#he doesn’t want Feyre to distrust him or ask questions

[littlefeltsparrow]

Feyre’s arrogance is actively cultivated by the Inner Circle because it lets them contain her in a bubble of ignorance. If Feyre feels sure of her authority as High Lady, then she trusts that the Inner Circle will be subject to her power and never betray her. That illusion makes it easy to undermine her, because she is convinced of her security in their world. Her naïveté, coupled with her rapid rise to power makes her easy to persuade and manipulate.

Also, Feyre’s alignment with masculine power makes her think that she no longer needs feminine solidarity/sisterhood which isolates her even further. Lording her power over her sisters pushes them further away and prevents the Archeron sisters from fully uniting with one another. Her willful blindness to the injustice of Nesta’s plight is a way of convincing herself of her authority and the false idea that she could never be subject to such treatment.

[unhealthyfanobsession]

jealous cassian but this time instead of competing with high lords and sons of high lords what if it's a general from another court... this general could also be a lover of romance books and sweets ;)

I had a lot of fun with this one and I may have fallen a little bit in love with my own OC 🤷‍♀️

Nesta Archeron was not a force of nature. People loved to describe strong women as forces of nature, but that wasn’t her. That was Feyre. Feyre was brash and wild and unpredictable as a tsunami or an avalanche.

Nesta Archeron was a collection of cosmic power held tight and controlled beneath iron thick magic-infused skin.

Which made her an amazing general. All of that power and her amazing control. That was what was required to lead a legion.

Contrary to popular belief, Cassian was not a wild thing. He was not a good general because he was wild and elemental. He was a good general because he was in control. Because he woke up every morning and he didn’t flash his siphons around and try to beat anyone into submission. He trained. He fought. He lead by example. He flew at the head of his legions. He showed them the he was the best.

Mates were equals. It should have surprised no one that Nesta wanted to raise an army.

And she did. Oh she did. Nesta Archeron went to every court in Prythian and she picked up women who wanted to fight. She went down into the Court of Nightmares and took any women who wanted to fight with her. Freed them. Liberated them. Nesta planned on a small unit of females. By the time she was done she commanded thousands. It was the second largest military force in Prythian. Right after the Illyrians. Which was a nightly topic of debate. When she would surpass him. Cassian would be pissed if it happened sooner than a century.

Nesta was determined to make it happen by the end of the decade. Which was why she had set up this meeting with the new general of Spring.

“General,” the tall, pale man inclined his head, light brown hair falling over his brow as he did. “General,” he said it again, inclining his head in Cassian’s direction now. Lips tipping up in an amused smile and pale blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “To what do I owe the pleasure of having you both here?”

Nesta adjusted the knife strap around her thigh and moved into the room ahead of both males. “Cassian has decided to high-jack my meeting because he is intimidated by my success. His official reason, however, is that you are new and he comes to speak on behalf of the Night Court. To ensure that your goals are aligned.”

“Hmm, and you?” The general pulled out a chair at the head of the table and gestured for Nesta to take it. His breath tickled her neck as he leaned in to push the chair in after she sat. “What are your interests, Nesta Archeron.”

“Romance novels and chocolate cake, mostly.” Cassian laughed.

“Good taste,” the general smiled. “Hadley Minn?” a well-know romance novelist from Dawn. Sweet stories of proper young ladies falling in love and having missionary sex.

Nesta smiled just a little. “Sellyn Drake.”

He whistled low under his breath. “I like your style, Archeron.”

Cassian’s eyebrows drew together as he watched this male look over Nesta with a new type of appreciation.

“My name is Malakai.” The general reached his hand out first to Nesta, holding on a little too long and then to Cassian. Who squeezed his hand harder than necessary. The general just smiled broadly. “Call me Kai.”

“Well Kai,” Cassian leaned back in his chair, wings spreading out behind him. “What can you tell me about the Spring Court’s forces now that your court has got its army together enough to have a general?”

Kai just kept smiling. Kind and open. “And what would you tell me about your forces, if asked?”

“Absolutely nothing,” Cassian admitted.

“So no disrespect general, but…”

“I told him this was pointless,” Nesta rolled her eyes. “I, on the other hand, have something of actual use to discuss with you.”

“Happy to be of service,” the Spring general winked.

Cassian tensed up in his chair. arms crossing over each other and face going stone hard.

“Excellent. Now, I know your High Lord is a chauvinist, but I’d like to start by asking if you are too, because that will determine how I approach this conversation.”

The air tensed for a second. Cassian prepared to jump in between his mate and this male. Insulting someone’s High Lord… he’d be surprised if the male managed to just kick her out and not attack like a feral animal.

“Is she always this direct?” Kai’s smile never faltered. Not for a second.

“Talking to him instead of me answers that question,” Nesta muttered. “So, here’s what you’re going to-”

“I did not mean to offend you, General. I assure you it is my sincerest belief that females are just as militarily capable as males.”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “So you plan to train females along with males in your new army?”

“Of course I do,” Kai shrugged. “Who would be stupid enough to give up half their military power because of their sex?”

“Spring is a small court,” Cassian said. “You only have one army. It gets more complicated when there are several. In the larger territories.”

“I see.”

“What he means to say is that significant parts of the Autumn, Night, Day, and Winter courts do not train their females to fight. Their main armies might, but different territories in the courts run that way. And actually Night and Autumn even their main armies don’t train females.” Nesta glared at her mate.

“They do now.” Cassian sighed, not needing to be reminded how long it took to reach this point.

“Ah,” Kai nodded, “you’re here to see if I planned to train the females and to take them with you in your liberation march if I said no.”

“I run an army that trains those other courts reject.”

“So I have heard, an extraordinary feat from an extraordinary woman.” His teeth glittered as he smiled, eyes entirely focused on Nesta. “I know you have your reasons for distrusting my High Lord, but he is trying. Trying to return this court to what it once was. I’m a part of that. Our army will train anyone who wants to fight. And it will protect the human/Fae border.”

Nesta blinked. That was…

“I fought in the war,” Kai nodded to Cassian. “I always admired how you fought at the front of your legions, General. You are the legend everyone claims you to be, but I have to admit…” He turned to face Nesta. “I accepted this meeting so that I could meet you.”

Cassian growled low in his throat. “How does this keep happening?” He muttered under his breath, low enough for Nesta to hear but not Kai. Cassian loved Nesta with his entire being. Heart, body, and soul. The problem was that, apparently, so did every other male in Prythian.

Nesta smirked, subtly reaching her foot out under the table to kick him in the shin for being a possessive brute.

“I met with Eris Vanserra last week. He commands Autumn’s armies.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Cassian said that one loud enough for Nesta and Kai to hear.

“I mentioned I was meeting with you. I knew about your army, of course. But I asked him what to expect meeting you. And instead of answering he told me what you said in the High Lord’s meeting. About humans. I’m pretty sure his point was that I should prepare myself if I was trying to go up against a female who paused seven High Lords in their tracks, but… it is rare to meet a Fae who cares about humans. Truly cares.”

“Well I was one.” Nesta stared forward, unsure where this conversation was going.

“I know. Cauldron born. Phenomenal cosmic powers. Ability to bring us all to our knees if you wanted to. But instead you choose to defend humans and make an army of Fae the courts have cast off.”

“Nes knows how amazing she is,” Cassian cut in. Two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Could you get to the point please?”

“I want to work with you.” Kai said, point blank, staring at Nesta.

“I bet you do,” Cassian muttered.

“I have my own army, general. I’m not interested in working for anyone else.”

“Not for. With. I want… my forces are beaten down. Their morale is weak. Faith is low. I… you brought the High Lords to heel and you started an army from nothing. I’d like your advice.”

Nesta swallowed. She’d accomplished amazing things. So many amazing things, but still… no one had ever asked her for advice. Help. Expertise. She was the novice. She… he wanted her help.

“My army is from all over Prythian,” Nesta said. “We train in the Night Court because the territory is massive and that’s my home, but… Spring doesn’t have the manpower to protect that border. Convince Tamlin to let me bring in some of my warriors to protect the human border and I’ll help you with whatever you want.”

“Deal,” Kai smiled, reaching out his hand.

Nesta shook it.

Later, after they took off and she was wrapped up in Cassian’s arms as they flew back to Velaris, her mate was stone faced once again.

“I swear to the mother, Nes, if he proposes to you I’m going to make what Feyre did to the Spring Court look like a Sunday walk along the fucking Sidra.”

[highladydawn]

Icarus in Armor (2/?)

Summary: Elain travels to the Spring Court as emissary to prevent a vision she had about the death of her mate—accidentally becoming the auxiliary High Lady in the process. (Rated M)

This week: Elain and Lucien have their first, genuine conversation. 

Read on ao3 or jump right to chapter two. // Next Part

Notes: In addition to this story, I’ve been trying to come up with some fun little drabbles. If you’ve got ideas or requests, feel free to send them my way!

Elain surprised Azriel by taking a page out of the book he wrote—she disappeared. Vanished entirely, falling into the shadows of the house where she could not easily be found. She knew he’d be coming, that he’d try to take advantage of the feeble trust they had to change her mind. 

With her heightened Fae hearing, she could hear Azriel closing her bedroom door on the other side of the house. Elain frowned. He’d been in her room? Had he even knocked?

Another pair of feet followed behind Az—lighter, but still just as resolute. Feyre. 

“She’s not in her room,” Azriel said, nearly too low to hear from the room Elain had hidden away in. She cracked the door, hoping it would help her hear a little better. 

“She probably went to take a walk,” Feyre sighed. “I know I’d want to if I were her.”

Good, she thought defiantly. Let them look. They could look for the rest of their immortal lives for all she cared. If Feyre or Az had seen a single indication that Elain wanted company after dinner, then they were more foolish than she thought.

She knew what would happen if they found her. They’d tell her all the reasons she was wrong for wanting to go to the Spring Court. They’d scare her with stories of Tamlin, of the monsters he’d let slip inside his borders. They’d make the Night Court all the more appealing with promises of new seeds to garden with, new plots of land, new tools. And when that didn’t work, they’d ask her why she was so determined to go herself.

In other words, they expected her to break. So, she planned to avoid the conversation entirely. Even Lucien had enough sense to not press the subject. 

“It’s a big decision,” Feyre continued. “There’s a lot for her to think about.”

“There doesn’t have to be,” Az scoffed bitterly. 

“Just...leave her be. If she doesn’t want to be found, don’t go looking for her.” 

If Az resented the order, he didn’t say so. He was never one to disobey, even when everyone around him thought he ought to. But an order from his High Lady was one he could not question.  Thank Feyre for that, Elain thought, sagging against the wall in relief. 

It was no wonder Azriel hadn’t found her. She was in Lucien’s room—the perfect hiding spot. It was the one corner in the whole house that Az would not want to even consider Elain going to. 

It was probably the smallest bedroom in the house, an unscrupulous jab on Rhysand’s part for all the initial distrust and bitterness he still held for the autumn male. But Feyre’s influence on Rhys had ensured it was comfortable enough, furnished in the traditional Autumn Court colors with hints of halcyon gold in the details. If Lucien was here, he might blush in embarrassment at the knowledge Elain had seen the pile of clothes tossed haphazardly beside the bathroom door or the wild state of his unmade bed. 

But he wasn’t here and it was more than a coincidence. 

Over the last months of sharing a home with Lucien, Elain discovered that his unrushed pulse combined with the peaceful quiet of their connection meant he was reading. Without the distraction of a book, he was much more agitated—constantly on edge in fear of some demons in his mind he never let slip into the bond. 

So naturally, Lucien read a lot. And he was now, if his pulse were any indication. With the events at dinner, Elain would not have been surprised if he was up until dawn, reading with burning eyes until the very moment they winnowed her to Spring. 

Azriel’s steps finally moved away from her room, growing more distant until they dissolved into the thunder of strong wings tearing into the night.

Then, the house was quiet.

Elain heaved a large sigh of relief, drawing the unbearable sweetness of Lucien’s scent in through her nose. It was everywhere in the room, stirred by the breeze blowing in through the windows—a musky, sweet perfume of dahlias and allspice. 

It made her want to see him. 

So, go see him! The bond spoke in her own voice, a trait she usually despised. He wants to see you. You stirred up his feelings, confused him. Made him hope. Made him worry. So, go see him. Hold him. Smell him. Taste him—

Elain shot to her feet. She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, blocking out the scent before it could drive her to insanity. A breathy exhale sailed from her mouth. Maybe using Lucien’s room as a hiding place wasn’t as smart as she thought. 

But the damage was already done. She could sneak back into the safety of her room without worrying about anyone seeking her out, but sleep would never come. Not when Lucien was awake, worrying about her. Not when his scent had seeped into her clothes. Not when that vision of his death was still fresh in her mind, a fatal warning she wanted to heed with her whole soul. 

She needed to see him— wanted to , even. She didn’t care if it might’ve been the mating bond’s influence. She didn’t care if it contradicted her own resolve to ignore him and the bond with a fury. 

She wanted to see him, so she would.

Elain followed Lucien’s heartbeat through the house like tracking breadcrumbs, though she already knew where to find him. 

The library door was cracked open, ajar enough to reveal Lucien lounging on the sofa by the fire inside. His back was against one cushioned arm and his legs were draped across the other, too long to fit on the loveseat. She lingered in the doorway long enough to watch the firelight dance on his bronze skin. Long enough for her own scent to loft into the room, fragrant smoke from incense. 

Lucien’s chin tilted in Elain’s direction, the hand holding his book sinking. She stilled, suddenly petrified, but her mate did not twist around to look at her completely. He merely waited patiently, pulse quickening despite his silence. 

She could turn around—leave if she really wanted to. Lucien wouldn’t chase after her. Wouldn’t question her the way Az and Feyre planned to.

It was for that reason Elain took a breath and knocked. 

“Yes, Lady?” Lucien answered at once, almost surprised she decided to come in. He practically fell off the sofa as he righted himself into a proper sitting position. The book in his lap was folded closed, his place marked only by his pointer finger in the inner seam. Every fragment of his body had given her it’s full attention. 

Elain crept into the room, strangely finding relief and calm in his presence. That was a first.

“How’s your book?” she asked politely. Lucien held the book up, still marking the page with his finger. The title was written in a language Elain did not understand and was inscribed in gold leaf.

“A bit tiresome at first, but slowly picking up. Only took three hundred pages.” Lucien’s smile glowed in the evening firelight, sending heat down Elain’s spine. “Why? Are you after book recommendations? I keep a list of all my favorites.” 

“Ah, well, that might not be wise considering how occupied I’ll be within the coming weeks.” Lucien’s grin slipped, losing its gleam. “But perhaps I’ll take you up on it when I return.” 

Lucien nodded, but averted his eyes, fearing they’d expose just how troubled he was Elain’s assignment.  Something within her—either herself or the bond, she didn’t know—beckoned her to smooth over his frustration, ease the worry in his heart. 

Elain’s fingers found the long end of a ribbon bracelet she wore around her wrist. She tugged carefully, pulling it loose. The silky, gold strip reflected molten light as she held it out to him

“A place marker for your book,” she offered. 

The reflection of the ribbon dangled in Lucien’s metal eye as he eyed it with a tender expression.

“Thank you,” he said as he accepted it. He slid it through reverent fingers before placing it flat between the pages. “I didn’t expect to see you after dinner. Figured you’d be packing for your journey.”

She hesitated. 

“Oh, I haven’t yet, but I will. For now, I...wondered if I could ask you some questions. About Tamlin and the Spring Court, that is,” Elain explained.

Lucien’s brows rose by a fraction, but he smiled—a bit pained.

“I’d be happy to help in any way I can,” he said truthfully. The words he didn’t say aloud, the ones that escaped onto their bond, Elain heard in her mind— I just wish it were me going instead. “Would you… would you like to sit?” 

“Yes, thank you,” Elain replied politely. 

He inched down the sofa, giving Elain more room as she settled beside him. She thought she ought to be more tense, as often was around him. But, somehow, it was so easy to be beside him without the peering eyes of others constantly watching and judging. Temptation simmered inside her to look closer at why that was, but she smothered it back like a doused hearth. 

“If it was you…” Elain began with some trepidation, “how would you go about making Tamlin see reason? Rhys gave me his instructions and I have ideas of my own, but you do have a certain level of expertise no one else does. I’m interested to hear your thoughts.”

Lucien crossed his ankle over his knee, pondering carefully about how to answer. 

“The truth?” he asked. 

“Please.” 

“You tread very, very carefully. You treat every step you take, every decision you come to, as if it could start a war. Because it could. Maybe not in  the traditional sense of the word, but you have to understand that in the state he is in now, Tamlin is your enemy.” 

“He almost always has been,” Elain replied. 

“Yes, but when you’re in his court, he will also be your host—the very person in charge of the environment around you. It’s a very dangerous position to have your adversary in. So, you have to learn about him to side step whatever he might throw your way. You have to plan for his faults.”

“You probably know what they are better than anyone.”

Lucien nodded, full lips downturned in a tight frown.

“Tamlin’s two greatest faults are that he is entitled and angry—and he doesn’t do things by half measures. He wants the world, but when can’t have it, he becomes consumed with this...savage rage he inherited from his father.” 

Torment trembled on the bond as he seemed to be lost in memories. 

“It’s why he was so changed after what happened under the mountain,” he continued. “In his mind, he’s better than his father and deserves a life that isn’t tainted by the hell we endured. He thought that after everything he’d been through, he deserved Feyre. Like she was some sort of prize that he couldn’t live without. You can only imagine the way he reacted when his worst enemy got to ‘have her’ instead.” 

Elain couldn’t imagine it. For all people told her Lucien believed he was entitled to her, he’d never been so bold to assume as much. Even in the privacy of his own mind. But Tamlin had truly believed Feyre belonged to him, maybe only cared for her because of it. That hatred had almost cost Rhysand his life. 

“Does he believe that even now?” Elain asked.

“Maybe. Tamlin’s delusions have poisoned his heart. He knows nothing is more sacred than the mating bond, but when he found out Rhys and Feyre were mates, he believed his bond with her was stronger. All after he abused her, locked her up.” Elain didn’t even need the bond to feel the ripples of shame molting off of him. “Trying to reason with him is a dangerous game. Believe me.” 

It occurred to Elain then, that he knew from first-hand experience. Flashes of memories hit her—sent either from across the bond or from the depth of her powers, she did not know. Images of Lucien speaking up to Tamlin, only to be berated and silenced by the High Lord’s claws. There were other images too, ones where Lucien had grit his teeth, paled, and held himself from begging on behalf of Feyre, knowing that his obedience protected her from Tamlin’s temper. 

Shame washed over Elain again. Only this time, it was her own. Since she met him, she’d been vilifying Lucien for the things Tamlin had done. The entire Inner Circle had all been of the private mindset that Lucien was just as culpable as Tamlin, kept only in check by a convenient mating bond.

 I wasn’t fair. Not even a little bit. For so long, she had this incessant bitterness for her mate, and he just went along with it— knowing it was cruel and unfounded. Knowing she’d made him her sacrificial scapegoat. 

One day she’d apologize. It just...couldn’t be now. She turned to look at him head on, brushing away the churning feelings in the pit of her stomach.

“What do I do about Tamlin, then?” 

Lucien considered this, face careful in the same way it was when he cleaned his fingernails with the tip of his blade. 

“You spend a week or so getting to know him. You take mental note of every reaction, every little thing he says. Figure out the best way to speak to him without provoking him. He won’t lose his temper right away, so don’t press him when you see the warning signs. Then later, when he’s calmed down, you try something new.”

“You think I can figure all that out so quickly?” Elain said weakly. 

“You’re incredibly smart, Elain,” Lucien said as if it were obvious. “You’ll have no trouble. Only...” Lucien’s gold eye whirred as it narrowed. “Don’t let him smell your fear. He’ll take advantage of it. Even if he purposely tries to get underneath your skin, don’t let him intimidate you.”

Elain couldn’t help it—she was intimidated just hearing about it.  She clenched her jaw and repeated I can do it. I’ll be fine. I can do this over and over to herself. 

You absolutely can , Lucien agreed over the bond. Elain’s head shot up, and she found her mate offering a small smile. 

“Sorry,” Elain muttered. “I’m not used to….” Hiding it? Capping the bond? Keeping her thoughts to herself? 

“That’s alright, I’m not either.” Lucien assured, because of course he understood. “Can I ask…” 

He stopped, a muscle in his cheek feathering. 

“Nevermind,” he rescinded. 

Elain should’ve let that be the end of it. But it felt so good to be talking to him, after months and months of avoiding him. She might as well take advantage of the conversation. Who knew when they’d talk like this again? When they’d have an excuse to? 

“What were you going to ask?” she asked, voice no louder than the crackling of the flames over the fire. 

Lucien dug his fingers into his book, his knuckles turning white. 

“Why are you so set on going yourself?” he exclaimed softly, almost as if the question had been smoking at the tip of his tongue. “It’s not that I don’t think you can do it. I know you can. But why not let me or someone else go instead? Why put yourself at risk?” 

The softness of his touch on her hand was the only thing keeping her from falling back into the memory of what she saw and every unbearable emotion that came with it. 

“At dinner, I had a vision,” Elain explained quietly. 

“Of you in the Spring Court?” 

“Just...of something I can’t let happen. Something involving you. But please don’t ask me what it was,” she answered quiet.  She wasn’t brave enough to meet his eyes. “It was clear to me that if it came down to you or Azriel, Rhys would have chosen you. Sent you. Az is his brother. And he doesn’t exactly have the people skills you do. The only thing that could outweigh that—the only thing more sacred to Rhys—is the mating bond.” 

He knew better than to press her about what she saw. He lowered his lashes thoughtfully and said, “If you say that preventing your vision from happening is worth risking your safety, then I will honor that decision.”

“But you don’t agree with it?” 

Lucien leaned his elbows onto his knees, showing off the fine lines of his brow and jaw. Long strands of vibrant red hair cascaded over his shoulders and Elain had to bite back the urge to brush it away. She wondered if it was as soft as it looked, like well-watered lily petals. From beside him, she could tell it was perfumed with the same autumn scent as the rest of him.   

“I don’t agree with it,” Lucien admitted finally. “But it’s not in my nature to.” 

“Not in your nature to, what, agree with me?” 

His smile was crooked, amused. 

“No, Elain. Letting your safety be anything but my highest priority—that is what feels most unnatural.” 

She supposed she understood the feeling. After all, she wouldn’t be going to Spring at all if it weren’t for her own innate instinct to protect her mate. To make sure nothing touched him, especially not the High Lord of Spring. Yet, she had to give him credit where it was due. If she had made her mind up on something, only for Lucien to beg her toward the contrary, she wasn’t sure if she’d change her mind. The fact that he even agreed at all, that he hadn’t fought harder, meant that he not only respected her decisions, but truly believed she could handle the task.

It was the first time she hadn’t despised the mating bond. The first time she’d seen any sort of advantage to being tied at the soul to this astounding male. Even if nothing ever came of the bond romantically, it was nice to have a soul she could count one. Someone who truly understood her. 

It…meant the world to her, if she was being completely honest.

She didn’t know what to say—couldn’t articulate the odd sorts of feelings blooming up and around like the movement of the sun in the sky. There was always the option to open up the bond, send the jumble of feelings to Lucien, but that would only confuse him further. So Elain reached over and took his strong, calloused hand in both of hers. Chills erupted so quickly down her arm that she expected the surface of her skin to spark or glow.

“Your help has been invaluable to me, Lucien,” she admitted quietly.

Hope crept up Lucien’s end of the bond, and Elain dropped his hand. She offered him a last cordial smile in lieu of a goodnight and nodded down at the book still resting in his lap. 

“You’ll have to let me know if that’s any good,” she mused. 

Lucien, on his part, had stopped breathing. He only nodded, eyes focused on the curve of her mouth. 

She made her way toward the door, the air between her and Lucien growing cold the greater the distance grew. For once, she didn’t feel relief at the space. Maybe it was because she knew the closeness wasn’t as bad as she expected. Or maybe, she simply didn’t mind when the bond urged her to simply speak with him. To listen to his voice for all its rich smoothness. To hold his hand for just a second longer. Because...well, frankly, it was nice. Certainly more comfortable than Smell him, taste him...

A shouting feeling broke through the peaceful quiet of Elain’s thoughts. 

She’ll think I’m a bastard if I ask. But I want to know. I want to ask her—

Elain stopped mid-step. The question was already there in her own ocean grey eyes. Lucien stiffened.

“It’s nothing,” he stammered, caught. Though he was a master in conversation, battle, and travel, he hadn’t been lying when he admitted closing the bond was more difficult than he expected. 

“It’s clearly something ,” Elain teased lightly, but Lucien only squirmed, avoiding her gaze. The muscles of his arms and shoulders were tense as he struggled to adorn his usual mask of ease and acumen. 

“It’s just...when you walked in...you had my scent on you,” he whispered, equal parts enticed and haunted. Then, perhaps hearing his own words, he rushed out, “But I might just be imagining things.” 

“You weren’t,” Elain offered. Lucien blushed, eyes wide. “Azriel was trying to find me. I didn’t want to be found. There’s really no use trying to avoid him usually, so...I hid in the one place I knew he would never look—your room. I hope that’s okay.”

Lucien let out a breathy chuckle. The apples of his cheeks were red, but he seemed relieved at the answer. 

“Forgive me if this is forward, lady, but you’re always welcome in my room. No invitation necessary.” 

To her surprise, Elain let out a sincere, belly-deep chuckle. A flirtatious remark like that would have frightened her weeks ago— hours ago, even. But having these last few minutes to unveil him word by honest word allowed Elain to see the very essence of him. The parts of him that were kind, but playful. Careful and considerate. 

That was why she didn’t mind it, she realized. It wasn’t just some silly remark to lighten the mood. He meant it. She really could seek out his personal space, his company, if she needed somewhere safe to be alone. 

Her laughter was music to his ears and he peered at her with delight from underneath long, auburn lashes. 

“You’ll...be here when I depart tomorrow?” Elain wondered, attempting—poorly—to keep the hope out of her voice. The enchanting light on his face dimmed with the reminder of Elain’s Spring Court assignment, but he inclined his head in a small nod. Her palms grew sticky as she continued. “And if I ask you to promise me something, will you do it?” 

“That...depends on the request,” he answered carefully. “But probably.”

Before she spoke, Elain swept into the very depths of her soul to claw into the reserve of her determination, her will and power. She needed him to know this promise was not negotiable and that if he swore to it, she’d never forgive him if he broke it. 

“I want you to promise me that you won’t follow me. That you won’t visit the Spring Court, that you won’t try to sneak into it. I want you to swear that you won’t even think about crossing into its borders. No matter what you feel from my end of the bond, even if I seem like I’m in pain or distress. Send someone else, but don’t come yourself.” 

“If you abhor my company so much, just say so,” Lucien quipped, but it bore a truthfulness behind it that almost made Elain growl. 

“That’s not it and you know it.”

Lucien crossed his arms, examining her. She could almost feel the touch of his mind lurking up the bond to see if he could make sense of the jumble of thoughts and feelings there. 

“This is about your vision,” he said more than asked. Elain’s silence was all the confirmation he needed. 

Lucien, as Elain had discovered, took his promises very seriously. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have spent so many long moments weighing the implications of such an oath. 

He had two options. He could agree to her terms, honoring the ancient connection between them. But that also meant that if Elain was in danger, any at all, he would have to trust Feyre or Rhys to see her to safety. Or worse—Azriel. All while he festered in worry somewhere else, completely helpless. 

Or, he could go against her wishes and completely disregard her input on a decision that involved her more than it even involved him. It would keep her safe—he could keep her safe. But the damage that would do to their very new, very fragile acquaintanceship would be irreparable. He couldn’t go back to the days when she shirked away from his presence or turned white at the thought of exchanging words with him. 

His metal eye whirred, the same way it did when it was breaking through wards and other magic barriers. Elain wondered what it was he saw in her that he needed to see past. 

“Alright, I promise,” he finally decided. “But will you...check in from time to time? Let me know how things are going—from one Night Court emissary to another?” 

Elain smiled and Lucien’s russet gaze thawed into molten gold. 

“I believe I can manage that,” she agreed. 

When she was nearly gone, a silhouette in the door frame that Lucien could barely see in the half-lit darkness, she glanced over her shoulder. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Then the silhouette was gone, leaving nothing but black shadows and whorls of sparkling nighttime.

[houseofhurricane]

ACOTAR Fic: Bloom & Bone (18/28) | Elain x Tamlin, Lucien x Vassa

Summary: Elain lies about a vision and winds up as the Night Court’s emissary to the Spring Court, trying to prevent the Dread Trove from falling into the wrong hands and wrestling with the gifts the Cauldron imparted when she was Made. Lucien, asked to join her, must contend with secrets about his mating bond. Meanwhile, Tamlin struggles to lead the Spring Court in the aftermath of the war with Hybern. And Vassa, the human queen in their midst, wrestles with the enchantment that turns her into a firebird by day, robbing her of the power of speech and human thought. Looming over all of them is uniquet peace in Prythian and the threat of Koschei, the death-god with unimaginable power. With powers both magical and monstrous, the quartet at the Spring Court will have to wrestle with their own natures and the evil that surrounds them. Will the struggle save their world, or doom it?

A/N: Everyone is back at the Spring Court, but nothing is as Elain imagined. I hope you enjoy! You can find all previous chapters here, or read Bloom & Bone on AO3. Thank you for reading! ❤️ There will be no new chapter next week because I will be on vacation with limited wifi, but after that, it's full steam ahead until the end.

Once Lucien takes Vassa to their room, Rhys and Tamlin agree to survey the wards on the estate, and Elain waits with Feyre and Eris for any sign of Koschei. She does not know what use she’ll be, but though her dress is torn and there are leaves tangled in her hair, Elain is not willing to leave the great hall.

“Will you go to the Autumn Court and claim your title?” Feyre asks Eris, her voice carefully neutral.

“I think that even with your limited years in Prythian, you will understand that such a thing is not a simple matter of appearing on the throne,” Eris responds in that silken tone which is seemingly not affected by torture or pain.

He shoots a look at Elain that indicates her presence is unwelcome. She crosses her arms.

Then Feyre turns to her.

“Can you give us a moment?” her sister asks, in that too-gentle voice that knows that Elain could not do what was needed in the moment of crisis, that she will always need rescuing.

But this is not some private room in which she can tell Feyre what is the matter. She is standing before the High Lady of the Night Court and the High Lord of the Autumn Court, and she’s been dismissed.

She forces her lips into the approximation of a smile and leaves the room, pushes her way out of the great wooden doors, and walks into the garden.

Elain has imagined this moment, her return to the gardens of the Spring Court, so many times. She would be walking with Vassa, healed and happy, and Elain would share her plans for the new garden, new hybrids developed on the continent or a more pleasing arrangement of plants, and Vassa would tell her a story about Scythia, which would make her laugh and also contain a thinly-veiled lesson on what it would mean to rule. There would be an affectionate joke about Lucien, perhaps a reference to Tamlin that would have Elain blushing, but mostly she would savor the nighttime walk in the garden with her friend, who would trust that Elain was capable of nearly anything.

Now Vassa screams at her touch.

Elain makes it as far as the edge of her field of tulips before she falls to her knees, ready for the sobs to overtake her. Instead, there is a great roaring emptiness inside of her. She’s surprised to realize that this feeling is not unfamiliar, something akin to what she felt in the Night Court months and months ago, convinced she’d turn into a monster. The feeling that she’d once had a purpose, only to find it had abandoned her.

She does not want to go back to the Spring Court, or to the Night Court, or even to all of Helion’s libraries. Instead, Elain thinks about wandering the forest, letting the low-hanging branches tear at her until she is dirty and empty and snarling.

Still, when she hears the sound of footsteps behind her, Elain does not fight. She freezes. She feels the hand on her and then she does the only thing she knows: she disappears.

Elain had worried that she’d lost this ability because of Koschei’s magic, that she’d be bound to her own world forever, but she leaves Prythian behind as easily as a leaf falls to the earth, the Spring Court gardens giving way to the familiar passageways.

Tamlin is beside her.

Watching the play of emotions on his face, Elain is sure he’s going to rage at her, point out every stupid decision she’s made, every risk and every failure, but instead one of his hands goes to her shoulder, the other to her chin, gently lifting her face until their eyes meet.

What she sees in his eyes makes everything else dissolve into mist around her. His green eyes do not waver in their gaze on her, as if he can behold every piece of her. She could never have imagined a look that tender, that hopeful, that concerned, that kind. The fairytales never went into such specifics.

“Are you all right?” he asks, the words so gentle and raw that Elain begins to cry. Not the screaming sobs she imagined. Instead, her tears leak out from her eyes, silent as they fall to her cheeks.

“I couldn’t save her,” she says. Her voice goes high and plaintive, a child’s wail. “I couldn’t take her to a place where she’d be safe. And she was there for so long. And the way she screamed when I touched her. I thought I was helping but all I did was cause her pain.”

The thought brings on the sobbing, her shoulders heaving with the recollection of Vassa’s screaming, the fact that even in the face of her friend’s suffering, Elain did not let her go. The fact that in the end, all she’s learned, all her abilities, were of no use.

Tamlin does not tell her to stop crying, does not tell her it is all right, doesn’t even remind her that everyone is waiting at the Spring Court, that there is every chance they’ll be retaliated against by Koschei or some unknown ally. Instead he draws her against him, her cheek against his chest, his hands on her back, up and down her spine, over and over, until her sobs calm.

“Without you, we wouldn’t have known that Vassa and Eris were in danger in the first place. You were the one who drew us together, who made the strategy.”

“Koschei will just claim her again.”

“We won’t allow that to happen,” he says, his hands cupping her shoulders, warm even through the heavy beading on her gown. But some perverse part of Elain is tired of being comforted.

“You think the High Lords will be willing to sacrifice themselves for the safety of a human queen?”

“I’m not talking about the High Lords. I mean you and Lucien. And me.” The last part comes after a hesitation, phrased almost as a question.

Her mind shifts them, to his appearance in the clearing.

“What happened to the shield against Koschei?”

“Feyre realized you were in trouble. She or Rhysand winnowed me to you. Koschei built a trap into the spell he has on Vassa. Likely it’s on Eris as well.”

She knows this will have political implications for Eris, but she cannot think about those now. Not when she’s dismissed from the rooms where such matters are discussed.

“I should have thought that Koschei wouldn’t make rescue so easy. Not when everyone was telling me to wait.”

He pulls away from her, meets her eyes, and does not look away.

“There is always a point where courage seems like stupidity.”

She shakes her head, tries for a smile. Of course Tamlin would know this.

“You’re being too nice to me,” she says. She was trained all her life to read the desires of men on their faces, and she knows when there’s something they’re not saying.

He sighs, looks away from her.

“You tried to do everything on your own. If you were anyone else, I would have started by saying that you should have let go of Vassa the moment she started screaming. Lucien could have winnowed her, or Feyre or Rhysand. You didn’t know what magic Koschei was working. And when I thought you were in danger, I… I was willing to sacrifice myself for you, Elain. To buy you the time to save Vassa, or run to safety. I would gladly make the same decision again. But you did not show the same amount of trust.”

She looks at him for a long moment. His muscles are tensed against her, as if he is waiting for her to rage at him, or else to disappear and leave him stranded between worlds. It occurs to her, then, that he is completely at her mercy.

In the space of that realization, all her angry thoughts toward Feyre evaporate. All she can think about is that if he braces for rejection in the face of such a gentle critique, he must have faced it from everyone he ever cared for. That she is now one of those people. Elain isn’t sure if it’s the mating bond, but this idea is a heady one, thrumming through her body.

There are a thousand reasons she should distrust Tamlin, even now, but she pushes each one firmly aside.

“I think you’re right,” she says, her voice a thread, swallowed up by the expanse around them.

When she sees the slight widening of his eyes, the surprise at her acceptance, she wants to fling herself at him, press her mouth to his. But they need to return. There is work to do, still, and she cannot lose herself to this desire, she cannot be the person who winds up trapped by the idea of romance.

And though Elain wants to trust Tamlin, believe that he has changed, that his past is behind him, she’s still comforted by the fact that in this place, she is the one with the power. That despite all his training, the arms that heft a broadsword without hesitation, the thighs that strain at his pants, she could trap him with a thought. In another world, he cannot harm her.

So instead of kissing him, she steps out of the circle of his arms, says, “We should go back to the Spring Court.”

“I need you to go to the Summer Court.” He looks down at her but she doesn’t feel him looming, only the earnestness of his gaze. Still, she steels herself.

“In case Koschei comes for Vassa and Eris?”

“Because I’d like you to tell the High Lords of Prythian everything that has happened while I ensure my court is secure. I’m asking you to be my emissary.”

“Why me?”

“You see what nobody else does, Elain, and beneath your lovely face is a mind that never stops. I think only a fool would underestimate you, but it seems this world is full of fools.”

His little speech is pure poetry, everything she’s ever dreamed a man or male could say to her, more than she ever expected. Still Elain remains out of the circle of his arms. She was part of the deliberations between Tamlin and Lucien over the meeting of the High Lords, the bickering that turned thunderous. As much as she wants to believe them, she knows firsthand how words can be manipulated, how a story of disaster can be turned into an epic tale of bravery and vulnerability and redemption. And while she believes both halves of this story when it comes to the Spring Court, tonight her heart feels too bruised and tired to take the risk on Tamlin.

“You’re sure Lucien won’t mind losing his post?”

“Lucien has been revealed as the heir to the Day Court and will likely be the consort of the Queen of Scythia. Even if he’d like to reclaim the position in the future, I don’t think he’ll object to your mission tonight.”

“Then I’ll accept,” she says. “As long as you’ll agree to consider the fact that you’ll still need an army to deal with the Autumn Court and fend off Koschei.”

His mouth thins while he considers.

“What did you see when you were there?”

“I don’t think the Vanserra brothers are ready to hand over the throne to Eris. We can try a diplomatic option but they’re unlikely to be receptive. They threatened Feyre and me with fire when they found us in the Autumn Court.”

His fists are clenched.

“How did you escape?”

“Feyre made a shield of water and we ran as fast as we could.”

“You could have--”

“I know I could have brought you from the passageways,” she says, “but this is going to be a political nightmare already, and we barely have the other courts as our allies.”

She hadn’t realized she’d looked away from him until his hand interrupts her view of the tiled flooring of the passageways. She reaches for him and their fingers intertwine, effortless.

“We will require an army,” he says, and Elain could swear that the air fills with the scent of springtime, green and sunlit and full of promise.

&

&

&

The High Lords have remained in the same room of the Summer Court, and at first Elain wonders why their expressions are rapt from the moment she appears. Then she realizes that Feyre is speaking, that Vassa is at her side.

“That is the chaos in the Autumn Court,” Feyre says, without acknowledging Elain’s appearance, “but I think that the larger threat to all of us is Koschei.”

“The sorcerer is bound to the lake.” Kallias’ voice sounds certain, but he looks around at the other High Lords as if requesting reassurance.

“He spoke to me of other worlds.” Vassa speaks into the silence, which grows more profound as her words resonate in the room. “He means to conquer them.”

“By what means?” Helion tries for arrogance but Elain can hear the concern, the curiosity in his tone. She has heard those qualities in his speech too many times to miss them.

And it occurs to Elain that she knows the answer to this question, that she’s held it inside of her since that vision long ago. The world shifted around her to make sense of it, and still her thinking mind shielded her a bit longer, as if knowing she was not ready.

Before Feyre can answer, she steps forward to where the rulers of Prythian cannot help but see her, her tired face and the leaves in her hair and the sparkling dress that’s smeared with blood and dirt.

“I think he means to get the Crown on me,” she tells them.

“I heard you were a seer.” Tarquin’s voice is calm, the sea on a sunny day, but Elain wonders what’s lurking below, how his mind moves.

This is the moment when Elain must choose how much of her gifts to reveal. For a second she hesitates, nearly looks to Feyre or Helion for guidance. Instead, she turns to meet Vassa’s eyes.

Though her friend’s face is pale and haunted, her blue eyes blaze bright. The gaze of a queen.

Slowly, because a queen is never hurried, much less by a commoner, Vassa nods at Elain, her lips ever so slightly uptilted.

“I am still learning about my powers,” Elain says, turning back to Tarquin, then letting her gaze rest on each of the High Lords in turn: Kallias, Thesan, and Helion. “But what I thought was the power of foresight seems to be more complicated. I can see the inflection points, where one world becomes another. These worlds are forged by our choices. In one, for example, Koschei captures me and forces the Crown on my head. In another, we defeat him.”

“And why are you the central figure in his plan?” Thesan’s voice is pleasant, almost musical, and yet she sees the tension in his body, nearly hidden. Elain thinks that, should she survive what’s to come, she would like to know him better, learn the way he balances his strength and kindness, the way it is not weakness.

But there is work to do, so she breathes deep and explains to them about the way that she can walk through worlds. She tells the High Lords about the passageways, the way she’s guided by desire, so that she can find the worlds that answer her needs in half a heartbeat. She speaks of the world of Koschei’s origin, the tethering spell, the spell that keeps Vassa in this world.

“There’s one other thing I encountered on my travels,” she says, trying not to sound too excited, too naive. “I found a world where the fae and humans live together, a world at peace. I did not speak the language and looked unlike the humans of that world, but they gave me food and shelter and kindness. When this is over, if we can defeat Koschei, that is the kind of world I want to live in. Where visitors from other realms would like to stay because they know they will be safe.”

“First we will need an army.” Vassa steps in before any of the High Lords can speak, stepping towards Elain but far enough away that their bodies cannot accidentally touch. “First we will need Eris to rule over the Autumn Court. His brothers will be easy targets for Koschei.”

“I thought you would say that we must protect Elain,” Helion says, more steel in his voice than Elain would’ve expected, until she remembers once again that Helion is now Lucien’s acknowledged father, observing his lover for the first time.

“I will not be safe if any court in Prythian falls to Koschei,” she says, shooting a glance at Vassa, makes it as warm and encouraging as she can. “The Spring Court will raise the largest army it can cobble together to support Eris’ claim.”

“The Night Court will back Eris with an army.” Feyre’s voice is as sure and savage as any of the High Lord’s, and this is the moment when Elain has most delighted in her sister, at the swell of her power in the room, her refusal to yield.

“The Illyrians?” Helion asks, crossing his ankle over his knee.

“The Illyrians support Eris.” Feyre crosses her arms over her chest.

“If it cannot be Lucien,” Thesan sighs, “Eris is the best of the lot. The Dawn Court will offer its army.”

Kallias gives a nod, and then the room goes quiet.

“This is what your son would want,” Vassa says, her face aimed at Helion.

“Then why does he not ask me himself?” The words are too hard to be entirely false.

“He is strengthening the wards on the Spring Court against Koschei.” Vassa crosses her arms. “He’d like it clear that he wants to make no claim on the Autumn Court.”

“I see why he likes you, Queen of Scythia,” Helion says, his smile brilliant. “I’ll offer my army.”

“Then we’ll return tomorrow night to discuss our strategy.” Feyre’s gaze sweeps across the room but does not rest on Elain.

“We need to rule our courts,” Kallias says, with a shake of his head. “Give us another night, and bring the firebird queen.”

The other High Lords murmur their agreement, and when Elain steals a glance at Vassa, she could swear her friend is barely concealing a victorious smile. One battle, at least, has been won.

But when they’re in the Spring Court again, Feyre tugs on Elain’s arm, pulls her into an alcove off the great hall.

“Which vision was the lie?” Feyre’s voice is sharp, her fingers pressing into the soft part of Elain’s upper arm, so that she thinks of claws.

“I meant to tell you--”

“I gave you everything you needed, and the High Lords came to your meeting, they left their territories vulnerable against Koschei and the Autumn Court, and you lied. Was there even a true vision? Because I have been looking over my shoulder and wondering how he’d use you, how he’d break you, all the misery that would happen when your vision came true. And all that time you were here, and silent, and I thought you were in danger from him. Are you really such a monster that you needed to hurt me? Or are you in league with him, trying to have us all tearing at each other’s throats until you truly do wear a crown?”

At first Feyre’s words had been ragged and filled with hurt and rage, but gradually the emotion had disappeared, leaving only a flat despair.

Elain had never stopped to consider the impact of her lie on Feyre. She’d been so focused on her escape, the life she’d made in fits and starts in the Spring Court, her power. Just as she’s always been, she realizes, focused on her gowns or the men she might marry, her dreams of flowers when they’d lived in the cabin.

“I lied to you,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady. “I am sorry, Feyre. I felt… when I saw that vision, I felt like the monstrous thing inside of me was going to turn me into something completely different. A person I couldn’t recognize. Except I already felt that way. Angry and useless and vile. And I thought, I couldn’t bear it if you and Nesta saw me turn into a monster. But I should have thought of you, what it would mean if I went to Tamlin. That you were in the vision.”

She expects Feyre’s voice to soften at her words, the honesty in them. Instead her eyes are downcast, her face hard and focused.

“I want to forgive you,” her little sister says. “But I don’t know if I believe you. Because I believed you when you lied to me. And you didn’t even think…”

Elain wants to insist that she’s sorry, kneel in front of her sister and weep until she’s so wretched that Feyre has no choice but to forgive her. Somehow she forces her spine to stay straight, her head to nod.

“I understand,” she says, unable to keep her voice from wavering.

“Of course this will not affect relations between our courts.” Feyre adjusts the sleeves of her gown, the same one she’d worn to the High Lords’ meeting, black and almost severe but for its close fit against her body. Her sister, who went off into the woods every day in search of food, who learned how to be a queen.

“I wasn’t aware that those relations were particularly friendly.” Elain tries to smile and feels it twist into a grimace.

“I will never let this court fall if you are there.”

“I -- thank you, Feyre.”

She had planned to say that she did not need this special protection, but she thinks of what Feyre said. Of what Tamlin said. The feeling when she was stuck in this world and Koschei seemed imminent.

Instead of arguing, she holds out her hand to her sister, and when Feyre takes it, she squeezes it tight until Feyre steps away, leaves the alcove, her skirts sighing against the marble floors.

Elain sinks to the ground, curls herself into a ball, and stares at the tiles until she hears the footsteps approaching her, Tamlin’s scent.

“Are you all right?” he asks.

“Are the wards secure?” she shoots back, looking at him, dirty and disheveled but still so handsome he’s practically glowing.

“They recognize Koschei’s magic and should repel him from appearing. And Rhysand is taking Melis to the Night Court. Apparently Nesta and her Valkyrie friends will be guarding her in the library.”

“I thought Melis would stay here.”

“We still don’t know what she can do if she touches you. As talented a designer as she is, and as beautiful as this gown is, I would rather know that you’re safe from her.”

“It’s not -- I don’t care about the dresses,” she says, holding up her hand so that he cannot get close enough to drown out her voice. “But we didn’t torture Melis. And in the Night Court, Azriel might.”

“That is why I made Rhysand swear that Melis would not be tortured as long as she behaved herself.” Tamlin crouches down, and even then, she has to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. “I made sure that Melis was aware of the arrangement.”

“So Vassa and Eris are safe?”

“As safe as anyone is in this world.”

The day and night have been endless but still Elain reaches for Tamlin. The world around her wavers, half-dissolving, before she resolves herself. That this must be here and now.

Before he can speak, she presses her mouth to his, hot and searching.

There is only time for a kiss in this world. Elain is battered and bruised and exhausted, and Tamlin is needed for a thousand things, and anybody could see them, but for this moment there is only his mouth opening to hers, his arms pulling her body tight against his, Elain is only a person who wants, and wants, and wants.

[julemmaes]

Pinky Promise - Prologue

A/N: Here it is, finally! I know you all have waited literally less than 24 hours for this, but still:) Like I said yesterday, this is mainly Nessian, but considering it’s a multichapter fic it’ll have others couples too, obviously. Some might not be your favorites and the beginning of the fic is kinda tough for this reason, but I hope it’s worth waiting. + I don’t know if any of you read Crescent City, but if you did, expect this first part to be like the first hundred pages of the book, it’s just info-dump. I’ll leave you to the chapter now.

Uh and p.s. thanks to all of you who commented and started following me. I feel loved tbh, I appreciate each and every one of you darlings

Fic Masterlist

Word count: 3,938

Nesta had just stepped outside the classroom when a cramp slightly more painful than the others made her hold her breath. She stopped in the middle of the hallway, apologizing to one of the girls who was attending the course with her when she bumped into Nesta, waiting for the pain to end and for her to continue walking without feeling as if her stomach were opening up from the inside. She took three deep breaths and walked towards the exit.

Cassian should have been out by now and if he wasn't there Nesta would have made him pay for it. He knew she had her period and he knew she hated waiting, so it would be wise of him to be on the street as soon as she reached the gates.

She huffed, rubbing her hand over her face, and squinted when she saw her boyfriend's green military Jeep parked just outside the university gardens. She lowered her head, clutching her jacket and protecting herself from the winter cold of Velaris. She speeded past when lightning struck the sky and found herself in the parking lot.

Azriel and Cassian were talking animatedly about something, probably sport, Nesta thought, seeing how they were both excited and by the gestures they made, but as soon as Cassian saw her, his face lit up and he smiled at her, interrupting whatever he was doing. He went up to her, "Hi sweetheart." He put his hands on her face and pulled her towards him, kissing her before Nesta could return the greeting. She closed her eyes, keeping her hands in her pocket but rejoicing at that touch. When Cassian broke away looking at her with that cocky smile on his face, Nesta had her eyes closed and her forehead wrinkled.

Cassian frowned, "What is it?" he asked her, taking the bag from her shoulder and turning towards the trunk. Normally she wouldn't let him take the bag, she could do it very well on her own, but she was too tired and sore to even bicker over these little things. Cassian must have noticed it too, because looking at Azriel on the other side of the car he made him understand that he wanted to talk to her for a moment. The older waved to Nesta and she barely had time to give him a small smile before he disappeared in the back of the car.

She looked up just in time to see Cassian approaching again as he wrapped her in his arms, holding her to his chest. This time she took her hands out of her pockets to hug him in turn. She heard him take a deep breath, "Rough day?" he murmured in her hair, where he left a kiss a few seconds later. Nesta nodded, muttering something in his chest. "Hmm," he said looking at her with distrustful eyes, "Can you hold on for a few more minutes before I take you home or?"

Nesta broke away, walking toward the passenger seat, Cassian had already got in and was starting the car when she sat down and her feet cried out in relief that she no longer had to stand. "Why? Do you have to pick up Rhysand?"

She heard Azriel snort, "When are you going to start calling him Rhys?"

Nesta turned just enough to show the determined expression on her face. "When those two stupid siblings of ours decide to cut the bullshit and get together."

"Touché."

Cassian turned left. "Yes, his car is at the mechanic's and with the bus strike he doesn't know how to come back." he answered her initial question. He glanced at her sideways when she yawned, resting her head on the window. "But if you're too tired I can drop you off and then go get him."

"Nono, don't worry. It's okay." Nesta murmured, remembering something else, "I should also stop by Elain's store to pick up some things, if you don't mind..." she grunted in pain when another cramp twisted her stomach. Azriel leaned forward between the two seats, "Are you alright?"

Cassian shook his head, "I'm taking you home. We'll stop by Ellie's, don't worry."

"I said it's okay, I can handle it." she gave him a withering look and when he put the blinker on to turn right, towards her apartment, she moved to remove it.

Cassian was about to retaliate and say that she shouldn't touch the steering wheel when he's driving, but Azriel interfered before they could start arguing.

"There's no problem, we can go to Elain's and take everything," he said in a calm and gentle tone. This only made Nesta angrier, who turned to Azriel with a murderous look. "I said I can handle it, stop treating me as if I were on the verge of death".

Her boyfriend puffed, changing gears. "You're not on the verge of death and I'm sure you could survive an extra hour or so, but don't you think going home and taking a hot shower and relaxing is better than having to stay out here in the cold with the three of us?" he gave her a sly smile when he saw Nesta stiffening up to the idea of a hot bath. "Think carefully before you answer."

Nesta whispered a "fine" under her breath and a few minutes later Cassian was approaching the Archeron apartment. She got out and took her things, before leaning into the car and leaving a peck on Cassian's lips.

Her boyfriend gave her a soft smile, before raising his hand and pulling up only his right pinky. Nesta shook her head chuckling, intertwining her pinky with his.

"See you in a little while, sweetheart." Nesta nodded, caressing his arm.

"Bye babe, bye Az." she couldn't stop herself before realizing they had company. She wasn't used to being so numb with pain and it never happened that she called Cassian babe in front of other people, much less their family.

Azriel's eyes opened wide. "Babe? That's new." he got out of the car to get into the front seat and Cassian punched him in the shoulder. "Fuck off Az- take care." he said finally turning to Nesta, before rushing to the elementary school where Rhysand worked.

Opening the door of the building she remembered something important. She cursed under her breath and rumbled in her purse looking for her cell phone as she entered the elevator. She quickly dialed Elain's number and only after two rings did her sister answer:

"Hey Nesta!" she seemed as happy as ever, "What's up?"

"Cassian and Azriel should come by to pick up the package that arrived yesterday, under no circumstances should Cassian see the sender so can you please tear out any evidence on the box?" she heard muffled noises and then Elain said goodbye to a customer. "Sorry to interrupt you while you're working, but it's really important."

"Uh, don't worry, it's pretty calm today." she said cheerfully. "Is it the book?"

Nesta nodded, opening the door to the appartment, realizing later that her sister couldn't see her, "Yes, it's the book and it would be better if he didn't shake the box too much, I have the feeling that that thing is twelve thousand years old and could disintegrate at any moment." Elain giggled.

"Sure, I'll erase every address and name, I've got this."

"Thank you."

They talked a little bit more about what they were going to do that night and after another five minutes on the phone Nesta was finally alone and at peace in the quiet of her room while taking off her skinny jeans and sweaty t-shirt and getting ready for a hot bath.

As soon as she was immersed in the water, with bubbles bursting around her ears and a glass of red wine in one hand, she started thinking about how she was going to ask Cassian to move in together.

They had met in high school, when her family had moved in after her mother's death. It had taken her months before she started talking to anyone at school and one day, because of something that had happened with Feyre, she arrived late and the only free seat had been next to Azriel. She liked him right away, he was quiet and never asked her anything, not even what her name was, but they exchanged that embarrassed smile between friends-not-friends when they met in the hallway. Cassian had never really spoke to her either, but she knew that he was Azriel's friend and he usually joined them when they studied together during the breaks.

I wasn’t long before they all became great friends.

One day, during the second year, Azriel told her that there would be a party and that if she wanted she could come. Nesta had obviously refused.

With the economic condition they were in, it was already a lot if they could buy a new pair of shoes for Feyre every year, who was still growing up, and she certainly wouldn't know what to wear.

Azriel hadn't given up, however, and invited her to whatever party he went to, not as if they were dating, but as a friend would have done. Little by little they began to go out together. Relatively calm things: movies, dinners at the various fast food restaurants Velaris offered and sometimes they went for hikes in the mountains with Rhysand, who had just started high school. Most of the time Cassian would go with them, especially during the study sessions, but instead of studying he acted as a disturber and it took Nesta a long time before she realized how much she really liked that character.

How good he was inside and the things he would do for those he loved. He was to be admired, a boy so young, who had lost as much as she had, if not more, but who faced everyday life with that silly smile on his face.

During the middle of the fourth year, Azriel stood her up at the last minute because something had happened with Rhysand, and he had to run to help. Cassian, who was already with her that day, decided to stay, thinking Azriel was more than capable of helping Rhysand on his own, and invited her to eat something. Nothing serious, a dinner between friends. While they were about to pay, at the end of the evening, Nesta received a call from the hospital.

Her father had had a heart attack and died.

It had been Feyre who had found him coming back from an evening out with Elain, only 13 years old, as she had found their mother's body almost five years earlier. Nesta had panicked and the only thing that hadn't completely driven her insane that night was Cassian's presence.

He took her to the hospital and stayed with her every step of the way, every procedure, every signature and every document.

Both he and Azriel helped the sisters throughout the long custody trial of Elain and Feyre and they were there when Nesta became the legal tutor of the two minors when she turned 18. Even Rhysand, although he was only 16 at the time and couldn't help much, was very close to the Archeron family.

It was only after spending almost a year trying to find a way to continue living with the weight on her shoulders that she realized that without Cassian she would’ve never been able to get through something like this.

Nesta had started working immediately after the death of her father, continuing her studies anyway, and very often Cassian acted as her driver, taking her from one place to another. He also gifted her with many movie nights and occasionally went shopping for her and her sisters.

She knew he was doing this because he understood what it was like to not have enough food in the house to feed the rest of the family.

She had known for a long time that the boy was lost in her: she saw it in the way he looked at her, in the way he protected her every time Tomas passed by, knowing exactly what had happened during the third year, she knew it from the way he presented her to others, as a strong and independent woman, proud to be his friend. And yet, although they both knew about the strong feelings between the two of them, no one ever acted on it.

They danced in this limbo between friendship and love and when one day Cassian brought a girl home, Nesta exploded. For hours, they were at each other's throats, screaming things they didn't really mean, driven by anger towards the other but also towards themselves.

They got together immediately afterwards.

They did not need a trial period to see if it would ruin what they already had. It would never happen and they knew it too well. Nothing could've broken that bubble of theirs. Nothing.

They had been together for six years now and the only reason they still didn't live together was that Nesta didn't want to leave Feyre alone while she was still studying. She was going to let Feyre get her degree and find a steady job to support her before she moved out so that her little sister could focus on studying. But now it was only a few months away, and then they would both be free from college. Feyre would get her painting degree and Nesta would finish her master's degree in aerospace engineering, quit that stupid job as a salesgirl and find a job in one of Prythian Space Agency's research labs.

And above all, Nesta couldn't wait to finally go live with the love of her life.

***

Cassian had just parked in front of Rhysand's school when the sky split apart and the rain started coming down like it was the apocalypse day. He squeezed the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles turned white and leaned his head on the horn, making Azriel jump next to him. He closed his eyes sighing.

"You haven't told her yet, have you?" his brother whispered, as if he were almost afraid to ask.

Cassian laughed, but there was no trace of amusement in that sound. He turned his head toward Azriel just in time to see Rhysand swoop into the back seat, completely soaked from head to toe, with a shocked expression on his face.

Azriel waved and Rhysand sat down better, closing the door with force. "Hello beautiful," he said with his charmer act. "What have you got for me? How were your days?"

Azriel waited to answer, wanting to know first what Cassian was going to do with all the shit he was in. Rhysand must have realized what the atmosphere was because the smile died on his lips and he leaned forward, "What were you talking about before I arrived?" he asked with a hint of concern in his voice. Cassian looked over his shoulder and sighed again, this time more loudly.

"The bigass elephant in mine and Nesta's room."

"Uh-oh." said Rhys.

"Yeah, uh-oh."

"Haven't you told her yet?" asked the youngest.

Cassian shook his head, keeping his eyes fixed on the road and contracting his jaw, "We're still together, or not? So I'd say no, I haven't told her."

Azriel scratched his cheek, avoiding looking directly at him. "When are you going to do it?"

"I was thinking of doing it tonight, after dinner, but seeing that she's not doing so well, I guess I'll have to take a rain check." he turned into the street of Elain's store.

"Don't you think it's risky?" Azriel continued to ask. "I don't say the thing itself, but waiting so long to tell her. We all know Nesta, she’ll need a lot of time to accept it. You can't just drop the bomb and then run away."

In other circumstances he would have laughed at that rough joke, but he wasn't in the mood at all. The fact that he would have left Nesta to enlist and probably go and drop bombs in war territories was not a prospect he particularly liked.

"I'll find a way to do it without breaking her heart and give her time to accept it, don't worry".

"Wait," Rhys stopped him. He turned off the car directly in front of the flower shop and saw Azriel turn toward the entrance with a lost smile on his lips. Cassian scoffed, shifting his gaze in front of him again.

The Archeron sisters and their fucking perfect personalities.

"Are you going to break up with Nesta?" concluded Rhysand looking at him through the rearview mirror with a serious look.

Cassian turned around with a bewildered expression on his face, "God, no! What's wrong with you?" Azriel had also recovered from his short circuit called Elain and looked at the two brothers with his mouth slightly wide open.

Rhys raised his hands in defense, "Sorry, I misunderstood."

Cassian could hardly believe that Rhysand had thought such a thing. They remained silent watching the raindrops hit the glass when someone knocked hard on Azriel's window and all three of them jerked in fear. The figure outside the car moved and opened Rhysand's door as they got in.

“Hey guys.” Elain had a radiant smile on her face and seemed to be illuminated with her own light. Azriel had turned around so quickly on the seat that Cassian wondered how he hadn't broken his neck or pelvis. Rhysand leaned forward to give her a quick hug.

It didn't take Elain more than three seconds to realize that something was wrong, "Are you alright?" she asked worried, putting her hand on Azriel's seat. "You have such long faces," she said.

Rhys burst out laughing, "We're fine, don't worry."

Elain smiled at him, "Okay perfect, because Nesta and I have planned a pretty good night and when, not if, you get drunk I wouldn't want to have to comfort you because you're sad."

Cassian turned around at that point, with a lopsided smile, so that she wouldn't doubt their moods. "I like this idea."

"Good." said Elain with a smile on her face. She pointed to the store behind her and gestured with one hand, "I could use a strong pair of arms to take out some boxes for Feyre and Nesta and some vases. They're not big, but they weigh more than me and it's pouring down, I wouldn't want to trip and die because of the cyclamens."

Before anyone else could answer Azriel was already outside the car and inside the store.

Cassian and Rhysand laughed as Elain blushed. She got out of the car following their brother.

"Holy moly, those two are crushing so bad," whispered Rhys as he looked toward the entrance.

Cassian opened his eyes wide, bursting out laughing. The younger brother turned to him, confused. "What are you laughing at?

"Nothing at all.” Cassian ran his hand over his eyes, actually smiling, "I'm just thinking about how stupid you and Az are."

Rhys looked at him badly in the mirror, "We're not stupid." then he crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the seat and looking up. "You know very well why neither of us has been able to take a step forward yet," he paused briefly, "At least I, am not going to do anything until she decides to leave Tamlin willingly."

Cassian nodded with a serious expression this time, knowing exactly how the conversation would continue if he answered verbally. They talked about Feyre so often, about her relationship with Tamlin, that Cassian seemed to have learned a script to recite every time.

He looked out the window, watching Azriel laughing with Elain. Probably the brother in the worst situation was him.

Elain and Lucien had been together forever. Cassian had met little Ellie when she was still only 14 years old and they had been together for a year already. It was a special relationship, theirs.

When they had started the second year of high school they had decided to break up after almost four years, considering it the best thing to do. After all, theirs was what you might call a childish love. They had been apart for a few months, but when the girls' father had died, Lucien and Tamlin had been very supportive of the younger sisters. More than everyone in their group liked to admit.

Cassian and Azriel had already met all three sisters when the misfortune happened and it didn't take Rhysand long to build a solid relationship with both of the younger two.

When Elain announced that they were back together, Azriel realized that it affected him far more than necessary. By now he had been stuck in his role as the world's “bestest” friend - as Elain liked to call him - for seven years.

He had had other girlfriends over time, but never anything serious and none of them had ever managed to make him really fall in love. It was also very complicated to describe the kind of relationship those two had. Lucien was always ready to pull him into the middle of their quarrels and Elain systematically went to Azriel crying, telling him that Lucien did not understand that their relationship was much more like that of two siblings.

The first time Azriel had spoken to Cassian about it, almost two years after Mr. Archeron's death, he had burst out laughing. His brother had remained silent for years in the friendzone while Cassian lived his best life with Nesta.

When it came to Rhysand and Feyre it was a whole different story.

When they met, Feyre was already very close to Tamlin. Hanging out only with her older sister and her boyfriend, it seemed natural that she and Tamlin would end up together, but Rhysand was still shocked when one day she came home, during her fourth year of high school, followed by him, and reintroduced him to everyone as her boyfriend.

The thing that no one could understand was how they could still be together after all these years.

Cassian knew from Nesta and Rhysand that the first years of their relationship were all peaches and cream. They seemed like the perfect couple. Tamlin's family had also helped Feyre with her college tuition, getting her into the Academy of Fine Arts supervised by one of his father's many friends.

They had been together for five years now and the only thing everyone was sure of was that when an Archeron sister gave her heart to someone, she would never ask for it back.

Cassian knew how much the overall situation weighed on both his brothers, but you can't control your heart and he couldn't advise anything else but to wait.

Azriel got back in the car alone and when Cassian turned to him to ask him where Elain was, he seemed upset.

"Everything alright?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm not going to talk about it."

Cassian exchanged a confused look with Rhysand through the mirror and when Elain got into the car looking just as upset, they fell silent.

Cassian sighed and held the steering wheel tighter. The evening was going to be interesting.

The ringing of a phone echoed in the cockpit.

"Mor and Amren are already at Nesta's -" said Rhys, "it seems they've already opened the wine."

Elain snorted, looking out the window with a severe glare. "Good, because we're going to need a lot of it tonight."

"A lot." Azriel repeated gritting his teeth, frowning even more.

Definitely interesting.

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[bookaholic1012]

Prythian Magazine Part 11

Cassian and Lucien talk, Azriel gets his tea, and the Archeron sisters will soon be reunited. Oh, and Rhysand's mom and sister make an appearance.

Tagging: @sugarcoated44 @unicornbooks @ourbooksuniverse @ame233

If you want to be tagged or no longer want to, let me know!

ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO SARAH J. MAAS

PM Masterlist  My Writing

Was going over to Mor’s armed with a thermos of soup for Lucien’s ‘sickness’ when I was really going to find out the truth a bad idea? One may call it that, but not me. In fact, I would say this is one of the best ideas I’ve ever had. Part of me knew that there was a reason why my friends lied about Lucien’s reason of absence and I should leave them alone, but I couldn’t. At least if he is ill, I would know that I did something to help him get better.

I pulled up in front of Mor’s and walked up to her front door. It only took a moment for Mor to open the door after I knocked.

“Cassian!” She greeted me, “What are you doing here?” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, voice laced with distrust.

I gave a nonchalant shrug in return. “I had some leftover soup from dinner last night. I thought I could some over for Lucien.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks. I’ll just take that for you.” Mor’s tanned arm reached out for the thermos in my hands. I pulled it out of her grasp as her hands clenched around where the thermos was a mere second ago.

“Actually, I was hoping to bring it to Lucien myself. Give him my best wishes on his recovery and whatnot. Also, I owe Feyre an apology for cornering her earlier.” I explained.

“Okay. First of all, ‘Give him my best wishes on recovery’ really? By the Mother, Cass, you sound like he was in an accident, not like he has a cold. And second, what about me? Don’t I deserve an apology? Need I remind you, that you hounded me all day trying to get information on Lucien’s health? Finally-”

“I’m sorry, Mor.” I interrupted.

“Apology accepted, don’t worry about it. And don’t interrupt. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Finally, you cornered Feyre? Jeez, Cassian. He has a cold. Why must you ask so many questions?” Mor threw her arms up in exasperation when she was done scolding me.

“I asked questions because I don’t- I mean I didn’t - believe you two. Now I do, and I have something for Lucien. Can I come in now, Mor? It’s cold.” I said.

“Fine.” She grumbled, stepping out of the way.

Victory is mine!

“We should put makeup on you!” Feyre whisper-shouted at me.

“What? No!” I whisper-shouted back.

Through my open door, which Mor forgot to close on her way out after informing us she ordered pizza, we heard her and Cassian’s whole conversation. Currently, we were rushing around to get things that would help me appear sick.

“My skin’s paler than yours! If we put some foundation or something on you, you’ll appear sickly!” She explained.

“We are not putting makeup on me, and that is final!” I stated.

“Fine. You would look hot with makeup though. I might have some eyeshadow that would bring out your eyes…” She trailed off, most likely thinking about me,makeup, and how hot I would look.

“Feyre! Focus!” I told her, breaking Feyre out of her thoughts. Just then, we heard two voices, one male and one female, and heavy footsteps coming closer to the door. I dove under the covers, ruffled my hair, and attempted to look groggy and under the weather. Feyre grabbed a trash can, filled it with crumpled tissues, and sat down on the edge of my bed, so she appeared to be taking care of me.

The door opened fully, revealing Cassian and Mor, the former carrying something that resembles a thermos.

“Hey, Foxboy. Hi, Feyre.” Cassian greeted us.

“Hey, Cass.” Feyre said, getting up from the bed to give him a hug. I greeted him too, attempting to sound like a person who has a cold. I don’t think I succeeded.

When they parted, Cassian came over and took Feyre’s spot beside me, placing the thermos on the bedside table. He smiled down at me, which made me feel… something.

“Mor, Feyre, can you guys leave us? I want to talk to Lucien alone.” He requested, still holding my gaze.

“Sure, but aren’t you forgetting something, Cass?” Mor said with a pointed look in the other male’s direction.

“Hmm?” He looked up, “Oh, right. Sorry about earlier, Feyre. I was just doubtful, but now… I see you were right, so sorry for doubting you, and for questioning you earlier.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it, Cass. I get it.” Feyre shrugged it off.

With that, the ladies left, leaving me alone. With Cassian. In my room.

Someone help me. I begged. It’s not that I’m uncomfortable around Cassian. I just… feel something when I’m around him. I become aware of everything he does. Everything that happens when I’m with Cassian makes me feel guilty; I feel as if I’m betraying Jesminda and Andras, the latter more than the former.

It was then I realized there was an expectant silence in the air. Hazel eyes shown with amusement.

There’s more green than brown today.

Stop it. I reprimanded myself.

“Sorry. What did you say?” I asked, embarrassed at being caught not paying attention.

“I was just asking how you felt.”

“Oh, I’m feeling a little better thanks to the medicine I took.” “Good. Good. I hope you feel better soon. We have to get back to our regular scheduled bickering at work.” He teased. Him wanting me to get better though… that was sincere. It left me baffled. After everything my family has done to Mor, why would he want to get better? I always thought his comments were out of spite, not because we were friends, or something akin to that.

I let out a chuckle. “Yeah. I’ve missed our little squabbles.”

“Do you mind if I stay here and just talk?” Cassian asked, breaking the comfortable silence that enveloped the room.

I expected myself to feel that I did mind, but I found myself wanting to know what it was Cassian had to say.

“You can stay.” I told him.

“Bron. Hart. What information do you two have for me.” I said, hiding in the shadows. They knew who I was, but I couldn’t risk any paparazzi or passerbys to take a photo of myself.

“Well, we found out Tamlin has a meeting with Anthony Hybern. Ianthe will be with them.” Bron informed me.

“Do you have any details?” I inquired.

“We don’t know what the meeting is for,” Hart added, “But we do know that it will be held at Tamlin’s office at six in the evening on Friday.”

Two days from now.

“Is that all?” I further questioned.

“For now, yes. After Feyre and Lucien left, he’s been more secretive than usual.” Hart said.

“Okay, then. You’ll receive payment at the end of the week.” With that, I left. As I walked over to my car, I mulled over the information I received. Whatever the reason was for the meeting, it couldn’t be good if Hybern was being involved.

Before driving away, I made one last call.

“Amren? It’s Azriel. Are you in your office?”

“I am. Did you find something?” Her voice answered.

“I did. And it’s not good.”

“Where is my sister?!” Nesta screeched. I took a step back from the terrifying girl. Nesta Archeron is someone you do not want have angry with you.

“She left.” I answered, mustering up my courage.

“I know she left, but I want to know the correct circumstances as to why she left.” Nesta yelled.

“You read the article.” I said, nodding in the direction of Elain, who held the magazine where I told reporters of why Feyre left me.

“Feyre, would never cheat on someone. Whoever she is dating can be a scumbag and treat her poorly, but she would still remain faithful to them. What. Is. The. Truth.” Elain’s voice iron, her face contorted with fury. Elain, who was usually so kind and calm, was much more frightening when angered.

“Why do you care? It’s not like you ever cared for her in the first place.” My voice rose along with my temper.

A loud slap filled the room and my head cracked to the side. Nesta stood in front of me, her hand raised.

“We had our reasons. Tell me where my baby sister is now!” Nesta roared.

“Ask her yourself. She’s in the Night Court.” I snapped, trying to not lash out. Nesta was a lawyer, and a damn good one, too. Loads of people respected her. I couldn’t have someone like her ruin my reputation by informing the world of what I had done.

Feyre will tell them though. A nagging voice in my mind told me.

They’ll never find her. I reassured herself.

“Come on, Elain. Let’s go to Night Court.” Nesta said, storming towards the door.

“How do you know she’s in the Night Court?” I asked.

“Because you just said so, you moron. Even if you didn’t, your question confirmed it.” Elain snapped, before Nesta could even open her mouth. Before I could say anything, Elain slammed the door shut.

I’m not a moron… Am I?

“Rhys, can you please set the table.” My mom asked while checking the chicken she was baking.

“Of course, Mum.” I got up from the chair I was reading in to get the dishes and silverware for dinner.

“And please get your sister.” Mum added.

“Got it.” I told her, hurrying to finish setting up the table. When I was done, I rushed up the stairs to Luciana’s room.

“Luciana? May I come in?” I asked, knocking on the door.

“What’s the password?” My little sister’s voice answered from the other side. I smiled at her antics.

“Rhysand is the best big brother ever?” I guessed.

“Nope.”

“Rhysand is the best male model ever?” I suggested.

“Guess again!” Luciana sang.

“Rhysand is the handsomest person to ever grace the universe.”

“Wrong again! And you are not the handsomest person, Rhys.”

I gasped and grasped my chest even though Luciana couldn’t see me. “I’m wounded! Someone doesn’t think I am handsome! Help me by opening up this door!” I cried, jiggling the doorknob.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” My sister said, but she still opened the door. I stepped in her room, twirling as I did.

“I’m saved! Thank you, Lady Luciana. I am forever in your debt.” I bowed down at her feet.

“Get up, Lord Rhysand.” Luci snorted.

I did what she said and plopped down on her bed, dragging her down with me. Luci let out a squeal as she fell, and collapsed into giggles when she landed on top of me. I then proceeded to tickle her.

“S-stop! P-please!” She called out between her laughter.

“Never!” I exclaimed.

“Rhysand! Luciana!” My mother stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips. She tried her best to look stern, but her hazel eyes shone with amusement, and the corner of her lips were tugging upwards. I stopped tickling Luci immediately, trying to contain my own laughter.

“Rhys, I told you to get Luci for dinner. Not for you to start fooling around!” Mum scolded me.

“Sorry, Mum.” I apologized.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Just come down you two. And no more shenanigans.”

“Okay.” Luciana and I said in unison, but we shared a look, agreeing that the battle wasn’t over.

We gathered around the table, filling our plates with baked chicken, salad, and a variety of Illyrian meals.

“So, Rhys, when were you going to tell me that Feyre and Lucien were staying with Mor?”

I choked on my food. “How do you know?” I asked, staring bewilderedly at my mum, who kept on eating.

“When I invited Mor to dinner on Sunday earlier today, she asked if it would be alright if she brought along Lucien and Feyre.” Mum explained.

“Wait, you are hanging out with Feyre and Lucien again? Why didn’t you tell me?” My sister demanded.

“I was going to say something, Luci, but I knew you would beg to see her, and I wasn’t sure if Feyre would be ready to handle anymore company than me and the inner circle.” I explained to my sister.

“Still should have said something.” Luci pouted.

“I’m sorry, Luci.”

“Your forgiven, I suppose.” Luciana responded with a dramatic flair.

“Anyway,” I said, turning back to Mum, “I was going to tell you, promise, but like I told Luci, I didn’t know if Feyre could handle more people.”

“It’s alright, Rhys. I hope they can make it. Feyre and Lucien are such lovely people.” Mum said, though I could tell she was curious as to why Feyre may not have been able to handle more than a few people.

After dinner, I went to bed claiming I was tired. I laid, burrowed in my black sheets, trying to continue reading my book. In ten minutes, I read one sentence. My thoughts were consumed with Feyre Archeron.

*Luciana is Italian for 'light;moon' (at least according to the internet. If it's wrong, please let me know!)* *Selene (Rhys's mom) is Greek for 'moon' (again, according to the internet. If it's wrong, tell me!)*

Luciana is 10 in this fic. And now, that I'm thinking about it, you guys don't know any ages for the characters. I'll let you know, next chapter. As usual, please let me know your thoughts on this chapter! Weekly updates on Saturday!

Much love, bookaholic1012 <3

[kitashiwrites]

Wave Upon the Sand - A Tarquin Fic: Chapter 4

Series: A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas Characters: Tarquin, Cresseida, Varian, Feyre, Rhysand, Amren POV: Tarquin Rating: T Word Count: 3117 Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9818336

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Summary: Chapter 35-37 of ACOMAF from Tarquin’s POV.

Comments: The final chapter is upon us! I’m so sorry this took so long to post. Hopefully it is worth the wait! Thank you everyone who has commented, sent me asks, left kudos/likes, anything! It’s because of you guys that this exists right now. I hope you enjoyed this little foray into the Summer Court as much as I did.

As always, thank you to my lovely @illyriantremors for being the best cheerleader a writer could ask for. <3<3<3

Until the next fic (which may end up being sooner than you think... :3), enjoy!

-----

They joined us for dinner in our family dining room that evening. To my pleasure, she had worn the black diamond necklace, which suited her just as well as I thought it would. I swore I heard Varian make a choked noise when she walked in. Cresseida, to my surprise, eyed her appraisingly. “It suits you,” she said almost kindly. “That piece didn't fit here anyway.” Feyre bowed her head in thanks, but didn't take the unintentional bait. Varian watched Amren with curiosity, as though she were a riddle he needed the satisfaction of unraveling. However, she paid him no attention whatsoever as she debated with Cresseida over some ancient text.

Feyre had been chatting amicably with me, her smiles easy and relaxed. Rhysand was keeping close to her, though she didn't seem to be bothered by what was bordering on an invasion of personal space.

“You ate it right there,” I said with disbelief, raising my eyebrows as she told me about her day at dockside.

She shrugged. “They fried it with the other fishermen’s lunches. Didn't charge me extra for it.”

I let out a laugh, impressed. “I can't say I’ve ever done that—sailor or no.”

“You should,” she said earnestly. “It was delicious.”

“Well, maybe I’ll go tomorrow. If you’ll join me.”

She gave me a grin. “I’d like that. Perhaps we could go for a walk in the morning down the causeway when the tide is out. There's a little building along the way—it looks fascinating.”

Cresseida went silent suddenly, but Feyre, seemingly unaware, kept speaking. “I figure since I’ve seen most of the city now, I could see it on my way to visit some of the mainland, too.”

The question seemed innocent enough, but I still glanced at Cresseida. If this wasn't handled delicately—and quickly—we would be in very deep water.

“It's a temple ruin,” I said blandly, the lie coming to my lips easier than I liked. “Just mud and seaweed at this point. We’ve been meaning to repair it for years.” I still remembered the sick feeling I got from handling that evil metal box that now lay in the catacombs beneath the docks of Adriata, under the enchantments that now only I could break. The Book of Breathings. The unintelligible whispers that came from that metal box had snaked into my ears, so much that it made my very blood run cold just to think about it.

“Maybe we’ll take the bridge then,” she suggested, oblivious to my attempts to change the conversation. “I’ve had enough of mud for a while.”

I looked her in the eye. Why did she ask about the temple? Of all the things to bring up…

Another thought crossed my mind. Why did they want to come here so badly? Why ask about my trove? There were pieces of information, pieces of a puzzle that were all right there in front of me. All I needed to do was put—

She’s harmless. A small voice in my head said. My better judgement. She is kind, and sad, and broken. You saw her with your people—you saw how she treated them. How she treats you. Amarantha did not break that kindness.

It was true. She had given me no reason to distrust her.

Take her to the mainland tomorrow. That'll keep her from asking about the temple. She saved Prythian. She is your friend.

My worries faded away, until I couldn't even remember what I had been worried about in the first place. I could take Feyre to the mainland for a tour in the morning.

I smiled at her. “We’ll meet after breakfast. Unless Rhysand wants me for more meetings.” I turned to the bored High Lord and he waved a hand at me lazily.

“By all means, Tarquin, spend the day with my lady.” The possessiveness in those last two words was clear. Feyre braced her arms on the wooden table and gave me an easy smile. There was a flicker of distress in her eyes, but before I could ask her what was the matter, it was gone. “Tell me what there is to see on the mainland,” she said.

~~~

We left the palace early in the morning, just as the sun was coming up over the water. Feyre came out with a smile, but that inexplicable unhappiness in her eyes from the night before had still been there when met her at the door to her rooms. She also seemed to be very tired, and I wondered if we should have postponed it by a day or two. When I offered, she declined, the distress becoming determination, and we set off for the mainland.

It was nice speaking to anyone who was nearby. I loved that they were not afraid to walk up to us and start a conversation, though their warm greetings were nervous—guarded even—when they realized who my companion was. I wasn't surprised—they had survived so much here, and while they were grateful, they also wanted to distance themselves from the memories as much as possible and move forward. It was no fault of Feyre's, and I hoped that she understood that.

But as the day went on, she looked more and more tired. We stopped for a fried fish at the docks, which was indeed as delicious as Feyre had said. By the time the sun was sliding into the horizon, she finally admitted that she was tired and hungry, and so I bought her a baked fish pie as we headed back towards the palace.

Evening fell over the island all too soon, and we gathered in the dining room.

I turned to Feyre. “I know there are other places on the mainland to visit. Or we could always—”

“Unfortunately, we need to return home, by the afternoon at the latest,” Rhysand interrupted smoothly. “I have court matters to attend to, and we have been away long enough.” Feyre sat next to him, not saying a word. I felt a pang of disappointment at his words. Dinner with the Night Court had become somewhat of a normalcy now. I expected to see them there, to engage in conversation with someone other than Varian, Cresseida, or my other advisors. Dinner was quiet after that, with no one really sure what to say.

I walked them to their rooms, each step that took us closer to this final night with visitors making me sadder.

I kissed Feyre's cheek, fully aware of Rhysand’s watchful gaze. “I wish it wasn't your last evening. But perhaps I will see about visiting the Night Court soon.”

Rhysand placed his hand at the small of Feyre's back, not saying a word as she bid me good night.

~~~

I walked into my study to find Cresseida sitting at my desk. I stopped in the doorway.

“There you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking for you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing here, Cresseida?”

“When were you going to tell me about this?” she asked without preamble, holding a folded paper in her hand. I could tell it was Tamlin's letter—the one that Varian had argued with me about a few days before.

“Where did you get that?” I asked harshly.

“I’ll be the one asking the questions, Tarquin,” she snapped. “You would put your entire court all in danger over a girl?”

I bristled at her tone. “I know what I'm doing.”

“Do you though?” She unfolded the letter. “Tarquin,” she read aloud, “I write this letter as an urgent request for your help. Feyre was taken from my lands under duress by the Night Court, and I believe is being held against her will. If you should come into contact with her, or she should pass through your lands, please let her know I am working tirelessly to find her, and if you are able—”

“Cresseida,” I interrupted.

“—please send word and we shall retrieve her in the safest manner possible.” She folded the letter back up. “That doesn't sound like someone who respects her decisions.”

“I confirmed—”

“I don't care what you confirmed! The Spring Court has specifically requested her return if she enters our borders.” She sighed. “I’ve sent a return letter stating she's here. Someone from the Spring Court should be here to collect her before they depart in the afternoon.” I stared incredulously at her, not quite believing what I was hearing. She almost looked sorry. “It's what's best, Tarquin. For everyone involved.”

“Being Princess of Adriata does not give you the right to act like you rule my court, Cresseida.”

“Your judgement has clearly been clouded—”

“He locked her up!” I snapped. “The Night Court rescued her, and—”

“That is not our concern, Tarquin,” she replied simply. “We sometimes have to make hard decisions, ones we may not like or even agree with, because they are what is right. She was entered into a bargain as a mortal that she should have been released from when she died for Prythian. She stayed, was engaged to Tamlin, and stolen from him.” She shook her head. “I do this not out of any animosity for her, or even Rhysand. I do this because I don't want to see my city wrested away from us again because we didn't do as the law demands.”

“The law,” I said hotly, “is what keeps Tamlin from going after her now. Do you really think, after all we’ve seen of them during this visit, that Rhysand would be so stupid to leave a loophole so simple for Tamlin to take her back? That's why Tamlin is trying to get the other High Lords to do his work for him. If Feyre didn't want to be in the Night Court, she wouldn't be.”

“Do you really believe that?” she asked quietly. I nodded.

“I do.” I walked back towards the door.

“Where are you going?”

I stopped and turned back towards her. “To get them out of here and hope we don't end up in the middle of a war between two courts.”

~~~

I rushed down the hallway as the sun began to rise over the horizon. If I could just warn them, maybe they could leave before word reached Tamlin. I thanked the Mother that Cresseida hadn't thought to give the message to anyone who could winnow. I knocked frantically.

No answer.

I knocked again, but still nothing. I couldn't hear anything. I opened the door to Rhysand’s room.

The room was empty.

Well, his things were still there. Packed for their departure, and the bed untouched. As though he never went to sleep last night. I opened the connecting door to Feyre's door. The same thing.

A sparkle in my peripheral vision made me turn towards the dresser. Lying there neatly on the top was the black diamond necklace I had given Feyre. The one she had been wearing just last night.

“Tarquin!” I turned around and found Varian standing in the doorway, panting, his eyes wild with panic.

“We have a problem.”

~~~

“And so we came here immediately to let you know,” the guard finished. I felt sick to my stomach. The Book of Breathings. Stolen from right under our noses, my guards assaulted, and my court in absolute chaos. Many of the guards were currently in the healer’s wing, though none of their injuries were life threatening.

I couldn't even begin to imagine how they had managed it. The enchantments were keyed to me—to the Summer Court itself. And to have it stolen by people we had welcomed in as our guests…

Though I knew that it hadn't been confirmed, there was just too much evidence to ignore.

I felt anger at myself for falling for their act, betrayed that they would do such a thing to us after the hospitality we had shown them… especially by Feyre. The guilt in her eyes now made perfect sense. She had known exactly what they were going to do. I wondered idly if she had been in on this plan since they arrived, or if she had been involved after they got here.

“Tarquin.” I turned to look at Varian, who seemed uncharacteristically nervous. “The water.”

I looked to the bay outside the window to the dining room and found the sea choppy and dangerous—a mirror of my own feelings. I no longer cared how much they had charmed me, or if any of them had been genuine with me. The sea called for vengeance at this betrayal, and as it’s High Lord, I would give it what it asked.

“Lord Tarquin?” I looked up at the courtier who stood nervously at the table. “An emissary from the Spring Court is here to see you in the throne room.” I let out a curse. As if my morning couldn't possibly get any worse. I turned to Varian, who nodded.

“Send him in here,” he told the man. With a bow, the man left. Varian turned to me.

“Did Cresseida…?” His voice trailed off. I nodded, and he cursed under his breath as the door creaked open. The red haired man in fine clothes and a clearly well used sword that stood in the doorway before me was one I hadn't seen in a few months. His gaze, mismatched golden and russet, shifted between Varian and I before settling on me.

“Lucien,” I greeted him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” I knew exactly why he was here, but I wanted to hear it from him.

He walked up to the other end of the table and gave me a small bow. “Lord Tarquin, we received word from your court that the Night Court was here, along with our missing Lady Feyre. We hoped to be able to intercept them before they got away from us again.” The hope in his eyes made me hate to tell him.

“Yes, Cresseida unfortunately sent word without informing me. I am afraid that you have just missed them. They left in the middle of the night.”

Lucien's shoulders sagged, his expression weary and his eyes almost haunted. I wondered how long he had been searching for her, and what had happened since she had left the Spring Court.

“Should you come into contact with her again—”

“Lucien,” I said gravely. “If I come into contact with Lady Feyre again, she will be answering for crimes against the Summer Court.” He looked stunned.

“Crimes?” he asked incredulously. “What did she do?”

“That is Summer Court business, of no importance to the Spring Court,” I said flatly. I did not need another Court knowing that we had lost the Fae half of the Book of Breathings.

“Whatever happened, I can assure you that she was not a willing participant,” Lucien insisted. “She was kidnapped from the Spring Court by—”

“Yes, I heard about that.” An idea crossed my mind. “Tell me, Lucien,” I asked, “are the rumors true that Tamlin locked Lady Feyre up in the Spring Court?”

His posture stiffened. “No.” The clear lie wasn't even dressed up with an explanation. Likely less story to keep track of as he went to each court. “We received this letter not long ago from the Night Court,” Lucien said, changing the subject abruptly. He pulled a piece of paper from the inner pocket of his waistcoat and held it out to me. I looked to the Varian, who walked over to Lucien and took the paper from his hand.

I left of my own free will.

I am cared for and safe. I am grateful for all that you did for me, all that you gave.

Please don’t come looking for me. I’m not coming back.

“I mean, who would believe that she actually wrote this?” Lucien said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the realm. “She is illiterate.”

If that were the case, then Feyre's panic during the Second Trial suddenly made sense. I had never seen Feyre's handwriting, but I knew without a doubt this wasn't Rhysand's. Not that the handwriting was bad, but his penmanship was far more polished than this. Feyre had said that Tamlin respected her decisions, but I wondered if that was truly the case.

“Even if that is true, it does not change the fact that she has committed a crime.”

“But you know she would never do anything like that if she were herself,” Lucien argued, having not noticed that I had tuned him out. I felt pity for him. I wondered if he, or even his High Lord, knew Feyre completely. I wondered again if I had.

“I do not know that Lucien,” I said harshly. “Who can say who Lady Feyre truly is? We have only Under the Mountain and our own interactions to draw from, which clearly were different.” Lucien looked like he was about to say something, but thought better of it.

“I can promise her a chance to explain, and nothing more,” I continued as I rose from my chair. “Princess Cresseida will see to it that you and your men have a place to stay for the night so that you may be on your way home tomorrow.” Lucien looked surprised at my blunt dismissal, but bowed his head.

“Thank you, for your generosity,” he said, though I could tell from his expression that this had not gone at all how he had envisioned.

“If there is nothing else, I must take my leave. I have business to attend to.” Without waiting for Lucien to agree, I walked past him, Varian close on my heels.

“Tarquin, that—”

“We need to go to the vaults,” I interrupted. Varian’s eyes widened in understanding.

~~~

“Tarquin, are you sure—”

“I don't blame you, Varian. You and Cresseida tried to warn me. The consequences of this are mine to bear.” We stood in the middle of the vault I had first taken Feyre to only days before. It was amazing how quickly things changed. I had placed the necklace back on a shelf, but I had hidden it behind the gaudy ruby and gold one. I didn't even want to look at it. I opened the chest in front of me, revealing a small fortune in deep red rubies that had an almost sinister feel to them. Blood rubies. I let out a sigh and took two rubies in my hands, and placed them in the velvet of a box with a mother of pearl dagger inlaid on the top. With a heavy heart, I took a third and placed it next to the others. “Have a courier deliver this to the Night Court immediately.”

And closed the box with a snap.