from the biting wind and boots crusted with ice, loudly complaining that Nesta had been slacking off, completely ignoring the fact that Nesta had stayed up the whole night to stuff the new holes in Feyre’s woolen socks. The winter had been in full swing and yet here in this weird and strange place the world wasn‘t white nor cold. It was spring. 

Slowly she opened her eyes again, shattering the flimsy illusion of home. Her gaze trailing across the pretty view out of her window. 

She regarded the green hetches lining the vast garden, the trees of the wild forest beyond. All of it green. Leaves on every branch and twig, every flower in full bloom. There was a large section filled with only the reddest of roses just underneath her window. It was truly beautiful. 

Nesta thought of all the sharp thorns hidden underneath all those pretty red flowers and dark leaves. This place was like those rose bushes, pretty to look at with danger lurking underneath. All this beauty, just like her pretty room and her pretty new dress, all of it a lie.

Between the vast green of the garden small paths lay between the hetches and under the shade of the trees, on them passed many strange figures. 

Faeries. 

Nesta suppressed the shudder passing through her.

Since her arrival she had seen many of the strange terrifying creatures. All of them were wearing strange animalistic masks in a seemingly vain attempt to hide their even stranger features behind a carved one. Grotesque visages lined in fur, feathers and scales. Claws on human hands and sharp fangs hidden behind red lips. Slithed pupils in an otherwise ordinary face. Vines sprouting from heads like hair.

She thought of the woman who had been introduced to her as Alis and who had brought her to her new cage. Her dark skin had at first glance almost looked human, but at a closer look Nesta had been horrified to realise that hidden behind her wooden birdmask Alis had no human skin at all. Her skin was made of tree bark.

It had taken all of Nesta‘s willpower to not show the horror she felt every time she looked at one of the countless faeries who scurried through the manor.

Nesta hadn‘t really been prepared for any of this. She hadn‘t had time to be prepared. When she had faced the beastly Faerie in her home, she hadn‘t expected to live. After being told the payment for the wolf‘s life was going to be her life spent here in Prythian, she hadn‘t really known what to think. 

The journey had been a daze. Nesta remembered the placid white mare, the strange way the cold had stopped biting into her flesh, the eerie way her body always kept righting itself when she risked drowsing of in the saddle. Her nails bit into her arms as she hugged herself. 

She hated the thought that the faerie‘s strange magic had touched her. Had it put her in a trance? Made her tired and docile? She couldn‘t be sure that even now her mind wasn‘t completely her own. There were stories about faeries ensorcelling humans, making them see and feel things that were not real. 

Nesta gritted her teeth until her jaw hurt, digging her nails deeper into her flesh. She relished the pain. It was reassuring. As long as she could feel this type of pain her mind had to still be her own.

Hatred coiled in her chest like a venomous snake. She would not give these faeries her mind. The hatred slowly simmered, boiling over into rage as she remembered the faerie‘s pretty face. Another lie. For a creature supposedly unable to speak lies, it seemed quite capable of dealing in unspoken ones.

She had been truly shocked when the feral creature, who had ripped apart her home and stolen her from her family, had led her through the entrance of this manor filled with lavish luxuries more extravagant than anything she could imagine even surpassing the splendour of her childhood. The beast had brought her to a dining hall, the table laden with food and drink. The smell had been mouth watering.

Then the beast had turned into a man. 

Nesta scoffed at the thought. A man? No, it still was just a faerie. The beast had taken a pretty guise, she could give it that, but she knew that underneath that handsome face and sunkissed skin the beast still lurked. She had still been able to recognize it in the golden colour of its hair the same shade as its fur, the shine of its emerald green eyes hidden underneath a gaudy golden mask had been identical to those of the beast.

A pretty face didn‘t matter. Nesta knew, had always known, that a beast was still a beast.

She had almost laughed in its face when it had attempted to invite her to sit at its table. Share its faerie food and faerie wine. She knew that if she wanted to live she eventually had to give in and eat its food. That first night, however, her pride had not allowed her to give in so quickly.

Fortunately exhaustion had slowed any brusque response on her part long enough to remind herself of caution. It would not do to be rude to her faerie… host. Captor was more like it. But Nesta was on unfamiliar ground. She did not intend to roll over for any faerie, but neither was she keen on sparking any rage in them either.

She remembered stories telling of the faeries' love for courtesy. Nesta knew courtesy. She had spent enough painful lessons with her mother and grandmother not to. If the faerie wanted to see manners she could perform to them to perfection.

So instead of laughing in its face or spitting any of the many hateful things that lay ready on her tongue, she had curtsied in front of the beast in its mannish form. She had politely declined the seat at the table and the food and asked instead to be allowed to rest and freshen up from the journey.

Nesta had spoken as if she was a proper lady who was on a visit at a noble lord‘s estate, not the prisoner trapped in a faerie lair she truly was.

This tactic had worked surprisingly well. The beast looked almost stumped by her pretty words. Maybe it hadn‘t expected the dirty peasant girl to possess such manners. Maybe it just hadn‘t thought a human capable of playing its own game.

It had only given her a stiff nod and promptly called for Alis, who had brought her to this pretty cage. She and three other faeries, all more grotesque than the last, had drawn a warm bath for her in a great porcelain tub, fine enough to cost as much as ten shabby huts. Nesta had borne all of it with as much quiet dignity as she could muster, resolutely refusing to acknowledge any of the terrifying  strangeness surrounding her. She had mostly managed. 

Nesta cringed as she remembered one of the faerie‘s spindly eight fingered hands with too many joints holding bending them in unnatural shapes. She had held out a warmed towel to dry her off after her bath. Nesta had almost forgotten herself then. She had imagined those grueling fingers rubbing the cloth across her skin. Unable to imagine anything other than spiders on her body. She had sharply janked the towel from the faerie‘s grip. Her courtesy only went so far.

Afterwards Alis had laid out the new chemise and dress she wore now. For just a moment Nesta had felt the wild impulse to demand her old clothing back. She had managed to quash that instinct. It didn‘t matter what she wore. 

She would dress herself in courtesy, wear it like armor and hide behind it. She would have to become just another pretty lie in a house filled with pretty lies. The faeries seemed to be fond of such things.

The only thing she regretted not asking for was her old green cloak. It had barely kept her warm in the winter snow, but she still missed the ragged thing. It made her think of Elain‘s sad smile as she held it out to her, of Feyre‘s clammy hands at her throat tying it closed.

Judging by the sun hanging low over the tree tops, Nesta expected Alis to come fetch her any moment now. The bark-skinned faerie had warned her that her lord expected her to join him for dinner now that she had had her rest. Nesta could only assume that Alis‘ lord must be the beast. It seemed that it would get its wish after all. 

Even though they had had a rare filling stew of venison the night before the beast had come, Nesta had not eaten for more than a day by now. Or so she assumed. She was still not quite sure how long the journey had been… No matter that now. 

Nesta knew that it would not serve her to go on a hunger strike now. Whatever forgotten part of the Treaty the faerie had used as justification for stealing her from her family, she could only assume that the same magic bound her to its realm now as eating its food would. No matter how prideful others thought Nesta to be, she knew when she faced a hopeless battle. No. She knew starving herself for the desperate hope that she might be able to return back to the other side of the wall was senseless. Afterall, a hateful voice whispered inside her mind, your family doesn‘t need you anyway. Feyre can hunt and Elain will grow her garden. What would she be other than another burden? Just like her father.

The soft click of the door broke her out of her musing. Carefully Nesta peaked out behind the thick window curtains. Alis stood at the door. The way her skin stretched across her features, shifting as her mouth pulled down in a slight frown didn‘t seem to match its rigid treebark appearance.

“I would have thought the bed a better resting place than the window sill.“

Nesta carefully dropped her feet to the ground, stepping out into the open with as much composed dignity she could feign, while being caught hiding behind the curtains like a sulking child. Slowly she ran her hands over the front of her flowy skirt, trying to get rid of any wrinkles.

Alis‘ critical gaze followed each of her careful movements. Nesta raised her chin, staring back at the faerie, a challenge in her eyes. Alis only opened the door wider and inclined her head.

“My Lord awaits you for dinner.“

The air inside the dining room was thick with tension. Nesta stood in the door next to Alis, stiffly regarding the Faeries sitting at the table with a steely gaze. The Beast had company this time. Vaguely she remembered that last time she had been here, the table had been set for three people as well.

The low conversation the beast had been having with its companion came to a halting end. Both of them looked up at her, they almost looked surprised to see her standing there. It seemed just like a capricious faerie to summon their new pet human one moment just to forget about it an instant later.

Nesta steeled her spine and lifted her chin in challenge as the faeries continued to look at her silently. Hadn‘t she known better she would have thought they almost looked like a set of young boys caught during some mischief and about to be scolded by their mother.

As the awkward silence went on, for one heartbeat, two heart beats. Alis started to awkwardly shuffle next to her. Nesta kept her cold expected gaze unwaveringly on the blonde faerie sitting at the head of the table, not even allowing herself to glance toward the other one sitting at his right. If he wants to style himself a lord, Nesta thought grimly, let him act like it.

Someone cleared their throat, it had to have been the other one, because the target of her stare had barely a muscle twitched… until finally he dropped his gaze down onto his empty plate.

Triumphend, Nesta took one graceful step into the room, finally allowing Alis to close the door behind her.

Nesta gave polite curtsey appropriate for a formal dinner before righting herself again.

“I apologize. I know not the customs among faeries, but among humans it is customary for gentlemen to rise when a lady enters the room.“

She kept her voice calm and steady. Keeping any of her prior satisfaction she had felt at her tiny victory out of both face and voice.

“Well, damn me. You said she was a huntress living in a dingy hut! You‘re sure you didn‘t pick this one up in some fancy palace.“

Irritation flicked through Nesta. Her eyes finally landed on the new faerie who had just spoken.

She was glad to see him sport no gruesome visage or an unnatural amount of appendages. His long fiery red hair was bound at his nape, his skin was a deep warm earth tone, and one of his eyes was a deep russet colour the other an unsettling golden colour. The upper half of his face lay hidden behind a silvery fox-shaped mask. His shape seemed almost mundane in comparison to the strangeness in the other faeries Nesta had seen so far. But of course, she warned herself, all appearances here were just elaborate lies.

“I‘m sorry to say that we have yet to be introduced, sir,“ Nesta said icily, her tone making it very clear that she was not sorry at all. She turned back to the silent beast sulking in its chair.

“In fact, neither have we. Other than Alis calling you her lord, you have yet to make any introduction, sir.“

There was something deeply satisfying about calling this self-proclaimed faerie lord by a lesser title. It might have been a deeply childish impulse, but Nesta didn‘t expect many pleasures to come her way, so she would relish this short-lived joy.

The red-haired faerie scoffed, before grabbing his golden cup and chucking down his drink. The blond faerie threw a short glance at his red-haired companion, before slowly pushing back his chair and standing up.

Nesta let out a soft breath, the faerie was tall and broadly built, looming over her in a way that she had always made her assume caution in a human man. She wasn‘t sure how much physical strength the faeries showed in their appearances, nonetheless she felt a cold spike of fear rush through her. Despite this she forced herself to stay standing straight, refusing to cede this man, no, the beast, as she had to remind herself, any ground.

He lowered his head briefly in her direction, an awkward imitation of a bow.

“You can call me Tamlin and this is Lucien.“

Well, Nesta thought, that was not quite how introductions were usually handled. Despite Alis calling him lord he gave her no titles for himself nor for the faerie at his side. She wasn‘t sure how lordship was normally handled among faeriekind, but she remembered some vague tales about the most powerful among them, the High Fae, who had a beautiful and deadly guise. Alis had referred to him as lord. So, Nesta had assumed him to be one of these High Fae.

But his uncertain conduct and simple speech almost made her believe she was the noble lady of the manor and he the interloper.

With a deep sigh, Lucien got up from his chair as well, measuring her with a distasteful stare.

“We do not follow the petty customs of human propriety here, my lady,“ the ironic tone on those last two words was unmistakable, „Neither do we make it a habit to wait on murderers at the dinner table.“

„Behave, Lucien.“

There was a warning edge laced in Tamlin‘s voice. It left no doubt that despite any of the red-haired irreverent prior remarks the beast held authority in this place.

He waved his broad hand at the third empty seat.

“Sit and eat.“

He spoke the words with simple authority clearly expecting to be obeyed. After a small pause Nesta wordlessly sat down. 

After another awkward pause between the three unwilling dinner companions, Tamlin started putting a serving on his own plate. Lucien promptly followed suit and started heaping a portion of various steaming dishes onto his golden plate.

Nesta watched both of them closely as they started to eat. They didn‘t eat slobberly nor did they devour their food like feral animals, but neither did they follow any of the stiff and formal table manners that had been drilled into Nesta. 

She thought back to the brief instance before they had looked up at her when she had entered the room. The way they leaned their head together, slouching in their chair. Observing them now in the tense silence, she realised that they must be friends. It felt strange to think of the cruel bloodthirsty faeries to have friends, but Nesta supposed that in the end some parts of the old stories were bound to be exaggerations. Why not have friends among your own kind? Even the most vicious wolves preferred to run in packs.

A prickling in her neck alerted her that the beast had paused and was watching her again. Nesta silently cursed his need to wear that gaudy mask, despite only covering the upper half of his face. It made it so much harder to gauge what he was thinking. And if there was one thing Nesta knew was important to know when facing a vicious predator then it was to always know what they were thinking. It didn‘t matter if it was a wild animal, a brutish man or a beastly faerie. When you knew their thoughts it allowed you to predict their next strike.

Maybe this was why the faeries wore these masks? To better play their game of lies.

“The food is safe for you to eat,“ Tamlin said quietly.

Nesta forced herself to lower her gaze to the many plates filled with food laid out before her. Steeling her resolve and reminding herself of her prior decision to eat, she carefully took a piece of the closest dish. 

The rest of the dinner passed on in further tense silence. A few times Lucien muttered something low under his breath, but promptly fell silent again when his friend shot him a stern glance. Nesta spent her time carefully picking at her food. It was a piece of mouton pie filled with boiled vegetables and flavourful gravy. She could appreciate none of it. Each bite felt like a new chain around her throat. Still she forced herself to go on taking a couple small sips from the drink in her cup.

Finally as half of her piece was gone and she could force down nothing more, she put down her golden fork. She cleared her throat before she spoke in as measured a tone she could muster.

“I would like to retire back to my room now if I am permitted.“

The red-haired faerie bared his teeth in an ironic grin. 

“Well isn’t she going to liven up the place?“

Narrowing his strange two coloured gaze at her, the golden eye twitching unsettingly behind the silver fox mask. He hissed with a shocking amount of venom, „Did you enjoy killing my friend?“

Nesta had to bite back the retort that she had killed no one, reminding herself of the wolf. She had hunted and killed the wolf, she told herself. She could not allow herself to forget her own lie. Feyre’s life depended on it.

“You slaughtered him in cold blood with hatred in your heart. You butchered his corpse and sold the remains in the market. And now you think you can play the noble lady in our midst?“

“Lucien, don‘t,“ the beast spoke again.

After throwing a petulant scowl in his direction, Lucien grabbed his golden goblet and raised it in her direction.

“Apologies, my lady. This is the second time I forgot myself. As you have already noticed we have been quite remiss in our manners.“

Lucien hardly tried to hide the lack of sincerity in his words. His eyes barely contained the burning resentment with which he regarded her across the rim of his goblet.

„Alis will lead you back to your room,“ Tamlin addressed her in a quiet voice.

„Is that going to be it then,“ Nesta snapped, „I‘m to be led out for your nightly dinner entertainment? A dog being put back into its kennel once it's done performing tricks?“

Lucien choked on his wine. But Tamlin only frowned slightly.

“No, the Treaty demands you live your life here in Prythian. Nothing more“

She creased her brow in confusion.

“Then what am I to do here?“

“Do whatever you want. You‘re no servant. You‘re free to go and do as you please, so long as you remain on this side of the wall.“

Nesta studied his expression, trying to discern the truth hidden behind those words. Allowing her to just roam free had to be just another pretty lie.

“Then why bring me here at all?“

He crooked his head slightly, the action appearing strangely animalistic, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded her.

“The rules of the Treaty demand a life for a life. Mortal memory might be fickle but Fae do not forget so easily.“

If the stories of faeries being bound by promises and bargains were true, she contemplated, maybe the Treaty bound them as well. Was that the reason he didn‘t care what she did or where she went? Was he merely fulfilling an ancient law because he had to? It didn‘t quite make sense to Nesta. Why bring her to this lavish house? Give her a room and new clothes? Order her to dine with them? No. There had to be something else. If the faerie had merely obeyed the Treaty he could have just dumped her on this side of the wall, no need to bring her here.

“I can leave then? You would just let me walk out?“

Something flickered in the his green eyes, no, he really didn‘t want her to leave. Then why tell her she could?

“You can go anywhere in Prythian,“ he repeated, caution in his voice, „but I will warn you that the forest is dangerous. There are many beasts who roam this land.“

“As opposed to here, where only one beast roams the halls, you mean?“

A muscle twitched in his jaw.

“I can only guarantee your safety in the manor and the surrounding garden. That‘s what I meant,“ a low growl had entered his voice, reminding Nesta of the beast lurking somewhere underneath his skin.

„If you decide to wander farther out you do so at your own risk“

Nesta slowly got to her feet and stepped away from the table.

Giving a dignified little bow of the head.

“You said that Alis would show me back to my room.“

After a moment of brief hesitation, he nodded his assent. The door creaked open  and Alis stepped in. She gave a small curtsey in Tamlin‘s direction before she ushered Nesta out of the dining room.

Just before the door fell back shut behind them, Nesta could hear Lucien let out a bitter laugh.

“I guess it will at least be entertaining to watch you try to charm that one while we wait to meet our end.“

Chapter Text

“And she's all dressed in black

When a thought comes to her head she'd run into the wood”

Tam Lin by Frankie Armstrong 

Nesta lay awake long before Alis came to bring her her breakfast. Curled on her side the warm blankets wrapped tightly around her she lay with her back to the window, staring at the carved wooden door. She had barely managed to sleep. Every time the soft mattress and cosy warmth of the bed threatened to lull her into sleep she had shortly afterwards been started awake by the sound of the wind rushing past her window or the muffled sound of feet scurrying through the halls.

When the low light of early morning finally started to brighten the room, she had almost sighed with relief. It was probably a silly childish idea, but the day brought a certain sense of safety. Nesta didn‘t think the faeries would pause to rip her out her throat just because there was daylight. Nevertheless she felt comforted that at least she would be able to see it coming. 

The white walls were starting to lose the rosy colouring that came with the light of early dawn when Alis finally entered her room.

Nesta sat up in her bed as the faerie pushed the door closed again with her hips. In her hands she carried a plate filled to the brim with pastries and a tea kettle and cup. Putting her burden down on the small round table in the middle of the room, she turned around and mustered Nesta with a critical gaze.

Self-consciously Nesta straightened her posture and ran her hands over the covers on her lap. 

„I‘ve brought you breakfast.“ 

Giving a short nod, Nesta got up and stepped up next to Alis. She was surprised to see Alis wear the same wooden birdmask she had worn yesterday. Did faeries never take off these masks?

Something about the look in the faerie‘s dark eyes set her off balance. Nesta didn‘t think it was her strange skin that disturbed her anymore. In fact looking at Alis now, the warm morning light on her dark skin, she didn‘t appear as strange as she had seemed the day before. There was something comforting about looking at the woman and being immediately able to tell what she was. There was no pretense in her appearance. Nesta thought of the faerie lord and his red-haired lackey. Tamlin and Lucien wore their beautiful faces like a veil. Hiding all the faerie strangeness and beastly malice underneath a guise seemingly designed to appeal to a human sense of beauty.

In that regard Nesta much preferred Alis and her barked skin. Even the eight fingered faerie from the day before seemed preferable.

No. What set her off now was the look in Alis‘ eyes, the way her mouth pulled into a slight frown as she looked Nesta up and down. It reminded her of her mother. Of her grandmother. Of hours spent standing in front of the mirror, having all her flaws being laid out. It had been years since she last had to endure that torture, but being under the scruteny of another woman‘s stern gaze, even a faerie‘s, brought these memories back to her.

“You‘re a skinny thing aren‘t you?“

The girl is too thin and her shoulders are too broad. You better stuff the corset or she is going to look like a scrawny boy in that dress. The echo of her grandmother‘s harsh voice sounded in the back of Nesta‘s mind.

“Here sit down and eat,“ Alis pulled out the stool next to the table, „I‘ve brought you some of everything, I wasn't sure what you would like.“

Nesta sat down and regarded the veritable mountain of pastries and small cakes in front of her. Alis carefully poured out tea into her cup, before turning around and marching to the bed. Throwing a look back over her shoulder she watched as Alis started shaking out the pillows and covers.

“I want to go out today,“ she announced, her voice filled with tension. Anxious to find out how much truth there had been in Tamlin‘s claim that she was free to go where she wished.

Alis paused for a moment, looking up from her work. 

„Today is rather chilly.“

Lifting her chin stubbornly, Nesta answered, „I was told I was allowed to go where I wished.“

Alis nodded slowly.

“You‘re a guest here, my lady. If you wish to walk the gardens I will lay out a warm walking dress and a coat“ 

Slightly taken aback by Alis‘ quick assent to her wish, Nesta nodded shortly before turning back to her mountain of food. She picked out a small cake from the plate and took a careful bite. It was utterly divine. Suppressing a groan of appreciation, Nesta ate the rest of the cake indecently fast. After eating nothing for almost an entire day and then only picking at her food at dinner she had barely realised how hungry she truly was. 

She took a careful sip from her cup. The steaming tea was almost too hot to drink.

Nesta had just finished her third pastry when Alis started laying out the clothing on the freshly made bed. Tentatively she stepped up next to the faerie woman and looked down at the new outfit.

Alis had, as promised, chosen a warm dress of finely spun pure black wool. It had been years since Nesta had seen any fabric dyed such a perfect dark colour. It made her remember the expensive overcoat her father used to wear before he ran their family into ruin. Black with gold and silver trim, perls set in his collar. It had been one of the first pieces of clothing they had sold.

A creme coloured underdress made of flowy silk was laid out next to the black dress. Alis shook out a matching black coat and picked out a golden brooch for a closure. Lastly she set down a pair of slim finely made leather boots in front of the dress.

After the faerie helped dress her, Nesta let her sit her back down and comb out her hair.

The brush running over her scalp and down her length of her hair felt oddly soothing. Once Alis was done with brushing she bound the hair up in a simple, but elegant knot at her nape.

At the door, Alis helped Nesta slip into the coat. For a brief moment Nesta couldn‘t help but think of her green cloak again. She didn‘t know what the faerie had done with it. Most likely they had turned it into rags. She tried to ignore the sting in her chest as the thought crossed her mind.

Walking between the green hedges breathing in the cool spring air, the large manor house at her back, Nesta felt she was walking through a dream. Those first years of poverty in the small hut she had spent many nights fantasising of going back to their estates. Of walking through a well maintained garden, freshly cut hedges lining colourful flower beds and a finely carved water fountain.

In truth the faerie‘s garden did not quite fit those memories. The hedges weren‘t as neatly trimmed, nor did the paths follow any discernable plan. No path ran straight, nor did any of the plants or trees grow in an orderly row. There was a wildness, a purposeful chaos to everything.

For the most part Nesta had managed to avoid running in any of the faeries walking through the garden. The few times her path had crossed with one of theirs she had given them a stiff nod and quickly walked on.

High childish laughter broke through the tranquillity of her thoughts. She briefly surveyed the empty path around her before stepping up to the tall thorny hedge to her left. A giggle followed by the highpitched outcry of tiny voices could be heard from beyond. Stepping up on her tiptoes, careful not to catch her skirts in the thorns, she peaked across the hedge. 

Three little children were playing in the green grass on the other side. A small girl, if she had been human Nesta would have guessed her to be five maybe six years old, was throwing twigs and leaves at a slightly older boy. Her little face scrunched up in delight as the boy loudly and shrilly cried out his protests. Laughingly making half-hearted attempts to grab her. Both children had tiny stubby horns parting the curly hair at their temples. The third child, another girl, maybe ten based on Nesta‘s guess, was hunting a tiny golden brown butterfly across the grass. Her eyes, an eerie pupilless black, dark claws flashed out every time she slashed through the air in pursuit of her prey.

Careful not to alert the faerie children‘s attention, Nesta took a step back away from the hedge. Despite their clearly visible inhuman features, it was hard to reconcile the image of children at play with the dangerous cruelty faeries exemplified in the stories.

Nesta thought of Alis and her soft fingers running through her hair. Maybe those tales the humans told about faeries only applied to the High Fae. It wouldn‘t surprise her if even among Faeries the worst of their kind were found among their lords and rulers. It was a strange thought. To think that the humans had shared only the worst tales about their former masters, to the point that one day only the cruelty they inflicted could be remembered. Forgetting that there might have been some among the lower Faerie ranks who did not deserve this reputation. 

She followed the winding path back to the manor past the rose hedges. In measured steps she walked up the marble steps to the entrance. Two sentries stood on either side of the large wooden doors. They stood almost completely still, their cloaks and long braided hair's light movement in the soft spring breeze was the only motion breaking up the stillness of their forms. Like Tamlin and Lucien they showed no inhuman features outside their startling beauty behind their carved masks. However, as Nesta walked past them back inside the manor, she felt their hard gazes trail her inside. A chill ran down her spine.

Just as she took the first steps up the grand staircase at the back of the hall, an amused voice called out to her from above.

“Well, aren‘t you a bother?“

Nesta’s gaze trailed up the stairs to the landing above her. Lucien stood leaning against the railing. His silver mask reflected the flickering candlelight of the large chandelier hanging high above.

She forced her face to remain as calm as possible. A twitch at her jaw, however, made sure to betray her inability to fully mask her annoyance at the red-haired faerie’s unwelcome presence. She had hoped to avoid both Tamlin and Lucien at least until dinner.

“I have just now spent the better part of an hour convincing Tam to offer you a tour of the gardens,“ Lucien prattled on conversationally. “But what do I see as soon as I look out the window? You. In the gardens.“

He sighed dramatically.

“So? What do you have to say for yourself?“

“I am allowed to go where I wish, am I not,“ Nesta responded stiffly.

"Well, of course. But Tam‘s already going to have a hard time trying to charm your cold heart, so what is the poor male going to do now?“

Lucien‘s smug grin grated at her nerves. She really had hoped not to deal with any of the High Fae until later.

“I do not see what part of the Treaty requires your lord to attempt to charm me.“

To her frustration Lucien‘s grin only widened at her retort.

“I supposed you wouldn‘t know anything about that.“

„If there is anything I am supposed to know you can tell your lord that he can tell me himself.“

Taking a decisive step past Lucien she bit back at him.

“I will not let myself be mocked by his dog.“

A flash of anger passed through his eyes. For a brief moment Nesta feared she had pushed too far. But Lucien took a step back from the railing and swept in a short formal bow.

“I‘m afraid I must apologize again, my lady.“

She coldly regarded him for another second before turning away again, starting to walk up the steps.

“I am truly sorry.“

Glancing back down, Nesta saw Lucien still standing where she had left him. He looked… almost ashamed. His two coloured gaze lowered to the floor, the mask throwing odd shadows across his face.

“He was my friend, you know,” Lucien said quietly. „Andras. He… It‘s not easy to mourn and to have to welcome you at the same time.“

Turning slowly back, Nesta took the few steps back down onto the landing. 

„Andras was the wolf?“

Lucien nodded jerkingly, throwing a short glance in her direction, before turning fully towards the railing. He leaned his elbows across it, staring idly at the flickering flames burning on the chandelier.

„I know what you humans think like. You thought he was just a wild beast when you brought him down. A faerie beast mayhaps, but still a dumb animal.”

Nesta remained silent as Lucien spoke, true honest grief colouring his voice.

“He was no true wolf. Not an animal. Andras was Fae. He was a sentinel. A good warrior and an even better friend. He…“

Lucien trailed off. He turned his face back to her regarding her solemnly.

“He should not have had to die. Not for you. Not for anyone.“

For her? 

A dark foreboding feeling rose low in her gut. First the uncertain terms of the Treaty. Now Lucien saying that the wolf… that Andras had died for her? Before when he had mocked her he had spoken of Tamlin attempting to charm her…

No matter what they had said last time. Nesta knew that they wanted something more from her than just her life spent in Prythian. She just had no idea what.

Trying to order her thoughts she pushed back the spike of fear that came with the uncertainty. If she did not know what the faeries wanted her for she would just have to find out.

Lucien‘s gaze trailed back to the flames flickering up ahead.

Taking a short breath Nesta made her first move.

“You‘re right, „ she said softly. „I didn‘t think of him as much more than a beast.“

Lucien‘s eyes flickered back to her.

“I didn‘t at the time… but that is no excuse. I am truly sorry for his death and the grief it has caused.“ 

Nesta was surprised to realise that her words were genuine.

„But you must know that I did not intend to come here. If you hate me for your friend‘s death then I cannot fault you for that. But my presence here is against my will. It was your lord who brought me here.“

Lucien gave her a crooked smile in response. It was much more pleasant than his previous ones, now that it held no mockery.

„Tam did not have much more of a choice in you being here than any of the rest of us.“

Nesta frowned at that. She had already considered the thought that the faeries might just be following a magical compulsion set into the Treaty. However, there was clearly more to all of this. Watching Lucien, taking in his relaxed posture, he seemed much more approachable than she would ever have expected a High Fae to be, Nesta decided to dare a straight forward question.

“Why am I here?“

Lucien chuckled softly at that.

“The Treaty, of course. A life for a life.“

“Stop with the half-truths. Why am I truly here? Why do you say that Tamlin had no choice in the matter?“

Lucien broke into an even wider smile, there was a glint in his russet coloured eye that hadn‘t been there before. 

„Those are good questions,“ he said slowly, an odd tone to his voice. „I‘m afraid I can not give you the answers, though.“

“Cannot or will not?“

Lucien stayed silent, but continued to regard her with the same strange glint in his eye.

“Would Tamlin be able to answer my questions?“

„I cannot say.“

Nesta‘s frown deepened. Did he mean that he didn‘t know, or that he couldn‘t answer the question. She couldn‘t be sure. Lucien continued to watch her like a fox watching a particularly fat mouse. A shudder ran down her back.

“There are lesser Fae who can answer questions… any question.“

Nesta straightened at that.

“Lesser Fae?“

“There are some among us who are like me and Tam and then there are others who must have more… varied appearances. Those are called Lesser Fae.“

Nesta thought of Alis and the little faerie children playing outside. The strange features that must mark them as lesser.

“You are not …lesser Fae.“ 

Nesta did not like the implication that came with that name. She thought of the stories about powerful gruesome Faerie lords. Of the High Fae. What kind of rulers must they be to refer to some of their own kind as lesser.

„No,“ Lucien affirmed simply.

Reluctantly she forced herself to focus on the other information he had offered her.

“And some of them can answer my question?“

“All Fae have magic, but High Fae and Lesser Fae‘s magic differ greatly. High Fae are born to great power, but the powers of Lesser Fae are more… specific.“

Lucien idly ran his finger across the railing as he spoke, his golden eye twitching unnaturally in its socket. Looking at him now, Nesta realised that underneath the mask a long red scar ran across his eye.

“They all have a natural affinity. Some can mend every tear and rip in your clothing. Others carry the compulsion to clean everything in sight. Some lure mortals to a watery grave. And some grant answers to any question you might ask if you trap them.“

Nesta took in those words. A faerie that answered any question?

“I take it that one of those is of some interest to you?“

At the coy question her annoyance at the red-haired faerie came rushing back. She did not appreciate being toyed with.

“You know that the last one interests me. That is why you said it.“

Nesta made no pretense at hiding the bite in her voice.

“What do you mean by trapping them? What would I have to do to ask them my questions?“

„They are called the Suriel,“ he said tightly. „They are very old and very wicked. They are very rarely worth the risk to find and trap. Most are not foolish nor brave enough to try. But I suppose if someone were to manage it, it would have to be a very skilled hunter.“

After a small pause he added, „Or huntress.“

Nesta almost laughed at that. He thought she had stalked and killed his friend. If only he knew that when Andras had died, she had sat in the little cabin, trying to sew the soles back onto her worn out boots. A skilled huntress indeed.

Lucien gave her another short bow.

“I‘ve been taking enough of your time. I‘m sure you wish to rest again before you have to face us again at dinner. I would suggest however that you not mention the Suriel to Tamlin tonight. He might very well try to skin me if he knew I told you off it.“

The mocking lilt was back in his voice, but surprisingly Nesta didn‘t mind it quite as much this time. 

Lucien turned his back to her and swiftly took the steps down the stairs. Her eyes followed his broad back as it vanished through the entrance outside. Contemplating his words. Even if the information about the Suriel was useless to her, she had learnt something new. There was something that Lucien wasn‘t allowed to tell her. Something he did seem to want her to figure out.

Was it Tamlin who had ordered him to silence? Did he not want her to find these answers? She couldn‘t be sure.

She brisquely walked back to her room. Whatever had compelled the faeries to bring her here, she was determined to find out. As long as she was in the dark about whatever was going on she was vulnerable to their games.

For dinner Alis had laid out another velvet silk dress, this time a deep blue colour.

Nesta had reluctantly allowed her to take off the comfortable black woolen dress. While the dark walking dress had been no less finely made then the velvet one, something about the sturdiness of the fabric and the warmer high collar had felt oddly familiar, compared to the lightness of the flowy skirt and wider open neckline of the blue dress.

Nesta reminded herself of her resolve to be the lady. She might have played the role less perfectly during her run-in with Lucien this afternoon, but she did not intend to slip up this badly during dinner. Besides, she had still managed to gauge some valuable information from that encounter.

As the night before, Tamlin and Lucien were engaged in a hushed conversation that promptly fell silent when Nesta entered the room. This time, however, both of them got their feet as she stepped up to the table. Offering a graceful curtsey in exchange Nesta took her seat at the table.

She took note of the fact that both of her dinner companions waited for her to sit before taking their own seat.

It seemed that despite their prior night's behaviour they did seem to know at least some of the manners popular among polite human societies. Or faerie courtesies didn‘t differ as much from human ones as they had claimed.

Lucien threw a sideways look at Tamlin. Following his glance Nesta watched the blonde faerie let out a short breath, before getting back onto his feet. Confused and increasingly concerned, she watched as he stepped closer to her along the table.

She sat stiffly in her chair as he started to serve her.

Her eyes tracked each of his movements, her body tense. Nesta did not like him standing this close to her. She barely even registered what he was putting on her plate.

“You might recall, my lord, that the previous night I was perfectly capable of serving myself.”

There was no hiding the biting tone in her voice.

“It is considered an honour to be served by a High Fae,” he spoke roughly.

Nesta threw him a venomous glare.

“Then you can go back to your seat, knowing that I have been honoured enough.”

Tamlin paused next to her. He threw her sidelong glance before straightening and stalking back to this seat on the far side of the table.

The tense silence was disrupted by Lucien.

“I told you so Tam,” his voice was filled with barely contained laughter. “Your skills with females have most definitely become rusty in the last few decades.” 

Nesta thought back to Lucien‘s earlier remark about Tamlin trying to charm her. She still did not comprehend what purpose this could possibly serve. However, if this had been his attempt at charm she preferred he never try again.

Tamlin did not deign to respond to Lucien‘s mocking comment, instead deciding to serve himself.

They began eating in halting silence.

Well, Nesta thought, this seemed to be quickly becoming a nightly occurrence. She didn‘t particularly mind. Already being forced to take part in this sham of a dinner, she much preferred not having to engage with the faerie men as well.

Unfortunately,Tamlin seemed not to have exhausted his awkward attempts at charm quite yet.

“The blue dress is… nice.”

Nesta almost snorted at that. Her dress was nice? 

She carefully put her fork down. Regarding the blond faerie cooly across the table she spoke in a measured tone.

“As I've only arrived with very little, you must direct any compliments to my wardrobe to your own household staff. I myself had very little to do with it.”

Lucien muffled an amused snicker in his wine goblet.

Tamlin just gave her a stiff nod in response followed by a quiet, ”I see.”

Another halting pause passed between them.

“As entertaining as it must surely be for you to throw your witty jabs at us,“ Lucien spoke, ignoring the low growl Tamlin let out at those words. Nesta felt a new spike of fresh fear crawl up her back. Every time she only had a brief moment in which she was lulled into a vague sense of safety, a sobering reminder struck her that she sat across the table from a beast. It would do her well not to forget it.

“But I do wonder: You‘re a human woman. According to Tam, he found you in a ramshackle drafty little hut, only wearing rags.”

Nesta scoffed at that. Rags? Her clothes had been worn and mended thrice over, but they had been well-kept and far from being rags.

Lucien‘s face widened into a toothy grin at her visible disdain.

“Here you've been dressed in nice blue dresses, given a warm bed, fed plenty of food. There are fates much worse than this life.”

“You think after destroying my family's home and forcing me here, I should be grateful? Fall on my knees and kiss all your feet?” 

Before Lucien could respond, Tamlin interjected, “No. There is no need for you to grovel.”

Sharply Nesta wiped her head around, staring straight at the beast. He returned her hard stare frankly with his own green gaze.

“Your family is well-taken care of. I did not intend to cause any more harm than required.”

“What does being taken care of mean?”

Her sharp question did a poor job of masking her concern. She had thought that going with the beast meant her family had been left alone. If he meant to say that despite all this they were still being set upon by…

“I ensured that they were well compensated for your loss,” he added at her panicked expression. “I did not wish them to starve because I took away a pair of working hands. Nor freeze because of my …way of entry.”

Nesta calmed herself, straightening her spine and raising her chin.

“They are safe? You swear it?”

“I do,” he let out a low laugh. “On everything I am and possess." 

Carefully she allowed her stiff body to relax slightly.

Lucien who had silently followed the interaction finally spoke musingly. 

“You really do have a low opinion on Fae?”

Nesta did not deign that stupid question with an answer. Instead she directed another question at Tamlin.

“Why?”

He answered without hesitation, immediately comprehending her simple question.

“I do not like causing harm. I've had enough of needless suffering and senseless deaths. I'm tired of it.”

Nesta broke away from his green stare. An uncomfortable sensation sitting low in her stomach. She did not like thinking how the person in front of her and this sincere regret in his voice had been the same beast freezing her blood in terror only two nights ago.

She stood up, giving both men a small polite nod.

“I wish to return to my room now.”

Late that night, Nesta sat in the window again. The curtains were fully drawn, cutting out her dark room completely. The glass window was cold against her side. The silk nightgown did very little to stave off the chill of the night.

Sleep had been eluding her again. Her tired eyes watched the silver sphere of the moon illuminating the dark outside.

She had been kept up by many thoughts running through her mind. She thought of the elusive Treaty whose rules the faeries so diligently held to. In a way she should have taken some comfort in that notion. The Treaty was the pact signed between humans and faeries that guaranteed her kind’s freedom beyond the wall.

But she knew there were other pieces that did not quite fit. She remembered Lucien speaking of Andras. The fae had died as a wolf on the human side of the wall. But why had he been there at all?

Frustrated, she closed her tired eyes. She really should lay back down and try to get some sleep. It wouldn‘t be any use to her to let herself become stupid with exhaustion. She needed her wits sharp when dealing with the faeries.

Her thoughts trailed back to her talk with Lucien on the stairs. A foolish thought crept into her mind.

They are called the Suriel… very old and very wicked…

She must already have gone dumb with sleeplessness.

Most are not foolish nor brave enough to try.

She was not Feyre, Nesta reminded herself, not a real hunter. She was just a pretender, in many ways that was who she had always been.

But the traitorous thought did not let her go.

A faerie that would answer all her questions…

Foolish and brave. That had been what she'd always thought of Feyre. A soft laugh bubbled out of her. She muffled it swiftly as it threatened to turn into a sob.

No. She had to keep herself contained. Nesta had maintained a steely control of herself for most of her life. She would not let herself breakdown now.

She had managed to live in the cabin. She would manage living among these faeries.

So long as she managed to get her answers. And if she had to be foolishly brave to get those answers, then she would manage.

Taking a decisive breath she left the window and got into her bed. Tomorrow she had to figure out how one trapped an ancient faerie. It would be best to be well rested.

Chapter Text

“For you'd ignored advice.

You knew the tales they tell

Of ev‘ry maiden‘s price

If she met Tam Lin of the Elves.”

Tam Lin of the Elves by Drake Oranwood (feat. Heather Dale)

Nesta liked having Alis brush her hair. It felt odd to admit, even if only to herself. It reminded her of late evenings spent with Elain, sitting on the scratchy straw stuffed bed she shared with her sisters, helping each other comb out and braid their hair.

Yet Nesta had to admit to herself that even gentle Elain had not managed to detangle her long hair as gently and carefully without any sharp tugs as Alis did.

She watched the faerie woman through the large crystal mirror set into the vanity in her room. As the days before half her face was hidden behind her wooden mask, delicately carved wings swept up past her temples, the neck of the bird bent down across the ridge of her nose.

“Your mask is very beautiful.” Nesta winced internally as she realised how similar her attempt at flattery sounded to that of a certain faerie.

Alis paused in between brushstrokes, meeting Nesta‘s eyes in the mirror.

“Most of us aren‘t particularly fond of these masks.”

“Then why wear them?”, Nesta asked in confusion.

Alis started brushing again. Her lips slightly pursed.

“There was a masquerade, some years ago, we were all required to attend… There was an incident and since then nobody can take them off anymore.”

The absurdity of such a thing stunned Nesta into silence. Not being able to remove their masks? Everyone she had met in this realm so far had worn one. It felt utterly strange to consider that every single one of them must be bound by some strange magic preventing them from ever taking them off.

Everyone except for the children, Nesta suddenly realised. They had not worn any masks. 

“Yesterday when I walked the gardens, I saw three children playing between the hedges,” Nesta told her. “They weren't affected by this incident?”

Alis paused again and the corners of her mouth turned down into a small frown as she spoke.

“You saw the children?”

Nesta turned abruptly in her seat, facing the faerie directly.

“I did not step close to them,” she soothed.

But her attempt to calm Alis’ clear alarm did nothing.

“You saw them?”

She repeated again a sharp demand in her voice.

“I just heard the voices through the hedges. I did not go anywhere near them, I promise.”

Alis blinked, the surprise obvious in her face, before she broke into a startling laugh.

“Fool, girl,” she said almost fondly. “I don't think you would bring any harm to the little ones. I am surprised that you saw them at all.”

“I…,” Nesta paused. “I shouldn't have…?”

“My Lord told us of the glamour he had put on you… I did not think he would let you see so soon,” a smile broadened her mouth. “But I take this to mean things are going much better than we've thought.”

Alarm coursed through Nesta’s veins. A Glamour? She grabbed Ali's forearm.

“What?! What do you mean you lord put a glamour on me?”

Her mind frantically scrambled to think of any faerie stories that spoke of glamours.

She could only think vague tales about illusions and spells cast to confuse the minds of mortals.

She remembered her fear of ensorcelling that first night. She had since then started to dismiss that notion. But now terror clamped its claws back around her throat.

“Are you alright, girl?”

Her eyes locked onto Alis. The woman slowly laid her free hand onto Nesta‘s. Carefully freeing Nesta‘s iron grip on her sleeve. Cradling her clammy hands between her own, she spoke calmly.

“There is nothing to fear, girl. Our lord meant you know harm. The glamour was only meant to prevent you from being overwhelmed or scared by the Fae living in this Court.”

Surprisingly Alis’ warm grasp did help to calm Nesta. Taking a couple of steadying breaths, she said softly,”I do not want my mind to be tampered with!”

Alis answered with a slow nod.

“If you want I can tell my lord that?”

The offer felt oddly comforting. Nesta nodded in thanks.

The faerie continued to study Nesta until her eyes dropped to their hands between them. A thoughtful expression entered her face.

“This glamour wasn't only meant to hide some of us from your sight. It was also meant to disguise the parts of our appearances that might be upsetting to human eyes.”

Her eyes flicked back up catching Nesta's.

“But you've been seeing our true faces since the beginning, haven't you?”

As Nesta nodded, Alis smiled fondly, small wrinkles forming in the bark-skin at the corners of her mouth before standing up and picking up the brush.

“Well,” she said, continuing to run the brush carefully through Nesta’s hair. “I will let my lord know that you do not wish any glamours to be cast on you. But I do not think you need to ever worry about such things, my lady.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“My people have as long a memory as we have years on this earth. Many of which have been spent close to humans before the Treaty was signed. In that time many High Fae used to glamour the minds of mortals and put them under their power. However, some rare mortal minds, it turned out, were strong enough to resist such magic.”

Alis set the brush down and turned away, readying Nesta‘s wardrobe for the day.

Nesta got up and followed, curiosity and anxiety mingling in her chest.

“What do you mean to tell me?”

Alis answered with a scoff.

“You know very well what I'm saying. You're not stupid, girl.”

“You mean to tell me that glamour does not work on me?”

Alis stepped up to Nesta and started to work the buttons off her nightgown, clearly intending to get started on dressing her for the day. Letting out an exasperated breath Nesta turned to give the faerie better access to the buttons.

After a short while, Alis spoke again, her voice low and serious.

“What I mean to tell you is that you have a mind forged of steel. It is quite remarkable for you to be able to completely resist such a powerful glamour.”

Her voice took on an almost wistful note as she continued.

“It truly feels like fate. You, being here, and having strength inside you to match such power. I… Many of us have grown quite resigned to what we thought to be our fate.”

As Alis continued helping her dress, they remained silent. Nesta mulled over the faerie‘s words, feeling again that dark foreboding. Lucien‘s voice echoed through her mind. Telling her Andras shouldn't have had to die for her. The unclear rules of the Treaty forcing her presence here. Alis speaking of fate.

“What is going on here, Alis?”

Her voice sounded small in the silent room.

“There has been a blight in this realm. A… threat spreading through many of the Courts. Many of us have run from it, but Spring is the last true place of refuge that we have. I'm afraid we won't have anywhere else to run after this place and its lord cannot keep us safe anymore.”

Watching Nesta open her mouth, Alis interjected sharply.

“And that is all I will tell you of this Blight.”

Closing her mouth sharply, Nesta suppressed the need to sulk. Sometimes Alis’ way of speaking, of carrying herself, made Nesta feel like a young girl again.

“Can I ask about you then?”, she finally said.

“Well. What would you like to know?”

Thinking quickly over everything Alis had shared with her, she formed her question,”You said that some of you have sought refuge here. Does that mean you are not from Spring?”

“You do truly have a sharp mind," Alis regarded her approvingly. “Yes, I'm originally from the Summer Court. My family and I fled here some years ago.”

Nodding slowly, Nesta thanked Alis tor her answer. They were rare to come by in the realm of faeries.

“I do not like sitting in the dark,” she added softly.

“Only fool's do, my lady.” 

Nesta answered this statement with a wide smile.

Alis surprised Nesta by suddenly offering her a deep curtesy in response.

“I'm glad to be of service, my lady. Many of us are. It‘s tru-”

Ali cut off on her last sentence and offered Nesta another short bow. 

She felt startled by Alis’ sudden deference to her. She didn't wish to have Alis at her service. As much as she hid behind the act of a lady, that role had passed her by a long time ago. A sudden stray thought came into her mind. 

A service Alis might be able to offer. But she would not demand it as such. Could not. A request then. A favour she could ask of the faerie who was closest to becoming an actual friend.

“There is something I've been meaning to ask you… When I arrived I wore a green cloak. It was already quite old and worn, but I would have liked to keep it.”

Watching a frown form on Alis’ face, Nesta quickly rushed on.

“I know I should have asked sooner, but in the beginning I wasn‘t sure if I could. If it has already been thrown out or turned into rags then that's alright.”

“I will look for it”, Alis said simply.

“Thank you. I- ...It means a lot to me.”

After spending most of the morning wandering the long empty halls of the manor, Nesta came to the reluctant decision that she needed to ask Lucien about the Suriel. While her late night thoughts on trying to trap the creature had seemed quite delusional in the morning, thinking over her conversation with Alis made her unfortunately realize that it might be her best bet in getting the answers she needed. Both Lucien and now Alis had been quite cryptic in any answers they had been willing, or able to give.

To Nesta‘s frustration, however, she had no idea where to find Lucien.

With some effort she forced herself to look every faerie she encountered in the face and give them a nod and even a small polite smile. 

Every time she did so, the faerie would stare in surprise, some answered in a belated nod back, others offered a stiff bow. One spindly faerie with green leaves in her hair just gave a small squeak before rushing off in the direction they had just come from. Nesta hadn‘t really doubted what Alis had told her and yet she was still surprised when she realised that the faeries truly had believed themself to be invisible to her eyes. It dawned on her that the day she had spent walking through the vast gardens and she had avoided looking at any of them too closely and just tried to rush past them as quickly as possible, that the faeries most likely had done much the same to her. Maybe they had avoided coming too close to her so as to not disturb whatever magic held this glamour in place.

Watching the nervous smiles, awkward nods, and skittish looks the faeries gave her now as she openly acknowledged them, made Nesta feel very odd. It almost made her feel like a forceful invader in this place. As if she hadn‘t been dragged here against her will. Almost as if they were scared to be in her presence and not the other way around. 

The next faerie Nesta encountered she recognized. It was the faerie that had helped draw her bath that first day. The one with the spindly eight fingered hands. As Nesta had clearly been expected to see the faerie that first day she was unsure if the faerie thought she could see her now.

Stepping up to the faerie, Nesta cleared her throat. The other woman raised her face looking startled, but not afraid behind her delicate cobweb-spun mask.

“My lady?,“ her polite voice masked her surprise quite well.

„I‘m sorry to bother you, but I was looking for Lucien. Do you might know where I could find him?“

The faerie looked even more surprised at her inquiry. She cocked her head on her slender neck in a strangely jerky motion.

“The emissary, my lady?“

Emissary? Neither Tamlin nor Lucien had bothered giving her any titles to call them by, though, their status as High Fae clearly meant they had to have them. Nesta had supposed that with Tamlin being the lord of the manor, Lucien being some sort of courtier or advisor made sense. But an emissary? She would have expected an emissary to be less irritating.

“Yes, I was looking for him.“

The faerie seemed oddly worried by this.

“I think he might be at the stables, but…,“ she stared at Nesta imploringly. „Maybe, you would rather go ask our lord. I‘m sure he can help you with-„

“No.“

Nesta interrupted forcefully. At the crestfallen look on the faerie‘s face she attempted to sooth.

“I wouldn‘t want to bother him with this, Lucien will do,“ she offered the faerie a genuine smile. "Thank you.“

Nesta was relieved to see find the stables quite quickly on her own. Lucien stood nearby softly speaking to another tall darkskinned faerie. Stepping into his field of vision, she stared at him. After a quick frown he ended his conversation with his companion with a friendly clap to the shoulder and made his way over to her. The tall faerie watched her darkly, his eyes meeting hers without flinching as he realised that she stared back. Lucien stepped in between, hiding the other man from her vision, a self-satisfied smile on his face.

“I knew you would not be able to resist my dashing good looks,“ her derisive scoff only caused his smile to grow wider. „There is no shame in it, my lady. You missed me so much that you had to come find me out here.“

“I want you to tell me more about the Suriel.“

He blinked down at her.

“I remember quite clearly telling you that only someone very foolish would go hunting after the Suriel?“

Nesta twisted her lips into an impatient sneer.

“Do not waste my time pretending you didn't want me to go looking for this Suriel.”

Lucien let out a delighted laugh.

„You really are quite stubborn, though that should be expected from a human,“ a dangerous twinkle entered his mismatched eyes.

The creeping fear entered Nesta‘s mind. She had been so focused on uncovering the secret reason these faeries had brought her here. Some of  Lucien‘s words had let her to believe he wanted her to uncover this truth as well. Looking at him now, she remembered what he was. A faerie amusing itself playing tricks on a helpless mortal.

She could not allow herself to falter now. It didn‘t matter what games he tried to play with her, she needed to find her answers and the Suriel was the only lead she had right now. 

„You said there was a way to trap them.“ Trying to cover up her anxieties, Nesta pushed on, „That they would answer any questions if you did? How does this work exactly?“

„Let‘s see…“

Lucien stepped back and leaned his back against the closest tree. Nesta reluctantly followed him a few steps under the shade of its canopy of leaves.

“If I were to make the foolish decision to trap a Suriel, I would probably go looking for a grove of young birch trees. There are some of those in the western woods. I would also bring fresh chicken corpses as bait and use a double-loop snare for the trap.“

Nesta took all this in, trying to decide how feasible this task would be for her to manage. 

Finding birch trees in the western woods she could do. For the chickens… she could ask one of the faerie servant in the manor  to tell her where the kitchens were and steal a freshly butchered chicken. As for the snare… Feyre had tried to show Nesta how to build a couple simple snares in order to catch small prey. She was not quite sure she remembered them all, but one of those she did remember was made of two loops. That surely must be the type of snare Lucien meant.

“I do really have to say that going after a Suriel is quite a stupid thing to do. They can be quite vicious,“ Lucien repeated again. „But if I were to take this risk, I would make sure to bring a bow and a full quiver with me.“

Nesta made sure not to show any reaction to those words.

“Oh, and maybe a knife,“ Lucien pulled a knife out of his belt. „One just like this.“

He twirled the knife around between his fingers with a flourish, before holding the hilt out to her.

Nesta looked down at it. Hesitantly she reached out and grabbed the leather hilt.

She had no skill at using a bow and arrow, but a knife she could use. While she had never really hunted and the few traps and snares she had ever laid had mostly gone empty. She had taken apart enough of the game Feyre brought home to know how to handle a knife.

As she made to pull the weapon back, Lucien tightened his grip on the sheathed blade. Looking up, she met his gaze. He looked surprisingly serious now.

“Make sure to have a running water source nearby. The Suriel don‘t like crossing them. After you asked your questions you will need to let it go, by then it will be quite mad.“

Nesta acknowledged the warning with a nod. He let go of the knife allowing her to take a step back.

“Thank you,“ despite not quite being able to shake off her trepidations, she thought it best to be as polite as she could manage.

Just as she turned around to go back to the manor and start laying out her plans. Lucien called out after her his earlier playful tone back in his voice.

“Do please remember not to tell anybody who told you about any of this. I would prefer not being skinned alive.“

Nesta answered this only with an exasperated sigh. She left the fox-masked faerie, standing alone under his tree. 

She would need to find the kitchens to get that chicken, and a rope for the snare. There was no point in trying to find a bow, the knife Lucien had given her would have to be enough.

That day dinner went surprisingly well. Seeing the golden haired faerie again, unsettled her more than she liked to admit. Finding out that he had tried to deceive her mind with a glamour had left her feeling vulnerable. Alis‘ promise that no glamour would work on her felt like a flimsy protection against the threat of someone scrambelling her mind.

Nesta hid herself gracefully behind her shield of courtesy, resolved not to let herself be baited into any vulnerable outbursts again. Fortunately, neither Tamlin or Lucien seemed particularly eager to engage in any conversation.

Just as Nesta had decided she had endured her host‘s unwelcome presence long enough, and prepared herself to announce that she would like to retire to her rooms,  Lucien surprised her by striking up a conversation with Tamlin.

“I heard some news about a disturbance in the Western forest.“

Tamlin immediately sat up straight, his full attention on his red-haired friend. 

„One of her creatures?“

Her creatures? Nesta thought back to Alis‘ explanation of a blight posing a threat to some of the faerie courts.

„No, not as far as I can tell. It just seems to be a group of wild beasts who made their way across the Summer border into Spring.“

Alis had referred to this place as Spring as well, hadn‘t she? Nesta knew that the faeries of Prythian lived in different courts under the rule of powerful High Lords. She had already guessed that the court she was in was the Spring Court, but she hadn‘t previously spared a lot of thought about which other courts Spring bordered. 

Tamlin let out a frustrated growl before letting out a curse under his breath.

“I need to clear up another issue at the eastern side of the northern border tomorrow. This will have to wait until later in the day, I cannot be in multiple places at once.“ He stood up abruptly and started to pace the length of the room behind his chair. His hands balled into fists at his sight. 

The fact that Tamlin seemed to be responsible for keeping an eye on the borders must mean he had a high position in the Spring Court. 

No matter that, though, if Tamlin intended to go to the Western woods tomorrow, Nesta had to be careful about her plans to trap the Suriel. She had managed to sneak a fresh chicken carcass from the kitchens into her rooms, where it lay stuffed in a sack under her bed together with a long thick rope she had managed to get from a confused faerie working in the gardens. She had intended to sneak off the next morning to attempt her hunt, but that had been before she knew Tamlin would be roaming those same woods.

As she mulled this over, Nesta noticed Lucien shooting her a covert glance.

Unsure of what he wanted, she raised a questioning eyebrow.

His answer was an amused smirk.

She frowned, annoyed and even more confused by what he wanted to tell her. Was this a ploy to ruin her hunt? Tell her where to go, and then after she made her preparations, set his beast friend onto her?

She mustered him coldly. He just shot her a wink before turning back to Tamlin.

“I obviously cannot help you at the border, but I can keep an eye on what is going on in the western woods until you have time to deal with those creatures.“

Tamlin paused in his pacing, looking back at his friend. To Nesta‘s surprise there was real worry on his face.

„Don‘t engage them if you don‘t have to,“ at the warning Lucien rolled his eyes.

A small smile formed on Tamlin‘s face. Nesta didn‘t like how human it made him look.

“Alright, you keep an eye on those woods, while I handle things up north.“ 

Suddenly his green gaze shot to Nesta clearly taking in her interest in the conversation. She immediately dropped her eyes down to her empty plate. A shiver ran down her back, she did not want the beast to find out about her search for answers. 

He looked at her as if he had forgotten she had been sitting there at all. Nesta wished had kept ignoring her. After clearing his throat, there was a brief hesitation in his voice before he addressed her.

“I will be gone for most of the day tomorrow.”

Nesta almost scoffed. Did he mean to apologize for that? So far she had thankfully managed to avoid the beast during the days. Biting back a remark that she hoped he could be gone every day, she gave him a gracious nod. Instead she decided that she should use this opportunity to find out more information.

As she watched him settle himself back in his chair, clearly still occupied by his duties waiting for him the next day, she asked her question.

“You are responsible for guarding the borders, my lord?” 

Her voice was calm and polite. Nesta was quite proud of herself in how well she managed to disguise any of the disdain she felt for the beast.

Tamlin looked back up at her, clearly taken aback by her direct question, but also not displeased at her curiosity… he almost seemed excited. 

“Yes,” he glanced briefly at Lucien, who had immediately straightened out of his lazy slouch and followed their exchange attentively. “On of my duties is to guard the borders of this court.”

So, she had been right about that. He might be some sort of general or guard captain to whoever was the High Lord of this court…

He watched her intently now. It made Nesta uncomfortable, but she didn't allow herself to break away from his green stare. She would not allow herself to appear vulnerable in front of a predator.

“Are you a warrior then?”

“Yes,” he paused, letting a silent moment pass, before almost too quickly adding on. “I served in my father's war-band. I was meant to… serve him or others. This role… it wasn't meant to be mine.”

Another silence rang through the room, as Nesta tried to parse through the new information.

A role that wasn't meant to be his? He clearly had some high position in this court to own such a large estate and be responsible for the protection of the borders… 

An alarming thought rose inside her mind. His father's war-band? Meant to serve? Did that mean he didn't serve anyone now? Alis had spoken of the protection she and others had found in Spring and its lord… Nesta thought that that lord must be the High Lord of Spring. Since she had arrived Alis had only ever referred to Tamlin as her lord , Nesta had just assumed that was the title afforded to him as the lord of this estate… 

Her heart started hammering harder in her chest. Regarding the blond faerie across the table. The thought almost made her nauseous. She had known he was dangerous. Had known it since he had crashed through the warded entrance of her family's home in the shape of a raging beast. After seeing this manor and the servants, she had known he must be some sort of Fae lord or noble… But as the cold reality of his true power sunk in, she felt the blood run cold as ice through her veins.

She desperately tried to keep her face from showing any of the horror she felt at her realization. No longer able to meet his direct stare, she lowered her eyes. Picking up her cup in an attempt to feign nonchalance.

Across from her Tamlin continued to watch her carefully. His mouth slowly twisting down into a frown.

“These lands used to be well guarded, any of the deadlier faeries used to be well monitored and kept away from any inhabited places.” A bitter smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “But the grounds of the manor and the surrounding gardens are still well guarded, as long as I am here.”

Startled, Nesta looked back up. Was that an attempt at reassurance?

Meeting his emerald eyes again, she was unsettled to see real concern. Had the faerie sensed her panic? He must have thought that Lucien‘s story of dangerous beasts roaming the woods was the reason for her fear. The irony of this was not lost on her.

Deciding to take this as her out, she gave him another one of her polite nods and stood up.

“I thank you, my lord. But these stories of dangerous faerie beasts have been quite taxing, I will unfortunately have to retire.” Nesta was glad, when Tamlin dismissed her without complaint.

That night, after Alis helped ready her for bed, Nesta did not linger near the window. Hunkering down under the heavy blankets, she tried to find the most comfortable position on the soft feather mattress. She would need to be well rested for the next day, as she needed to be up early for her hunt. Under no circumstances did she want to run into Tamlin in those woods. She wasn‘t quite sure what Lucien‘s intent had been by bringing up that story during dinner in front of her. 

Some part of her suspected that he had just made up that report in order to foil her plans. Another more hopeful part believed that he had made it up to create a pretext to be in western woods himself and help her. Nesta was well aware that this was quite a naive thought.

However, she was sure of one thing. She needed answers. After realizing Tamlin's real status and power, she needed them even more. A mere human forced to live among faeriekind was vulnerable, but to be ignorant as well was to be truly defenseless. 

Nesta needed to catch the Suriel. She just hoped she remembered enough of Feyre‘s rambles about building snares and hunting to manage it.

Nesta had almost turned back twice when she finally found a grove of birches. Taking in the slender white trunks filled her with an overwhelming feeling of relief. She had been stumbling through the thick undergrowth of the western forest looking for those trees for what seemed to be at least three hours.

It was frustratingly difficult to keep a sense of time in the woods. Nesta had been afraid that she had risked leaving the supposed safety of the manor grounds for nothing. That she would have to return without getting any answers. Taking in the sun rising high over the trees, she judged that she probably had only a couple hours left to lay her trap.

Running water, she thought determined to not to waste anymore time. 

She needed to know where the closest running water stream was, to escape the Suriel afterwards.

Nesta almost gave up a third time, when she finally stumbled onto a small stream of water. Unfortunately, however, she did literally stumble across it.

Just as she reluctantly started to consider turning back, she heard the soft sound of water plashing. Immediately she turned into the direction of the water sounds. After just a couple of hasty steps she slipped on the muddy incline hidden under the growth of the wild scrubs.

With a shrill cry, Nesta tumbled onto the muddy bank of the shallow water stream hidden only a couple a foot or two below.

Letting out a couple of angry curses she got back up onto her feet. The front of her skirts was heavy with wetness and muddy at her knees. She let out a wordless groan as she stepped back up away from the stream. 

Her leather boots had at least managed to keep the water and mud away from her feet. Wiping off her dirty hands on her already ruined skirts, she started to wring out some of the water.

After some half-hearted attempts at this she gave up and decided to make her way back to the grove. She had already wasted enough time.

To Nesta's relief, finding the birch trees went much quicker this time around. Though she couldn't help but notice how much quicker she could have found the water if she had started her search to the north instead of east.

Nesta was glad that Feyre couldn‘t see her clumsily trek through the woods. It only got worse when she started building her snare. 

Early this morning, as she had waited for Alis to arrive, Nesta had brought her rope and gone through the various loops and knots, she remembered Feyre teaching her all those years ago.

Unfortunately, it turned out that Nesta remembered much less than she previously had thought. 

Letting out a frustrated huff, she started undoing and redoing one the loops she had just made.

After she finally had laid her snare, she regarded the trap sceptically. She supposed this type of snare could be called a double-loop snare… 

Giving the snare a careful tuck, she tested the mechanism. It seemed to be working as it should. No matter what, this had to be good enough.

Nesta took the dead chicken out of her bag and placed the bait inside the snare.

Then she walked halfway into the direction of the stream, and cowered down into the undergrowth. She was just far enough to hopefully go unnoticed to any heightened faerie senses the Suriel might possess, but still close enough that she would hear the trap being set off.

Crouching low to the ground, Nesta glanced back up to the sky. The sun was now slowly passing its highest point. Swallowing any of the frustrated sounds she wanted to let out, she had to consider giving up a fourth time today. She supposed she might be able to just leave the trap and come back the next day.

She wasn't sure if a mere rope would be able to hold a Suriel long enough for her to still find it in the grove. That was probably wishful thinking anyway.

A sudden crack could be heard from the direction of the grove, followed by a bone shilling shriek. 

For a brief heartbeat, Nesta considered that this whole plan might have been the most stupid thing she had ever done. 

Another loud crack could be heard, like wood breaking.

Pushing back anymore thoughts she sprang up and rushed forward. As she stumbled up to the white trees, she saw the thin veiled figure shrieking and wildly trashing about itself in the middle of the grove and trees Nesta had used to anchor her snare to bending down… the wood of the trunks cracking…

The knot securing the rope was slowly unravelling. 

There was no time for thoughts left. Nesta rushed forward and grabbed the rope, just as the loosening knot snapped free. She cried, the pain driving tears into her eyes as the rough rope burned her hands. But she did not let go. 

Leaning her entire weight against the pull of the Suriel on the other side of the rope. Noticing its opportunity the Suriel gave another mighty pull. The trees groaned. Nesta felt her feet briefly leave the ground. But still she desperately clung to the rope.

After two more powerful heaves and wild enraged shrieks, the Suriel abruptly ceased its attempts at escape and fell eerily silent.

Clinging tighter to the rope, her hands wet with blood, Nesta took a couple steps back, pulling the rope tight. She did not want to give the faerie room to make another lunge. She didn‘t think she was neither heavy nor strong enough to keep it from just dragging her along if she let it build enough momentum.

Staring across the grove past the bend birches the rope was slung over, milky white eyes watched her.

A shudder ran down Nesta‘s back. All her instincts told her to just let the bloody rope go and run. Run as fast as she could.

Nesta dug her heels deep in the ground.

The faerie‘s face was weather-worn bone. Its lipless mouth pulled into an unsettling grin. Showing her its blackened gums and long yellow fangs. The rest of its spindly grey body was covered in dark dirty robes.

“Human,” its voice sounded like many and one, young and old, beautiful and grotesque, all at the same time. “You have trapped me.”

Taking a shuddering breath, Nesta asked it.

“Are you one of the Suriel?”

“I am.” Stretching out its spindly fingers tipped with long grey nail, the Suriel made an beckoning gesture towards her. 

“Come closer, human. It's been an age that someone has caught me, let me get a better look at you.”

Digging in her feet deeper into the earth, Nesta shook her head.

“No. I heard you answer questions.”

The Suriel lowered its grey arm and plucked the chicken carcass from the ground, ripping off the head with its teeth.

“Will you answer my questions?” 

Showing its teeth in a bloody grin, the Suriel leaned forward. The trees groaned. Nesta could feel the pull of the movement in the rope.

“Ask your questions, then free me, human.”

For a brief moment, Nesta’s mind went blank. She had so desperately wanted answers, spending much of her trek through the woods mulling over which questions to ask first. The panic of the almost botched capture of the Suriel had rattled all of her mental preparations out of her. 

Trying to order her thoughts, she hastily considered her options. She didn‘t think she had the strength to hold on too long. She needed to ask the right questions. She didn‘t have time for more.

“The Spring court is being threatened by a blight. What is it?”

The Suriel cooked its head. 

“A blight,” its eerie voice almost sounded like a hiss. “All the courts are threatened by her. The High Lord of the Spring court was the only one not to wall in the deceivers' net, but even he will be caught in it now.”

Her? The day before Tamlin and Lucien had also spoken of her . Nesta became increasingly sure that this supposed blight was actually a person.

Focusing her mind on something else the Suriel had said, she asked it.

“The High Lord of Spring is Tamlin?”

“Yes.”

Nesta nodded slowly, to the Suriel confirming her suspicion. 

“There is a reason he brought me here… Something they want from me… What is it?”

The Suriel let out a cackling laugh. The strange mix of voices sounded like a dissonant choir. It drove a shill down Nesta‘s spine.

“They want nothing from you, human.”

“What?,” Nesta shook her head. “No. No, that cannot be true. They brought me here for some purpose. Tell me what it is?”

“That purpose is null and void now, human,” the Suriel's milky gaze stared unerringly at her, while it ripped the chicken corpse into bloody chunks. “The Lord of Spring has damned himself, when he brought you here. Damned to go under rock and earth. Damned to her cold embrace.”

Swallowing a piece of raw meat, feathered skin and broken bones sticking out, the Suriel opened it fanged maul wide.

Nesta almost gagged at the sight.

“What has that to do with me?”

“You are the wrong one. She has already won.”

“Who is she?”

The Suriel swallowed another lump of meat, bone and feathers before it answered.

“Across the western sea lies another kingdom. Hybern is not ruled by a High Lord but a king. The King of Hybern has long been displeased with the Treaty other ruling Fae have made with the humans. And so, he sent out his most trusted commanders to join the seven courts and gather information for his end. But near half a century ago, the deceiver betrayed him. She took all the power to herself making herself ruler of all seven courts.”

Nesta‘s mind raced to keep up with all the new information. Trying to make sense of all of it.

“This deceiver can she be stopped?”

“You are the wrong one…,” the milky eyes narrowed. “But there is still a chance. If you can abandon fear and hold on tight then there might-”

The Suriel raised its head, suddenly alert.

“We’re no longer alone, human.”

Frantically looking around herself, Nesta tried to make out any possible threats. Her hands itched to grasp the knife at her hip, but she did not dare let go of the rope.

"Quick, human,” the Suriel urged her. “Free me now.”

“What is it?”

“The naga, you cannot fight them, human. They are fearies made of shadow, hate and rot. And you are neither warrior nor hunter.”

Startled by the Suriel's final remark, Nesta glanced at it. It sat crouched low, its limps tense ready to spring forward at a moment's notice. But its eyes were no longer directed at Nesta. Its milky gaze was following something to the west of them.

Making a split second decision, she forced her cramped fingers to let go. She almost cried out as the rough bloody rope ripped free from the half formed scabs on the palms of her hands. 

Grabbing her knife she turned on her heel and rushed off into the direction of the stream. She had no idea if these Naga shared any of the Suriel's compulsion against crossing flowing water, but she desperately hoped they did.

The beat of her racing heart almost drowned out the sound of her steps, ripping through the underbrush.

A loud cry left her throat when she tumbled down into the muddy stream again. The cool water immediately soaked back into her half dried skirts. Scrambling off her knees she splashed through the water and back up the other side.

Stumbling a couple more steps further she swirled around, holding out the blade of her knife.

Trying to calm her ragged breaths, and the thundering beat of her heart, she stared out into the silent forest. 

The tall trees threw long dark shadows that stretched across the forest floor. The sun long since past its highest point hung low in the western sky.

She should go back now. It was already late afternoon.

Her breathing slowly evened out.

There was nothing between those trees. Maybe those Naga had decided to pursue the Suriel instead.

Her erratic heartbeat calmed. Taking a couple more steadying breaths, she put the knife back into its sheath.

Just as she took a couple of steps into the direction of the manor, an eerie chill ran down her back. 

She spun back into the direction of the grove.

Out of the dark shadows between the trees, gracefully crossing over the small stream of water, stepped four figures made of swirling shadows and the dark void of a starless night.

Chapter Text

“Bold as brass, he takes her hand

and color rises to her skin

She looks the young man in the eye

and knows him now for young Tam Lin.”

Tam Lin by Tricky Pixie

Nesta ran.

Rushing past high trees and stumbling through the thorny thickets. The knife felt small and useless against her pursuers, yet she still tightened her bloody grip on the weapon.

Something caught in her skirts. A loud ripping sound. Nesta stumbled down, almost smashing her face against the rotten stump of a fallen tree. She ripped her hem free from the branches it had tangled on. Catching herself with her free hand, she had to bite back a cry as the bark scratched against her rope-burned skin.

Behind her, she could hear the faeries hollering and screaming in excitement. A pack of stray dogs who've cornered a cat in a back alley. Pushing back against the rising panic, she tightened her grip on her knife. A couple of rabid dogs might rip that cat to pieces, but Nesta still had claws.

She swirled around, still on her knees she saw the Naga fanning out around her.

Dark pitch-black scales covered their long serpentine bodies. Their faces, a monstrous blend of both human and snake, gaped open in wide mocking smiles, showing their dark ebony fangs.

Slowing down in their chase the four faeries surrounded her, cutting off any possible escape. Nesta pressed her back against the bark of the fallen tree. Crouched low to the ground she pushed closer to the cover of its crown. The smaller twigs and branches bit into her back and sides, tangled with her hair and caught in her dirty dress. But at least they wouldn't be able to jump her from behind.

They circled her leisurely. Grotesque fanged mauls snapping at her every time they moved closer before pulling back amidst loud shrieking laughter.

Nesta tried to keep all four of them in her field of vision, keeping the knife held out in front of her, ready to swing or jab at them.

“What an entertaining meal we've caught, my brothers.” The middle faerie hissed at its companions.

The one to Nesta‘s right laughed. The one to her left cocked its head thoughtfully.

“Not much meat on this one.”

“I'm not your meal!” Her voice thankfully shook only a little. Her rage held off the fear that threatened to drown her.

With a loud hiss one of the Naga's long necks shot forward its fanged jaws snapping at her. 

It flinched back as Nesta slashed at it with her knife. The other Naga hissed at her. Quickly she scrambled further back, wedging herself deeper between the bigger branches of the fallen tree. She pointed her knife at the serpentine creatures, grasping the leather hilt between both hands to keep the weapon steady.

The Naga who had snapped at her pulled itself back up, pointing at her with a clawed scaly hand.

“The little human thinks it can fight us,” the saccharine tone made the mockery unmistakable. “It doesn't understand yet that it's going to be meat.”

One of its two companions slid closer, its long neck bending down to look into her face. Saliva dripped down its jaws as it fletched its teeth at her.

“Oh… but we will play first, little human. Will you scream when we rip off your skin?”

Whatever showed on Nesta‘s face, made the Naga pull its ugly face back with a loud cackle.

At the sudden loud cracking behind her Nesta whirled around. The fourth creature crashed through the wooden arms of the fallen tree. Whatever shelter she had hoped the rotting wood might provide, proved ineffective. The faerie broke through the branches, the shunks of wood flying wild. 

Jumping onto her feet, uncaring about the way the branches ripped gashes into her skin and dress, she twisted out of the reach of those deadly grasping arms.

A scream left her throat as she felt claws slashing her left shoulder.

Stumbled off to the side, widely slashing with her knife, she desperately tried to avoid the faerie beasts closing in. A stumble over her ripped hem saved her life as she fell onto her backside and avoided being skewered by black claws.

Nesta stared up at the serpentine beast, its long neck coiled back prepared for another strike. Sharp claws and fangs glittered in the low light of the approaching dusk. She felt herself transported back to that moment in the cabin. Another raging faerie beast in front of her. That time her panic had almost paralyzed her. It had reduced her to a whimpering mess huddled down in the corner of the room.

No. She had managed to push past that fear that day, hadn‘t she? 

It seemed to be fate for her to die this way. Despite all her efforts, she would still end up dying ripped to shreds by the claws of a faerie beast. At least she had spared Feyre this fate…

Her hands tightened around her knife. Nesta lunged forward.

The Naga let out an enraged scream. Falling back down, Nesta barely avoided the retaliatory slash of its claws. The hilt of her knife stuck out just above the Naga's shoulder at the side of its neck. The blade had sunk deep into the flesh and lay buried to the hilt. She wasn‘t quite sure how she had managed it. Her body had moved on pure instinct.

A shadow fell over her as another of the Naga approached her. Hissing and snarling angrily, it made to grab at her with its long black claws. 

A loud roar shook the ground.

Just as the four Naga swirled their heads around into the direction of the sound, a golden mass of fur crashed into two of the creatures.

Nesta quickly rolled away to the other side. Without glancing back she pulled herself to her feet and stumbled away. She only made it to the nearest tree. Bumping hard against its trunk she sank down against it, ducking low to the ground. Her fingers felt numb, she could feel the side of her bodice grow wet with blood. Her head swam, the edges of her vision growing foggy.

Forcing herself to focus on the burning pain at her shoulder helped to keep some of the fog at bay. She twisted back around, looking back with wild eyes. Trying to make sense of what was happening.

The golden beast looked just as she remembered it. The jaws of the great wolfhead clasped tightly around the throat of one of the naga. He gave a violent shake before he threw the broken body to the side next to the bleeding corpse of the first naga unlucky enough to get caught between those fangs.

The two remaining faeries exchanged a terrified glance before they spun and ran. That terror looked strangely foreign on their faces. 

Only one managed to get farther than a few steps. In just a few graceful feline leaps, the beast caught the closest of the two. 

The final Naga cowered down low to the ground, Nesta‘s knife still sticking out of its shoulder. Snapping its jaws defensively at the approaching beast.

The golden beast raised his antlered head high, a growl emerged low from his chest just before he pounced on the fourth Naga.

Cowering on the ground her back pressed against the rough surface of the tree, Nesta stared at the great beast.

Raising his snout from the mauled corpse at his feet, he turned his head in her direction. The golden fur being spattered with blood, his maul dripping with gore, the beast seemed to glow with power in the low afternoon light. The great antlers on his head looked like a crown.

Nesta met his emerald green eyes. It felt strange how familiar those eyes looked, she had met them often enough in challenge across the dinner table these past days. Settling her gasping breaths, her panic eased. Unfortunately, this made ignoring all the various pains and exhaustion of her battered body flood back in.

The beast trotted towards her. As he stepped close to her and started to lower his great head down towards her his body changed. Like fluid flowing from one container into another, his shape flowed from that of the great beast into that of the blond High Fae crouched down at her side.

The pain and blood loss made Nesta‘s vision hazy. She tried to focus on his face but his features bleed together like ink on wet paper. Her head felt heavy. She realized his lips were moving but any sounds she could make out were drowned out by the throbbing of at her temples. She sank lower against the tree, the last reserves of strength leaving her body. Had she hit her head as well? She didn't remember…

A large hand grabbed her chin, tilting her head back up. Its grip felt scorching hot against her clammy skin. 

Her eyes fluttered back open. Green eyes framed by a golden mask bored into her. The mouth underneath was moving again. Nesta giggled. Didn‘t he know she couldn‘t hear a word he said?

There was another hand on her shoulder now. It carefully pulled back the blood soaked collar at her throat, exposing the edges of the bleeding wound. She tried to skirm away when she felt a sudden heat bleed into her. A strong grip at her injured shoulder held  her in place.

Her vision slowly began to clear. The tips of her fingers started to tingle as feeling flooded back into her limbs.

Nesta looked down at her blood shoulder, astonished to see smooth skin.

Tamlin let go of her shoulder and moved back stiffly. She took a few halting breaths before looking back at him. 

He looked her up and down, an indecipherable look on his face.

“Nesta.”

Her name sounded foreign coming from his lips. She hadn't even been sure that he had known it.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Her body must be covered in a thousand scrapes and bumps, but she didn't think she had any serious injuries other than the one on her left shoulder. She looked back down at that place where her skin should have been ripped wide open… Had been ripped open until just a moment ago.

Nesta slowly shook her head.

Giving her a stiff nod, Tamlin rose from his crouch at her side. Looking up at him, taking in his big frame, Nesta was again struck by how much he still resembled the beast. His movements held the same fluid grace and barely contained strength. However, strangely, the fear this had previously provoked in her felt oddly absent. She supposed after almost being ripped to pieces by the Naga she had left depleted of all she was capable of feeling.

Tamlin held out a blood spattered hand towards her, clearly meaning to help her get up. After a brief hesitation, she reached out and took it, her own equally bloody. 

It surprised her how steady her legs were. In truth she had half expected them to still shake uncontrollably.

As soon as he could be certain that she was steady on her feet, he let her go and took a small step back.

The silence stretched out awkwardly between them. Briefly she considered apologizing, though for what she wasn't sure. She had not broken any of his rules.

“Do I want to know what you were doing out here?”

His voice was tense, but Nesta recognised the anger concealed underneath easily enough.

“I'm free to go and do what I please so long that I stay in Prythian, am I not?”

Tamlin let out a frustrated sigh at the icy coldness in her voice.

“You knew there would be danger in these woods today!”

Nesta narrowed her eyes at him.

“And why do you care? Why even bother saving me?”

He shot her a dark look, his mouth pulling into a tight line.

“It‘s my duty to protect these lands. Safeguard its borders. They should never have gotten this far…”

“But why save me.”

He frowned at her, taking in her intent stare, sensing her deeper question hidden underneath. 

“You‘re meant to live out your life in Prythian, not die here-”

“Yes, the Treaty, of course,” Nesta urged on, too frustrated and too exhausted for caution. “But why concern yourself personally with me? Doesn't a High Lord of one of the seven courts have more important concerns than the wellbeing of a stray mortal?”

Tamlin stiffened at her questions, eyes widening in surprise.

“You know about that.” His voice was quiet sounding almost resigned.

“You‘re High Lord of Spring.” She hadn‘t intended for it to sound like an accusation, yet it somehow did. Tamlin‘s stiff posture made it clear that he heard it too.

“I told you that I never expected to inherit this position.”

“You did.”

At her acknowledgement, he looked back up at her, looking oddly subdued. The tension slowly flowed out of his stiff body. Giving her an almost apologetic twitch of a smile, he nodded back into the direction she assumed the manor was in.

“Let‘s go home.” 

The tired sigh in his voice was deeply at odds with everything Nesta would have expected from a Fae High Lord.

She followed behind him, gathering her ruined skirts splattered with both mud and blood. If she ever had to make another such trek through the woods she would have to get trousers. Nesta had never really managed to understand Feyre‘s constant need for them, always preferring the comfort in both warmth and modesty skirts provided. But after this day she had to admit that a pair of sturdy pants would have made this foolish excursion to the woods much more bearable.

While silently walking behind the tall Fae Lord, nothing to do but staring stubbornly at the back of his head, she mulled over all that she had found out.

The sudden attack by the Naga had made it impossible for her to reflect on everything the Suriel had told her. Trying to make sense of all the new information now, made only frustrated her more. Instead of providing answers in many ways the Suriel had only added to her questions.

Tamlin continued to keep silent. This frustrated her as well. It seemed like the world was mocking her. After all this danger she had subjected herself to, to not even get a straight answer out of that damned faerie…

But, no… she had learned something valuable, hadn‘t she?

The Suriel had spoken of the mysterious She . Called her a deceiver who threatened all of Prythian… 

The High Lord of the Spring court was the only one not to fall her net… but even he will be caught in it…

Nesta scrutinised the back of Tamlin‘s head. Alis had spoken as well of this threat, calling it… she a blight.

Who was she ? All the stories agreed that the seven High Lords of Prythian were the most powerful of all High Fae. Their rule was supposed to be unchangeable.

Nesta took a hesitant breath, before raising her voice and breaking the long silence.

“Among humans it is said that a Fae High Lord is undefeatable, that their magic runs as deep as the land… but there is something out there that is attacking the courts… something that you cannot fight, isn't there?”

Tamlin came to an abrupt halt, looking back at her, real surprise in his face.

“Alis told me she fled from another court, that Spring was her last refuge,” Nesta added carefully.

The surprise was replaced by bitterness.

“Many faeries fled here over the last decades, hoping I could keep them safe.”

“But you can't, can you? Not for long at least.”

His green eyes narrowed at her.

“Alis didn't tell you that.”

Pushing down the anxiety that rose up at the intensity of that stare, she decided to forge on regardless. She had been overly cautious in her dealings with him. Intimidated by what she had feared to be a rabid beast hiding behind a pretty face. But she had faced worse dangers today and she was tired of only guessing at the answers of her questions.

Nesta decided to throw caution to the wind.

“I caught one of the Suriel.”

Tamlin turned fully around, looking alarmed …? No, alert.

“Alis talked about a blight that had afflicted the courts. I asked the Suriel about it and it spoke of a deceiver who came here from Hybern. That she trapped all other High Lords in her net and made herself ruler over all the courts,” Nesta watched Tamlin closely, studying his face closely. She took note of the brief look of disgust that crossed his face at her mention of the deceiver. “You mentioned her too, yesterday, when Lucien told you of the monsters in these woods.”

A small smile suddenly formed on his lips. It took Nesta almost completely by surprise. He shook his head and let out a short chuckle before looking back at her. The green of his eyes appeared inhumanly bright.

“You went after the Suriel to ask what threatens the courts?”

Frowning slightly, Nesta nodded.

“I- Yes.”

“The Suriel is dangerous prey,” he looked her over, taking in the sorry state of her clothes and her tangled hair. “Especially for such a lousy huntress”

Another small smile twitched at the edge of his mouth.

Nesta‘s frown deepened. If he meant to start mocking her…

“There is a large library in the manor, you know?”

There was no mockery in his face or voice now. She straightened.

“... a library?"

“Filled with unnumbered texts, tomes and scrolls about any topic that might interest you. And several studies that you are free to use. All much less risky then one of the Suriel.”

Furrowing her brow, she studied him carefully. His intent stare unwavering and expectant. She knew he wanted something from her. Had known it since the beginning. The Suriel had only given her vague answers, but one thing was clear. Whatever purpose he had brought her here for had to do with this mysterious threat. This deceiver.

Slowly she allowed herself to relax. She gave him a small smile in return. Not one by the stiff gracious lady she had pretended to be before. A real smile.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “Not just for this, but for saving me. Thank you.”

Tamlin watched her for another moment, a strange thoughtful look in his eyes.

“Let‘s go back. We're almost there.”

They worldlessly walked back the rest of the way.  However, some of the previous tension had left and made way for a more amicable silence.

Shortly after they both walked through the entrance of the manor, Alis ran up to them. The faerie woman marched past Tamlin ,without so much as a glance, taking in Nesta‘s ragged appearance with wide eyes.

After a shocked heartbeat, Alis sprang into action. She quickly ushered Nesta up the stairs, sending off one of the curious servants who had stopped to gawk at the goings-on to draw a bath.

Alis started pulling Nesta down the corridor towards her room, clucking disapprovingly over the dirty scratched up palms of Nesta‘s hands. Out of the corner Nesta saw Tamlin start to turn down the hall into the other side of the manor. In a brief moment of panic, she pulled out of the faerie woman’s grip. 

“Wait.” 

He turned around looking back at her. Startled to see her call out to him.

“I- the library. You said I could look in the library.”

Nesta flushed at hearing how erratic she sounded.

After a small pause, he gave her a worried look over.

“Don‘t you want to rest a little before…”

At her firm headshake, he gave her a solemn nod.

"Alright.”

He took a step closer and gave her a small bow, taking her by surprise.

“I will show you the library,” as he raised himself back up out of the bow, a wry smile formed on his face. “But please take that bath first. Otherwise, I'm afraid Alis is going to tear off my ears.”

Nesta shot an apologetic glance at Alis who stood at her shoulder, her lips pressed into a tense line.

“Thank you,” she told him before finally letting Alis drag her off to her rooms.

After she let Alis and her helpers scrub the dirt and dried blood from her battered body, and dressed her into a clean simple dress, Nesta was impatient to go off looking for the library. The promise of having access to so much unrestricted knowledge drove her forward. 

She was surprised to see Tamlin wait for her in the hall. 

He straightened from where he had been idly leaning against the wall across her door. He had cleaned up as well, wearing a simple green tunic and leather breeches, no traces of the blood and guts of the Naga left on him.

The eagerness with which he showed her the way, made her feel somewhat bad about her hasty assumption that she would have to go looking for herself.

Wordlessly he guided her down the stairs to the first floor to a large double-sided door. The dark wood was carved with finely made curved vines and intricate forest scenes, elk and wolves frozen in an eternal hunt between the trees.

As Tamlin approached, the right side of the door creaked open by itself. 

Nesta threw him a sideways glance. Uneasy at the casualness with which he performed these feats of magic. Rubbing a hand over her shoulder, she remembered the wound that should have been there.

Pushing past those feelings, she gave him a polite nod and stepped past him through the door. 

The great circular room was lined in dark oak shelves filled with hundreds and thousands of books reaching up high to the raised ceiling. Small wooden steps spiraled up the sides allowing access to the highest levels. Nesta stepped out into the middle, neck craned back, taking the grand room in. Low light of the late evening fell through tall slender windows between the shelves. 

In the distant memory of the big library on their lost estate that her father had been so proud of, she was sure there hadn't been half as many books.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made Nesta spin back around. Tamlin leaned in the entrance of the open door watching her. She looked down, dropping her gaze, feeling embarrassed to be caught so openly gawking.

“You can look at and read anything you want in here,” his voice wavered a little with badly disguised uncertainty as he added on. “I meant it, when I said you were free to go and do whatever you wished. You're not my prisoner.”

Nesta looked at him. Truly looked at him for what felt like the first time. He didn‘t look like one of the cruel High Lords who slaughtered humans at will described by legends. Despite his unearthly fae beauty, the unnatural green of his eyes and the pointed eartips peaking out between his golden hair, the look on his face was unsettlingly human.

“I'm starting to realize that,” Nesta answered carefully.

Tamlin nodded. For a brief moment he continued to linger in the door, he opened his mouth as if meaning to say something more. But instead he remained silent, only giving her another stiff nod and left.

Nesta stared out the open door after him, a frown back on her face, before glancing up at one of the windows. The sun had almost completely sunk below the treeline. On the previous days, at this time Alis would have started getting her ready for dinner. It felt strange that he hadn't said anything about it. He had been the one who had ordered her to attend them every evening.

Forcefully Nesta put that thought out of her head and made for the closest bookshelf. She would not waste this opportunity. Her first goal was to find out more about the Treaty. To better understand her own position here she needed to know what the exact conditions were that bound her to this place. And then, she would look for something about Hybern… that might tell her who this nameless she was…

After what felt like a mere half hour but judging by the star speckled night sky beyond the windows at least a two hours had passed. Nesta reluctantly closed the large history book she had been leafing through. Leaning back in her chair in front of the small desk she had found hidden in a nook between the shelves, she stared up at the ceiling.

Much of her initial excitement at having access to this much unfiltered knowledge had slowly evaporated over the last hour. It turned out that actually finding the information was quite a bit harder when it was hidden in such an abundant trove. Worse, Nesta's almost complete ignorance of the faerie‘s world and history made it even more difficult to parse through the texts she was reading. Rubbing her tired eyes, she had to concede that Tamlin had probably been right when he suggested she rest first. The last couple minutes, Nesta had only managed to stare incomprehendingly at the same page, periodically blinking her tired eyes back open. 

There was no point. The day had been stressful and tiring enough. She should be content with what she had accomplished so far and continue her research tomorrow after a much needed rest.

She took the last sip of cold tea out of her cup. Before putting it back onto the tray next to the empty kettle and plate. Shortly after Tamlin had left her in the library, Alis had appeared bringing her tea, a plate of warm bread and cheese. The faerie had given her a hard reproachful look and had called her a foolish child for attempting her hunt on the Suriel.

As always Alis’ disapproval triggered uncomfortable memories of harsh words and even harsher strikes against her calves. However, Alis’ worried clucking immediately afterwards had almost made up for that.

After putting back the books back onto the shelves where she had found them. Nesta picked up the tray and left the library. The dark halls of the manor were completely deserted. The kitchens were only a short corridor across the entrance hall. Nesta would just bring back the tray and go up to her room.

Just as she entered the wide hall, loud shrieking sounded beyond the walls. Alarmed she spun towards the wide doors, just as they flew open. Tamlin marched in a screaming faerie slung over his shoulder.

Despite almost being as big as him, Tamlin carried the other faerie without strain. In a few rash steps he had crossed half the entrance, storming into the foyer.

As he passed her, she saw the bloody ruin that had been the screaming faerie‘s back.

The blood drained out of her face, leaving her feeling cold and faint.

His pale blue skin raised up into velvety black bloody stumps between his shoulder blades. The flesh was ripped apart, the ragged edges of ruined skin exposed twitching muscles and bone underneath.

Nesta followed a few steps behind Tamlin as if in a trance.

In the large foyer, Tamlin walked up to the large table in the center.

“The table—clear it off!”

His brusque shout almost made her start forward. But suddenly Lucien was there.

He quickly swept the vases of flowers off the table, making room for the faerie convulsing in agony.

Carefully Nesta set the tray she still held aside.

With a mindless sweep of his hand, clean linen and a bowl of warm water appeared next to Tamlin. 

“Scouts found him at the border. They must have dumped him there intentionally.”

Lucien stood motionless to the side. His face pale and almost green under his silver mask. The iris of his russet eye was blown wide and dark. His other golden eye twitching mechanically, narrowing and widening, and narrowing, and widening.

“By the Cauldron…” 

His voice sounded faint and distant.

The injured faerie‘s screams fell quiet, replaced by an awful whimpering.

“My wings,” he chocked out in between pain filled cries, his glossy black eyes empty. “She took my wings…”

He riffed in pain, almost twisting off the table. Trying to grab his shoulder to keep him still while using his other hand to stave off the bleeding, Tamlin snarled in frustration.

“Lucien.”

Tamlin looked up at his friend from his desperate attempt to stop the faerie‘s bleeding. His brow creased in concern.

Lucien let out a couple of faint breaths, staring mindlessly at the open wounds of the blue faerie. It was as if he was somewhere else. He was in no state to help.

Fortifying herself Nesta stepped past Lucien.

Tamlin‘s gaze flickered over to her, looking surprised to see her here at all. Determined, she met his eyes squarely, before grabbing the faerie‘s shoulders and pushing him down. Trying to keep him still as gently as she could.

Soft agonized whimpers continued to leave his throat.

“No, no, no… she took them… she- my wings… my wings…”

In an attempt to soothe him, Nesta began to hum the melody of a half remembered lullaby. The faerie‘s wide eyes sought hers. His face contorted into a mask of pain and horror.

His cold blue skin was unnaturally cold. His voice grew quieter.

Nesta threw a panicked glance up at Tamlin. He gave her a slight shake of the head, his jaw set in a grim expression. He abandoned his futile attempt to hold off the bleeding and gently grabbed the faerie‘s limp hand. Cradling them tenderly in his.

Taking a shaking breath Nesta sank to her knees next to the table, lowering her face to the faerie‘s. In the background she heard a door fall shut, as Lucien stumbled from the room. She started to hum again. His dull eyes found her face, blinking up at her.

Helplessly she gave him a soothing smile, running her hand softly over his sweaty onyx hair. 

Nesta sang the lullaby, remembering only half the words she filled in the rest of the peaceful melody with senseless sounds. She didn‘t think the dying faerie noticed.

When his eyes grew empty and the last faint stuttering breath left his cold lips, she fell silent.

Hesitantly, she let go and got up on her stiff numb feet. Tamlin stood head bent low on the other side of the table.

The sudden stillness in the room opened a gaping hole inside her chest.

“ She … This was her doing?”

The tone of her voice was icy cold. Tamlin looked up at her. The mournful look in his exhausted green eyes was answer enough. Nesta‘s nails bit into the still raw skin of her hands. Almost numb to the pain, she stared down at the still wingless body. Death had smoothed out the deep grooves pain and fear had dug into his face.

The impotent rage she had been feeling all throughout her life rose high to her throat, wanting to bubble out in angry curses and sharp jabs. Nesta strangled them, not letting a word past her lips. She didn‘t feel like she had the right to start ranting over the death of this stranger. A faerie.

But looking down at Tamlin, this High Fae who had seemed threateningly powerful before next to this mutilated corpse, the dead's hand still clasped between his. Nesta had to face the thought that had started to creep up on her since the Suriel… since her talk with Alis the day before in truth.

As much as she despised Tamlin for the way he had attacked her home, frightened her sisters and torn her from them, the concern he showed his people was real. The threat she presented was real. And even if she didn't quite yet understand how, Nesta knew that she somehow played a role in all this as well. She thought of Alis, the other faerie servants who had been kind to her, even Lucien to some extent. It was hard to ignore that whatever danger was lurking in Prythian threatened all of them. Even if they were faeries. 

Nesta could not forgive the harm done to her family, but she did intimately understand the violent need to protect those she loved at any cost. 

This made it a little easier to admit to herself that she no longer hated them.

Chapter Text

“She's let the seam fall at her heel

The needle to her toe

And she has gone to be in Carterhaugh”

Tam Lin (Child 39) by Anaïs Mitchell and Jefferson Hamer

When Alis brought her breakfast, Nesta immediately spied the faded green bundle she carried under her arm.

She sprang out of the bed, where she had just sat up.

“You found it!”

Alis unerringly placed the tray on the little table before held out her old cloak.

The faerie shook out the fabric, and presented the ragged thing to Nesta. Seeing the state of her old garment contrasted with the finery surrounding her now, Nesta grimaced in embarrassment.

After her father foolishly led their family into financial ruin, Nesta had prided herself in taking care of the few meager possessions she had left. 

The only things she had brought with her here among the faeries had been the clothes on her back. And of those the cloak had felt the most important. She would have walked out into the cold snow in just her worn woolen dress had Elain not thought to give her that cloak. When Feyre had wrapped it around her, Nesta had known her youngest sister had understood. That she knew Nesta had gone with the beast for Feyre.  For both of them.

But as she examined her cloak she had to admit that it was hardly fit for more than rags. At places the fabric had been so worn she could see her fingers on the other side between the thinning weave. Some of the stitching had come so loose, the hem had started to unroll, partly exposing the raw edge of the fabric.

Giving Alis an apologetic look Nesta handed it back to her.

“I'm sorry I made you look for it. It probably should just be thrown out”

Alis gave Nesta a discerning look before glancing down at the cloak. 

“I wonder…” The faerie ran the fabric through her hands, a thoughtful expression entered her face.

“This cloak carries memories you hold dear?”

Nesta nodded slowly, unsure what Alis was getting at.

"Hmm." Alis kept examining the cloak a strange look of concentration on her face.

“I- It makes me think of my sisters.” Nesta added carefully.

Brusquely Alis wrapped it back up into a small bundle. She wordlessly ushered Nesta toward the table and began serving the breakfast. 

Still confused, Nesta let herself be pushed around. She kept the faerie in her sight, as Alis began to follow their usual routine and started making the bed and laying out her clothes. Just as Nesta assumed the faerie had moved on from the topic, Alis sat down on the other side of the table. Taken by surprise, Nesta put down one of the sweet pastries she had been nibbling on.

“I came to Spring with my sister‘s children.” 

Nesta perked back up at that.

“When you came from Summer?”

“Yes,” Alis regarded her solemnly. “I don't know for sure what happened to my sister and her mate, but I haven't seen them in nearly fifty years now.”

Unsure how to feel about Alis’ offer of empathy, Nesta kept silent. Part of her wanted to tell Alis her sisters were not dead, that the only reason she wasn't with them was because Tamlin had brought her here against her will. But even that thought had been muddled with the memory of the previous day. With the memory of the last painful moments of a blue faerie. 

A small voice in the back of her mind also whispered that Alis hadn't left her home of her own free will either…

After a small pause, trying to parse her own complicated feelings, Nesta asked.

“The Summer court. What is it like?”

A soft wistful smile broke through Alis’ serious expression.

“Summer was… warm, eternal Summer like it is eternally spring here. To the coast there are many sandy beaches, beautiful hidden lagunes… A clear blue sky. We had beautiful cities, large lively markets. Many Fae of other courts came to Summer to take part in our celebrations.” Alis’ face turned somber again as she quietly added,”the faerie who died last night came from the Summer court.”

Her obvious grief at her lost home and suffering people cut Nesta deep. Her first impulsive feelings made even more ugly by their pettiness. She reached out and gently took Alis’ hand.

“I'm sorry," Nesta spoke softly. “I didn't know…”

Alis squeezed her fingers back comfortingly.

“Don‘t be a fool, girl,” she said fondly. “You carry no fault in this. I have made my home here, as have my nephews.”

Letting go of her hands, she leaned back and pulled out the ragged cloak again, placing it on the table between them.

“We lesser Fae are not as powerful as High Fae, but many among us have unique magical talents. If you want I can ask someone to mend this for you.”

Surprised Nesta pulled back a little.

“... mend it?”

“As appropriate a word as you can use for magic of this kind.”

Hesitantly Nesta looked down at her cloak. The idea to let some faerie use magic on it left her feeling uncomfortable. But hadn‘t Tamlin used magic on her just the day before? Instinctively Nesta grabbed her left shoulder, rubbing her thumb over where she should have still been injured. She hadn't really spared it much thought at the time…

“If you think this person can make it usable…”

Alis scoffed.

“Usable? Huri doesn't make things merely usable. She weaves threads of memories into cloth. If she mends this it will turn into the most magnificent cloak in all of Spring.”

Nesta blinked. Weaving memories? Her uncertainty on letting a stranger bewitch her cloak grew even more.

“I'm not sure that is necessary…,” she said carefully.

Picking up on her discomfort Alis smiled in a soothing manner.

“How about I introduce you to Huri. She can tell you all about what she would be able to do with this old thing,” she waved her hand at the bundle on the table between them, “and then you decide what you want to do with it?”

Nesta regarded the faerie for a short breath, before finally giving a short nod in response.

“I-... Yes. That's a good idea.”

Alis gave Nesta an approving pat on her hand and stood back up, busying herself by brushing out the skirts for the day's dress.

They found Huri in a small homey little room near the kitchens, threading new yarn onto a big loom.

It turned out that Nesta had already met her before. The thin grey woman Alis introduced was the faerie who had scared Nesta terribly that first day and whom she had run into just two days ago and given her directions on where to find Lucien.

After getting past her own discomfort at the faerie‘s appearance, Nesta had thought her to be timid and polite. However, after just a brief introduction and explanation about the cloak by Alis, Huri had grabbed Nesta’s hands with an excited little squeal. Her greyish skin flushed to a warm purple tone and dark eyes sparkled with excitement behind the delicate cobweb-spun mask.

“I haven't had a real project in decades. Alis just makes me let out seams and stuff old socks,” she told Nesta in an exaggerated stage whisper. 

Alis rolled her eyes but her fond smile betrayed her true feelings. 

Huri gave the other faerie a wide grin that revealed the little mandibles concealed behind her upper lips.

“Don‘t worry, Alis. I still fix stuff for the boys. I'm just happy you finally brought me something more challenging.”

Trying to follow their conversation, Nesta hesitantly asked.

“The boys?”

“My nephews,” Alis explained. “They are still growing and Huri has been a great help with keeping up with their clothes.”

Huri nodded enthusiastically.

“Yes. They are such sweet little boys. I miss them already.”

Feeling even more confused, Nesta creased her forehead.

“Wait… I'm sorry I must have misunderstood, but I thought you and your nephews came here fifty years ago?”

Alis clicked her tongue.

“We did.”

“But how are they still…”

Alis fully turned towards Nesta, an amused glint entering her eyes.

“We, Fae,  live long lifes. Our children take a lot longer to grow than those of mortals.”

Ohh… Nesta glanced at both faeries, feeling somewhat foolish. She had known faeries lived for centuries, but she hadn‘t really allowed herself to dwell much on this knowledge. It made her feel small to consider that the people surrounding her might have lived for hundreds of years.

“How-... ehh,” she grimaced as she realized outright asking their age might be an impolite thing to do.

Huri smiled kindly at her, taking note of Nesta‘s discomfort.

“I'm not very old for a faerie. I just turned a century a couple of months ago.” Nesta schooled her face not to reveal the shock she felt at Huri's proclamation that a century wasn‘t very old. “Alis, however, is already past her sixth century.”

Hearing this Nesta‘s eyes bulged. Six hundred years! It felt utterly unbelievable to imagine the stout faerie woman in front of her to be old enough to have lived through the war. Older than the wall…

The realization that Alis was old enough to remember the signing of the Treaty hit Nesta like lightning. Quickly she grabbed Alis’ hand.

“Do you know the Treaty? What are its rules? Their exact wording!”

Nesta‘s excitement quickly waned as she took in Alis’ displeased look.

“I’m one of the lesser Fae, as you very well know, we do not have the privilege to be part of the rulings of the High Fae.”

Feeling her skin heat in an embarrassed flush as she realized her mistake, Nesta started to offer Alis a hasty apology. The other woman merely shook her head.

“You do not know our customs very well, I need to remember that.” 

Her face darkened further as she continued on.

“After the war, humans won their freedom, but us lesser Fae were left to shoulder the leftover work load… It wasn't a good time for us. Some places, like Spring, have become more welcoming to us. But in many courts we are still treated much the same. Now, of course, it has gotten worse again…”

Alis trailed off, her eyes settling on Nesta‘s focused face. She pressed her lips together tightly.

Huri broke the tense silence that threatened to stretch out uncomfortablely long between them.

“Things are much better here. My cousin and I came from autumn, and even before everything, life was really dangerous for us lesser Fae there.”

“Before everything?”

Huri's reaction to her question surprised her. The faerie widened her eyes before she hunched her bony shoulders and looked guiltily at Alis. The older woman frowned.

“Before the blight is what she meant.”

Reluctantly Nesta accepted the evasive answer. The blight again… Meaning this also had to do with the mysterious deceiver the Suriel had spoken of. Alis’ stern face made it clear that she did not intend to say more on the topic.

Huri again proved to be the one to break the tension. She directed the conversation back to Alis and Nesta’s original purpose in seeking her out by asking after the cloak she was supposed to mend.

Alis unfurled the faded fabric in front of her. Huri ran her spindly eight fingered hands across it, her big glossy eyes focused on in complete concentration. After a short while she left out a soft breath and glanced back up at Nesta.

“This fabric carries a magnificent weave,” she spoke with reverence in her voice. “I really hope you allow me to work on it.”

Nesta could only give the faerie an uncertain smile.

“I'm sorry, but I honestly don't quite understand what you wish to do with it.”

Huri let out a small gasp, before giving Alis a reproachful look.

“You didn't even explain to her what I do?”

Alis clicked her tongue.

“I tried, but I thought you might do better explaining your own craft.”

Huri answered in a small huff and turned fully toward Nesta. She gently reached out and grabbed Nesta’s hands, running her long fingers over her knuckles.

“I'm a weaver,” she swept her free hand towards the loom. “I make cloth and new fabrics. But my kind has another special skill. I can take old used cloth and find the memories that have been tangled between the threads, and weave them together making a new version of the old.”

Nesta frowned slightly. She couldn‘t help the discomfort that rose inside of her at the prospect of a faerie using her magic on her possession… on her memories no less. But the earnest look in Huri's eyes made it hard to believe that the faerie meant any harm.

“Alright,” she finally said,”but please promise me you won't ensorcel it or bewitch somehow… that it will just be a cloak.”

Huri blinked surprised.

“Of course it will just be a cloak!”, she looked a little abashed as she added, “It won't be ensorcelled or anything like that, but sometimes the memories bring out certain properties…”

Watching Nesta cringe at those words, she continued quickly.

“But none of those are my own magic. The only thing I do is spin the memories into thread and weave it into the cloth.”

Nesta mulled those words over, unsure how much they actually reassured her. But the faerie must speak the thruth… at least as she believed it. 

As she finally gave the weaver faerie her assent, Huri's face erupted into a wide smile. Her mandibles showing clearly behind her upper lip. Nesta noted with some surprise that they unsettled her much less than she would have expected.

Shortly after that, Nesta left Huri's room with the promise to return later that afternoon and share some stories about her former life. According to Huri this would help her identify the best weave to use for her cloak. Nesta still felt a gnawing uncertainty about letting Huri magic her old cloak, but she valiantly tried to ignore it.

She informed Alis that she intended to spend the rest of the morning and midday in the library. The faerie gave her a stiff nod and a promise to bring her her lunch in a few hours before leaving her alone.

Nesta swiftly made her way to the library and was glad to find the large circular room deserted. After a quick perusal of the lower shelves she found the large history tome she had been leafing through the previous night. She carried the heavy leather bound book to the little desk and tried to find the spot she had left off.

The incredible amount of detail the author of this particular book turned out to be more of a curse than a blessing. After almost a half hour of skimming through the various historical accounts of trade agreements and alliances Spring had made many centuries before the Fae human war even began, Nesta finally stumbled upon a name that caused her to pause.

Carefully she read over the relevant paragraph. It closely described the budding alliance between the Spring court and Hybern. Her brow creased in confusion, as she considered this new piece of information.

The Suriel had told her of Hybern. A faerie kingdom across the western sea. The origin of this nameless deceiver and an enemy of Prythian and its High Lords… Or so she had thought.

Quickly she grabbed a sheet of parchment, a writing quill and ink she had found in the drawer under the desk. Rereading the passage, she noted down the date this alliance began. Putting the quill back down, she began leafing further through the pages. Eventually she got to the parts that chronicled the beginnings of the war.

It felt surreal to read about an event that carried such importance to humanity from the perspective of the Fae. The utter disregard the writer afforded the humans and their desperate fight for freedom made Nesta‘s hands shake with rage. The cold calculation in the way the lives of the lesser Fae were measured stroked the flames of her anger.

But amongst all her outrage, she also felt confused. How could this presumably High Fae scholar writing this record so pridefully describe the Spring Court's support and allyship with Hybern? Show such utter contempt not just for humans but the lesser Fae as well?

All while Alis and Huri claimed the Spring Court to be a refuge for both lesser Fae and faeries fleeing the blight, who according to the Suriel was a rogue agent of Hybern?

Unsure what to make of all this seemingly contradictory information, Nesta squibbled  a couple key notes on the war, including the date, down.

Comparing it with the date Spring's alliance with Hybern took place she quickly calculated the difference. About three hundred years…

Nesta thoughtfully ran the feather at the end of her quill under her chin. Was Spring still allied with Spring? That idea did not quite sit right with her. She thought about Tamlin… his reaction to her telling him about what the Suriel had shared with her.

He had looked disgusted at the mere mention of them, hadn‘t he?

Or had he just been upset about Nesta finding out about his allies… but that didn't make sense, did it? Why then allow her access to the library? Or take in the refugees from other courts fleeing the deceiver's rule?

Letting out a frustrated growl, Nesta leaned back over the book and continued flipping through the pages. 

To her utter annoyance she realized that the Treaty was apparently the one major event the author decided to be sparse on. Other than their clear discontent with the defeat the faeries suffered, they shared very little on the Treaty's actual wording or the rules it entailed other than the existence of the wall. 

Nesta had to face further disappointment when she realized that the history book ended shortly after the signing of the Treaty. After quickly noting down the date for the signing, she took the heavy tome back to its spot on the shelf and started her search for another historical records. Preferably one that isn't written by a hateful twat, she thought sourly.

After a couple more hours, leafing through various books, Nesta was vexed to realize that most texts that made mention of the Treaty were incredibly vague. Some described the wall and made some general statements about a promise that faeries would stay out of human lands. Others mostly lamented the fact that Prythian lost the labour their human slaves had provided. Those last ones made Nesta grind her teeth. 

But none mentioned anything about the rule about a human life being needed in exchange for any faerie life taken in the human lands.

Leaning back in her chair, she stretched her arms out over her head. She let out a tired sigh as she relieved some of the stiffness in her upper back and neck.

Unfortunately, Nesta had also discovered that most of the records only went up to about a century past the war. She had hoped to find something about the past fifty years, preferably a nice thorough report on the exact goings-on in all of Prythian that explained who this deceiver was…

Nesta looked over her notes. She did not like how much of what she had discovered seemed to prove that the Spring court and its people had been as wicked and cruel as human tales had made all faeries out to be. Just a few days ago this knowledge wouldn't have faced her. She would have expected it.

But now… Even if Alis and Huri hadn't been born in Spring, they clearly had made it their home. And even if she still didn‘t trust Tamlin, she couldn‘t erase the memory of the previous night. Of the dying faerie from the Summer Court, and the High Lord of Spring kneeling next to him cradling his hand until the very end.

Nesta was still missing too many pieces…

The sound of the door creaking open ripped through her thoughts. Swirling around in her seat, Nesta watched Lucien enter the library.

He pushed the door open wider with his right shoulder making space for the tray he carried to pass through. Looking up at her he gave her a jovial smile. 

Nesta felt her own face pull into a frown. She did not particularly care to see the red-haired faerie. Especially not after the game he had tried to play by sending her after the Suriel and then doing whatever that had been at dinner two nights ago.

As he took in her displeasure, Lucien grimaced a little. Still he stepped up close to her desk and placed the tray down in front of her.

Stiffly she glanced down at a kettle filled with steaming tea and a plate of sweet fruit tarts. 

“What is this?”

Lucien casually leaned against the nearest shelf and swept out his arm at the tray in a small bow.

“A peace offering.”

Nesta scoffed.

“And why is that?”

She made little effort in hiding the scorn in her voice.

“Well, considering that I was the one who sent you on that little excursion yesterday…,” he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. “I thought-...,” letting out a little embarrassed breath he forged on. “When I first told you of the Suriel, I was still angry about Andras. It was… is hard having you here knowing he is gone. Afterwards when you came asking after it, I shouldn't have told you how to catch it. I already knew it then. At dinner I tried to warn you off,” his mouth ticked up into a wry smile. “Obviously that didn't work.”

Nesta sceptically regarded the food and drink in front of her.

“And you think some tea and a couple of sweets are going to make up for you trying to get me killed?”

Lucien flinched a little at the unyielding tone of her voice.

“Well… if you put it like that.” 

At a hard stare by Nesta, he met her eyes frankly.

“Look. I was angry at you. Andras, one of my best friends, is dead because of you. I won't pretend that didn't make me hate you. But I also know you aren‘t here by choice either. I will no longer hold his death against you and maybe you can forgive me for endangering your life?”

Nesta studied him closely, trying to gauge the sincerity in his words. Looking back down at the tray and she tentatively picked a blueberry tart. Taking a small bite, she considered the faerie.

In truth she wasn‘t particularly surprised that he harboured enough anemosity towards her to set her up in that way. Despite relying on his knowledge to go after the Suriel, after more answers, parts of her had guessed at his hidden motives. Though his warnings not to betray him to Tamlin indicated that his attempt at vengeance had not been sanctioned by his lord. In fact Tamlin had saved her life, had expressed sincere concern over her wellbeing…

This just strengthened her belief that the faeries needed her for something.

As she mulled over those thoughts, Lucien cocked his head at her.

“I take it that means you accept my peace offering?,” he said with a nod toward the half eaten tart between her fingers.

She answered him with a cold smile.

“Let‘s say I'm considering it.”

His face widened in one of his irritating grins.

“Well, I will still consider that success,” pushing off the shelf he walked back towards the door, speaking over his shoulder. “I leave you to whatever boring dusty old book has caught your interest.”

Later that day, Nesta made her way from the library to Huri's room. When she knocked and entered into the small homey space, the faerie woman was busy rummaging through a big chest towards the back of the room.

Nesta made her presence known with another louder knock against the doorframe. Popping her head out of the chest, Huri threw up a hand in a hasty wave.

“Oh! Come in, come in.”

She triumphantly held up a little wooden statue.

“Ha! Gidon has been looking for this thing for a while now. I knew I had it somewhere!”

She quickly gathered her dark skirts up, and hurried towards Nesta. Proudly showing her the carved figure, she smiled widely, the little mandibles twitching in excitement.

“I…,” uncertain what to say Nesta looked down at the figure. It portrayed a veiled female figure cradling a large fruit in her arms. Despite her small size, the wood was carved so delicately her features showed through the thin veil. Nesta was amazed that at closer inspection she could even make out the slight impression of the figure's fingers on the soft flesh of the ripe fruit.

“It‘s beautiful.”

“It is, isn't it?,” Huri whispered with a soft smile.

“My aunt made it for me. So, the Mother would always watch over me.”

Nesta hesitated, before starting to express her sympathy for the faerie‘s loss.

Huri laughed in surprise.

“Oh no, my mother isn't dead. I'm talking about the Mother. She, who created this land for us and imbued it with all its magic.”

Raising the little figure meaningfully, she explained.

“Carrying an idol in her image as a talisman is meant to protect us from misfortune.”

Slipping the little figure into the pocket hidden under her skirts, Huri offered Nesta an apologetic smile.

“I know I told you to join me here for the stories, but would you mind telling them as we go to my cousin?”

“No, I don't mind."

Huri's genuine smile turned eager. Linking her thin bony arm with Nesta‘s, she immediately guided them towards the door.

“Thank you. Gidon wanted to take a look at the carving for ages now. Their mother made it and ever since coming to Spring they haven't been able to see any of their Mother's work.”

As they passed through the many corridors of the manor, despite her wish for Nesta to be the one to tell her stories, Huri ended up doing most of the talking. Nesta didn‘t really mind.

Huri's clear joy at sharing various stories about her family made it hard to find fault in her unstoppable ramblings. From the faerie‘s tales, Nesta gathered that she and her cousin Gidon, as the youngest members of their family, had fled to Spring about sixty years ago. The rest of their family was as far as Huri last heard still alive back in Autumn. Despite the sorrow, Nesta expected the other woman to feel at the long separation from her family, Huri's mood remained jovial.

As they stepped outside the manor, into the gardens, Huri shared that her cousin Gidon was a carver like their mother. They were apparently also quite excited that Huri had met the new human in the court. This surprised Nesta, especially in light of Lucien‘s recent confession.

“I thought more of you would hate me.” She told Huri carefully.

The faerie‘s glossy eyes widened in surprise.

“Why would we hate you! We've all wai-... been really excited to meet a human in so long.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes at the suspicious way the other woman covered up a clear slip-up. Huri lowered her glossy eyes, evading Nesta‘s discerning gaze.

“I spoke with Lucien not too long ago,” Nesta shared. “He told me about Andras.”

Huri flinched a little at hearing the name of the dead sentry.

“We all mourn for Andras. He was kind and well liked by everyone, but there are… circumstances around his death that you don't know.”

Pouncing onto that last statement Nesta grabbed Huri's arm.

“What circumstances?”

At the faerie‘s wide eyed shock, Nesta forced herself to loosen her grip. 

“Please, Huri, if there is something important you're not telling me… Something about why I've been brought here… please tell me.”

Hearing Nesta‘s pleading, Huri reached out and squeezed her hand in reassurance. 

“I'm sorry, Nesta,” giving her a kind helpless smile she whispered low under her breath. “but there are things I can't tell you anything about. I-... We are just happy you are finally here.”

Nesta blinked. Finally?

“So…,” Huri linked their arms back together and pulled them forward again, clearly intending to move onto a safer topic, “You promised to tell me some stories about you. I need to hear some so that I can better recognize the memories in your cloak, you know?”

Reluctantly, Nesta went along with the change in discussion.

“I'm not sure what you want to hear.”

Huri tapped her bottom lip with the tip of one of her pointy fingers, the long digit inhumanly curled due to its many joints.

“I guess, let's start with what the cloak means to you. Why do you want to keep it?”

Her answer formed without much thought.

“It‘s the last thing my sisters gave me when I left.” 

Huri smiled widely.

“Then it should be their memory that's tangled between the fibers,” she nodded approvingly,”So, tell me stories of them.”

Nesta grimaced slightly. Her sisters… Soft and gentle Elain, and Feyre, impulsive and prideful. Most of her life, Nesta had taken care of Elain, protecting her from the hardships that had come with their misfortune. In many ways Elain had been easy to love, easy to mother.

And Feyre, well… Her youngest sister had been harder to take off, had rarely leg herself be taken care off. In some ways Feyre had grown-up too fast. One moment she had been a feral little girl, Nesta at fourteen had found little interest in, too occupied with her mother's lessons and the duties that came with her being the eldest… The next, they had been freezing hungry and poor in their little hovel, their father a wordless unmoving shell, and while Nesta had still been reeling from all their losses, little Feyre had suddenly grown-up into a hard young woman.

Nesta knew without a doubt that she loved both of her sisters. Loved them so fiercely that at times she didn't know where to put it all. But, with Feyre, despite all that love, Nesta also knew that she didn't fully understand her nor did Feyre fully understand Nesta either.

“I'm not sure that I have many happy memories to share about them. We didn't always get along well.”

Huri laughed warmly, squeezing her arm reassuringly.

“Don‘t worry. Memories don't need to be all sweet. Sometimes even bitter things can be spun into something beautiful.”

Huri's words softened something inside Nesta‘s chest. Hesitantly she answered the faerie‘s warm smile in kind and began to tell her about her sisters.

Nesta and Huri arrived at a small row of little wooden cabins at the back of the estate. They turned out to be filled with ateliers and workrooms for a variety of faerie artists and artisans.

Nesta watched, eyes wide in amazement, as a greenskinned glassblower formed hot glowing glass into an intricate vase. Not far, another faerie large antlers growing out between tight dark curls decorated with colourful ribbons, stirred a sharp smelling yellow dye in a large pot. Farther back, the loud clanking of a smithy could be heard.

The faerie artisans all threw curious glances in her direction. Some shouted a greeting to Huri, but otherwise they kept their distance.

Huri guided Nesta to one of the middle huts, where she was greeted with a tight hug by another faerie. They had just put down a gouge with which they had been scraping pieces of a large woodblock. 

As Huri stepped back from who Nesta assumed was her cousin, she was surprised by the fact that while Gidon shared Huri's greyish complexion and glossy black eyes, they had three sets of spindly arms. Their upper face was covered by a webspun mask much like Huri's.

“This is my cousin Gidon,” the faerie woman announced eagerly. “Gidon, this is Nesta.”

The way Huri said Nesta‘s name, made it clear that the faeries had already spoken it often among themselves. Nesta wasn't sure how she felt about that. Like so many little things, it needled at her. Feeding the anxiety that set deep in her stomach.

Covering up those emotions, she offered Gidon a polite smile and curtsey.

Huri went on to proudly share that she was going to weave Nesta‘s cloak for her. Gidon smiled amicably nodding along, clearly used to their cousin's excited nature. Deftly using a small pause in between Huri's vivid recounting of her and Nesta‘s brief first meetings, Gidon addressed Nesta directly.

“I've been hoping to meet you,” the timber of their voice was calm and soothing. “I'm a collector of stories and legends, I like to use them as inspiration for my craft. Since your arrival I've hoped to have the chance to ask you for a human tale.”

Nesta blinked in surprise. Gidon smiled a little abashed.

“I hoped to use a story told among mortals as inspiration for a carving to honour you.”

This last statement left Nesta speechless. She almost gauged at the faerie. 

Honour her? Why would a faerie want to honour a random human… No. Not a random human. But a human they believed had murdered one of their own.

Huri bit her lip, her worried expression making it clear she had taken note of direction Nesta‘s thoughts had taken.

Pushing past her confusion and rising irritation at her ignorance, Nesta gave Huri a reassuring smile.

“I'm not sure what type of story you're looking for,” she told Gidon.

They dismissively wave one of their many arms through the air.

“It doesn‘t matter. Any myth or legend told among humans will do. Just tell me one you like.”

Nesta grimaced a little. Many of the mythical stories told among humans, unfortunately revolved around faeries. And they rarely cast the faeries into a flattering light. Most tales were about cunning heros or virtuous maidens overcoming the wicked traps and twisted tricks set up by cruel faeries. Some other tales took an even darker tone, and told the tragic fate any careless human suffered after wandering into the hands of a powerful Fae Lord. Some, Nesta desperately tried not to think too hard about, were about Fae Lords stealing human maidens to bleed them dry in some magic ritual…

Nesta doubted either Gidon or Huri would be particularly amused to hear a tale that depicted their kind as nothing more than bloodthirsty monsters.

Mulling over all the stories she knew she tried to come up with one that might risk offending them the least.

“I think I might know one you might enjoy,” Nesta finally offered.

Gidon nodded encouragingly at her.

“It is about a brave human girl who rescues her love from a powerful ensorcelment put on him by a faerie,” Nesta spoke hesitantly trying to gauge the reaction of her audience of two. Neither Huri nor Gidon seemed to mind that the faerie was cast as the villain role.

Relaxing a little, Nesta went on to tell them the tale about brave Margaret saving her love Tomas from a jealous faerie.

She had always been quite fond of this story. And more recently, as she had started taking Tomas’ suit more seriously, she had thought it fitting that his namesake would be from one of her favourite stories.

Wistfully, she pushed past any thoughts of Tomas. He didn't really matter now. She found she did not really care that she would never see him again.

As she ended her brief recounting of the tale, Gidon thanked her with a wide smile.

“What a beautiful story,” they said. Nesta was glad to hear no trace of irony in her soft voice.

Huri nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

“It actually reminded me a lot of one my mother used to tell us! Do you remember the one I mean, Gidon?”

Her cousin nodded slowly.

“Yes, there are some similarities between them,” their face turned thoughtful. “I think commonalities might be due to the fact that both humans and lesser Fae have long lived in the shadow of the High Fae who ruled both our people.”

Nesta perked up at that. Her interest snared by Gidon's idle musings.

“You think these stories share the same origin,” she asked curiously.

“Not necessarily, but both our people would have created stories in which they cast themselves as the underdog fighting their more powerful rulers through cunning and bravery.”

Gidon gave Nesta a sly smile as they continued.

“I assume the humans have quite a few more stories about wicked faeries.”

Nesta let out a little laugh as she realized how thoroughly Gidon had seen through her.

“Yes,” she admitted freely. “Most of our stories are about overcoming the Fae. Many much more gruesome than this one.”

Gidon gave her an earnest little grin, revealing their own little set of mandibles much like their cousin.

Throwing a hesitant glance at Huri, Nesta decided to risk asking Gidon a more pointed question. She didn‘t intend to push any of the topics she had been expressly rebuked on by other faeries. Wording her question carefully she asked them.

“I've spent some time reading about the history of the court, and I found it curious how much the Spring seemed to adhere to the strict hierarchy between Lesser and High Fae. But every time I speak with one of you, you seem to regard Spring as a safe haven? You also act quite careless around the High Fae here.”

To Nesta‘s surprise, Huri was the one who answered. Her eyes lit up with joy.

“That‘s because Tamlin has changed things since he became High Lord a couple centuries back!”

Nesta barely registered the relief she felt at the information that whichever High Lord had been making the alliance with Hybern and led the war against the humans must have been one of Tamlin‘s predecessors and not Tamlin himself, when her thoughts snared on the words a couple centuries. No matter how silly she felt for that reaction, especially as she had been suspecting Tamlin of being High Lord seven hundred years ago to make that alliance with Hybern, still, she couldn‘t help the disbelief she felt every time she heard the long lives of the Fae be so casually referred to.

Gidon spoke up, elaborating on their cousin's explanation.

“The High Lord of Spring has gone through great lengths to allow the lesser Fae who live here many rights we've been denied elsewhere. Our lives have been so much better since coming here, though, there are still things that could be improved.”

Huri scoffed at her cousin's words.

“You‘re just greedy. Tamlin has already done so much for us.”

Gidon's otherwise tranquil mask cracked a little, as they rolled their eyes at their cousin's defence of the High Lord.

“I don't deny any of his accomplishments so far, Huri. I'm just pointing out that even if many of the unfair laws that held us down have been changed, we still are far from equal to the High Fae. Even here in Spring,” reaching out with two of their right arms, Gidon grabbed Huri's left hand. “No need to defend the lord‘s honour, you know that. I do understand that the last half century has made it hard to continue pushing for these changes.”

The thin faerie woman just nodded silently, her face slowly relaxing from her upset frown.

“Before I came here, I didn't know how badly lesser Fae have been treated by the High Fae,” Nesta ventured to say.

As Huri and Gidon's attention fell back to her, she nervously bit at her lip.

“In most of our stories, there is very little difference made between any kinds of faerie. They're all just described as vicious and hateful towards humans.”

Huri took a step closer to Nesta giving her a reassuring smile.

“Don‘t worry. Mortals have been living separate from us for a long time now. We don't hold it against you that you don't know these things.”

Taking the faerie‘s long wiry fingers, Nesta squeezed them softly. 

“Thank you”

She threw a quick glance between Huri and Gidon.

“Would you tell me? About what it means to be lesser Fae?”

Huri nodded excitedly, her glossy black eyes lighting up, a wide smile on her face showing off the little mandibles.

Immediately she started off telling Nesta about her family's life in the Autumn court. She explained that her family had been considered valuable as labourers, they hadn't been allowed to travel freely and been forced to work either in the stone masonry or the weaver's mill. If they weren't able to fulfill their work quota, they were punished by pay cuts and forced to face starvation.

Nesta felt her heart sink at the horrible descriptions. It had been one thing to hear about the hierarchy that existed between High and Lesser Fae. To possess the abstract knowledge that they had been treated unfairly…

But to hear Huri describe all the terrible details of how her family had been exploited by those deemed to be above them, made Nesta seeth with impotent rage.

“But over the last century, there had been more rumours about Spring offering the lesser Fae a better life,” Huri went on. “So our mothers decided to smuggle Gidon and me out and send us here.”

“Why didn't they come with you?,” Nesta asked.

Gidon answered her.

“We were still young enough that we hadn't been sent off to work yet. They kept track of all the labourers, so they would have found out if our parents tried to leave. But as children, we wouldn't be missed.”

“Yes,” Huri agreed. “We hid in an apple crate and a trader, who was a friend of our mothers’, smuggled us across the border.”

An amused smile pulled at the corner of Gidon's mouth.

“It was quite the adventure, wasn't it?”

Huri laughed.

“Now it might be! But at the time I was shaking with fear. Remember when those soldiers almost got us!”

Gidon nodded, becoming much more animated now that they had started to reminisce old memories with their cousin. They threw a conspiratorial glance at Nesta, before whispering.

“Huri was shaking so much the whole crate started to vibrate…”

“Hah!,” Huri let out. “That‘s a lie!"

Nesta frowned in confusion.

Shaking their head a little, Gidon continued.

“A border patrol of Autumn soldiers almost caught on, but the trader saved us. He came up with the most absurd tale about some rats being drunk on cider or something like that. I think the reason the soldiers left was because they wanted to get away from his wild ramblings-”

“Are you alright, Nesta?” 

Huri's concerned voice cut off Gidon.

Nesta stared at the to faeries. All the blood had left her face, leaving her feeling faint and cold. Her confusion had turned into alarm.

“What do you mean by ‘lie’?”

Her voice shook a little.

Huri cocked her head slightly, her brow creased in confusion behind her mask.

“What do you…”

“Faeries shouldn't lie! Cannot lie! All the stories say so.”

Nesta winced a little at hearing the shrill panic in her own voice.

Sudden realization made Huri's eyes grow bigger.

“Oh! You didn't know?”

The mirth in her voice immediately made Nesta‘s hackles rise up.

“You lied to me?!”

Her sharp question more an accusation than a real question. 

Huri blinked, her brows drew together, her hurt at Nesta‘s accusation clearly visible.

Gidon watched them with concerned eyes.

Nesta stared at them both, desperately trying to get a hold of her thoughts running wild. Since arriving every assumption and conclusion she had come to had been built on the knowledge that faeries could not lie. It had provided an odd sort of comfort to know that even if she could trust nothing else in this strange new place, she could at least trust to never be outright lied to…

But, if they had been lying to her all this time…

A cold shudder ran down Nesta‘s back.

Gidon carefully interjected in a conciliatory tone.

“We have only been honest with you”

“And how can I trust your word?”

“We can tell lies same as humans. Our word is as trustworthy as your own.”

Nesta bit her tongue, shallowing back a biting retort.

Gidon looked at her, a frank expression on their face.

“We Fae can lie, have always been able to lie. But, we can be bound by our words when we swear on our magic or the land. Any treaty, oath or bargain a Fae enters into is binding. I think that might be where human tales got the idea we can't lie at all from.”

Taking a deep breath, Nesta tried to calm her fears. Their surprise at Nesta‘s accusation made it clear they hadn't been aware of Nesta‘s ignorance on this topic. If they had tried to deceive her through lies they wouldn't have so carelessly revealed themselves.

“The Treaty… Is it binding?”

Nesta relaxed a little as Gidon nodded in answer to her hesitant question.

“I-...,” unsure what to say, Nesta looked back towards Huri. The thin grey faerie‘s shoulders hunched, the hurt still visible in her eyes, her mouth turned down into a frown.

“I'm sorry,” Nesta managed to say. “I always believed that faeri- That Fae aren't able to tell lies. Learning that isn't true… It shocked me.”

Huri nodded, her posture straightening a little.

“I'm sorry,” Nesta repeated. “I shouldn't have accused you of lying."

Huri gave her a weak smile.

“It‘s alright,“ she said softly. “I know you still don‘t trust us.“

Unable to contradict Huri’s assertion, Nesta kept silent. A stilted silence fell between the three of them.

“Well,“ Huri finally interjected.“I think I best bring Nesta back to the manor now…“

As both she and Nesta started saying their goodbyes to Gidon, Huri‘s affectionate and Nesta‘s more subdued, she suddenly startled.

“Oh, I almost forgot!“ Huri grabbed into her skirt pocket, pulling out the little wooden caring of the Mother.

“Here! I said I would find it, didn‘t I?“

She proudly presented the statue to her cousin. Gidon leaned forward, as they looked down at it their face softened into a wistful little smile. Reverently they reached out with one of their many hands and scooped the little figure out of Huri‘s hands.

“Thank you,“ a mischievous grin suddenly appeared on their face, they gently nudged Huri with an elbow. “I never doubted you.“

Huri laughed at that, the sarcasm in Gidon‘s tone clear to Nesta as well.

“You‘re such a dirty liar!“ She told her cousin good naturedly. After a brief moment she threw Nesta an apologetic glance, as she belatedly realized what she had said.

Nesta smiled at her, shaking her head a little to assure her that she wasn‘t offended.

As Huri and Nesta walked back through the vast gardens towards the manor house, the lowering sun started to tint the sky pink in a sign of early evening. Nesta was surprised at how quickly the day had passed, many of the previous days of the short week she had spent in Spring, had stretched out in dreary boredom. Throwing a covert glance at Huri, she silently admitted to herself how glad she was that Alis had introduced them. 

Despite Huri shocking age, Nesta still had a hard time wrapping her head around the fact this seemingly young woman had already lived a full century, Huri‘s presence had reminded Nesta of her life before and the friends she had. She thought about Clare, with a sting in her heart, Nesta remembered their last promise to meet during the midweek market. She had planned to tell Clare all about the latest development in her courtship with Tomas. She would see neither of them ever again. She wasn‘t surprised that the thought of never seeing Clare again hurt more than the thought of Tomas.

Nesta and Huri passed a group of sentry standing, judging by their dirty boots and mud splattered cloaks, they had just returned from a patrol. Huri surprised Nesta by suddenly grabbing her arm, and walking quicker. Throwing an alarmed look over her shoulder at the sentries, she quickened her pace and followed Huri‘s lead.

Just as Nesta was about to ask Huri about her fearful reaction, she caught sight of Huri‘s face.

Her normally greyish skin had turned warm in a purple blush. Despite her hurried stride, she constantly threw little glances back over her shoulder. She was nervously chewing on her bottom lip. When she finally looked up at Nesta, she whispered anxiously.

“Do you think they noticed me?“

Throwing another look back over her shoulder at the tall figures vanishing behind a row of hedges, she considered them. All three of them much taller and broader than most of the Lesser Fae Nesta had seen around the estate. Their bodies looked lithe and strong, their faces from what she could make out at this distance unearthly beautiful. They were very clearly High Fae.

“I don‘t know,“ she answered hesitantly.

Huri cringed a little.

“I really hope Lilja didn‘t see me.“

“Lilja?,“ Nesta asked surprised.

Huri‘s purple blush deepened. 

„She‘s a… friend,“ she explained haltingly. 

This surprised Nesta, she had assumed Huri‘s avoidance of the sentries had been because of their status as High Fae.

“Oh… But why avoid her then?“ 

„We had a fight a couple days ago, and I‘m not ready yet to forgive her.“

Regarding the Fae woman a little longer, noticing Huri’s lowered eyes, the nervous twitching in her fingers, the continuous blush spread across her cheeks, Nesta slowly nodded. She wouldn‘t pry. She wasn‘t sure what the Fae thought about the type of relationship she suspected Huri and Lilja might have, but at least in the human lands, things like these were supposed to be kept quiet.

As they got closer to the manor, they passed along the dark rose bushes spread out along the full length of the building.

Huri stiffened at her side again. Just as Nesta made to ask what was wrong, Huri quickly lowered her head into a little bow. Looking up, Nesta almost jumped at Tamlin standing a few steps in front of them.

Seeing Huri bow, his mouth twisted in discomfort. Before anyone else could say anything, Huri straightened and turned to Nesta.

“I‘m going now. I promise I will show you all the progress I make on your cloak. Good night.“

She gave Nesta another quick bow, before twirling around rushing off in quick hurried steps. Nesta stared after her utterly baffled at the Fae‘s sudden erratic behaviour. Feeling a little hurt to be completely abandoned at the mere sight of the High Lord Huri herself had just been defending from her cousin.

Facing Tamlin again, Nesta remained silent, unsure what to say now that they were alone. She did not like how uncertain his piercing green gaze made her feel. It almost was unfair that he could hide some of his feelings behind that abominable mask, while she had to show her bare face.

Glancing down at his hands hanging stiffly at his sides, she remembered them covered in blood and clasped around the limp hand of a dead faerie. She had hoped to continue avoiding Tamlin after yesterday. Especially after all she had learned today. Alis‘, Huri‘s and Gidon‘s tales about the unfairness the Lesser Fae faced everywhere, their claims that Tamlin was some sort of champion for them, the way their stories seemed to conflict with Nesta‘s readings in the library. The still unanswered questions she had yet to find answers to. Why she was her? Who was the deceiver behind the blight? All of it made her head spin.

Tamlin grimaced a little as they stood facing each other, standing silently on the little path leading up to the house.

“Do you want me to walk you to the house?“

“I can see it fine from here, I‘m capable of finding it on my own just fine.“

His mouth flattened into a tight line. Yet, he surprised Nesta, instead of reverting to silently ignoring her after her cold rebuff as he used to do during dinner, he forged on in a graceless attempt to engage her in conversation.

“Did you enjoy your walk with Huri?“

Nesta had not expected him to know Huri by name. It seemed strange that one of the seven rulers of the Fae would know a simple servant.

“I did.“

Again, her short answer did not deter him.

“Did you come from the artisan‘s village?“

In answer Nesta gave him a silent nod. She tried to hide her little frown at how quickly he had discerned her whereabouts. 

„We have quite a lot of artisans living in Spring.“

Tamlin managed to force a stilted half-smile, at her silence. His continued efforts to talk to her equally frustrated and confused her. It was clear that he had brought her to Spring for a reason. That he needed a mortal to solve whatever crisis had befallen Prythian at the hands of this deceiver. Why did he not just say what he wanted from her? Why all these games?

The longer he kept up this strange pretence the more it raised Nesta‘s suspicions. A dark voice in the back of her mind, whispered tales her governess had told to scare her as a child. Tales about evil vicious faeries stealing children and maidens out of their beds to burn them in sacrifice to their dark gods, or drain their blood to perform their wicked magic…

As much as Nesta had been forced to concede that Tamlin‘s concern for his people was earnest after last night, it did not mean she herself was safe. If he truly cared to protect them and there was some powerful threat looming over all of them… Why wouldn‘t a powerful High Lord decide to sacrifice the life of one meager mortal?

„Did you meet her cousin Gidon?“

Despite all of her concerns, the determination with which he tried to fill the awkward silence between them, made her feel a sliver of sympathy. This just irked her further.

“Did you get to see their work?“

As another awkward silence built between them, Tamlin waiting for her response, Nesta sighed a little. Fine, she thought, you win.

“No, I didn‘t have that pleasure. They were just starting something new. But I did get to see a carving made by their mother. If Gidon‘s work is anything like hers, it must be truly beautiful.“

Tamlin blinked, looking a little surprised at her long answer. Nesta forced down a little smile. She decided to fill his pause with her own question.

“You have a lot of artists working in that village. Do you enjoy art?“

“Yes, I do,“ his teeth flashed in a quick wide smile. „Do you?“

Nesta nodded.

“I‘ve always admired people with the ability to create things of beauty all on their own.“

Tamlin flashed her another little smile. Nesta felt uncomfortable at how much it made her heart race. She immediately tried to squash those feelings. It would be incredibly stupid to let herself be taken in by a pretty face and a charming smile. Even if the stories had been wrong about the lies, she had seen enough proof that the unnatural beauty many faeries were said to use to lure humans to their demise was real.

“There is a gallery in the house.“

Nesta perked up a little at that.

“It will need to be cleaned up, but if you want I can show it to you?,“ he added as he noted her interest.

Feeling uncertain at his offer she hesitated again. His smile dropped a little as he took note of her hesitation.

“Or maybe Huri can show it to you, if you like?“

“I- yes, that would- I would like that.“

Nesta grimaced a little at her own graceless words.

Tamlin just nodded.

Again they stood there in awkward silence.

Nesta glanced back down at Tamlin‘s hands. No trace of the blood of the blue faerie left…

“Why didn‘t you heal him?”

The words left her mouth almost as quickly as she thought them, not giving her any time to reconsider the question.

Tamlin blinked.

“The faerie- last night… you healed me,” she clumsily added. “Why didn't you heal him?”

Tamlin glanced down, his mouth pressed into a tight line. His hands clenched into fists… Were those claws? A shudder ran down Nesta‘s spine.

“Once I could have,” he said, his voice stiff and void of emotion. “But not anymore.”

“But you healed me that morning. In the woods?”

Nesta unconsciously grabbed her left shoulder, rubbing her thumb over the skin that had been torn open a mere day ago.

Tamlin's face twisted up in a forced little smile.

“Your wound was much less deep,” letting out a frustrated sigh, he continued. “His were bleeding much faster and my magic was already depleted that day.”

She felt her stomach sink when she realized what he meant. He had used his magic to fix her injuries that morning. Had the blue faerie died because of this?

His green eyes fixed on her face, narrowing a little.

“Even if I hadn‘t healed you already, as I am now I would never have had the power to save him.”

Nesta stared back at him, disconcerted by how easily he had discerned her thoughts.

Tamlin glanced up at the rose coloured evening sky. Looking back down at her, he tried again.

“I know you're fully capable of walking back on your own, but would you still allow me to walk back with you?”

For a brief moment, Nesta considered refusing his offer again. But the slight curve of his lips in a self deprecating smile, finally made her agree.

He offered her his elbow, in a surprisingly graceful gesture. A little hesitantly Nesta took his arm. Her anxieties rose as she stepped so close to the High Lord.

He threw a covert glance down at her before guiding her up the path towards the house. 

Nesta walked stiffly, not quite capable of getting her posture to relax. Being so close to him, made her hyper aware of the power and strength that hide behind his human likeness. No matter how much his magic might have been weakened, power seemed to radiate like heat of him. Her fingers twitched, as she felt his arm shift a little under the fabric of his tunic.

Trying to distract his discerning eyes as well as her own nerves, she found herself suddenly compelled to fill the silence.

“In the library I found histories about the Spring court.”

Tamlin looked back down at her. Nesta kept her own gaze fiercely pointed forward at their destination.

“I read about what Spring did during the war… how they treated the humans who fought them.” 

His arm stiffened under her grip, glancing down she saw his hand briefly clench into a tight fist, before forcefully unclenching again. Those had definitely been claws. Nesta forced herself to remain calm.

She already knew he could turn into a massive beast. A set of claws didn't change anything.

“The High Lord of Spring had aligned himself with Hybern, as many other High Lords had.”

His voice was surprisingly even considering his immediate physical reaction to her words.

“But there were still many faeries across all of the Courts who fought on the side of the humans.”

Nesta looked up at him in surprise.

“They did?”

She had never heard any stories of this.

“How do you think the human armies were able to fight so long? Cause so much damage to my kind for there to even be a treaty? Ashwood alone couldn't have done it. Many faeries fought and died for your people's freedom.”

Nesta studied him intently. This close she noticed small specks of gold sparkling in the vivid green of his eyes. Despite the revelation that he could be lying to her this very moment, she didn‘t think he was.

“Did you?”

His serious expression broke as he let out an amused little snort.

“No. I was a child still. Too young to know or understand what was happening… but had I been, I would have. Against slavery, against tyranny, I would gladly go to my death, no matter whose freedom I was defending.”

Nesta let out a slow breath. She had heard many people speak against injustices before. Back at balls of her early youth, many a polite conversation between wealthy merchants and members of the gentry had consisted of flowery laments about the suffering of the less fortunate. But after her years spent in poverty, Nesta knew most of their charity had been empty words.

But in Tamlin‘s words, she could recognize true conviction.

Her lips pulled into a true smile, almost surprising herself.

“I know,” her agreement visibly took him by surprise. “Huri and Gidon told me about what you did for the Lesser Fae.”

Nesta‘s smile widened a little as she watched the High Lord of Spring redden a little. 

“They did…? I-... It was just the right thing to do.” He grimaced a little at his own discomfort.

They fell briefly silent again as they walked up the steps into the entrance hall. Nesta felt the eyes of the sentries following them intensely. They slowed down a little as they neared the stairs.

Taking a few small steps back Nesta let go of his arm and brought some distance between them.

“I see you at dinner then?,” Tamlin asked.

“Of course. As you have ordered.”

He flinched a little at her last words.

“If you don't want to join us I won't force you.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow.

“Before you were the one who ordered that I had to join you.”

“That‘s true,” he admitted. “But I won't force you anymore.”

“Then I won't join you.”

At her immediate announcement, he frowned a little but to her surprise he didn‘t try to object and just nodded in affirmation.

“Alright… Then I wish you a good night.”

He took a short step back. Nesta hadn't expected him to give in this easily. Just as he was about to turn around and leave, she took a quick step forward.

“Wait!”

He looked back at her.

“I-...,” not quite sure what to say, Nesta searched for the right words. On impulse she stretched out her right hand. Tamlin took a step closer but then looked down at her offered hand in confusion.

“Among humans, a way to seal off an agreement or transaction is to shake each other's hand.” 

Nesta explained, though this seemed to only add to his puzzlement.

“What… transaction are you offering?

“I didn't want to be here. I-... I don't want to be here. I don't trust you. I'm not sure that I like you. But, if the Treaty demands my presence here, I don't want to spend the rest of my life sulking in solitude.”

Taking a short breath, Nesta made her offer.

“I ask that we begin anew. I try to forget about our previous… differences and we try to get along from now on.”

Tamlin‘s eyes shoot up from her outstretched hand to her face.

“You want to make a bargain for that?”

“No,” sensing that he might be interpreting her words differently, she quickly clarified. “No faerie bargain. No binding magic. Just an agreement between you and me. Like humans do.”

He grinned. Showing a brief flash of too sharp teeth. It was concerning to Nesta how little this show of inhumanity unsettled her.

“That's smart. I'd advise you try not to enter into any faerie bargains.”

“I don't intend to.”

He reached out and took her hand. Nesta suppressed a shutter. The calloused skin of his palm warm against hers. They shook, a little awkwardly in the beginning as she had to move his larger hand with hers until he caught onto the movement. 

“To a fresh start,” she announced as she let go. Impulsively she added.

“I'm Nesta Archeron.”

His smile widened, following her lead he said.

“I'm Tamlin.”

“Don‘t Faeries use family names?”

He grimaced a little before answering.

“I don't like to claim my father's name.”

Nesta thought back to the descriptions of the brutality with which the previous High Lord had ruled, and of the pride with which Huri had announced that Tamlin had broken with those traditions.

“Many fathers aren't deserving of their children's regard.”

The corner of his mouth twitched back up. His voice was soft.

“That‘s true.”

His eyes were fixed back on her face. Again, Nesta wished he didn't wear that abominable mask, so she could actually fully see his face.

“I know you want Huri to show you the gallery, but may I show you the gardens sometime?”

Nesta blinked. She had walked the gardens plenty of times, in fact most of the past days she had spent there.

“Even if you have already seen most of it. I might still tell you about it?”

Nesta considered it. His quick acceptance at her refusal to dinner, made her confident he would accept a rejection now as well. But she had been the one to offer a new start, hadn‘t she?

“Alright,” she finally allowed.

He smiled again, much more broadly than before. It almost startled Nesta how quickly her own lips formed one of their own in response.

Chapter Text

“Oh tell me, tell me, then she said

Oh tell me who art thee

My name it is Tam Lin, he said”

Tam Lin by Steeleye Span

Alis had an uncharacteristic look of excitement as she ushered Nesta down the hall toward Huri's room. She had greeted Nesta that morning with the news that Huri was ready to present the work she had done on her cloak so far. Nesta allowed herself to be pulled along, her own curiosity and anticipation rising as Alis’ feelings proved infectious.

Not even a full heartbeat after Alis knocked the door flew open, revealing Huri's flushed face.

“Come in. Oh, I'm so excited to show you!”

After ushering both of her visitors into her room she quickly spun around to her little workbench pressed up against the wall next to her loom.

“Here,” Huri whirled around and with a flourish presented the green cloak to Nesta.

“I'm not done yet! But you can already see this one is going to be a true beauty.”

Nesta stared in awe, unable to comprehend that the glittering garment draped across Huri's arms was supposed to be her old raggedy cloak.

The worn fabric was no longer thin and threadbare. It appeared heavy and full, shimmering subtly under the flickering light of Huri's hearth. The faded green colour, vibrant once more. Along the edges of the collar Nesta could make out unfinished beadwork. Green sparkling emerald beads, pearls, silver and gold threat taking on the shapes of flowers, flames and stars.

Carefully she reached out and ran her finger tips across the smooth fabric. It felt soft, almost like velvet, but not quite. In truth it neither felt nor looked like anything Nesta had seen before.

“Do you like it?” 

Meeting Huri's eyes, seeing the trepidation that had sneaked onto her face, Nesta smiled openly.

“It‘s beautiful… I-,” she let out a little laugh. “I don't even know what to say…”

“Then don't say anything,” Huri responded, a pleased look on her face. “Leaving you speechless is praise enough.”

Huri turned back around after putting the cloak back onto her workbench.

“I still have to finish the beading.”

“It is already so beautiful… You really didn‘t need to go that far.”

“But I did,” Huri insisted. “I need to express the full breadth of the memories you shared with me.”

Even though Nesta still felt a little uncertain about how Huri's talent worked, but the faerie‘s tone indicated need referred to more than just a sense of obligation. So, instead she tried again to express her thanks in words.

“I greatly enjoy doing this work,” Huri said in response.

Alis nodded in approval.

“All of us faeries find great satisfaction in fulfilling our talents.”

Deftly changing the topic, Alis announced to both Huri and Nesta that the gallery had been cleared. At Huri's puzzled look, Nesta added a little embarrassed.

“The other day, Tamlin offered to have the gallery cleaned, so I could take a look.”

The little grey faerie perked up, and her big black eyes sparked.

“He did!,” her face immediately darkened again. “But why should I go with you? Wouldn't it be better if Tamlin were to…”

Huri fell silent as Alis slightly shook her head, a disapproving frown on her face.

“Don‘t meddle, little fool. It does no-”

A spark of irritation ignited inside of Nesta.

“Don‘t call her that!”

Alis glanced at her surprise clearly visible, even under her wooden mask. Nesta answered with her own icy stare, before she looked back to Huri.

“I'm sorry, Huri,” she explained, feeling a little abashed. “I mentioned that I liked the artisan‘s village and Tamlin offered to have the gallery cleaned. He offered that you might join me, but I should have asked you myself before agreeing.”

Huri blinked.

“Oh, I don't mind, I just thought…,” she let out a little giggle. “I'm happy to join you Nesta.”

Stepping closer to Alis, she laid an apologetic hand on the older faerie‘s upper arm. Alis didn‘t say anything, but her slightly pinched expression softened.

“I do have to tell you, though, that I know next to nothing about the paintings and portraits in the gallery.”

Nesta smiled at Huri.

“Don‘t worry, neither do I.”

Huri‘s eyes brighten with mirth. She let out another giggle.

“Then we can both point and laugh at all of them and make up our own stories for them.”

Nesta smiled broadly in answer. The little grey skinned faerie had a warm and inviting face. Despite her strange inhuman features, the big glossy eyes, the mandibles hiding under her lip and her spindly limps, Nesta couldn‘t quite recall what about her had unsettled her so those first days. As her dark eyes sparkled with joy, Huri appeared just like any smiling young woman.

“I do feel a little bad for Tamlin, though,” Huri suddenly added. At Nesta’s confused eyebrow raise, Huri continued with an indulgent expression. “I'm sure he hoped to show the gallery to you…”

She petered off again as she exchanged another glance with Alis. Nesta eyed both of them critically, considering their strange reactions every time the topic of their High Lord was brought up.

“I much rather spend that time with you,” Nesta finally answered. 

“Besides, I did agree to a tour of the gardens with him, so whatever the reason you want me to spend more time with him,” she threw a pointed look at both faeries. “You don't need to worry.”

An awkward silence stretched across the room. Huri looked down at her feet, while chewing on her bottom lip, her mandibles poking out like a set of tiny fangs. Alis curiously offered Nesta a closed lipped smile, her eyes shining with an undiscernable emotion.

Their reactions made Nesta feel more confident in her previous guesses. She had been right that Tamlin had been seeking her out for some purpose. She hoped it also meant that her fears that she was meant to be used in some dark fae ritual as sacrifice to fight back the blight was unfounded. Why would he try to befriend a human he just planned to slaughter later? Because that was what he had been trying to do, hadn't he?

Nesta was sure of it. She hadn‘t quite seen it those first days, much too concerned with what evil games the faeries had been playing with her to recognize their true motives.

Eying the way the two silent faeries Nesta decided to relieve the tension in the room. By now she knew that they would not give her any information. So, she decided to change the subject.

“Lucien tried to bribe me again,” she shared with them.

Alis scoffed, but Huri looked startled.

“He's been bothering me in the library, bringing tea and all sorts of sweets,” Nesta went on to explain. “As if that is going to make up for anything.” She snorted derisively. 

Huri‘s eyes grew huge, she looked even more alarmed now.

“Either he truly feels bad about setting me up with the Suriel or he's been truly bored now that he can't play tricks on the gullible mortal anymore.”

Throwing a few sideways glances, she clearly meant to be discreet, Huri tried to catch Alis’ eye. As the other faerie seemed intend on ignoring her, Huri grabbed her arm and leaned in whispering, “Alis, don't you th-...”

“Don‘t be ridiculous, he knows what is at stake," Alis cut her off.

Nesta followed their exchange intently. Meeting her eyes directly, Alis went on as if Huri hadn't said anything.

“You do well to let him skirm a little for his actions. But I do think you can trust the sincerity of his apology.”

Nesta considered this. Even after just his first apology she had actually been pretty certain that Lucien did regret his actions. She just wasn't wholly convinced that he wouldn't try to play tricks on her again if the mood struck him. As she told Alis this, the faerie nodded thoughtfully. 

“Most High Fae can be petty and prideful creatures, especially the males,” A small smile formed on her usually serious face. “It‘s smart to be cautious of them. All of them,” she added with some emphasis.

“But I can vouch for Lord Lucien‘s temperament. His attempt to endanger your life was short sighted and blinded by grief. That male truly has the nature of a fox, but he is not malicious. If he has had the thought to apologize then I think you can trust his word.”

“You are so sure I should put my trust into a man's word. A man who by his own admission has tried to get me killed.”

Alis chuckled.

“I do not tell you to trust him. But I can tell you that his apology is honestly given.”

Huri spoke up again. Taking Nesta by surprise as she joined in on Alis’ defence of Lucien.

“Yes! Lucien‘s a good male,” her previous dejected mood forgotten, she smiled brightly again. “He's from Autumn like me. He came here a long before I did but my parents told me of him. Many faeries of Autumn loved him greatly, and were griefed when he left.”

Lucien was from Autumn? This surprised Nesta. Even the fact that the Spring court seemed so ready to welcome anyone, hadn‘t quite made her consider that an outsider would rise to such a high position. Even if Lucien was officially an emissary. His place at Tamlin‘s right side had been unmistakable. He was the closest the High Lord of Spring had as a second, but even beyond that they also clearly were close friends.

“Did he flee from the blight as well?”

Alis clucked her tongue, throwing Nesta a knowing glance telling her wordlessly that she knew Nesta was still fishing for information.

“Oh, no. He came here before,” Huri explained.

Nesta nodded again. Considering both Alis’ and Huri's approval and his friendship with Tamlin, she assumed he shared Tamlin‘s convictions. Thinking about the stories Huri had shared with her about the Autumn court, she wagered a guess. “Did he leave Autumn because of the mistreatment of the Lesser Fae?”

Huri‘s eyes lit up with surprise. Alis’ lips twitched up a little before pressing down into a firm line again.

“It‘s such a tragic romantic story!,” Huri whispered, her excitement barely contained.

“It‘s not our tale, girl,” Alis’ voice turned stern again.

Huri huffed, annoyed to be cut off again. Cupping a hand next to her cheek and shielding her face from Alis’ disapproval, she shared in an exaggerated stage whisper. “It‘s been almost two hundred years, but still everybody still speaks of it back home. The High Fae don't like it, and they punish everybody they catch talking about him. But even the High Lord himself cannot punish everyone. Not while Lucien still lives.”

Throwing an apologetic glance at Alis’ annoyed expression, Nesta leaned in closer to Huri. The other woman grinned knowing she had fully captured Nesta‘s interest. And it had been clear since their outing in the gardens that Huri liked nothing more than to share a captivating story.

“He fell in love with a lesser faerie.” Nesta‘s eyebrows jumped up. Huri's face sombered a little as she continued. “They were planning to elope as far as I've heard but then his father found out about it…” She threw a glance back at Alis and winced a little. “His father had them run-,” she abruptly cut herself off. “It… It didn‘t go well.” 

Hunching her shoulders a little she grimaced at Nesta. “I'm sorry but Alis is probably right… This isn’t my story to tell. In Autumn many people love the story, because it proves that the High Lord's control isn’t quite so absolute as he likes to pretend. His father was said to have raged for weeks because Lucien got away.”

Alis snorted derisively.

“You should have thought about that before you started blabbering.”

Nesta offered both of them a weak smile.

“I did encourage you.”

Musing over this wholly new image Huri had described of Lucien, she added thoughtfully.

“I'm glad you told me as much as you did, Huri. Now I better understand why you both regard him so favorably.”

Trying to light up the somber mood, Nesta said. “I might even consider forgiving him now.”

Alis clicked her tongue, as Huri smiled bashfully. Just as Nesta considered shifting the conversation to safer topics again, her thoughts snagged on some of the words Huri had said. An suspicion formed inside of her mind. Weighing the possibility, she filed this new thought for future use. As she eyed Alis’ keen eyes, she was sure that asking about it now would not get her much farther.

She let out a breath, forcing her shoulders down and relaxing her spine. Alis nodded slightly, showing her approval. Nesta was surprised when Alis’ reaction made her chest swell with warm pride.

So, instead of trying to prod more at a story, Alis would surely tell her it wasn't theirs to tell nor hers to know, Nesta asked Huri about her previous work.

The grey faerie immediately jumped into detailed descriptions of many of her favourite projects she had worked on.

Nesta met with Tamlin that afternoon. As promised, he gave her a tour through the gardens. Despite the familiarity she had gained of this place over the past week, she was awed as he pointed out various spots and hidden paths she had completely missed before.

With a simple swipe of the hand a large row of laurel hedges bend their branches to reveal a secret path covered underneath their leaves. At a soft knock on the knobbly bark of an old olive tree, growing wedged between a holding wall and the east side of the manor, the tree twisted open to reveal a hidden glade.

Nesta followed along, unable to deny herself the budding excitement as many of the secrets hidden on the vast estate were laid bare to her. A few times when his eyes caught on her face a little too intently reminding her to school her face she deeply envied him the cover the golden mask provided.

As Tamlin presented her the stables, a loud whiny greeted them almost immediately. The controlled demeanour he had held up almost immediately slid off him, as he broke into a wide grin. Nesta found herself blinking up at him, alarmed at how much his green eyes shining down at her affected her.

“Galatea has been asking after you almost non-stop,” he told her. Before Nesta could ask what he meant, he left her side in a few strides. Hesitantly, she followed behind.

It turned out that Galatea was a white mare. Impatiently she tapped a front hoof against the wooden door of her stall. Laughing Tamlin stepped up to her. Without hesitation, the horse immediately threw her long neck of his broad shoulder pulling him close.

“You‘re so demanding.”

Tamlin whispered in a low indulgent tone. Galatea reared her head back up and let out an offended snort.

Nesta carefully stepped up next to Tamlin, eyeing the white horse. Despite not having interacted much with horses since her family had moved into their hovel, she remembered her old lessons well enough, to understand that the awareness with which Galatea regarded her was not natural for a regular animal.

Almost immediately, as if to prove her suspicion, Galatea moved her head in a jerky motion, as if to beckon her closer.

Tamlin smiled at her encouragingly. Nesta couldn‘t help but note how quickly this animal's presence had managed to strip off the formal decorum with which he had acted just minutes before.

“She really likes you and has been waiting for you to visit.”

At his explanation, Nesta shifted her gaze from the mare to the faerie. Her brow creased into a small frown.

“What do you mean? She doesn't know me.”

Tamlin scratched at his neck, and glanced off to the side, avoiding her eyes.

“She carried you here.”

Her eyes snapped back to the horse, who further proved its preternatural intelligence by nodding in confirmation.

“Oh…” Uncertain how else to respond Nesta stretched out her hand allowing the horse to take in her scent. Galatea snorted her warm breath across her fingers, before pressing her soft velvety nose into her hand. Unable to suppress the small smile that formed on her lips, Nesta took a further step closer. She reached up and patted Galatea's neck. 

“You‘re so beautiful.” She told the horse. The mare let out an approving snort.

Tamlin chuckled next to her.

“And doesn't she know it.”

Galatea's responsive snort  was accompanied with a loud kick against the stall door. Tamlin only laughed louder.

“Oh! You can curse me all you want, but don't try to deny that you are vain.”

Unable to hide her amazement at how clearly the mare responded to the words spoken around her, Nesta asked Tamlin.

“Does she really understand what we're saying?”

“Every word.”

“Is she a faerie?”

Nesta no longer tried to hide the awe in her voice.

“She's a horse,” Tamlin‘s answer was dripping with wry amusement.

Nesta glared up at him, unable to tell what annoyed her more. His attempt at teasing or the fact that she couldn't quite hide the smile threatening to form on her lips.

“You know what I was asking,” she hissed back.

He straightened a little, offering her an apologetic smile. 

“She's not a faerie, at least not in the way you're thinking,” he turned towards the stall, regarding the horse with a soft smile as he petted her. “But the land here is filled with power. It imbues all who live here. The plants and beasts in Prythian aren't fae yet they're still… more than those you find in the human lands.”

Nesta considered this. It made sense, she supposed, that all this magic would affect the creatures living here.

Looking back down at her, Tamlin studied her as she took in that information. The crease between her eyebrows deepened as she mulled over them.

“Will it start affecting me as well?”

Tamlin regarded her quietly. His emerald green eyes seemed to pierce right through her. Nesta didn‘t like how ineffective it made her guarded face feel.

“Your ancestors have lived alongside faeries for centuries before the Treaty was signed,” he finally said.

Nesta swallowed down the strange emotions those words sparked inside of her. Nodding a little she turned back to Galatea and continued petting her pink velvet snout.

It shouldn't trouble her so much. But the idea that all humans… that she herself might-

A warm breath smelling of hay, fresh grass and above all horse blew strands of hair out of her face. Nesta couldn‘t help the little giggle that left her mouth. She glanced up and was met with a knowing look in Galatea's brown eyes.

“Then we really are the same aren't we?,” she whispered. “You truly are beautiful.”

Another warm breath blew across her face. Nesta smiled up at the white mare, continuing to pet her milky white fur.

A tingle ran down the back of her neck. Turning her head a little she glanced back up at Tamlin. He leaned against the wooden beam next to Galatea's stall. Turned to face Nesta directly he looked down at her, all the mirth had fled, an oddly intent look on his face. 

The molten specs of gold in his green eyes made it hard to look away. The concerning flutter in her stomach and heated flush spilling onto her face, finally gave her the awareness necessary to turn away.

Face-to-face with Galatea again, she busied herself with petting the smart creature. At the mare's soft nicker, Tamlin let out a soft cough. Nesta continued her pets, while trying to ignore the keen gleam in the horse's eyes.

As they made to leave the stables a short while later. Tamlin assured her she could visit Galatea whenever she wished, adding that if Nesta wanted to ride Galatea would be greatly offended if she considered anyone else. Solemnly Nesta promised the white mare, she didn‘t intend to ride anyone else. This earned her an approving snort.

As they stepped out of the stables, back into the cool spring breeze, they were faced by a tall darkskinned High Fae. His leather cuirass and dark green livery identified him as a sentry.

He kept his face carefully blank behind the carved wolf-mask. He stepped up to them and gave Tamlin a respectful nod, but as soon as his gaze flitted towards Nesta, she could see the utter hatred shine through the cracks behind his coal eyes.

Quickly the sentry's gaze flicked back to Tamlin.

“Could I have a word with you?”

His controlled voice was laced with tension.

Tamlin threw an apologetic glance at her, before agreeing and following the other fae man a few steps off to the side into the shade of a tree out of her ear shot. Despite being unable to make out any of the words spoken, Nesta was certain that she was the topic being discussed.

The venomous glances the sentry threw in her direction made that clear enough. Tamlin for his part, remained mostly quiet, only briefly interjecting something when the other seemed to grow particularly heated. After only a minute, he laid a hand on the tall faerie‘s shoulder, squeezing tightly in comfort.

Afterwards, Tamlin returned back to her side. Eyeing the other faerie left standing alone under the tree, she asked, “Who is he?”

Tamlin silently offered her his arm again. After a brief hesitation, she took it and allowed him to guide her back onto the path towards the manor. The silence stretched out between them, only the soft rustling of the wind and leaves and faraway singing of the birds accompanying their steps.

Off in the distance, not far away from the forest edge, Nesta could make out a group of faeries working on a stacking up what looked like a big pire. It reminded her of the festive burning of winter to welcome the coming spring celebrated back in the village. As she contemplated asking Tamlin about it, his voice broke the comfortable silence.

“His name is Petur. We used to serve under the same lord in the war bands.”

Nesta glanced up at him, taking in the tense set of his jaw and his downcast eyes.

“Why does he hate me?”

“Petur was Andra's lover,” he said softly, before adding in a bitter tone. "Truthfully it's me he should hate.”

The swirling mix of guilt and confusion at learning of Petur's connection to Andras, made her almost miss Tamlin‘s odd words.

“What do you mean? Why should he hate you for Andras' death?”

Tamlin finally met her gaze, revealing the guilt and barely contained anger hiding in his eyes. 

“Because I'm the one that let him go.”

Go? Go where… To the human lands? Nesta‘s frown deepened. Just as she made to question him further. Tamlin cut through her thoughts.

“I apologize,” his forced smile was a poor imitation of his real one. “Andras was one of my best scouts and he loved the horses. Petur was upset to see you at the stables, but he has promised not to bother you.”

Nesta stared at him, not quite knowing how to feel. She bit back a cutting remark at how absurd it was for Tamlin to reassure the woman he thought a murderer, instead of the lover of her victim. Reminding herself not to pry too far into this topic, she kept her silence. Nesta couldn‘t risk revealing her secret. Feyre’s safety depended on it.

As they drew closer to the manor house, Nesta expected Tamlin to guide them towards the front of the building back to the entrance, but instead he steered them towards the back. He led her to the rose garden. Nesta breathed in the sweet floral scent of flowers. They followed along the twirling pattern of the paths to the middle of the maze of roses. She turned around slowly taking in the thorny  green hedges lined with their dark red flowers.

A memory of Elain, her sleeves rolled up and her delicate hands up to the elbows covered in soil, explaining with rare passion in her voice when her freshly potted flowers would be expected to bloom. A little puzzled as she realized the oddity, Nesta looked back at Tamlin who silently stood at her side.

“Why roses? I thought they only bloomed later in the year?”

Tamlin looked across the rose garden around them, still a somber look in his eyes.

“They were my mother's favourites,” he said softly. “This garden was my father's mating gift to her.”

“Did he use magic to put them in full bloom despite the season?”

Tamlin smiled wistfully as ran his hand along the stem of a rose. 

“As High Lord, he had a much stronger connection to the land and its power, than other Fae.”

Nesta eyed him critically. It seemed odd to her, the way he spoke of his father like he didn't hold that same power now himself. Tired of the constant evasive answers all the faeries tended to give her, she considered how to best put her thoughts into question. But as she watched him, standing surrounded by thorny roses, the afternoon sun caught in his golden hair and framing his tall frame, Nesta found it frustratingly difficult to order her thoughts.

Instead of a smartly thought out question, she found herself commenting on the roses. 

“They're quite beautiful,” looking away from him, she glanced at the garden surrounding them. “Your father must have truly loved her to make her such a wedding gift.”

“Mating,” he corrected. “Not a wedding gift, but a mating gift.”

She flushed a little, embarrassed to realize her mind had immediately jumped to the assumption that fae wedded like humans.

“Oh-... I just thought… I shouldn't have assumed.”

He smiled a little.

“Her wedding gift was a gold cloth cape and a set of jewellery,” he explained. “I don't think she ever wore them much.”

“This,” he encompassed the whole garden in a wide sweep of his arm, “was her mating gift. Mates are rare among my people, a wedding vow seems quite insignificant compared to an accepted mating bond.”

Nesta furrowed her brow a little.

“A Mating bond…,” she asked hesitantly.

His sunkissed skin flushed a little as he turned away again to look out over the sea of flowers.

“A mate is an equal, your match in every way. Such a bond is considered to be sacred.”

“And this bond just… appears one day?,” she found herself asking.

“Most Fae supposedly start to sense a connection to their mate until one day it snaps into place and then they know.”

Tamlin chuckled a little as he looked back at her, clearly identifying the horror that had formed on her face.

“I take it, you think this is animalistic and bestial?”

Despite his superficial amusement, Nesta could easily recognise the defensive note underneath. Schooling her expression, hiding all of the discomfort she felt, she tried a faint apologetic smile.

“No, not animalistic, just… strange.”

Tamlin nodded thoughtfully, before glancing at her sideways.

“Among faeries’ the idea of finding one's mate is considered the height of romance.”

Nesta grimaced a little.

“Then I'm glad to be human. Love should be a choice.”

Tamlin stepped up to her and offered her his arm to continue their walk through the garden. Nesta carefully laid her hand back on the crook of his elbow. The small smile that played at the edge of his lips made her direct her gaze away from him and stare straight forward.

“Being in control is really important to you.”

His musings made her stiffen a little, unsure if she should take offence. She glanced back at him and found him smiling openly. Looking inordinately pleased at himself to have figured out something about the workings of her mind. In response, she scowled up at him. Irritation sparking inside her chest, at his amusement.

“Yes, I do. It's why I don't like being kept in the dark.”

Her sharp words immediately chased the amused expression off his face. He winced a little, hearing the unspoken accusation. He was the reason she was here. He was the reason her questions remained unanswered. The fact that Nesta suspected more and more than a larger even more sinister force stood behind him did not make him any less responsible for dragging her away from her home. From her family.

It angered Nesta how much this knowledge kept escaping her thoughts over the passing afternoon. Biting her tongue and swallowing any other comments, she kept silent. Tamlin, for his part, stayed silent as well. In a covert sideways glance she read the tension in his posture and the downturned set of his mouth.

Just as she assumed he would keep brooding. He surprised her with an apology.

"I'm sorry. I have no right to call you out.”

Grudgingly Nesta relaxed her frown. His readiness to apologize for his slights bothered her. It seemed such a strange trait for a Fae High Lord to have.

“When we promised to start over, I told you I would try to forget your past actions.”

He nodded in agreement, looking relieved. With a sigh he added to their previous conversation.

“You‘re right about the mating bond, you know.” He swept his gaze across the roses and a bitter note entered his voice. “My mother loved my father. But he was a tyrant,” his eyes snapped back to Nesta. She swallowed at the intensity in his green eyes. 

“You've read what his rule was like, the slaves he kept and the abuse he directed at those he deemed lesser. But even with his family, he was a tyrant. My mother, she wasn‘t like him. She was kind and tried to help everyone no matter their station… And yet she loved him. Loved him more than anyone else.”

“Because of they were mates?,” she asked softly as she watched emotions swirl in those emerald depths. Tamlin looked away first this time.

“Yes, I don't think she truly had a choice… At least that is what I used to tell myself when she allowed him to… discipline us.”

Anger had crept into his final words. Nesta squeezed his arm a little in an attempt at comfort. The grief of being abandoned by one parent to be left in the claws of the other was a feeling she was intimately familiar with.

"I have to be in control, because when I'm not I can be hurt, and I've learned that I can't rely on others to protect me.”

He shot her another piercing look. Nesta continued on, not wanting to be caught in that same spell again.

They both kept to an amicable silence, as they made to leave the roses behind. But, just as they passed the last of the rose bushes, Tamlin stopped and crouched down next to its roots.

He reached past the long sharp thorns and plucked a leaf of a small grey weed growing hidden in the shade between the rose stems. While contemplating the round grey leaf for a brief moment, his features softened a little. 

“Even with the bond, she wasn't completely beholden to my father's wishes.” He held out the little leaf pinched between finger and thumb. It reminded Nesta a little of sage, although rounder in shape. Uncertain what to make of it she reached out a hand to pick it up.

Just before she could touch it, Tamlin pulled back his hand. 

Flashing her an apologetic smile, he said, “It‘s poisonous.”

Nesta snatched her hand back to her side. He stared back down at the leaf while twirling it between his fingers.

“You need to press out the sap for it to affect the most powerful High Fae, but to the less powerful a touch can already be deadly.”

In a smooth motion he stood back up and turned to face her.

“My mother didn't just love flowers, she was a powerful healer and used many plants to strengthen the effects of her power. But, she also grew many to create poisons. My father didn't like it, so she hid them in the one place he wouldn't think to look.”

Nesta couldn‘t help the grin that split her face. As strange and horrifying as the idea of fate binding a person to another without any choice on their part seemed, she was glad to know that at least one fae woman had been able to keep her own will. It was clear from the way Tamlin glanced down at the little poisonous leaf still clasped in his grasp that this small knowledge of his mother's independence meant much to him as well.

Nesta startled a little as Tamlin stretched out his hand and suddenly offered her the leaf. Yet what he held out to her was no longer the poisonous leaf. She watched with open amazement as the formerly grey leaf bloomed open into a red rose. As she hesitated to take the offered flower, Tamlin grimaced a little, looking a little embarrassed.

“It‘s no longer poison, don't worry. Just a rose now.”

Glancing up into his eyes, before quickly looking down at the flower again. Nesta carefully picked up the flower, feeling the warmth of a traitorous flush rise to her face.

“Thank you,” she was glad to hear that her voice at least managed to sound dignified.

Tamlin nodded brisquely and offered her his arm again to lead her back to the manor.

Chapter Text

“But my love, it's a dangerous task.

And were it any lass other than you

I would not such a favor dare ask.”

Tam Lin of the Elves by Drake Oranwood (feat. Heather Dale)

After returning to her room, Nesta sat down on the windowsill again. Looking down at the rose garden underneath her window, she twirled the red rose between her fingers. She was still sitting there, lost in her thoughts, when Alis arrived. Like the previous days, Alis asked Nesta if she should bring her dinner to her rooms.

Nesta was about to agree, but her eyes were drawn back to the flower, she hesitated.

An odd sensation settled deep in her chest. It surprised Nesta how little this rose disconcerted her. Only half an hour ago it had been a poisonous leaf. Tales of horrible spells and devious magical tricks played on mortals, of Fae giving out enchanted gifts that brought seven years of bad luck or made the unfortunate recipient fall in an eternal sleep ran through her mind.

Nesta didn‘t know when the change had happened, but no matter how long she stared at the rose in her hand, running her fingertips along the soft delicate petals and the smooth skin of the stem, but she could muster none of her previous fear or panic of Fae magic. Maybe it had been seeing the beautiful work Huri had done on her cloak or maybe it had been even earlier, when she had gone to the artisan‘s village.

Feeling Alis’ expectant gaze weighing down on her, Nesta self consciously lowered the rose to her side as she sat up on the sill. The faerie‘s frank eyes briefly flickered down to where the rose lay cupped against her palm hidden between the skirts of her dress. Nesta felt the heat of blush in her cheeks. Determined, she pushed past the awkward silence and cleared her throat. 

A fresh start, she had promised.

“No, I thought I might take my dinner downstairs again.”

Thankfully Alis didn't comment on Nesta‘s decision, she just nodded and immediately busied herself with readying a new dress for dinner. Nor did she say anything about the red flower, when Nesta placed it on her vanity next to the crystal mirror.

As she entered the dining room, Nesta was surprised to see that she had arrived first. Before both Tamlin and Lucien had always been present already, it hadn't quite occurred to her that they could be late or she could be early. She was still standing in the middle of the room, undecided if she should sit down or remain standing as she waited when a soft click alerted her to the door opening.

She let out the little anticipatory breath she had been holding and found herself deflating a little as she saw Lucien enter. The red-haired faerie flashed her toothy grin as he spotted her. Stepping up to her and he greeted her by performing a deep bow.

“My lady, I am glad that you decided to honour us with your gracious presence tonight.”

Nesta wordlessly scoffed at his ridiculous exaggeration of courtly behaviour. Deciding the best course of action was to remain silent so as to not encourage him further. Lucien straightened and smiled undeterred by her stony expression.

“It really is good you decided to join us again.”

Nesta studied him critically, trying to fit the tragic story of a fae chased into exile Huri had painted her to the grinning face in front of her. According to Huri and Alis, whatever had brought Lucien here had happened long before either of them had come to Spring. A subtle sting of guilt started to nag her thoughts. No matter how little of his story Huri had shared with her, Nesta knew Alis had been right that it hadn't been their place to gossip about such things.

Nesta suppressed an exasperated sigh, not only was she starting to befriend the faeries she was also feeling bad for them now. She decided to try to satisfy both her curiosity and her guilt at once.

“I spoke with Alis and Huri this morning.”

Lucien tilted his head in question.

“They vouched for you. I've come to respect their opinions, so I decided to accept your apology.”

“Then I will have to personally thank them both,” he said with a genuine smile softening the sharpness of his features.

“Huri also told me that you‘re originally from Autumn."

Lucien‘s expression didn‘t change but his smile cracked a little.

“Did she?“

The deceptively casual tone with which he posed his question did little to hide the hurt underneath. Nesta found herself softening further.

“She told me you had to go into exile because you disagreed with the oppression of the Lesser Fae.“

Seeing the tension that had stolen into Lucien‘s posture, Nesta added softly.

“I'm sorry. I don't know a lot of what happened, nor is it any of my business. But I do know what it is like to lose your home.” Twice over.

Lucien nodded stiffly. His russet eye closed off, the golden one twitching in agitation. Nesta regarded him as they stood there in tense silence, considering the suspicion she had formed based on Huri's tale.

The way that his defiance of the social hierarchy had transformed into a symbol for the lesser Fae. Lucien's casual friendship with a High Lord… Huri had spoken of the High Lord of Autumn's wrath and Lucien‘s father's disapproval almost interchangeably…

Lucien's gaze flitted back to her, taking notice of her intent stare.

“Is your father the High Lord of Autumn?”

Despite being a question, her tone came out more as a statement.

Lucien flinched. His posture had slowly started to relax again, but as soon as she had voiced that question he grew rigid again.

“Did she tell you that?”

“No. I guessed it due to some things she said.”

Lucien narrowed his eyes at her. Nesta stared right back, not letting herself be intimidated.

“I don't give a shit what you think about me. But that bastard is no longer my father, and hasn't been for a long time. I have nothing to do with him or Autumn.”

His biting tone surprised Nesta a little. Even his accusations about her supposed murder of Andras hadn't sounded this resentful. Calmly Nesta stretched out a hand towards him. Lucien glanced down at it as if she held out a poisonous bug. Unable to hide her amusement, the corners of her mouth twitched up into a little smile.

“Don‘t mistake me for a Fae. I don't care for any of your High Lords or who your father is.” Her smile widened a little as Lucien‘s eyes flicked up to meet hers. The confusion clear in his gaze. “Humans shake hands as a greeting or to seal off an agreement. You wanted us to move past Andras’ death and your attempt at my life, so let's have a fresh start.”

She shook her proffered hand a little in invitation. After looking startled and speechless for a satisfyingly long moment Lucien offered her a genuine smile. It surprisingly didn't bother her as much as his previous grins and smirks had.

He grabbed her hand and shook it enthusiastically. 

“So you can be nice after all,” as his smile widened into that annoying grin, Nesta sighed exasperated. Jerkingly she janked her hand out of his grip, before he unintentionally ripped it off. 

“I'm sorry,” Lucien winced a little. “I'm not used to how delicate humans are.”

“Best get used to it then, or you'll be back to begging for my forgiveness.”

“Oh don't pretend you didn't enjoy me bringing you peace offerings.”

Nesta scoffed derisively.

“You‘re joining us tonight?”

Despite being softly spoken, the deep voice cut through any of her thoughts that might have formed into a snide retort towards Lucien. Nesta looked up towards the door and met Tamlin‘s piercing green gaze. Her lips pulled up into the beginnings of a smile. Even though she managed to smooth her face back into a neutral expression, Lucien‘s curious eyes boring into her told her he had noticed. 

“I promised a fresh start, didn't I?”

Tamlin stepped closer, completing their little circle of three next to the dinner table. Nesta quashed her instinct to shyly duck her head when she felt Tamlin‘s gaze on her. Instead she met his gaze head-on; she would not start acting like a simpering little girl. Thankfully Lucien spoke up, breaking some of the tension Tamlin‘s arrival had brought.

“I thought I was special,” he said with mock hurt in his voice. “And then I find out you just go around offering a fresh start to every male you meet!”

Nesta rolled her eyes at him. He answered with a toothy grin, the good-natured twinkle in his eye soothing some of her annoyance at his teasing.

“Hey, Tam,” Lucien turned to his friend, nudging the bigger man with his elbow. “Did she also do the hand thing with you?”

Nesta scoffed, but had to fight to keep a new smile from forming on her face. For a moment Tamlin‘s gaze flitted towards Nesta. An oddly hesitant look in his eyes, taking in the twitching corners of her mouth, his posture relaxed.

“You mean shaking hands?” Tamlin mimed the gesture. Lucien immediately let out an offended gasp. Turning back to Nesta, he accused, mock affront on his face.

“To learn you went behind my back grabbing another male's hand,” his mouth twisted into a wide grin, unable to keep the offended act up.

Nesta shot him a cold look. “If a handshake were something special I wouldn‘t have offered one to you.“

Lucien only laughed. Tamlin joined him with a softer good-natured chuckle. In spite of herself, Nesta felt a reluctant smile form on her face. They quickly dispersed from their little circle to sit down at the table. To her surprise the table was still empty, unlike previous dinners not a single dish or wine canter stood on the smooth wooden surface. Nesta covertly glanced around as she settled herself down on her cushioned seat.

A sudden pop in her ears tore her attention back to the table. In the blink of an eye the dinner table was laden with countless plates, the scent of hot savoury dishes filling her nose. Lucien's soft chuckle pulled her out of her shocked state. She raised her head to look at the two faeries across the table from her. Lucien looked amused, undoubtedly finding her discomfort with this blatant display of magic great entertainment.

“One of Tam's many useful talents,” he announced with a wink. “It spares the servants the tedious task of hauling everything up from the kitchens.”

Nesta glared across the table at him. Annoyed to be caught in a moment where her composure had slipped.

“The food is safe. Winnowing it here has no effect on it,” Tamlin‘s voice cut through any biting remark she might have offered Lucien.

Throwing a glance in Tamlin‘s direction, his expression was grave and sincere, none of Lucien‘s amusement visible in his eyes. Nesta nodded stiffly. In truth, she hadn‘t even considered that. The blatant use of magic had just taken her by surprise. In a way it was silly, since her arrival, she had been surrounded by magic and she had slowly gotten used to it, hadn‘t she?

“You better not tamper with it! Though I still don't fully trust you since that stunt with the apple pies you pulled.”

Nesta sat up confused at Lucien‘s loud declaration. The red-haired faerie grinned a toothy smile at her before turning his wicked expression towards Tamlin. The golden haired man just rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“That was almost a century ago, when are you going to let that go?”

“That was the greatest betrayal I ever faced and you want me to just let it go! I'm going to hold this over you for at least another two hundred years.” Swivelling back to face Nesta, Lucien told her a conspiratorial glint in his eyes.

“Tam likes to pretend he's all serious and grave, but he can be a real prick when he wants to be. During a feast he transformed all the apple pies into pear pies.”

“...pear pies?”, Nesta didn‘t even bother hiding her confusion. She threw another glance in Tamlin‘s direction, who to her further surprise had flushed in clear embarrassment.

“I hate pears!,” Lucien exclaimed. “Absolutely vile fruits, if you ask me.” He pointed an accusatory finger at his friend. 

A low growl reverberated through the room. Nesta could barely suppress her flinch as Tamlin leaned forward. If it weren't for the good-natured glint in his eyes, his bared teeth would have appeared menacing.

“If you hadn‘t wanted pears, then you shouldn't have burned the tapestries in the hall.”

Lucien laughed and leaned back in his seat. “I might have singed them a little, but I don't think that warrants pears.”

Nesta felt her eyebrows climbing higher on her face as she followed their exchange.

Nesta couldn‘t rid herself of a strange weight in her chest. Despite both Lucien and Tamlin‘s attempts to lure her into their conversation often by offering her free opportunities to jab at one or the other, she sat there quietly. On occasion one of Lucien‘s particularly witty remarks might threaten to let a smile slip past her guards. All the past weeks Nesta had managed to fuel herself through spite and hatred. For what or whom, she wasn‘t sure. But nonetheless, it had given her the strength not to despair when she had been dragged to this place.

Watching Tamlin and Lucien now, freed of Nesta‘s hostility, exchanging friendly banter and affectionate barbs over the dinner table, the absence of the churning hatred and resentment she had felt for them was even more jarring. It left her feeling empty.

As her silence lasted, Tamlin started to throw her covert glances, looking concerned. Nesta didn‘t like it. His obvious concern, undeniable since her foolish foray into the woods, combined with the secrecy of her presence, the Treaty and the looming threat of the mysterious deceiver the Suriel had spoken of… All of it piled together continued to nag at her thoughts, feeding her anxiety.

But above it all, sitting at a full dinner table, warm steaming food piled high on ivory plates, rich heady wine in a golden goblet in front of her, and no easy target for her hatred, made her guilt flare up. Just two days ago experiencing all these luxuries had made her feel like the pig fatted up before the slaughter. But, the more her certainty of her Fae captors‘ villainy waned, her thoughts drifted off to her sisters.

Winter had been rough those last few months… Did Feyre manage to catch any game? Who was managing the money? Nesta had at times tried to show her sisters how to keep the balance. But Elain had a hard time with numbers and Feyre always made herself sparse when Nesta tried to show her the books. Nesta had very little faith that their father would think to use his skills as a merchant to manage the spending of a household.

Her concerns swirled together making the food taste bitter in her mouth. With a little sigh, she put her utensils down and stood up. Tamlin and Lucien looked up at her, surprise and concern in their faces.

“I apologize, but I‘m tired. I‘m going back to my room.“ She offered them a weak, but earnest smile. She might not trust them, but she had meant her offer at a new beginning. Just as she stepped away from her chair, the scrapping sound of another chair being pulled up made her look back. Tamlin hastily stepped up to her.

“Let me escort you back.“

Nesta raised an eyebrow as she looked up at him. He grimaced a little, his hands twitching at his sides trying not to fidget as she wordlessly stared at him. A soft chuckle from Lucien made her glare over where he still sat at the table, sprawled in his chair with wine goblet in hand.

Nesta turned back to Tamlin, and finally forced a polite smile onto her face. She had hoped to leave the faerie‘s presence as quickly as possible to manage her thoughts in the peaceful quiet of her room. But, instead she found herself accepting Tamlin’s offered arm. It surprised her how quickly her previous surge of annoyance had disappeared at that sight of his uncertainty.

With a brief glance to the side Nesta noticed Lucien’s narrowed eyes on them. Precisely tracking each of their movements with his eyes. Nesta receded further behind her poise. She didn’t like him seeing the internal turmoil she felt at liking them. Her face felt stiff from holding its passive expression. She forced her fingers to lay relaxed and lightly on the slightly rough texture of Tamlin‘s tunic sleeve.

“Shall we?,“ she asked, proud of the neutral tone of her voice. They walked in silence through the empty corridor towards the great staircase. Her nerves calmed a little. No matter how much her conflicted emotions towards the fairies and especially their High Lord distressed her, they easily fell back into the silent companionship they had shared during much of their walk in the afternoon.

Just as they started taking the first few steps up the wide curved stairs, Tamlin cleared his throat. The tension seeped back into her body.

“I‘m sorry about Lucien. I will tell him not to bother you so much.“

Nesta turned her head to look at him, surprised at his apology.

“Lucien…? Oh, no. He was fine.“

Tamlin studied her closely. Nesta straightened a little under his scrutiny. She didn‘t like how intently he watched her and how brightly the green of his eyes seemed to glow in such moments. Finally, he nodded before looking back up towards the landing above them.

“You looked… upset. I thought maybe Lucien might have said something or…,“ he hesitated a little, his mouth twitching into a slight frown. „If it was something I did or said, then I apologize as well.“

Nesta couldn‘t help the little smile that formed on her face. He really was trying quite desperately to gain her good will, the way he constantly seemed to walk on eggshells around her. She might admit that it was somewhat charming, if there wasn‘t that nagging fear at the back of her mind warning her that he must have an ulterior motive to seek the friendship of the human he abducted.

“No, it wasn‘t either of you.“ She paused, unsure how much of her own mind she was willing to offer to a Fae High Lord. You trusted both Alis and Huri with as much already, and they both serve him, a traitorous little voice whispered in her mind. The unbidden thought irritated her, doubly so because it was the truth.

“I was thinking about my sisters. I miss them.“

The words felt surprisingly easy to say. To the person who had separated her from them, no less. 

Tamlin averted his gaze, the stiff set of his jaw and clenched fists betraying the guilt he felt at her admission. Good. She was softening a little towards the faerie, but that did not mean she had forgiven him. In an odd way, it had been much easier to forgive Lucien‘s transgression. Trying to get her killed in revenge for his friend‘s death made sense to her. Tearing her away from her sisters and leaving her without any knowledge about their wellbeing was a far grander crime than her death ever could be.

They reached the top of the staircase in renewed silence. The only noise in the darkened halls was the dampened steps of their feet on the carpeted floor. As they walked down the hallway towards her room, a wave of relief flooded Nesta. Already she was looking forward to the soothing solitude of her rooms. To be left alone with the tangled knot that was her thoughts and feelings.

But before they finally reached her door, Tamlin stopped and turned towards her.

“Your family is well-taken care of.”

Nesta immediately took her hand off his arm and took a step back. 

“What do you mean?”

He stiffly crossed his arms behind his back and he met her angry glare calmly. A muscle jumped at his throat.

“I made sure they are well-taken care of,” he repeated. “I didn't want to take their provider and let them starve.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes at him.

“What does ‘taken care of’ mean?”

His expression darkened at the unspoken accusation in her words. 

“It means that I have given them enough money to ensure their survival and wellbeing. I would never cause them harm.”

An unmistakable note of incredulity had crept into his voice. His mouth turned down into a frown and his brow drew together behind the mask throwing shadows across his eyes. It slowly dawned on her that he looked offended. 

An amused snort left her throat. She couldn‘t help herself. Not when faced by the absurdity of this… this fae man who'd stolen her from her home being offended that she distrusted him.

“You tore through the door of my home. Threw a violent tantrum, terrorising my family and stole me away. And you have the gale to be offended that I might think you would do them harm?,” she kept her voice icy cold. “Why the hell should I trust your words now?”

His shoulders stiffened, no doubt clenching his fists behind his back. He stood ramrod straight. The anger continued to boil in her gut. Now that she had let some of it out she realized that it never really had been gone. Shame and guilt joined her anger as she thought about how easily this man had managed to wear her down. Make her forget her righteous anger.

“A healer has restored your father's leg, and a substantial sum of money was offered to them, so that your family could regain their lost wealth.”

Nesta blinked, confused at Tamlin‘s softly spoken words. Her father‘s leg healed? Their wealth restored? She didn't know what she felt at those news.

“Why?”, she finally managed to press out past a confused jumble of emotions.

Tamlin shrugged a little.

“It was something I could give them. I-...”

His words trailed off as he grimaced.

Nesta wrapped her arms around herself. Looking off to the side she chewed on her lower lip. Confusion dulled the momentary anger that had consumed her. The silence grew between them, ticking by with each passing moment.

“I did place a glamour over them,” he finally said.

Nesta’s head snapped back to him.

“They don't remember the night I took you or anything to do with Prythian. They think you are staying with a distant family relation.” Tamlin shrugged helplessly. “I didn‘t want them to try to come after you and endanger themselves.”

Nesta pinched her lips, swallowing down the accusations that wanted to spill out. He looked at her, suddenly a wry smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. The smile did not reach his eyes.

“Whatever you're thinking about me right now is most likely true…” He glanced down, his long golden lashes shadowing his green eyes. “I did not intend them any harm… But I know you probably don't see it like that. Alis told me how frightened you were about the glamour. If you wish it, I will lift the glamour from them. Let them remember everything.”

“You knew exactly how I felt about glamour and yet you still kept them under a spell. Robbed them of their own minds-” Nesta heard her own voice rise higher, taking on a hysterical note.

“Their minds are safe from me,” Tamlin cut her off. His anger showing now blatantly in both voice and face. “I do not tamper with the thoughts of others. The glamour only clouds their memory of the day you left, replacing me with you going off to live with an aunt.”

Nesta mustered him critically, oddly his show of emotions muffling her own.

“You can lift this glamour and they will be unharmed?”

He nodded stiffly, his anger dimming.

Nesta considered it. Suddenly feeling hesitant to demand the glamour lifted. She knew that was what she should do. Guilt squeezed her heart as the traitorous thought that if Elain and Feyre were better of not worrying about her entered her mind. 

Taking in her hesitant silence, Tamlin softly asked.

“Do you want me to lift their glamour?”

Nesta closed her eyes, taking in a shaking breath. She needed to think, sort out the jumbled mess that were her thoughts and feelings.

“I-... They might try to come after me,” she finally muttered. “Feyre at least would.” She was sure of that much. There were many times Nesta and her little sister could barely tolerate each other's presence. But, with icy certainty Nesta knew if Feyre thought a faerie had kidnapped her she would try to pursue, it was what Nesta herself would do…

“Do you want to write them?”

The unexpected question completely derailed her thoughts. Write them?

“You would allow that?” 

Tamlin winced at the incredulity in her voice.

“Yes. You can write them letters and I will make sure they get them.”

“I'm not sure that a letter would convince them not to come after me.” She thought it over. “Would I be able to get their replies as well?”

“Of course.”

Nesta hesitated again. The guilt continued to coil in her chest. She truly was selfish to the core… Shallowing the thought, she raised her chin high, straightening a little.

“I want to write them first,” she demanded. “Before I decide about the glamour.”

Tamlin dipped his head in acquiescence. 

“You can find everything you need to write in the library or any of the adjourned studies. Whenever you have a letter, give it either to me or Alis.” 

Nesta responded with a stiff nod. 

An unwanted pang in her chest at how distant his words felt. Over the last day, ever since the Naga attack, since the death of the blue faerie, a sort of strange companionship had started to form between them. A traitorous part of her felt sad that this last exchange had ruined that. It was for the best, she told herself, nothing good could come of trusting her captor too much. No matter how accommodating he tried to make himself.

After a brief awkward pause she turned away and marched to her door.

“Goodnight.”

Nesta quickly slipped into her room, shallowing the answering goodnight before the traitorous word could slip out.

After spending most of the past two days hidden away in the library, leafing through dusty tomes, futilely trying to uncover more details about the Treaty or the Blight, Alis had laid out sage coloured walking skirts and a matching jacket. The faerie had clicked her tongue disapprovingly and announced that Nesta had spent too much time locked in the dark. Cutting off Nesta‘s protest, Alis told her that the day was warm and sunny, and Nesta could take the books with her in the gardens.

In the end, Nesta relented to Alis’ demand. In the privacy of her own mind, she could admit it felt surprisingly comforting to have the faerie woman so openly mother her. So, she let Alis dress her in the green outdoor clothes. After a brief trip to the library where she gathered all the books she intended to look through that day, Nesta let Alis guide her out to a field covered with wildflowers in the midst of the gardens. A large oak surrounded by tall growing hedges circled the green, providing some shade in which Alis rolled out a large blanket and laid out a couple of pillows. Before leaving Nesta alone she promised to bring her some refreshments soon.

Nesta settled herself down comfortably between the soft cushions. She surveyed her peaceful surroundings, only the soft rustling of a fresh breeze in the tall grass and the singing of birds high in the tree to keep her thoughts company. A small smile pulled up the corners of her mouth. Letting out a deep breath and relaxed further against the comfortable nest Alis had built her. The faerie had been right. This was a much needed scene change from the stuffy silence of the library.

Trailing her fingers across the spines of the nearest stack of books, Nesta picked one out and pulled it into her lap. Flipping it open she began her search for useful knowledge anew.

Despite the change of scenery, her prior frustrations at the elusiveness of the Treaty quickly returned. Making very progress, Nesta found her focus drifting off the dusty pages. A faint giggle made her look up.

Across the green, Nesta saw the faerie children she had seen a week ago, peeking out between the little white flowers of a blackthorn shrub. A brief pang of worry shot through her as she feared they might hurt themselves on the thorny branches. Pushing the heavy tome of her lap, she got on her feet. However her concern quickly waned as she watched the youngest girl weave gracefully through the thicket, the branches barely touching her. The slightly older boy, her brother maybe based on the matching set of horns pocking out of their curling locks of hair, pocked his head out of the head and locked straight at Nesta. His curious eyes a startlingly glowing golden colour.

Nesta attempted a friendly smile, unsure if she should stay on her blanket or attempt to walk up to them. Both boy and girl vanished with a soft rustling between eaves and flowers again.

Nesta carefully sat back down again. They clearly meant to spy on her. Unable to conceal the amused smile on her face, she laughed as she glimpsed a little horned head briefly peeking out again before vanishing again. A childish giggle blew across the green carried over by a spring breeze.

“Are you having fun?”

Nesta startled. Swirling around on her knees, she glared up at Lucien who casually leaned against the oak tree behind her. His face splitting into a toothy grin at her alarm.

“Don‘t ever do that again!”

Lucien to his credit managed to look at least a little regretful as he offered his apology.

Looking over her head back to the children playing in the blackthorn, Lucien smiled knowingly.

“I see you have met the local mischief makers.”

She threw a brief glance back across her shoulder, before looking back up at him.

“There aren't many children here, are there?”

“No,” Lucien answered. “Most children have been sent to safer places.” Nodding into the direction of the children playing in the scrub, he added. “They are the only children left now. Their parents are housekeepers on the estate and have been here longer than most. They have been reluctant to see them go.”

Frowning a little, Nesta asked.

“I thought that here at the estate was safe?” After a brief pause she added. “Especially with Tamlin here.”

Lucien grimaced a little.

“At any other time you would be right.” Looking down at her he shrugged non-committally. “But things are different right now. More complicated. As powerful as Tamlin is, being close to him might… put people into the line of fire so to say.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes at him. The blight had taken all of Prythian and was now threatening Spring, and if she understood Lucien‘s vague explanation correctly was apparently directly targeting Tamlin? It made some strategic sense, she supposed. If the deceiver intended to conquer Spring, its High Lord would present the greatest threat… Eliminating him first would be sensible.

“Speaking of Tamlin,” Lucien‘s voice cut through her musings. “What did the clumsy lout do?”

Nesta blinked.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He flashed an amused grin, clearly having a great fun throwing her off with his question.

“Just two nights ago, you two seemed pretty comfortable. But now you're back to your ice lady act. To be honest, it's quite the chore to sit in complete silence during dinner, watching you glare daggers at him.”

Nesta stiffened her spine, sitting ramrod straight and steeling her gaze.

“I do not think any of that is your concern.”

Lucien scoffed and rolled his eyes. Leaning forwards he pointed an accusatory finger at her.

“There. Right there. Now you're doing it to me too.” He fell back against the tree with an exasperated sigh. “If you think freezing everyone out, every time one of us offends you, then there's no point in your offer to start over. I'm sure Tam did or said something exceedingly stupid, but if you tell him what offended you so, he will apologize. If nothing else he's actually quite good at those.”

Nesta stayed silent. Exceedingly annoyed at finding herself agreeing with Lucien‘s assessment of Tamlin. So far each complaint she had directly voiced to him had been followed by both apology and his at times clumsy attempt to offer her an alternative.

“Don‘t start sulking now, just because you know I'm right,” Lucien told her, his obnoxious grin back on his face.

Nesta rolled her eyes in response.

The soft spring breeze ruffled the oak's leaves above them. The playful laughter and shrieks of the children sounded across the green. As the silence stretched out between them, Nesta finally sighed.

“Alright,” she said. “He told me that he glamoured my family.”

Lucien cocked his head.

“And you don't like that.”

“No.” She grimaced a little, as she thought of her own traitorous cowardice. She had allowed them to remain under the glamour hadn‘t she? In a way that made her as guilty as Tamlin was. “I understand why he did it,” she finally added. “But I also don't want their memories to be stolen from them.”

Lucien nodded. It irked a little that despite how annoying his teasing could be at times, he proved a great listener.

“Tam most likely would agree with you,” he said thoughtfully.

“I know.”

His lips quirked up into a little smile as he looked down at her.

“Then all might still turn out well.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes at him, sensing that he wasn't just referring to the tension between her and Tamlin.

“What do you mean?,” her tone made clear she also was no longer talking about their fight.

An appreciative twinkle entered Lucien‘s russet eye as he grinned widely. But instead of answering her question he pushed off the tree and crouched down next to her. Nonchalantly he began to peruse the selection of books strewn across her blanket, as if he was shopping at a stall in the market.

Nesta frowned at him. Grabbing a small leather bound volume, he haphazardly leafed through the pages.

“Tamlin told me you're reading up on the history of the Spring court.” His voice sounded unconcerned, but Nesta knew instantly that his disinterest was feigned.

“And the Treaty,” she added.

The corner of his mouth twitched up again.

“Oh, yeah, that annoying piece of binding magic.”

Nesta perked up.

“You‘re having trouble getting more information about the rules that keep you here,” his tone made it clear he wasn‘t asking but making a statement.

“You‘re all been quite evasive about the Treaty, and about the blight too.”

He glanced down at the open book in his grasp, before slowly looking back up to meet her eyes. Snapping the pages closed he placed it on the top of the stack of books in front of her. Tapping the leather cover, he smiled again, showing all his teeth. His usual jovial nature had leeched out of his face. His remaining eye boring into her intently, the golden iris of his mechanical one twitched in its socket.

“Binding magic can be quite annoying. Once you agree to a bargain or get caught in similar spells, you are stuck. It's quite annoying, isn't it?”

Nesta glanced down at the book between them. She wasn't sure what Lucien was trying to tell her, but she understood that signal well enough. She recognized the small volume. It was one of the few nonhistorical texts she had impulsively added to her selection of books.

Based on the intricate script on its titlepage she knew it was about binding magic, faerie bargains and curse spells. Gidon's brief mention of that magic being the basis behind the human misconception about faerie‘s ability to lie had sparked her interest in the topic.

Lucien leaned back, a satisfied expression on his face as she directed her attention towards the volume. Nesta knew for certain now that some sort of binding magic must have something to do with all of this. Picking up the book she glanced back at him. She watched the red-haired fae get back on his feet. He gave her a little wave and wordlessly turned away.

When Alis dropped by to bring her a plate of scones with a delicious sweet cream filling accompanied by a bowl of fresh berries and a canter of wine, Nesta was deeply absorbed in the pages of the small leather volume. Her brow creased a little in concentration. Due to her lack of context the historical texts had at times proven difficult to parse through, but that challenge faded in comparison to the abstract complexity in which binding magic was being described.

Seeing her focus, Alis left her the tray and disappeared back to the manor. After rereading the same paragraph a second time trying to parse through the nonsensical jargon describing the rules of different kinds of bargains faeries could enter into, Nesta put the book down and picked a sugary confection of the tray. Nibbling on the sweet treat put her in a somewhat better mood again. 

While she wasn't quite sure yet what information Lucien expected her to glean of those pages, one thing was clear to her now. The Treaty was sealed with binding magic. But unlike a regular faerie bargain, it had been sealed by all seven of the High Lords standing as representatives of their lands. It ostensibly bound all of Prythian and his inhabitants to the words of the Treaty.

However, understanding the mechanics behind the Treaty didn't help her without actually knowing the exact wording that had been used to bind the faeries. Leaning forward Nesta plucked the slightly crumpled sheet of parchment with her scribbled notes from under one of the strewn out books. Thoughtfully she surveyed the list of everything she had managed to unearth about the Treaty.

It baffled her how little there was written about the specific wording of such an important document. Not a singular commentary on the rules the Treaty supposedly imposed on both Fae and humans. 

Her thoughts suddenly came to a halting stop. Among all her readings not a single mention of the rules. Only that the Treaty kept the human and Fae lands separate…

Nesta sat up, suddenly alert again. Could it be that that was the rule? That Nesta had been futilely searching for a set of rules that didn't exist?

A brief spike of anger rose inside of her. Had this been another lie used to trap her here? Imaginary rules concocted to steal her under false pretenses?

The more she followed that trail of thoughts the more she realized that this was the only way to make sense of everything.

Tamlin had all but admitted that he sent Andras out to the human lands disguised as a wolf. The way Alis, Huri and Gidon had alluded to having expected her, a human's arrival. Nesta was already convinced that Tamlin had some need for her. All because of the blight, this deceiving she.

What had the Suriel said again? Nesta racked her brain. The deceiver had caught all the other High Lords in her net… Tamlin was close to being caught as well…

Dropping her half-eaten confection back on the tray, she hastily wiped her sticky fingers off and grabbed the book on magical bindings again. Flipping back to the content listing, she searched through the chapter titles.

The deceiver obviously had to be powerful, but to beat six High Lords whose power was supposed to rival gods. Even Tamlin had somehow been weakened by her. There was a reason the Suriel had referred to her as the deceiver. She hadn‘t beaten them with strength, but a trap… A spell no Fae no matter how powerful they were could break out off. A binding spell. Something to control even the most powerful.

There.

Nesta‘s eyes caught on the heading of one of the chapters in the curses section.

Forced bindings and magical compulsion

Flipping to the chapter, Nesta stared at the spread pages, recognizing it as the same pages Lucien had flipped to. This must be what he wanted her to find out, she realized. Nesta settled back down between the cushions and began to read.

Nesta ran to the manor, one hand gathering up her skirts, the book on magic clasped in the other. The other books still lying abandoned on her blanket with the cushions and sweets Alis had brought her. Nesta‘s mind was too frantic with all she had started to realize to feel guilt right now.

The sentries posted at the door stared openly at her as she rushed past them. She needed to talk with Tamlin. Skittering to a halt in the entrance hall, Nesta belatedly realized that she actually had no idea where to find him. Prior to this moment she had never needed to seek him out. Either he had just appeared in front of her or she had seen him during dinner.

Swirling around Nesta marched back to the entrance. She stepped up to one of the sentries, imperiously glaring up at him. He looked down at her, a puzzled look on his face.

“Where is Tamlin?,” she demanded. “I need to speak with him.”

“Out on patrol."

Nesta deflated a little. Of course the one time she actually wanted to see him, he would be gone.

The sentry shrugged a little.

“He should be back soon. He will probably drop by the stables first.”

Nodding stiffly, Nesta thanked him, before marching back out of the house.

Nesta ended up waiting at least half an hour. After spending the first ten minutes wearing circles into the cobbled ground in front of the stable, she let herself be lured inside by Galatea's soft calls. Stepping up to white mare, Nesta clammed the book under her arm and petted the horse's graceful neck. 

“I think I finally understand what's going on now,” she whispered softly to Galatea. The mare acknowledged her confession with a snort.

“There's a curse on Spring, isn't there? It's the reason Tamlin‘s power has been dampened, the reason for the masks.”

With a jerk Galatea raised her head away from Nesta. Startled, Nesta looked up and found herself met by a discerning set of brown eyes.

“I'm right, am I not?”

Galatea remained unearthly still, watching her silently.

“That‘s why I'm here. To break the curse. It's one of the conditions.”

The mare remained silent. Nesta let out a frustrated growl, of course nobody could answer her questions, not even a damn horse.

The soft crunch of boots on the straw covered ground made her swirl around. Tamlin stood in the entrance of the stable, taking another hesitant step closer.

“Bjarni told me you were looking for me.”

Nesta nodded, relieved, but also feeling suddenly anxious at laying out her discovery to him. She stepped up to him, hugging the book close to her chest. Tamlin briefly glanced down at the leather bound volume, his eyes narrowing a little as he seemed to recognize it. His gaze flitted back up, meeting her own.

A strange thing happened then. Staring up into the glowing green of his eyes, she felt a strange sense of calm wash over her. She recognized the emotion in them. It was hope.

“There is no rule in the Treaty that demands a life for a life. It was all just a pretext to bring me here. Because you need me.” 

He remained silent, only a slight hitch in his breathing betraying his reaction to her words.

“When I trapped the Suriel, it told me that you're already stuck in a trap laid out by this deceiver you call the blight. She has placed a curse on you and on Spring.”

Tamlin let out a shaking breath, closing his eyes. Nesta was struck by how utterly shaken he looked. It felt almost invasive to see him like that.

“I'm right, aren‘t I?,” she whispered, feeling the need to fill the silence.

“You‘re right about the Treaty,” he finally offered, a hoarse note in his voice.

“And the curse?,” Nesta prompted, uncertainty suddenly growing in her mind.

Staying silent, he lowered his head, avoiding her searching gaze. She let out a frustrated laugh.

“If I'm right and you need me, a human, to break this curse, then you have to tell me,” her voice sounded harsh and shrill in the silent stable. Neither Galatea or any of the other beasts in the stable made any sound in response.

“This curse affects all of your people doesn't it,” sudden anger sparked inside of her. Why didn't he just tell her? She had to be right. It was the only explanation that would make sense of it all. “If you brought me here to save them, then let me help!”

A warm hand engulfed one hers. Nesta flinched back before looking down. Gently Tamlin loosened the grip of her left hand from the book. Nesta‘s gaze flickered up to his face in silent question. His face remained drawn, the downward turn of his mouth and stiff jaw betraying his discomfort.

With increasing alarm, Nesta watched as Tamlin lowered himself down on his knee in front of her. Her hand gently cupped in his. His warm breath rushed against her skin, as he leaned his forehead against the back of her hand. Silken strands of hair brushed over her wrist and her fingertips grazed across the cool edges of the golden mask.

Her heart thundered in her chest as she stared in utter incredulity down at the kneeling High Lord in front of her. Only haltingly did she realize what he was doing. He was bowing in supplication. To her.

“You can't speak about the curse, can you?,” the sudden understanding rushed over her like a cold flood. “None of you can.”

He let out a shuddering breath, it almost sounded like swallowing down a sob. Nesta carefully got down on her knees in front of Tamlin. Placing the book on the ground, before reaching out and hesitantly placing her right hand on his shoulder.

He finally raised his head, and to Nesta‘s surprise he smiled at her. In truth it was only a small wistful smile, but regardless Nesta found herself answering with her own.

“The person who placed this curse, she wants to attack Spring?”

Tamlin remained silent. Watching him closely, Nesta found that didn't matter. His eyes told her all she needed to know.

Her smile broadened a little, turning into a show of fletched teeth. She thought of Alis, Huri and Gidon, the little faerie children playing in the garden, even Lucien. Those were the people threatened by this nameless she. In the end Nesta found it didn‘t matter that they were fae and she human. She would not sit idly by when their last refuge was being threatened by a power-hungry tyrant from across the western sea.

Raising her chin in challenge she said in an icy voice.

“I won't let her win. I will help you break this curse, I promise you.”

Tamlin let out a laugh, he sounded a little breathless as he gently squeezed her hand in acknowledgement.

Chapter Text

“I forbid you maidens all

that wear gold in your hair

To travel to Carterhaugh

for young Tam Lin is there”

Tam Lin by Fairport Convention

Nesta flicked to the next page as she chewed thoughtlessly on her bottom lip. The dim candle light filled the study room with its warm glow. She had to admit to herself that both the cushioned chair and the large oak desk were much more comfortable than the small cramped space in the library. 

Leaning back against the velvet upholstery, Nesta glanced up at the large mural decorating the entire wall of the study. Illustrating the history of the seven courts of Prythian, it sprang up around the large cauldron centered at the bottom of the painting. Delicate brushstrokes rendered the scene in colourful details. The history books Nesta had studied over the past week, had all described the importance of the Mother and how all the magic and land had been created out of her cauldron. It struck Nesta as a fanciful tale, made to entertain children, but she supposed that among Fearies a story like that held more truth than she would expect.

The uninterrupted movement of Tamlin’s pacing steps across from her started to get on her nerves. Despite his sheer size she had to admit that he was surprisingly quiet. Yet even so the barely contained energy seeping out of him made it hard to stay focused on her work. With a sigh Nesta picked up her notes and glanced over the questions they had just spent the better part of an hour answering. She wasn’t quite sure what she had expected when she had promised her aid in breaking this curse, but she had very quickly come to the annoying conclusion that unless she actually knew the conditions of this curse there was little she could do. The frustration of it bit and pocked at her, making her irritable and short-tempered. Throwing another glance up at the faerie currently wearing grooves into the study floor. At least she wasn’t alone in her frustrations.

Tamlin’s face was grave and stormy, arms crossed over his chest and his fingers sprouting black claws which he tried to hide in his balled fists. From the first question she had asked he had to fight for every word he tried to give her. Each subsequent question tightening his invisible gag, until eventually he seemed only capable of angry growls.

Surveying her still unanswered questions, Nesta supposed she had been too forward. By now they knew well enough that any direct question about the curse was pointless. She eyed Tamlin. The best way to proceed was figuring out the exact extent of what the curse forbade him to speak of. He clearly had been able to give some signs.

“According to this,” tapping the page, Nesta held the book out to him. “Curse spells all have a set time limit in which they can be broken. Does that apply to every curse?”

Tamlin stopped his pacing to glance down at the proffered page. His mouth pulled into a tight frown as a muscle ticked in his jaw. His eyes swept back up, sparking with green fire as he silently voiced his frustration.

After a long pause he finally said carefully:

“Many magical bonds come with a specified time.”

Nesta flashed a toothy grin at him. 

“That’s a yes then.”

Triumphantly she turned the book back around and flipped to the next page.

“According to this, curses usually follow a number of portent… three, seven, nine or thirteen.” 

Tamlin squinted down at her notes. His expression cleared of its previous gloom, their progress no matter how small, lifting some of his tension.

“The Suriel told me that she started taking land over fifty years ago.” Nesta shuffled through her notes. “Alis told me you have all been stuck with those masks due to an incident during a masquerade… Was this also fifty years ago?”

After a brief pause, Tamlin said slowly:

“Since the blight, Spring hasn’t had a lot of opportunities for celebration.”

Nesta nodded, acknowledging his carefully worded response. That meant it had already been about half a century since the curse had been placed. It still baffled her a little to see how big the timeframes of faerie lifes were.

“How long do you still have?”

“You know I can’t answer that.”

Nesta couldn't quite hide the smile that formed at his surly tone.

“It has to be in line with one of these numbers,” glancing down at the page, Nesta frowned. Three, seven, nine and thirteen… “Does seventy count…?”

Tamlin only grimaced in response. A sudden unsettling thought took hold of her. The Suriel’s foreboding words that there was nothing she could do cackled ominously in her memory.

“But, you do still have time?”

Silence stretched out between them. Nesta leaned forward, alarmed at his lack of a response.

“Do you?!”

“I’m not powerless yet.”

“But you would be if the curse isn’t broken in time?”

Tamlin shrugged.

Nesta stared at him with narrowed eyes, before leaning back in her seat. She rubbed her hands over her face. In a muffled voice she let out:

“Lucien was right. Magic is annoying…”

An amused snort from Tamlin made her peek out from between her fingers. He stepped closer to lean against the desk and look directly down at her, a hint of amusement in his green eyes.

“You just say that because you don’t understand it yet.”

“Well, I’m only human. We do not have magic like you Fae do,” Nesta said sourly.

Tamlin chuckled.

“Of course you do.”

Nesta scoffed, annoyed at his teasing. She didn’t put all this effort into helping him solve his problem just to be mocked.

His smile widened into a sharp grin, his gleaming canines on full display.

“I’m not mocking you. You shrugged off my glamour without any effort. What would you call that if not magic?”

Nesta blinked. 

“But that’s not the same.”

Unable to hide the uncertainty in her voice.

“No, but humans are as capable of casting magic as most Fae are,” Tamlin’s eyes flitted away from her, a tell-tale sign she had started to recognize that betrayed his discomfort. “It’s mostly the high Fae who have a stronger aptitude for magic.”

“Like you do?”

“Yes and no," he grimaced. “High Lords are… different.”

Nesta leaned back against the cushion, her interest piqued. Studying the faerie who so casually leaned against the desk. It felt strange trying to consolidate the tales of godlike power ascribed to High Lords with the creature in front of her. Other than his golden mask his clothing was finely made but unassuming. She had spent enough time in his court to know that the pomp of high society she had known in her childhood did not appeal to him. The only adornment Nesta had ever seen him wear was a set of sheathed daggers. Though she wasn’t quite sure what use a blade had for someone with the ability to turn into a giant ferocious beast.

“How so?”, she asked.

“A High Lord’s power comes from the land. It chooses and marks us when the previous High Lord still lives.” He looked away again. “But it only comes to the new High Lord upon his predecessor’s death. Before that they only possess the power they were born with as High Fae.”

Nesta glanced down where his hands clasped the wood of the desk. They looked human… or Fae, she supposed. But she had seen glimpses of sharp claws in moments of frustration.

“Transformation,” Nesta found herself asking. “Is that your power or that of the High Lord?”

Tamlin looked back at her. Eyes creased in confusion, as he answered hesitantly:

“It’s mine.”

Nesta couldn’t quite describe why but this didn’t surprise her; the wild shape of the beast fit him too well to not always have  been a part of him. Reaching out her hand she carefully brushed his.

“Can you show me?”

His fingers twitched in surprise when she touched him, yet he let her take hold of him. Feeling self-conscious, Nesta glanced briefly up and found him watching her intently. The unnatural green in his gaze burning brightly. Her gaze flitted back down again. She let out a soft breath. His hand, a moment ago deceptively human, changed. A shimmer of light and large sharp claws lay docile in her loose grip.

He slightly angled his hand, moving the dangerous edges away from her skin. Curiously, Nesta ran her fingers across the back of one of the talons. The hard bony feel of them as real as his skin had felt moments ago.

“Fascinating,” she whispered, before glancing up. “How does it work? You can just change any part of yourself? Become anything you want?”

He laughed, the warm sound chasing a shiver down her spine.

“It’s difficult to explain…” He turned his palm over revealing the back of his hand. Nesta let out a startled breath as she watched golden fur grow up his arm.

“It‘s something I've always been able to do. Like moving a limb or taking a breath.”

Another heartbeat later and the fur was replaced by shining scales reflecting the flickering candle light.

Grabbing his forearm she pulled his hand close to inspect it. Her fingers briefly brushed over the cool hardness of the scales before it softened into warm skin again. 

“How can you claim a human could do magic like this?”

Turning his clawed hand over in her grip, Tamlin closed his hand lightly over hers. They both looked down at her small human one delicately held in his larger unnatural one.

“Maybe not magic like this,” he spoke softly. “But many capable humans have been able to learn spells and curses in the past. And you, Nesta, are more than capable.” 

Nesta met his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat as she found herself captured by his gaze.

“You’ve given me hope. I didn’t think that I would ever have a chance to break Am–,” he cut himself off as his words skirted too close to the details of the curse. His lips tightened into a thin line.

“Thank you," he started again. “I didn’t tell you so before, but I should have. Thank you.”

Nesta stared up at him. His emerald green eyes seemed to shine in the low light of the candles. The mad thought that she could gaze up into their depths forever sprang up in her mind. Her hand, still held in his, tingled. Only haltingly did the awareness of the moment come back to her. Jerkingly she pulled her hand out of his grip. He let her go without resistance. Lowering her head, Nesta sought out her notes and books on the desk. In a desperate attempt to cover up her discomfort, she cleared her throat.

“If I’m supposed to help you, we should probably go back to figuring out how to break the curse.”

At a quick glance she saw Tamlin straightening a little, creating more distance between them. A small smile still played around his lips. Resolutely Nesta directed her attention back to the notes. It irked her how quickly she seemed to grow flustered in his presence lately. It had only been a handful of days since that moment of understanding they had shared in the stable. 

He claimed he hadn't thanked her, but Nesta knew that wasn't true. The memory of him kneeling, gratitude in every line of his bowed form, followed her everywhere. The brush of his soft hair against her skin and the warmth of his forehead pressed against her hand. 

Flexing her fingers against the parchment, Nesta chided herself mentally. Forcefully she pushed the distracting memory back and tried to concentrate on the pages she had been senselessly staring at. Her renewed focus unfortunately only lasted half an hour at most. Tamlin since then had started to pace again.

Eventually, Nesta had to admit to herself that there was no point forcing it anymore.

She pushed back the chair and got on her feet. With barely contained irritation she started collecting both books and loose pages of notes together.

Tamlin stopped his circles again. Stepping closer he watched her jerky movements.

“We’re done for today,” Nesta announced. “I'm tired and want to get some rest before dinner.”

He nodded slowly as he watched her pack up her things in silence. Books and paper orderly put away in the desk drawers, she walked around the desk and stepped up to him. Tilting her head back she looked up at him. A slight smile twitched at his lips, as he swept into a gallant bow.

Nesta rolled her eyes. Despite their change in circumstances, he still at times felt the need to act out meaningless chivalry. It almost made her regret her early play at the noble lady.

His smile widened, flashing white fangs again. Nesta couldn‘t stop her answering smile.

“Don‘t start acting like Lucien.”

Nodding her head towards the door at his back, she silently asked him to step aside.

His face softened, but he didn't immediately get out of her way. After a heavy pause he took a small step closer. Slowly, giving her ample time to move back, he took hold of her hand. Raising it up between them, his gaze met hers.

Nesta’s guts twisted into knots. An uncomfortable heat rose to her face. His emerald green eyes never left her face, holding her captive once again. He spoke to her in a low tone that raised goosebumps on her back.

“I'm looking forward to seeing you again at dinner tonight.”

Then he bowed his head and brushed his lips across the back of her head in a ghost of a kiss. Air left her lungs in a startled breath as she stared wordlessly at him. He raised his head again and after a gentle squeeze let go of her hand. Stepping aside, he gave her a free path to the door. And Nesta fled.

That night at dinner Nesta felt both anxiety and excitement mingle in her stomach. She tried to keep her gaze from lingering too long at the head of the table where a certain golden haired Fae sat. Instead she directed leading questions at Lucien, goading him into friendly jabs at Tamlin. Desperate in her hope it would distract both of them from the traitorous way her heart sometimes skipped a beat when her eyes met a set of green ones.

Answering Lucien‘s teasing with his canine grin, Tamlin glanced over to her. The good humour made his eyes shine even brighter. Wistfully Nesta wished she could see what his face looked like beneath the mask when he smiled at her like that.

At Lucien‘s soft chuckle, Nesta felt a flush rise up her neck. Tamlin‘s smile turned softer. Quickly she snapped her head around, facing Lucien across the table. The red-haired faerie grinned at her, a knowing glint winkling in his eye.

“I'm sorry. I didn't want to distract you.” Heat burned in her cheeks and Lucien‘s grin grew even wider.

“Don‘t, Lucien,” Tamlin said. His face had grown serious. She threw an embarrassed glance in his direction, yet he refused to meet hers, a rose tint colouring his skin. 

Lucien thankfully dropped his grin, yet the amused twinkle remained in his eye.

“So how has it been working with Tam to solve our little… problem?,” he asked nonchalantly. Despite her annoyance at him she was glad that he offered a new topic of conversation.

“It‘s going as well as one can expect,” Nesta huffed. “Considering that I know almost nothing about this curse.”

Lucien nodded solemnly. Then he glanced over to Tamlin, a meaningful look on his face. Nesta narrowed her eyes at them.

“It‘s going well,” Tamlin answered. “Nesta has been able to put together so much from almost no information.”

Lucien‘s lips twitched, clearly fighting another grin. His twirling metal eye twitched back and forth between Tamlin and Nesta. 

“Actually speaking of that I have a theory I wanted to test,” Nesta announced, glad for the opportunity to focus her traitorous mind on something worthwhile. Both Tamlin and Lucien perked up, their eyes lighting up with interest. She turned towards Lucien.

“You showed me a book on curses that day in the garden, could you recommend me to another one that contains relevant information?”

Lucien opened his mouth, yet no words came out. He tried again, and again failed to answer. Nesta nodded in satisfaction as her suspicions were proven right. Lucien glared accusatory. She flashed her teeth at him, amused to see him squirm after he had pocked fun at her. 

“What have you realised?,” Tamlin finally interjected.

Nesta glanced towards him.

“That day Lucien gave me a hint by showing me a specific page. But just now he couldn't even get a word out. The same thing happened to you when I asked you questions about the curse. Even the indirect ones.” 

Nesta leaned forward, a triumphant smile on her face. 

“One of the rules of your curse is that nobody can tell me about it. But, there is a loophole. If you let something slip unintentionally or I'm unaware that you're talking about the curse, some information can slip past the magic.”

Lucien scratched his chin, looking sceptical.

“I guess… but how does that help us?”

Nesta‘s smile widened. Turning her attention back to Tamlin, she told him.

“I want to talk to your people.”

Tamlin frowned slightly, yet he nodded his head in slow agreement.

“Talking to either of you, won't help now. You're both too aware of the fact that I'm fishing for more information. But, you're people aren't. As long as they think I'm just an ignorant mortal curious about Faeries and magic, they will be able to let more slip.”

Lucien let out a disbelieving laugh.

“That's your plan? Even if we let you waltz around the court trying to fish crumbs of knowledge from every citizen of Spring. How will you even know which parts are relevant to the cu–... problem.”

“I just have to ask you.”

At Lucien‘s puzzled look, Nesta couldn‘t help but chuckle. This only furthered his confusion.

Tamlin‘s eyes, however, brightened in understanding. His canine smile flashed white.

“We won't be able to answer if it is related.”

“Precisely. Every new piece of information that you cannot comment on will obviously be related to your curse.”

At Tamlin‘s approving nod, her chest filled with a warm glow. Nesta looked quickly away again, unwilling to embarrass herself again.

Lucien‘s face darkened a little, his scepticism only growing more pronounced. Glancing over at Tamlin he said haltingly.

“You‘re sure this is a good idea, Tam.” His eyes briefly swept back to Nesta. “Wouldn't it be better if she continued together with you? Aren't you wasting time?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes at them. Tamlin glanced her way, his mouth pulled into an apologetic grimace, before he looked back at Lucien and shook his head.

“No, Lucien, no. This is the best way, you know I don't want to force anything.”

Following their vague exchange, Nesta pushed down the urge to call out her questions. She knew there would be no point. They wouldn't be able to answer her anyway.

After a brief pause, Lucien nodded reluctantly. 

“Alright,” the seriousness bleeding surprisingly quick from his expression, he asked in a teasing tone. “So, Tam, when are you going to tell Nesta about tomorrow night?”

Tamlin froze, before letting out a growl.

“What is tomorrow night?,” Nesta asked slowly.

Lucien's eye twinkled filled with mischief. Yet, he remained silent, clearly intending to let Tamlin explain. After a moment of silence, filled with Nesta‘s expectant waiting, during which Tamlin looked resolutely down at his plate, he finally let out a defeated sigh. Still avoiding her eyes, he spoke stiffly.

“Tomorrow is Calanmai. It's a traditional celebration in the Spring court.”

Nesta frowned a little. A celebration? It seemed an odd thing to be so embarrassed by.

“During the festivities powerful magic will be released. It will be best if you stay in your room between sundown and sunrise.”

Nesta glanced over at Lucien. The red-haired faerie lounged in his chair, wine glass lazily clasped in his hand, watching his friend squirm.

“Alright,” she responded to Tamlin. His eyes finally met hers, a glimmer of surprise in their green depths. 

“I know I promised you that you could go wherever you wish,” he said quickly. “But, it is important you stay inside. Just this one night.”

Nesta nodded amicably. At Tamlin‘s uncertain look, she smiled a little.

“No need to worry. If you think it unsafe for me to wander around during a Faerie magic ritual, I won't fight you on that point.” After a short pause, she added. “However, I would like to know why.”

Lucien chuckled and raised a crooked finger in her direction.

“Ha! I knew you’re a nosy one.”

She rolled her eyes at Lucien's comment, before asking meaningfully.

“Unless you can't tell me about that either?”

Tamlin grimaced. Nesta waited a moment but at his lack of response she sighed. Deciding to ask her question more directly to make sure she wasn't misunderstanding his silence.

“Does that mean that Calanmai has something to do with the curse as well?”

“No.”

Tamlin‘s short answer and sharp tone gave Nesta pause. She stared at him cooly.

“No…? Then telling me what the danger is shouldn't be an issue.”

He set his jaw stiffly and kept stubbornly silent. His gaze flitting away from hers, running away like a coward.

“So that's it?,” Nesta asked sharply. The bitter spark of anger suddenly lighting back up inside her. “I'm good enough to fix your problems, but ‘don't you dare ask questions’ for everything else?”

His eyes sharpened, and flicked back to hers. The molten gold intensified the green, making them glow behind the mask.

“Calanmai doesn't concern you. Stay in your room tomorrow, everything else doesn‘t concern you.”

Sneering, Nesta opened her mouth. But, before she could voice the biting retort forming on her tongue, Lucien spoke up again.

“What Tamlin is too embarrassed to say is that he will be greatly affected by the magic that night, and he will be one of the dangers.”

Swallowing her angry words back down, Nesta narrowed her eyes at both of them. 

“And the other dangers?”

Her voice was cool and contained. A muscle flickered in Tamlin‘s jaw, as he finally pried it open and answered stiffly.

“There will be many faeries from across Spring and from other courts as well attending. Many of them don't know you're here… and it would be safest if they continue not to.”

Nesta nodded equally stiffly. Her inside still riled up from her anger, she didn‘t know where to put it. Part of her wanted yet wanted to throw out the poisonous words she had meant to say just moments before. He deserved them. 

She let out a frustrated snort. Since her promise to break the curse, he had been weaseling his way into her thoughts in the most infuriating way possible. Maybe even since that first moment of truce after he saved her from the Naga in the woods. She deflated a little.

“Alright,” she repeated her initial agreement. “If you don't like to talk about it, I won't ask anymore.” She met him head-on with a frank stare. “But, if you want us to truly work together, I need to be respected. If I ask you something, answer honestly. And if you don't want to, at least tell me why.”

His eyes softened a little. A flicker of guilt dampened their intensity. Her own anger dimmed in response, not yet willing to give in, she added.

“I'm not your pet or servant.”

“No you‘re not,” his voice had calmed and taken on a soothing quality, like she was a skittish animal. It sparked another quick spurt of anger.

“So, don‘t you dare treat me as such. Or go look for another human to break your curse.”

Their gazes held for another heartbeat, until he lowered his head in deference to her.

“I won't.”

Nesta nodded in approval.

“Good.”

Lucien snickered into his wineglass. At her sharp glance, he lifted it in a silent salute. A strangely satisfied glint in his eye.

“Come in!”

Nesta pushed open the door to Huri's room and peeked inside. The faerie rushed forward and almost ripped the door out of Nesta‘s grip in her excitement.

“Oh! I'm so glad you're finally here.”

Letting herself be herded inside, Nesta laughed a little as Huri's giddy joy infected her.

“Alis told me to come here after breakfast?”

“Yes!” 

After a quick scramble towards her workbench, Huri turned back around a green bundle held close to her chest.

Eyes catching on the green cloth, Nesta stepped forward.

“Is it done then?”

Her previous excitement waned a little making room for barely contained anxiety, Huri nodded. She loosened her grip on the cloak and let it unfurl.

A shaky breath fled Nesta‘s lungs. Having seen it once before, she had thought she knew what the finished work would look like. She had been wrong. It had looked beautiful before, yet somehow in those final few days Huri had managed to weave a magic into it that had simply not been there before. Every ripple and movement revealed a new vibrant shade of green. Patterns of leaves and trees played across the fabric. Embroidered in glittering gold and silver thread and accented with tiny gems and perls bands of stars, flowers and flames circled the collar and ran across the hem.

Shaking out the garments, Huri held it up higher.

“Do you want to try it on?”

Left speechless Nesta silently nodded. Huri's face split wide in a pleased grin, her mandibles on full display.

With a flourish, Huri wrapped the cloak around Nesta, and tied it shut at her throat.

Its weight laid surprisingly heavy across her shoulders, the fabric flowed like smooth liquid over her skin. Yet, despite the undeniable oddness of the garment, its presence instantly brought on a sense of familiarity and safety.

Huri took a step back, her eyes sweeping up and down across her marvellous creation. Clasping her spindly hands together in front of her chest, she beamed widely at Nesta.

“It‘s even more beautiful with you wearing it.”

Looking down the length of her body, Nesta carefully ran her hands over the rich fabric. It seemed impossible to imagine it as her old threadbare cloak. This new cloak was longer, the low hem forming a small train. Brushing her fingers over the hood, before drawing it up, over her head, Nesta realised that even it had a much fuller shape.

“Here, turn around, I have a mirror somewhere in here.”

Rummaging through her things Huri brought out a surprisingly big mirror. She held it up, angling its reflective surface in such a way to give Nesta the best possible view.

Startled by the sight of herself, Nesta took a step closer. Nestled in the green hood and surrounded by a glittering border of golden flowers, twinkling stars and burning flames, her face seemed to shine with a strange glow. The icy blue of her eyes accentuated the pearls and silver, the warm green tones brought out a rosy flush hiding underneath her pale skin and the gold intensified the colour of her auburn hair.

“It’s beautiful, Huri,” unable to find the right words, Nesta was left with inadequate ones instead. Huri's expression shone with satisfaction.

“You look like a true Lady of Spring.”

Startled, Nesta blinked up at Huri. The faerie carefully placed the mirror back down and pointed towards her work.

“I know you asked me not to add any spells,” she shuffled nervously on her feet. “And I didn't. But, sometimes if the memories I use are potent enough they create their own unique kind of magic.”

Glancing down at the cloak, Nesta frowned.

“There is a powerful protection woven into the fabric. As long as you wear it no faerie will be able to easily trick or harm you.”

A wave of fondness rose unbidden in Nesta‘s chest. Watching the fabric shimmer in the light, she grabbed Huri's hand.

“Thank you.”

“You don't mind?”

Nesta let out a laugh, before shaking her head. 

No. How could I? This is the most precious gift I've ever received.“

Huri giggled in relieved delight. Her grey skin flushed a pretty purple. Smiling a little to herself Nesta added.

“Given that I'm bound to stay in Prythian for a while, I should probably have some magic of my own.” 

Her thin long fingers squeezed Nesta‘s.

“You and your sisters must love each other dearly,” she said in a low whisper. “I think it's those feelings that created the protection.” She brushed her fingers over the collar. “They want you to be safe here.”

Afterwards, Nesta brought the cloak back to her room. Spending the rest of the morning with Huri, they finally went to visit the gallery. The grand room had been cleaned and polished to shine, presenting each of its portraits to their best advantage. As promised Huri had been equally clueless as Nesta about any of the people depicted, other than the fact that they most likely were various High Lords, their family and important members of the court.

Staring up at the large detailed paintings, Nesta thought that Feyre would have been better suited to appreciating their artistry. Despite having spent innumerable hours studying the most important and well known artists, authors and poets, Nesta had soon lost the drive for it other than as a simple duty she had to fulfill. Her grandmother and mother's single minded focus to sculpt her into the perfect bride, young, beautiful, cultured and cunning, had robbed her of many youthful passions. Only dance and music had been able to keep her genuine interest no matter how draconian the lessons she had to endure.

During the years spent in the drafty cabin, the waste of it all had at times choked her up. All the years she had sacrificed, all the times she had endured their cruel whims, and nothing to show for it.

Other times a dark vicious part of herself relished the fact that in spite of all the effort they had put into shaping Nesta to be the perfect tool to accomplish all their lofty ambitions, their precious daughter had not married for riches, for conquest, but had been turned into a pauper living secluded at the edge of a dirty muddy village. Only the second son of a simple woodcutter, a violent drunkard to boot left as her prospect.

“Oh, this one I recognise!”

Huri reached out and pulled Nesta by the elbow. The faerie pointed up at the next painting. It was larger than most and did not show a single person, but a small group. Stepping closer Nesta craned her neck, her gaze flitting across unknown faces.

A large faerie man loomed in the centre, his golden eyes were imperious and cold. A woman in a sparkling gown sat in front, a possessive hand lay on her shoulder. Her golden hair flowed loose in waves and rivulets down her shoulders.

At either side of the man stood two younger man. Nesta couldn‘t quite point to what about them betrayed their relative youth. All three of them shared the eerie ageless beauty she had learned to recognize as traits of the High Fae. Yet, something about the smooth lines and piercing gaze of the golden eyed man let no room for doubt that he did not only seniority but also all the power. One of the younger men shared his golden eye colour yet they seemed a pale imitation compared to his. The other one's green eyes looked oddly familiar. For a breathless moment, Nesta thought she might be looking at the likeness of Tamlin‘s unmasked face.

But, after a closer look she quickly realised that the face in the painting was too narrow, the chin too pointy and his hair a darker flaxen colour. Even the green eyes did not really match, they missed the molten gold flecks. Nesta let her gaze slip down to the last figure. In the woman’s lap sat a young child, a head of shining golden hair, and a pair wide green golden eyes.

This time she felt no doubt about who she was looking at. Huri glanced over at her, a teasing smile forming on her lips.

“Well? How is your first glimpse at our High Lord’s face?”

Nesta snorted, yet was unable to cover up her answering smile.

“I will admit, he was quite cute as a child.”

Huri laughed, before linking her arm with Nesta‘s. With an exaggerated sigh she said.

“This was fun, but I have to say I'm tired of looking at all these faces, no matter how good looking.”

Nesta readily agreed, glad to leave the gallery behind. Arm in arm, they walked out.

The visit left Nesta feeling wistful and melancholic. The large family portrait brought old long forgotten memories back up. Their old estate, a stuffy room and a long afternoon sitting still and straight for a portrait. Her mother's sharp eyes ensuring she kept her posture and that the artist depicted her to full advantage. She hadn‘t seen any pictures that looked like Tamlin other than the young child. The few words he had said of his father's cruelty and his mother's subservience stirred in her memory. It felt strange to be able to put faces to them.

At Nesta‘s request, Huri led her back out into the gardens to introduce some of her friends. An excited flush coloured her skin purple. Her black eyes glittered as she introduced Nesta to a pair of tall long limbed sentries.

Among them was the graceful High Fae woman, Huri had been so adamant on avoiding just a week ago. Nesta supposed they had made up whatever fight they've had. She smiled openly at Nesta and introduced herself as Lilja. The other sentry looked vaguely familiar and once he introduced himself as Bjarni, Nesta recognised him as the sentry she had talked to a few days ago in her search for Tamlin.

Despite the two High Fae's graceful appearance they quickly proved themselves to be good-natured and polite. They both each carried a woven basket filled with a packed lunch from the kitchens. Lilja and Huri walked arm in arm next to Nesta, chattering excitedly about people and places she was completely unfamiliar with, while Bjarni trailed silently behind. The two faerie women guided their little group to a shade spot under a large willow. A small bubbling stream ran underneath each knobbly roots.

Waving Nesta forward, Huri showed her where to find a comfortable seat among the Tree roots. Lilja and Bjarni started unpacking their baskets, spreading out the biscuits, fruits and cut vegetables among their group.

Sitting among their group, silently watching Huri and Lilja giggle and laugh together. Unable to fully follow their discussion about a kobold named Wini living somewhere downstream, who supposedly tied the best fishing nets, Nesta felt the melancholy of the morning catch back up with her.

Her eyes strayed away from her companions across the landscape until it snared on dark shapes marring the distant tree line. Squinting a little, Nesta recognised them as large mounts of kindling for bonfires. Preparations for Calanmai, she supposed…

Glancing over at the still chattering faeries, her gaze crossed that of Bjarni. His mouth ticked upwards as he noticed her watching him. Tilting his head towards Lilja and Huri, he loudly cleared his throat. The two women turned over at him and at his nod in Nesta‘s direction, Huri flushed a deep shade of purple and Lilja grimaced in embarrassment.

“I'm sorry, Nesta,” Huri said. “I didn't mean to exclude you.”

“It's alright, Huri. I didn’t mind.” 

Jerking his chin in the direction of the bonfires, Bjarni commented.

“They've been at it for over a week now. Lucien didn't exaggerate when he said that plans for this year's Calanmai were going to be over the top.”

Lilja snorted loudly.

“Of course, plans are going to be grande! For a while there we all thought it might be our last one.”

“Is Calanmai something you celebrate every year,” Nesta interjected. She might have promised not to ask Tamlin about it anymore, but she didn‘t make any promises about talking to other people.

Lilja nodded.

“Yes, it's the most important day in Spring,” grinning widely, she added. “I, for one, have been looking forward to it!”

Bjarni let out a barking laugh.

“So, you have!”

He leaned over to Nesta and said with a twinkle in his eyes.

“She has been moaning about Calanmai for months now. If it were up to her, we would celebrate every month. Females like Lilja are insatiable.” Turning back he pointed at the female faerie. “Maybe you should join the ranks of the maidens, maybe our Lord could satiate your appetite.”

Lilja leaned back, languidly stretching out her limps.

“I don't think so. I like Tamlin, but you know he isn't quite to my taste.” She winked at Huri. The smaller faerie beamed widely back, her skin a purple hue. 

Heat rose to Nesta‘s cheeks at the sinking suspicion that neither of them were speaking of hunger for food.

Glancing back at Bjarni, Lilja said with mischief in her voice.

“But I'm sure you would make a fantastic maiden, Bjarni.”

The faerie man laughed good-naturedly, before nodding at Huri.

“And you, Huri? Looking forward to a night of merriment? I've heard rumours going around that you've been working on a gown to rival even last year's.”

Huri's skin grew even more purple, yet her face lit up with pride.

“Yes! I've been working on it for almost eight months now. I'm sure it's going to be one of my best works yet.”

Brushing her lips across Huri's dark head in a startling intimate gesture, Lilja offered warmly.

“I'm sure it's going to be magnificent. I can't wait to see it tonight.”

Huri smiled even more sweetly as she looked up into the larger woman’s eyes. Then sharply she snapped her head around and grasped Nesta‘s hands in hers.

“Oh! You should wear the green cloak tonight! It would be the perfect time to show it off.”

At Nesta‘s hesitation, Huri's excitement waned a little.

“Or not… If Alis has already prepared you something, you should of course wear that instead. No matter what, I'm sure you're going to be beautiful!”

“No,” Nesta said carefully. “I'm not going, Huri.”

“Oh..,” Huri deflated fully, her disappointment palpable.

“Tamlin made it quite clear that I'm not invited.”

“Yeah… I figured he wouldn't want you there,” Bjarni interjected.

Nesta glanced at him. The urge to demand an explanation was almost insurmountable. Biting back that question she asked a different one.

“I heard many faeries from different courts visitors come to visit for the night?”

Bjarni sighed, a note of frustration entered his voice.

“It‘s the one night that Tamlin has to let them in, no matter where they come from.”

“It makes my blood boil, knowing that that vile leech will try to use this night to smuggle in her dirty spies,” Lilja spit out.

Nesta’s focus sharpened. She brushed past the vulgarity in Lilja's voice, the prospect of discovering something about the curse or its caster alone filled her mind. Keeping her voice level as not to betray her eagerness, she pried for more.

“Who is sending spies?”

Lilja's eyes flitted over to Nesta. She opened her mouth, but the slight catch in her voice betrayed the strangled hold that the curse had over her. 

“–the… the blight is spreading and Spring has enemies.” She shrugged helplessly. “Spies are always a concern in times like these.”

“Of course,” Nesta said slowly.

Huri’s eyes met Nesta’s from Lilja's side. A surprisingly discerning glint shone in the small faerie‘s dark gaze. A kernel of guilt found itself into Nesta’s heart.

Maybe she should tell Huri about her promise to Tamlin, that she knew about the curse and was trying to help him, help all of them, lift it. Yet, unaware of Nesta’s intention Huri and her friends might be able to share something they wouldn't be if they knew what Nesta was doing.

Forcing her gaze down, Nesta picked a few berries from the wooden bowls Lilja and Bjarni had brought.

It ate at her that after spending her first days among faeriekind consumed by fear over all the secrets kept from her, over the course of only a few days she herself was now the one keeping them from both her family and her newfound friends as well.

Forcefully, Nesta beat those feelings down and did what she did best, fed them to the fires of her rage burning buried deep inside. In the cabin that rage had been directed at her father, after she had first been brought here it had been Tamlin, but now it was her. She. The blight. The deceiver. Or as Lilja called her, a vile leech. Whoever she was, Nesta’s rage was now directed at her.

At night Nesta struggled to sleep. A slow throbbing in her skull kept her from finding any rest.

Frustrated, she sat up and threw the covers off of her in the vain hope that some cool air might help clear her head. She brushed her fingers over her temples in a soothing motion. Yet the throbbing only seemed to gain in intensity.

Sweeping her legs over she got up and padded over to the small table. Grabbing a canter of cool water Alis had left her for the night, Nesta poured herself a glass of water. Her eyes caught on the large window.

Stepping closer, holding the glass close to her chest, she swept the heavy curtain aside and looked out into the night.

Far in the distance, across the edges of the forest, burning lights flickered wildly. Those must be the bonfires. Calanmai had begun. 

Belatedly, Nesta realized that the deep beat of a drum echoed through the distance. The beat perfectly aligned with the insistent throb in her head. Her breath caught in her throat, as she stared out into the darkness, mesmerized by the faraway flickering flames.

Nesta forcefully ripped herself away from the glass, realising with some distress that she had unthinkingly leaned forward so close that the glass grew foggy with her breath. Letting the curtain fall shut, Nesta sat her empty glass back on the table. Dropping her palms flat on the wooden surface she leaned against the small round table. A shaky breath escaped her lungs as she closed her eyes in an attempt to block out the lure of the window.

Yet, now that she had come aware of it, the drums echoed insistently through her skull. An unrelenting need to rip open the door and storm out barefooted and only dressed in her thin nightgown rose in her chest.

In response her anger woke again. Fletching her teeth savagely, Nesta fought against the siren call of the drums. She was not some mindless puppet, pulled along on invisible strings robbed of her own free will. All of Tamlin‘s warnings rushed back into her mind. There wasn't a sliver of doubt left in her that Calanmai was dangerous and she would be incredibly foolish to let it lure her there.

She had not fallen to Tamlin’s glamour, she would not fall to whatever called her now. Her breathing eased a little as the mad desire to run out into the night slowly let up. Her eyes blinked open.

Throwing an uncertain glance at the window, Nesta straightened again. The beating drums still echoed in her mind, yet their sound seemed dampened, less insistent. Her active refusal to submit seemingly keeping the strange magic at bay.

Based on Alis’ explanation of her resistance to glamour, Nesta had assumed it to be a passive trait. Now, however, she started to suspect that Tamlin might have been right when he had called it a magic she could learn. It made her want to know more. Understand more.

Her eyes flitted over to the cloak, spread out across a trunk next to the dresser.

As long as you wear it no faerie will be able to easily trick or harm you…

Huri's words joined the distant beat of the drums. Her afternoon's frustration came back up. The knowledge that out there Faeries from across Prythian were gathered during this single night, people who would most likely be unaffected by the curse… Yet Nesta would be unable to speak with any of them because it was too dangerous.

She brushed her fingers over the cloak. Her ability to resist glamour magic, and the magical protection provided by the cloak might keep her safe…

The drum beat grew louder again. Nesta mulled the mad idea over. It seemed incredibly foolish. Yet, hadn‘t the hunt for the Suriel seemed equally foolish? Her heartbeat quickened.

If she wore the cloak, kept vigilant, and kept a watchful eye open, she could probably stay safe. She was also familiar with enough of the household staff and the sentries that she could find one of them if she needed help. Lucien would be there too, and Tamlin… The drums and her heartbeat mingled together, echoing as a single sound through her body. 

Gathering up the cloak, she grabbed one of the simpler dresses and quickly started to get dressed. Her heart throbbing loudly in her chest.

Chapter Text

"'I'll come and go' young Janet said

'And ask no leave of thee'."

Tam Iin by Fairport Convention

Wrapped in her cloak Nesta tipped down her way through the empty dark halls. Outside the air had grown cold with nightly chill. A soft breeze blew across Nesta’s face. The light of Calanmai flickered far away at the forest's edge. From her one time track through the forest she knew how far a walk that distance was. Nesta snuck down the steps and hurried the path along to the stables. It was pitch black inside the stables, with hushed breaths, Nesta blindly made her way across the strawcovered floor.

“Galatea?”

Her voice echoed through the darkness. A surprised snort answered her. Following the sound Nesta groped her way forward until her hands found the wooden door to the white mare's stall. A warm breath blew against her face. Nesta smiled up at the grey outline of her head. 

“I know it's late, but I need you to take me somewhere.”

A soft nose pushed impatiently against her forehead. The loud thud of hoofs against wood made Nesta laugh.

“Alright! Let's go.”

Her fingers found the metal latch and pushed it open. She stepped aside and the door swung open. An excited whiny answered her accompanied by the soft clacking of hoofs.

Nesta hunkered down among the brushes. Galatea stood only a few paces behind her, her head dropped low as she happily searched the dark undergrowth for greens to snack on. The billowing fabric settled down around Nesta, its shifting colour darkened, making her blend into the night. The flickering light of the blazing bonfire warmed her face. Smoke and ashes clogged the air and stung her eyes. 

The clearing was filled with Fae of all forms. Some kept close to the edges in large groups sharing food and drink laid out in sprawling feasts. Others circled the flames swaying long graceful limps in slow mesmerising movements to the prodding beat of an unseen drum. Nesta strangled the urge to go look for the source of that sound. This wasn't why she was here.

Focusing in on the assembled faeries, her eyes searched their faces looking for one unburdened by the masks that marked the denizens of Spring.

She didn't have to look long. A surprisingly large number of them had mingled among the local Fae. 

Hesitation kept her pinned to her hiding spot. For the first time, since she had begun her mad track to the stables, Nesta felt unsure. She tried to look past the glare of the nearest fire. Beyond a long line of bonfires stretched along the treeline, all circled by their own host of celebrating faeries. There had to be hundreds… No, thousands of faeries, all assembled here on this one night.

She pinched her eyes shut for a moment recovering from the glare of the lights and the sting of the smokey night. Taking a resolute breath, she stood up. Pulling the hood lower to obscure her human features, she stepped out into the crowd.

At the edge of the circling dancers, the slight form of a faerie weaved past. Their ink black hair flowed long and free down their back, their dress of translucent delicately spun cobweb revealed the long grey spindly limbs. Their narrow unmasked face contained a set of eight glossy black eyes.

Nesta‘s heart skipped a beat, sure that their strange spiderlike features marked this faerie as one of Huri‘s and Gidon‘s kind. Their lack of a mask must mean they were a weaver from Autumn. Maybe even a relative of theirs. Feeling emboldened by this prospect Nesta fastened her step and followed after the faerie. Keeping her eyes locked onto their narrow back, as she closed the distance between them.

A firm grip on her shoulder brought her to a sudden stop. She whirled around, panic shooting up her spine. Her empty hands balled into fists. Why had she not thought to bring a weapon? With a desperate pang she wished she had thought to take back the knife from the Naga's corpse.

Her eyes shot up, meeting the narrowed eyes of her tall assailant. Dark brown eyes in a umber face half concealed by a wooden mask in the likeness of a hawk met hers. Relief flooded her as she realized she recognized him. It was that tall dark sentry, Petur. The one who hated her because he thought she had killed his lover.

“Didn‘t Tamlin order you not to bother me?,” her tone was pointed.

His fingers flexed at her shoulder, yet he didn't loosen his grip. His mouth formed an angry snarl.

“And he ordered you to stay away tonight. Yet here we are.”

Raising her chin in an imperious gesture, Nesta bit back.

“I'm free to go where I please. I do not need your nor your Lord's permission to come here tonight.”

His face hardened, the hatred in his eyes deepened. The flickering light of the flames threw harsh shadows across his features. His calm voice did little to hide his disdain for her.

“You think you're clever twisting your words to get your way, but you're just a spoiled child.”

Nesta burned with anger and indignation. Yet, she wrestled the feelings down. The cold hatred burning in those eyes wasn't really for her, she knew. He hated her as the human who killed Andras. And, if Nesta could help it, he would continue to do so, never knowing who truly deserved that hatred.

But Andras had been sent beyond the wall to bring back a human and even if it had taken his life he had succeeded. All to break the curse.

Her face stilled, her waning anger bleeding the tension out of her limps. Petur's eyes narrowed into slits, eyeing her suspiciously. To her own surprise, the next thing that left Nesta‘s lips was the truth.

“I know about the curse.”

Petur's eyes widened.

“I know that Andras left to bring back a human. That you all need me to break it. I'm sorry for Andras.” Pain rose in his dark eyes at the sound of his dead lover's name. “I know that won't bring him back, but I promised Tamlin that I would help him break it.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, his voice was laced with uncertainty.

“You… know how to break it?”

“No. But I intend to find out.”

Jerking her head towards the surrounding faeries, she let her voice grow soft.

“Nobody in Spring can tell me what I need to do. But tonight those who came from outside might.”

He stared down at her, his gaze brushing intently over her face. 

“You know Tamlin doesn't want you here?”

“I know.”

Slowly he nodded. 

“But you still came.”

She remained silent. Her resolute stare said enough. Petur chuckled humourlessly.

“And if you don't like what you learn? That maybe you don't want to or can't do what you need to do?”

She frowned up at him.

“I made a promise. I won't back down just because it's hard!”

A glint of real humour sparked in his eyes. A crooked grin twitched at his lips before he caught himself and smoothed his features back into its frozen lines. Anger making way to let his underlying grief shine through. His grip slackened. Nesta started to pull away, but he kept a loose grip on her for a short moment longer. Brushing his free hand across the edge of her cloak he nodded down at it.

“This is clever work. I almost lost track of you four times.”

She glanced down at her cloak, her brows drawing together in confusion. 

“What do you mean?”

“I met Galatea back there,” he jerked his head back towards the shadowed hollow where she had left the mare. “I know Tamlin gave her to you. I saw your track on the ground.”

He nodded back down at her cloak.

“That is a powerful glamour. I don't think I could have seen through it if I hadn‘t been actively looking for you. I still nearly didn't.”

“It‘s Huri's work.”

"Thought so.”

Petur took a step back and glanced about before meeting her gaze again.

“Don‘t stay too long. No matter how clever, that cloak won't protect you for long.”

Then he turned around and walked away. The drums continued to echo in the

distance. Nesta let out a shuddering breath, before glancing back in the direction the Autumn faerie she had been following had been walking. They were gone. Of course they were.

Nesta let out a frustrated huff. Glancing about, she tried to discern another promising target. Studying her surroundings, she slowly made her way down the path her lost query had taken. While watching the Fae around her, she started to notice how their gazes seemed to skip over her. None looked directly at her for longer than a heartbeat and when they did their eyes stared straight through her. The knowledge that they couldn't see her made her steps lighten, lifting some of the anxious tension that had filled her at the prospect of walking amongst their kind.

Still she kept her eyes open for anyone who might recognize her. Petur had been warning enough that someone who knew her still might see through her magical disguise.

At the corner of her vision Nesta recognized a familiar shape. In graceful fluid movement Gidon swayed and turned among a small group of faeries. Their three sets of arms held high, framing their grey face in twirling gestures.

Concealed by the magic in her cloak, Nesta walked closer until she stood practically next to Gidon. Only once she pushed back the hood and revealed her face did the faerie start to take notice of her. The black eyes caught on her form, blinked once, twice and finally grew focused.

Stepping towards her, abandoning their erstwhile companions among the rest of the dancers, Gidon looked Nesta up and down.

“Nesta? Huri told me you wouldn't be coming.”

Nesta offered Huri's cousin a soft smile.

“I changed my mind.”

Gidon frowned at her.

“I don't think this is a good idea.” Glancing covertly around, their face grew concerned. “Calanmai isn't safe for mortals.”

“I'm not without protection.” Grinning Nesta gave the green cloak a little twirl. “You didn't see me until I wanted you too.”

“I see that Huri has finished the cloak she promised you." Their glossy eyes followed the waves of rippling green. “She really has outdone herself this time.”

Nesta nodded, a wide smile on her lips. The heavy beat of the drum called from the distance. Growing more serious again, she asked Huri.

“I could use a guide. I don't intend to stay long, but I think I want to get closer to the center.” She gnawed at her bottom lip. “I know it might be dangerous but I really need to talk with Fae from courts other than Spring. Somebody who came to visit just for this one night.”

Gidon's eyes flickered over her face. Their silent concern filled the space between them.

“Nesta…,” they started.

“This is important.”

They grimaced, and rubbed their upper set of arms over their lower face while they crossed the bottom set on their chest.

“You‘re going to do this with or without me, aren‘t you?”

“Yes.”

Gidon let out a long sigh, before nodding reluctantly.

“Alright. I will introduce you to some of the visitors who are safe.”

“Thank you.”

Following closely behind Gidon, Nesta kept her hood up. Her steps lightened by the certainty that she had made the right decision. At her request Gidon led her past the outer bonfires, weaving through the buzzling masses. The beat of the drums echoed through her bones. They passed the edge of one crowd and walked through the dim field towards the shining light of the next. Only few faeries crossed them here. Their shadowed forms obscured by the intermittent darkness.

“...there really is no baser place than Spring.”

Nesta slowed her steps as she heard a low derisive laugh break through the chill night. Gidon turned back looking at her questioningly.

“Soon the queen will rule here too…”

Nesta squinted into the darkness.

“The bitch under the mountain…” Raucous male laughter echoed through the night.

“Be careful or your head might end up on a spike…” A group of three tall shapes stood a few steps away. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest as she strained her ears to make out their words.

“It won't be long anyway.”

“Probably for the best, they need a strong hand. Lesser Fae running around everywhere disrespecting their betters.”

Nesta took a few steps closer.

“I will admit I'm gonna miss it. Nobody knows how to throw a party quite like Spring.”

The three faeries laughed again. Their voices sounded harsh and shrill to Nesta‘s ears. As she expected their faces were unmasked. Their elegant slim forms were tall and humanlike, identifying them as Hugh Fae.

Fingers brushed her elbow. She glanced back; Gidon stared past her at the talking Fae. Their eyes wide with distress. They tugged softly at Nesta’s arm, shaking their head slightly. Nesta glanced back towards the three Fae. Her inside burning with curiosity. The knowledge that the answers she needed were right in front of her. But Gidon‘s clear alarm made her hesitant.

One of the three Fae made a loud barking sound. His head swiveled around. The others followed, all three of them staring right at her. 

A shudder ran down her spine. In defiance she raised her chin high. The grip on her arm tightened.

“Are you lost, little spider?”

The first Fae stepped forward, a dangerous glint in his cold eyes. Only then did Nesta realize her mistake. They didn't see her; they saw Gidon.

Fanning out the three Fae prowled closer. Their bodies tense with the anticipation of predators ready to pounce. But Gidon did not let themselves be cowed so easily. Their grip loosened on Nesta‘s arm, letting go of her in a slow careful motion. Clearly having made the same realization as Nesta had.

“I belong to the Spring court and are under its High Lord’s protection,” their voice was calm, betraying nothing of the panic that had shown in their eyes. 

The Fae snickered.

“But isn't your High Lord busy right now? Are you sure he would even notice if one little pest ends up missing?”

Gidon hissed in response. Their arms splayed out, a trapped prey making itself look bigger. Their mocking laughter raised the hairs on Nesta‘s neck. She balled her hands into fists, her nails biting into skin.

“He probably should thank us for getting rid of some of the vermin.”

Another of the three giggled, a boy excited to squash a bug he found in the courtyard.

“Shouldn't have come out here all alone, little spider.”

Her rage boiled over. Nesta stepped in front of Gidon and pushed back her hood.

“Don‘t you dare touch them.”

She glared up at them, made brazen with the anger burning inside her.

The three Fae blinked slowly, their eyes flitted over her. Confusion dulled their sharp expressions. One of them took a slow step forward.

“Who are you?”

Nesta answered his snarled question by raising her head imperiously. She levled him with a cold stare. 

His forehead creased, he looked her up and down. Indecision and uncertainty briefly put a halt on their malicious intentions. Her sudden supernatural appearance in front of their eyes had made them cautious.

"You're not from the Spring court,” the first to step forward said as his eyes searched her uncovered face. “What is it to you?” At his jerk of the head in Gidon's direction, Nesta realized that the ‘it’ he was referring to was the other faerie. Her white hot anger surged even higher.

“Neither are you,” she snarled back. “And if you lay as much as a finger on this faerie I will rip out your throats.”

One of the other Fae snorted derisively at her bluff, his doubts about her claim evident. Yet the first still looked uncertain. Nesta narrowed in on him, sensing her opportunity. 

“You're here as guests. Do not think that cannot change.”

He fletched his teeth.

“Who are you?”

His repeated question held a dark note, a challenge this time. 

“Someone you couldn't see coming.”

He snorted, but his eyes showed a glimmer of concern. Her magical concealment just a moment ago fresh in his memory. The other Fae let out another disbelieving laugh. Nesta’s eyes briefly flicked over to him. His cold eyes were narrowed with suspicion. The first Fae spoke and pulled her attention back to him.

“Are you one of her creatures?”

There it was. Nesta allowed herself a thin smile.

“The queen?”

“You serve her?”

Nesta squared her shoulders, feeling Gidon shuffled in quiet anxiety next to her. She kept her stare straight ahead, never leaving the Fae.

“What would Amarantha want with that vermin?”

The doubter stepped closer now, their face twisted into a leering grin.

“And who are you to question her?”

“That one is Spring,” his sharp grin grew wider, a mocking tone in his voice. “And she hasn't taken this court yet. So what would she want with a little bug like them?”

“I would be more focused on your own concerns,” Nesta raised her chin higher, ignoring the cold sweat forming on her neck as she took another risk. “Amarantha does not take kindly to being insulted.”

The Fae challenging her bared his teeth at her. 

“Are you threatening us?”

His companions exchanged nervous glances. So, she had been right. Amarantha. The queen, they were talking about. The one who planned to take Spring. She had to be the one who placed the curse. 

“I have a question for you,” Nesta allowed herself another sharp smile. She felt like a cat that had finally caught the mouse in her claws. “Answer and I promise nobody will ever know about your little indiscretion.”

The three hissed at her in return. The doubter growled low in his throat.

“And what is the question?”

“What do you know about the curse on Spring?”

Nesta knew the question had been a mistake the moment the words passed her lips. All three Fae's eyes narrowed. The doubter's eyes lit up, her breath caught as realisation shone in them. Then his shape blurred. 

A startled gasp left her throat as she stumbled back. But her human reflexes were too slow. A sharp pain flared on her face. A harsh tug on her braid jerked her head back. A hot breath washed down her temple over her round ear. A trickle of blood ran down her cheek.

“I knew I smelled a mortal.”

Nesta frantically fought in the Faerie’s iron grip, but he only laughed louder. He ran a finger through her blood and brought it up to his tongue, tasting it. 

“Did the High Lord bring you here? Are you his little mortal whore?”

Her breaths came in desperate gasps. His laughs cut off as he let out a curse. At the corners of her vision a grey shape launched itself at her assailant. Nesta suddenly stumbled free. Gidon grappled the larger Fae, their many arms viciously beating and scratching. They let out an angry shrill scream. The High Fae stumbled back. Nesta scrambled to her feet, unsure what to do, but knowing she had to help Gidon.

But, the Fae's companions came to his aid first. One of them roughly wrestled Gidon to the ground. Their angry screams strangled into breathless gasps of pain at the horrifying sound of their arms cracking under the larger Fae's weight.

“Let them go!”

The volume of her voice surprised even herself. The Fae's heads snapped up. None of the previous hesitation was left in them, only the wanton lust for violence remained. The one who had jumped her, whipped the blood left by Gidon's scratching off his face. His teeth laced with blood.

“I will rip out your throats,” she snarled at them. Her limbs still shook with the horror she had felt caught in his grip. But, the fear pounding in her heart now was for Gidon. Their body lay stiffly under one of the High Fae men. Their breaths pained little gasps. Only one eye looked up in panic where the rest of their face was pressed deep into the dark earth. Three horrible faces split into mocking grins. Nesta clenched her hands into fists.

But then an odd thing happened, their faces slackened as their grins slipped off them. They took a sudden step backwards as genuine fear took over their features.

“Don‘t you know that you shouldn't make threats you can't carry out?,” a languid voice asked behind Nesta.

An icy shiver ran down her spine. A creeping awareness of a dark presence behind her settled in her bones. The fear on the Fae's faces infected her. Her instincts screamed at her to run and hide. Whoever had come was a greater danger than those three Faeries. Greater than the Suriel and the Naga. Maybe even greater than Tamlin‘s beast.

Nesta jumped as a hand landed softly on her shoulder. She stood frozen, petrified by the shadow at her back.

“These two are not for you,” a voice purred just above her head. “Go find someone else to play with.”

The nonchalance did nothing to lessen the three Fae men's terror. Cowed they lowered their heads in deference and scrambled away, leaving Gidon lying on the ground. The grey faerie curled their legs underneath their body and turned their head to glance up at Nesta and the horror hiding behind her. Their gaze flickered towards her, then flickered past her. Their eyes widened.

It was a strange thing, but seeing the petrifying fear mirrored in their eyes finally loosened its grip on Nesta‘s own body. She swirled around, ducking away from the hand on her shoulder. Relief flooded her as she pulled free without any resistance. She stumbled back to Gidon's side, facing the shadow at her back.

A tall man looked down at them. His face unmasked and holding all the mesmerising beauty of the High Fae. His dark clothing and black hair blended in with the night, making him one with the surrounding darkness. His bright violet eyes appeared like stars in the night sky. The lazy smile that played on his face did not deceive Nesta. Every part of his relaxed body screamed danger. A predator so assured in his dominance that he didn't see the need to posture.

Gidon slowly got on their feet. Every one of their eight limbs rattled in terror.

“How interesting to find a human in the Spring court?” Violet eyes flip over her body. Nesta surpressed a shiver. “On Calanmai no less?”

His lips pulled into a mocking smile. Nesta stayed silent, not yet able to trust her voice. His mockery cut deeper, less vulgar, yet more demeaning than the previous Fae's had been.

He closed the distance between them in languid patient steps, his hands slipping in his pockets. Nesta‘s breath grew sharper, at a worried sideways glance she noticed Gidon's wide eyes and frozen face. Their feet shuffled backwards. None of the defiant strength they had mustered before left.

Looking up into the stranger’s brilliant eyes, Nests set her jaw in defiance. She knew whoever he was she would not be able to fight him, but she would be damned if she would not try. 

A flicker of surprise broke through the calm exterior. His violet eyes narrowed and a glint of irritation broke that calmness. A  hand shot out and grapped her chin. Nesta flinched back, but his grip held firm. She glared up at him, letting the cold anger burning inside shine outwards. His lips twitched back into an amused smile, yet this time it held an edge that hadn't been there before.

“You wrap your mind in steel. Did he teach you that or were you born with this talent?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Nesta shot back.

“Do you now?”

His purring voice made her rage burn brighter. Giving her the strength needed to keep the fear in check.

“What do you want?”

“From you?,” he chuckled. “Nothing at all.”

Nesta tried again to jerk her face free. Fingers lazily caressed her chin as he clucked his tongue in mocking disapproval. She fletched her teeth.

“Let. Me. Go.”

“And what if I don't?” His eyes glinted with cold amusement. “Will you rip my throat out? Oh… he would like that, wouldn't he? Tamlin always had a taste for wild and feral things.”

The mention of Tamlin‘s name disarmed Nesta. His eyes darkened at her expression.

“So close already, is he?”

“What do you want from him?” Her voice wavered a little as her concern bled through.

“Ah…” White teeth flashed in a dangerous smile. “You‘re a sneaky one. Though, foolish. Did you think those males would just tell you everything you wanted to know because of your little bluff?”

“You were watching?”

“A human in the Spring court will garner some attention.” His eyes brushed over the cloak. “That glamour you wear proved quite the bother for a while there, but fortunately you were fool enough to reveal yourself.”

“If you want nothing from me, then why follow me?”

“Well, isn't that an interesting question?” The glint returned to his gaze, the amusement masking the darkness underneath again. “What do you think spider?” The purple gaze flitted to Gidon, acknowledging the faerie for the first time. “Why would anybody care about a human girl? Here in Spring of all places?”

Gidon whimpered in fear, their lips working silently. The stranger laughed viciously.

“Come on, spider. Share with the group. Our little human guest is curious. Why is a human in Spring so important?”

Gidon started to shake. Their glossy eyes huge as they met cold violet ones. Their mouth opened trying to force strangled sounds past their lips. Nesta‘s eyes widened, a shocked gasp in her throat.

“We can't hear you. You have to speak up,” the stranger purred softly.

Violent jerks rattled Gidon's body as they frantically gasped for air. Wordless rasping sounds leaving their throat as they choked on the answer the curse forbid them to speak.

“Stop it.” Nesta gasped. “Please stop!”

Gidon shook a moment longer, then their eyes grew blank. Like a puppet cut from its strings their body crumpled to the ground. Nesta jerked towards the limp form, but cold  fingers along her jaw held her effortless in place. Violet eyes flicked back to hers.

“What a shame, they wouldn't even answer such a simple question.”

“You knew that they can't,” Nesta‘s voice shook, her control frayed and thin.

“Yes. But it is quite interesting that you do.”

“Why?”

The darkness flooded back into his gaze. A silent threat that his shadows might swallow her whole.

“Your little friend there was convinced you know something about a certain curse. But, unfortunately they didn't know much else.”

Nesta‘s insides flooded with ice. All the burning rage extinguished, leaving her only with a cold creeping realisation. Tales of faeries playing tricks on human minds… picking thoughts from their heads and twisting them, turning humans into mindless slaves. The mocking smile returned.

“Their head was quite easy to get in, if a little fragile. But yours has a surprisingly hard shell to crack.” His tone sharpened at the end, leaving no doubt on how little he appreciated her mind's resistance. It gave her back some of her confidence. At her defiance, he bared his teeth.

“Oh, don't misunderstand, I could still rip that steel mind of yours open. Unfortunately for you there would be little left of it afterwards.”

“Then why don't you?” Cold sweat ran down her back, the bravery of her words covering for the horror that filled her stomach. As much as the faeries she had befriended over the past weeks had defied the dark stories of cruel Fae delighting in human suffering, this stranger proved all the worst tales true.

“A seductive offer.” His fingers tapped lazily against her cheek. “Robbing poor Tamlin of his last chance. How miserable he would be…” 

His eyes turned contemplative. Her dread grew as Nesta realized that he was genuinely considering breaking her mind open. “No. It would be a waste if he isn't here. When I ruin him, I need him to know it's me. I want to see the look in his eyes when I do it.” 

His smile suddenly turned angry, watching her as his fingers cradled her face closer. A desperate gasp left her as she tried to push away from him.

“Don‘t worry, your feeble human mind is going to be safe for a little while longer,” he hissed, before abruptly letting go off her. Nesta‘s breaths came shaking and rasping. She stumbled before straightening and looking around. Her eyes raced across the empty field. The stranger was gone, only shadows and darkness left in his place.

“Gidon!”

Her strangled voice sounded shrill in the empty night. Hunkering down next to their limp form. Nesta tried to haul them back up, her head swirled wildly, afraid to stay out in the open for another moment. The grey faerie‘s head lulled senselessly against their shoulder. Their dark glossy eyes were wide open and empty. Nesta‘s breath caught in her throat. The tense fear that had held her up just a moment before made way for a cold sinking dread.

“Please, Gidon,” she pleaded, keeping her voice low, too afraid to draw the attention of an even greater horror. “Please… Get up!”

Desperation turned her words harsh and cold. To her utter relief, Gidon blinked dreamily up at her. The terrible emptiness replaced by a dazed expression as their consciousness came back to them. At Nesta‘s urging they got back on their feet, still uncertain on shaky legs. Their many arms hung limply at their sides. Two of them swelling purple and green where the Fae had broken them. Taking hold of the uninjured ones, Nesta led the faerie back to the closest bonfire. Despite her haste to find some sort of safety in the anonymity of the crowd she had to slow her steps down as her dazed charge stumbled after her. The drums hammered louder, promising safety.

Reaching the outer edge of the growing crowd amassing around the burning light, Nesta had to elbow a path through. She kept her hood pulled low over her face, as before the magic seemed to confuse the surrounding faeries. At being jostling each of them turned around their gazes slipping off her as they glanced about in confusion. Some noticed Gidon, but at their staggering steps and slack expression seemed to dismiss them as a drunken celebrator. The drum beat droned louder as the two of them got closer to their source.

She tightened her grip, afraid of losing them in the thickening crowd. Pulling them closer to her, she guided them deeper into the throng. As she reached the heart of the rabble she came to a stumbling halt. Glancing about, Nesta frowned, confused. The faeries all circled the rocky edge of a cave. The gaping maw leading into darkness rendered even more obscure by the brightness of the closest burning bonfire. In contrast with the throng of hundreds of voices mixed in drunken merriment in the surrounding areas, here at the centre the faeries were eerily quiet. Only the rasping sound of halted breaths and the insistent beat of the nearby drums played an eerie symphony in the cool night air. Their gazes, wide and rapt with avid anticipation, directed at the shadows reaching ominously out of the treeline. Waiting. For what Nesta didn‘t know. But the longer she stood there, the stronger the strange pull in her gut grew. Whispering that she should wait and see. 

The nearby drums drowned out her thoughts. Luring her to join their ranks. So that he would come and find her. Her heart thundered in her chest. Her grip loosened on Gidon‘s arm, the strange sense that something important had just happened. But that didn't matter now, did it. Her feet shuffled mindlessly forward. She needed to wait here. He would be looking for her. The drums droned on. Cool air brushed her hair as the hood fell back. He was already so close… soon… soon…

Nesta frowned. No. No, this was wrong. Shaking her head violently, she stumbled back. Her hands blindly grabbed for Gidon. Her teeth sunk into her inner cheek. The sharp sting of pain and the copper taste of blood cleared her head. Her eyes flitted to the dark forest. The desperate need to wait for him still filled her. But, with her returning self-control, she regained the ability to differentiate the magical compulsion from her own desires. Fletching her teeth in anger and humiliation, she glanced at Gidon. Their ashy face looked even greyer than they normally did. She needed to get them help, but instead here she was letting some wild magic overpower her and seduce her into waiting for someone… Whoever was about to come out of the forest, Nesta knew she didn‘t want to be there when he did. 

Tugging Gidon along she started to herd them back again, away from the strange eerie faeries silently waiting for that arrival. Nesta had only taken a few steps when she met the wide alarmed mismatched eyes of Lucien. He gapped down at her, his tan face almost turning as ashen as Gidon.

Then his face tightened. His russet eye blazing with a fury, she hadn‘t seen him show since their confrontation over Andras’ death. He reached out and grabbed the wrist of her free hand in an iron grip.

“What are you doing here!”

Ignoring his angry hiss, Nesta pushed closer to him, pulling Gidon with her.

“Gidon needs help! I don't know what happened, but something– someone hurt them.”

Nesta cursed the way the night's magic was still addling her mind. Her thoughts still struggled to focus on anything other than his imminent arrival. Go back. Go back. So that he can find you, a strange foreign voice whispered in her mind.

Grinding her teeth with the effort of fighting back the compulsion, Nesta met Lucien‘s glare.

“Someone was here. I don't know who he was, but he wasn't from Spring. I think he was one of hers, but–”

Lucien's face paled even more, his grip grew painfully tight.

“You were seen? By one of her spies? Do you even know what that could mean!?” His head snapped up, as if he had heard a sound. Staring off into the distance, towards the treeline, his eye widened. A shudder went through the crowd, a collective breath leaving a hundred lips.

“This doesn't matter now,” he whispered. “You need to leave. Now.”

He abruptly pulled her closer. The force almost ripped Nesta off of her feet. A deafening pop rang through her ears, the stomach churning feeling of vertigo disoriented her as she stumbled against him. Her vision swam with bright spots.

The sudden absence of hundreds of people felt cold and silent. Nesta pushed away from Lucien. His grip now loose enough for her to rip free. She stared speechless. Disoriented, and for a moment incapable of comprehending her surroundings.

They stood on the large stone steps leading just outside the manor house. A cool nightwind ruffled through her hair, freeing more strands from her loose braid, and billowing her cloak. The drumbeat was far away now. Distance made Nesta realise how much stronger its influence had been closer to their source.

Only, belatedly did Nesta realise that she and Lucien were alone. However he had managed to spirit them away in just the span of a heartbeat, he had left Gidon behind. 

“You left them,” her voice shook with barely contained rage. “I told you that Gidon was hurt. And you left them!”

Lucien stood stiffly, barely reacting to her outburst. His eyes off in the distance, staring towards the direction of the faraway flickering lights.

Grabbing his arm, she violently tugged at him.

“Stop ignoring me,” she hissed.

Lucien, however, swirled around so fast his shape briefly blurred. Leaning down close he bit back with barely constrained anger.

“Why didn't you stay in your room? Did you think Tamlin was warning you off just for the fun of it?”

Words died on her tongue. Why had she left her room? The idea that she could gather more knowledge from visitors of other courts suddenly felt foreign, like it hadn't been entirely her own.

At her sudden silence, Lucien stepped back, shaking his head.

“Do you know what would have happened if you had stayed? By the Cauldron, what if I hadn‘t found you?”

A heavy breath flared her nostrils. Her rage made impotent, rage at Lucien for leaving Gidon behind, at herself for making a fool and a liar out of her. 

He glanced back over his shoulder at the celebration far away. The dull throbbing urgency to be there rose to a distant crescendo inside her hammering heart. But, with her awareness her iron walls had come down, shielding her mind from its call. His eye still flickered with concern.

“Come,” he said in a tired voice. “You need to be back inside before the Great Rite begins.”

He grabbed her arm, his touch much more careful now than before. Tugging her he started to move to the door. Nesta planted her feet firmly on the ground.

“Gidon,” she said in a flat voice. “They need help.”

Without turning he let out a defeated sigh, in a quiet voice he explained.

“I will go back for them after you're back in your room.”

“You swear it?”

Glancing over his shoulder his face twisted with incredulity. An impatient edge to his voice as he spoke.

“Yes! I promise I will go back and get them. Do you want me to make a bargain for that?”

For a brief moment Nesta considered it, only the memory of Tamlin‘s warning not to enter any bargain with the Fae halting her.

In silent acquiesce, she let herself be pulled forward. Lucien let out a relieved breath.

He marched her in quick hurried steps up the stairs and down the hallway. Each passing moment seemed to increase his urgency. Hastily he ushered her past her door. Just in time before he could throw the door shut again, Nesta jammed her leg in-between. 

“Who was going to come out of the forest?”

He let out a defeated laugh.

"What you saw there was the Great Rite. Calanmai marks the first day of Spring. A time of rebirth. Each year, during the Great Rite magic is created to renew the land. Our crops depend on this one night.”

“The faeries waiting by the cave. Someone was going to come out of the forest and…” 

Nesta trailed off as she realized what she had been about to say. 

Someone was going to come out of the forest and choose me.

She squirmed uncomfortably as understanding still entered Lucien's expression. He spoke slowly.

“To perform the Great Rite, the High Lord allows great and terrible magic to enter his body. The magic seizes control over mind, body, and soul, turning him into the Hunter.”

His eyes drifted up, staring past her to the curtained window. To the fires Nesta knew were still burning beyond.

“As the Hunter he will bring down the white stag and after offering its life to the magic he turns to hunting for the Maiden. He will bring her to the sacred cave, and from their coupling the magic will be released back into the land.”

His eyes met hers again, speaking the next words softly. This did not disguise the admonishment in his voice.

“If you had still been there when Tamlin returned from his hunt. He would have taken you to that cave, and I do not think you would have liked that.”

Her face burned. She took an uncertain step back. Her gaze dropped down, no longer able to meet his. His low laugh only kindling to the burning mix of shame, embarrassment and mortification forming in her gut.

“I will try to find Gidon now. Please stay inside this time. Lock your door and don't come out again until sunrise.”

With a soft thud, the door fell shut. Leaving her alone with the turmoil that filled her tired mind.

Chapter Text

“Surely you learned, if you take what is mine

That your trespass will summon me there?”

Tam Lin of the Elves by Drake Oranwood (feat. Heather Dale)