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Chapter Text

Once, in a land carved of starlight, a Princess was born in a world of Princes.

She was not born soft, nor silent, nor particularly kind. She did not arrive wrapped in silk or praises from the priestesses, but in the finest threads of shadow this world could muster. She came screaming, violet-eyed and blood slicked, on a night when the moon was full and heavy in the sky and the wind whispered its song.

The stars called her holy. The crowns called her cursed.

The people called her the daughter of flame and shadow.

And the world, in all its beautiful cruelty, was not prepared for something that refused to bend to its whims.

They made her a soldier. Then a spy. Then a weapon cloaked in lace. They sent her into darkness and she came back with it wrapped around her finger. Her smile was a lie. Her hands were stained red. Her ledger was carved with names of men who had tried to own her.

And in the courts of monsters and monarchs, she was the most sought-after prize in all the lands. Some claimed it was strategy, others claimed it was fate. Most couldn't help their own morbid curiosity.

They loved her.

They feared her.

They betrayed her.

And in the end, they let her fall.

No one came when she screamed. No army or savior made it in time. No banners were raised, no horns were blown. There was no final blaze of glory. Only autumn leaves, silence, and the steady, slipping beat of her heart in the hollow of a dark forest.

She was thirty.

She was unarmed.

And she was bleeding.

The wind sang no lullaby. The sky held no mercy.

No one held her hand as she suffered.

Only the shadows stayed, those she was made of and those she presided over curling around her like mourning veils- as if even the darkness could not bear to leave her.

She thought of him.

Of the boy born in a cell, made of silence and sorrow. The boy whose scarred hands had held hers and made them holy before she even knew what it meant.

She had loved him every day of her life, and still- she had never said it. Not once.

Not like she meant it. Not like she should have.

She had whispered lies and half-truths and clever deflections, thinking there would be time.

But time was cruel. And she had run out of it.

As she took her final breaths, she stared at that moon in the sky and whispered her love to it.

For once, that silver-tongued liar finally told the truth.

But even in the silence, no one heard it.

And the girl who had once been everything- princess, spy, sinner, saint- closed her eyes beneath an Illyrian moon...

...and died.

Some say the world went black. Some say that the screams of those who loved her are still echoing through the land.

But everyone, peasant, soldier, and lord alike, saw the moon fade into darkness that night.

For she was not just a Princess.

She was the blood of the sword, the temper of the crown, and the soul of the moonlight.

The Sword had been her shield. A warrior carved of rage and loyalty, who would have torn down the skies if he'd known she had fallen from them.

The Crown had been her curse. A brother forged in prophecy and burden, who carried too many secrets and realized too late that she was one of them.

The Moon had been her mate. A boy made of silence and shadows, whose heart had only ever beat for her. When she fell, so did he- and the world felt it. The world saw it.

For what is the night without its moon?

And the Hunter- the one she should have hated- was the only one who found her.

It was not glory or grace that led him to her body, but blood. A trail of it, thick and red across the earth, leading to where she had been burned for the last time.

And when the world had deemed her gone, when the gods had already turned their backs, it was the Hunter who knelt. The boy with the golden hair and the beast with the emerald eyes. The one who had broken her and saved her in the same breath.

He wept. Sobbed his apologies. Screamed until his throat went raw.

But when he envisioned the worst days of his life- this among them- they had all led back to the same place. The only place that could have ever saved her, a destiny written in blood and starlight.

And in the darkness of that moonless night, he lifted her broken body into his arms and vanished into the black.

He covered his tracks, as all Hunters do, and paid the price for a crime he did not commit.

History does not remember the ones who arrived too late. It forgets the shadows who searched for her, the brothers who mourned her, the mate who shattered and left his heart in that forest with her. It buried the truth beneath politics and silence and war.

But the land remembers.

The stars remember.

And somewhere on the other side of the world, the girl who died beneath the Illyrian moon opened golden eyes and gasped for breath. 

Chapter Text

500 years later, Present

Hybern- Palace of Bone

Feyre

Somewhere down the bond, I could feel Rhys trembling.

Rage or pain or sorrow, maybe all three tangled together. Every breath I managed to force down, every place where my skin met Tamlin's- wrong. It was all so wrong. The scent of Spring that had once comforted me, arms that had once been my home, now prickled at my skin like a thousand tiny needles.

It took nearly everything inside of me, and then some, not to recoil. Not to let the fear and the anguish show on my face as I saw the look on Rhys's.

"Do it." Tamlin commanded the King of Hybern, voice emotionless, "Break it."

"No." The word tumbled out of Rhys's mouth, and the fear in it- the devastation in that one tiny little word-

I know you can hear me. A voice sounded in my mind, my entire body going rigid with the sound, I know you have your power back.

Not Rhys's voice but... Tamlin's?

I twisted in his arms, looking over at his face, but I found nothing. No sign that he was doing anything but looking at the King of Hybern and laying claim over something that was not his.

But the voice sounded again.

When he strikes, you have to scream. Scream as if you're dying, and hide the tattoo on your arm.

Something crackled in the room, like an ancient beast creaking an eye open, creation itself trembling as the King raised his hand.

Please, Feyre. I will explain, just play along.

I did not have time to react, did not have time to make a decision, before the Cauldron erupted. One brilliant beam of pure white power spearing towards me. And it was as if time had slowed, as if everything was dripping by while I remained helpless to stop it.

I braced myself for the pain, for what I was sure may very well be my last breaths. Steel in my shoulders and tension through every last inch of me but-

It never came.

At the very last heartbeat, right before that power struck, Tamlin's hand rose. A twist of a glamour snapped into place around us, so believable that even I had to blink to free myself from its enchantment. It looked as if that power was hitting straight in the center of my chest to everyone else, but what I saw, what I felt, was much different.

Because Tamlin's hand was held out in front of us, and a shield had been raised. Not with his power, or any power I'd ever known him to possess at least, but with something else. Something that looked like light, spewing from a shimmering gold bracelet on his wrist. No more than a simple circlet of metal.

A band of gold that somehow had the ability to shield a blow from the Cauldron.

I did not question his command, whatever had pleaded into my head. I just threw my head back and I screamed. I thrashed, violent and feral and desperate. I screamed like I was on the brink of death, like something was shattering inside of me.

Somewhere in the chaos, I could hear Rhys roaring. I could feel his emotions, his sorrow, his pain, his confusion as something snapped within him.

Something written in his very blood, a shockwave that traveled through every vein.

Something that was not the mating bond.

Because that light, all that power, faded away. Tamlin's glamour dropped, and I could still feel him.

Still there, still intact, still mine.

I stopped my screaming, trading it for panting breaths and sagging against Tamlin. As if I was exhausted, as if I had just been irrevocably changed and not just very, very confused.

Rhys was panting on the floor, eyes wild, entire body shaking as he crawled towards his brothers. Cassian was unconscious now, wings shredded and blood pooling, but Azriel-

Azriel was wide awake.

I had never, not once, seen Azriel with that look on his face. Hazel eyes wide as if he'd just been struck by lighting, something devastated and hopeful at the same time written in them. Black shadows swirling, not with the slow, deliberate movements that they typically had, but frantic- as if they were searching for something.

I didn't have time to consider it, or even think about anything that had just happened before Tamlin pulled me to my feet. He grabbed my hand, eyes meeting mine for just one flash before he ripped my glove off.

I threw a glamour up immediately, so that the skin of my hand was clear. No tattoo in sight.

It hit me quite suddenly then, the realization that Tamlin was playing a game. A dangerous game.

He was lying to them, hiding something, protecting me and Rhys-

Why the hell would he be protecting us?

"It's gone." He murmured, as if he was more relieved than he'd ever been, eyes meeting mine, "You're free."

Was I?

Mor scrambled over to Rhys, pulling him off the ground, wiping Cassian's blood from his face. There was some look in her eye, almost like Azriel's but worse somehow, darker. Like a realization and a terror all at once as she wrapped her arms around a sobbing Rhys.

Either my mate was taking acting classes I did not know about, which was a definite possibility, or he had absolutely no clue that Tamlin was doing any of this.

Could Rhys not hear his thoughts too? Were those messages only for my head?

How did he know how to do that?

I reached with whatever magic I had towards Tamlin, but all I found were shields so thick and high that I heard absolutely nothing on the other side. Hard marble covered in ivy and golden gates. Utterly impenetrable.

"Thank you." His voice pulled me back to reality, some false earnestness twisting through it as he looked at the King- who ignored him entirely.

"You are free to go, Rhysand." The man waved a hand, dismissive and cold as he sat on his throne, "Your... friend's poison is gone. However, I'm sure the other bastard's wings will be harder to fix. I'd deal with that, if I were you."

Rhys didn't so much as glance back at him, but Azriel-

What the hell was that look on Azriel's face?

What was the look on the King of Hybern's face, as he looked back at him? A burning sort of hatred, as if our spymaster was no more than dirt on the bottom of his shoe, as if he'd personally wronged him in some inconceivable way-

For the briefest of moments, my eyes met Mor's. I could see her indecision, her tears slipping down her cheeks.

I nodded.

My first and last command as their High Lady, for her to leave me here, for her to let this mess fall into my hands.

For them, for my family, I could do this. I could be strong. I could play... whatever game Tamlin was playing.

Faster than light, Mor winnowed to my sisters. She ripped them away from Lucien, vanishing into mist and shadow with no more than a blink. Rhys clutched onto Azriel and Cassian, not even sparing me a second glance before he vanished too.

And when Lucien saw Elain disappear, his mate, the roar that left him was so loud that it shook the halls. At once, chaos erupted in the room. The King was screaming at Jurian for not restraining my sisters, and Tamlin was pulling me away from the chaos, pushing me behind him-

"Get them back." Lucien screamed at Tamlin.

He didn't even flinch.

"Do you know what Illyrian bastards do to pretty females?" Jurian taunted, some predatory satisfaction in his eyes, "You won't have a mate left- at least not one that's useful to you in any way. Ask your High Lord. He knows all about that-"

"Quiet." Tamlin snarled.

Jurian just grinned back.

What the hell were they talking about? What the fuck was going on right now?

"Where is it?" The King interrupted, eyes trained on me, "Where is the Book?"

What part was I meant to be playing right now?

I went with the same I'd been before all this erupted, helpless woman finally freed from her own corrupted mind. A woman who held no Book, who just so happened to forget it over there where my family had once been.

I just shook my head, looking up at the King of Hybern, "Perhaps you shouldn't have been so quick to dismiss them."

His mouth settled into a hard line, "I expect your presence here when it is retrieved."

Don't hold your breath, I wanted to snarl- but I kept my mouth shut. I forced myself into exhaustion, as if I could not bear all that had occurred in this godforsaken room today.

I wasn't sure how much of it was an act.

"Tamlin." I pleaded, "Take me home."

He did not glance twice at the King of Hybern. Power scented like rain and roses swirled around me, and no more than a second later- we vanished.

I found myself standing in the Spring woods. Freshly bloomed violets and old moss, damp earth and a symphony of singing willows. I found no comfort in it, no sense of home.

I longed for mountain air and cold, crisp winds, a bustling glowing city filled with life, not the marshy ground in front of a shimmering pool of silver starlight. And before I could even think to slip on a mask, Lucien spoke.

"Think they bought it?"

His voice was still tinged with unease, but there was a relief in it. A hope I didn't quite recognize somewhere under all the horror.

Tamlin immediately dropped my hand, stalking through the clearing, his voice no more than a grumble, "If they didn't, they certainly did a good job of hiding it."

I didn't even bother trying to hide the confusion on my face.

"Feyre." Lucien turned to me, "Did Rhysand notice that the bond was still there?"

I blinked a few times, feeling like a mouse caught in a trap, "I- I don't..."

"Rhys isn't the problem. Not really." Tamlin spoke, his back to us, "He knows how to keep a secret."

"Not if he doesn't know that it needs to stay a secret." Lucien glanced over at him, "The King absolutely cannot know, not until we are on the battlefront."

"What-" I looked between them, "What's happening?"

Neither of them bothered to answer me.

Lucien was still worried about... something. I couldn't tell what, only that his eyes were darting around almost frantically, the gold one whirring quickly, "It has to stay under wraps. Our entire strategy relies on-"

"I know about your strategy." Tamlin interrupted, "I said it will be fine."

I looked around the clearing, at that ancient willow tree and the glimmers of the last rays of dusk dancing across the pool of starlight. Memories tugged in the back of my head, but none that had answers.

I just drifted over to where Tamlin was standing, taking up a spot next to him at the edge of the pool, my hand on his arm, "Please explain to me what's going on."

He shrugged my hand off as if it burned him, an indecipherable look twisting on his face, "You can drop the act now, Feyre."

I didn't entirely know why I started to panic, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Tamlin finally deigned to look at me, "Yes, you do."

When I met his eyes, the familiar emerald I had known and loved and memorized, emotion and light I had thought I was an expert in reading- nothing I recognized was staring back at me.

He sighed as if he was exhausted with me, with all of this, "I didn't come to steal you away from Rhys. I just needed the King to think I was."

"What do you mean?" I said, almost on instinct, "Rhys- Rhysand was holding me captive. He twisted my mind."

Lucien lifted his head from his hands, his voice dry, "No, he didn't. Do you honestly think we are that gullible, Feyre?"

I didn't have an answer for that. I just kept staring at Tamlin, kept waiting to find an explanation I didn't have, waiting for him to say something, anything, that explained a single thing that had just happened.

A single thing that was happening now.

And it was as if he knew that when he ran a hand through his hair, looking away again, "Rhys is not my enemy."

My jaw dropped open before I could stop it.

If he noticed my shock, he let nothing show, "Our feud, the stories, it's much more complicated than it seems. It's... a mask- to hide what's beneath."

A mask?

"I needed the King to use the Cauldron to break a bargain- one that Rhys's father made, one that passed down to him when he became High Lord. I didn't-" He looked back at me, earnesty slipping into his voice- something I finally recognized as he said, "I had no clue about what Ianthe was doing, or what he had planned for your sisters. I swear."

I swayed on my feet, suddenly feeling very lightheaded, "So... you and Rhys don't actually hate each other?"

"He hates me. Vehemently- and rightfully so, with the story he's been told." There was an echo of... sadness? Grief? Something decidedly blue in his voice when he continued, "What I'm telling you is that the sentiment isn't mutual. I'm saying that what Rhys thinks happened between us isn't what happened at all."

The story. That story.

Rhys's mother and sister. Wooden boxes floating down the river and wings pinned in the Spring Court study. The utter destruction of both of their families in the aftermath.

I blinked a few times, some kind of boldness returning to me now, "Well, the story I heard-"

"Isn't even close to true." Tamlin finished for me, "My Court played no part in the murder of the Lady and Princess of the Night Court."

It was a secret spilled into too-still air, an almost... unbelievable secret. But even if I could not read the entirety of what was occurring on Tamlin's face, I knew enough to know that he was telling the truth.

Because I watched his face crumple then, heard as the certainty in his voice cracked apart into something far more fragile, something that was far realer than any moment we'd ever shared when he said, "I didn't know, Feyre. I didn't. I swear. Not until it was too late. Leur was my best friend."

I'd never heard that name before.

My brows furrowed, "Leur?"

For a second, anger sparked in his eyes. Not at me, but at my confusion, "Rhys's sister. That's her name- Leuruna. Everyone called her Leur. "

All at once, I realized how strange it was that I hadn't even known her name before now. All that hatred in Rhys's eyes, all that pain I'd seen as he told me the story of her loss, but I knew nothing about her. His mother- Rhys spoke of his mother all the time. Cassian and Azriel, too.

All I'd ever heard about his sister was that she had been betrayed by Tamlin and loved that bridge by the riverbend in Velaris. No stories. Nothing.

She was like a ghost, lingering somewhere in the background- and it was her murderer, not her family, that finally spoke her name to me.

Leuruna.

I didn't know if I was manipulating Tamlin to tell me more or being genuinely honest when I said, "I think it... pains them to speak of her."

The twitch in his brow, the anger in his eyes masked but not hidden- that was real. Undeniably real. I couldn't pretend otherwise.

"I know that." He sighed, "It's just... it's a complex story. We're the same age. When we were younger, we were betrothed. All you really need to know is that I love-" A deep breath, as if he was schooling himself. A few blinks as his eyes opened and met mine again, "I loved her. I never, ever would have intentionally hurt her."

What the hell was happening right now?

That's her name.

Is. Not was. Is.

We're the same age.

Are. Not were. Are.

I blinked, "But... you let Rhys think you did?"

"I couldn't tell him the truth." He sighed, "And at the time, that was the only other option."

"And the truth?" I pushed.

In a split second, his face went right back to that rage. A rage so deep, so primal, so unimaginably old, that I had to stop myself from backing away from him. Like a wound that had been festering for far too long, infected and scarred over to trap the rot inside.

"The truth is that their father was an evil, cruel man who forced his children to become what he expected of them." Tamlin spat, "And when Leur refused to play by his rules anymore, when she defied him- he had her killed."

My breath caught in my throat.

"I don't-" I tripped over my words, pressure slamming into my temples, "I don't understand what any of this has to do with the King... or what's happening now."

"The bargain the King broke in Rhysand today- it was a blood bargain. One Leur made with her father before... everything." He said, "She was to be banished from Prythian entirely for her defiance."

My jaw, if it had ever been closed, dropped open, "Exile?"

Bitterness creeped into Tamlin's voice, "I guess even that wasn't enough punishment for him."

Was it possible... could Rhys's sister have been alive and exiled the entire time?

If she was dead, the bargain would have just died with her- no? Why break it?

"What just happened, what's about to happen- it's been brewing far longer than any of us have been alive. It's bigger than any of us. Bigger than Amarantha. Bigger than the King- even." Tamlin's voice dropped low, as if the words demanded too much reverence to be spoken above a whisper, "The true war is starting, Feyre. And when the King broke that bargain, we fired the first arrow."

There was silence then. I was here, dangling off of Tamlin's every word and knowing I was about to fall, while the entire world went silent. The song of the willow tree, the whisper on the wind, the animals and beasts rustling in the trees- all of it stopped. All of it listened. All of it knew, just as I did, that Tamlin's words were the truth.

And somewhere in all of that, there was a hesitation I hadn't really ever seen from Tamlin. As if he was fighting with himself, as if he was admitting his deepest, darkest secret. And when he opened his mouth, when he finally spoke those words into the silent wind and song of this forest, I realized he was.

He told me a secret, older than imagine, with the power to change everything.

"It matters because Leur is alive." He said, calm- as if he wasn't setting the entire world on fire with every word, "I found her after they came for her. She was... gone. But I knew of this place. I knew what it could do. I knew that her name was written in this starlight long before she took her first breath. "

He gestured to the pool in front of us, shimmering like liquid moonlight, "This place is more than what it seems, Feyre. The stars- they knew what she was. They were waiting for her. And when she died, they brought her back."

I barely heard my own voice as I spoke, "She's... she's alive? She's been alive this whole time?"

"Yes." Tamlin finally turned and met my eyes, "And when the King believed he was shattering your mating bond, he was actually breaking the bargain that kept her in exile."

The world around us started to buzz. As if even the trees, the swaying grass, the field of violets next to us and the pool of starlight before us knew the gravity of what he'd just said.

In my head, all I saw was the look on Rhys's face when he spoke of her. The absolute devastation that lingered even after all this time, the broken heart that had never pieced itself back together correctly.

I found myself looking at Lucien, waiting for him to say it had all been some horrible, cruel joke. Instead, I found confirmation.

"You took the fall for her death to keep her resurrection a secret." The words spilled from my mouth before I could stop them, shaking as I stared at Tamlin, "Rhys doesn't know."

It wasn't a question, and yet I was still begging for him to tell me I was wrong. Begging for him to tell me that my mate did not suffer all this time in guilt and grief so potent that he couldn't even speak her name, and the whole time- the whole time...

Tamlin flinched, but nodded anyway.

If she was Rhys's sister, then she was powerful. Obscenely powerful. The kind of power that could turn the tide in this war.

But one look at the way Tamlin was staring at that water in front of us, one glance at the impatient way he was tapping his fingers on his thigh and the way he was biting the inside of his cheek- told me that wasn't the reason he'd brought her back.

I loved her, he'd said. In what way, I supposed it didn't matter.

I knew a lot of other people who had loved her too.

"Why?" My voice came out a whisper, "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

He let out a long sigh, rubbing the back of my neck, "It's... complicated."

"That's not an answer."

"It's all a tangle of lies and secrets, Feyre. Everything they think they know about her." His voice sounded as old and tired as he truly was as he said, "I committed to something when I took the blame. I told a lie because the truth wasn't my secret to tell- and I paid the price for it. I didn't even know saving her had worked until centuries after that day."

I was stuttering, barely able to form the words I needed to say, "But- but Rhys... Rhys deserved-"

"When I found her again, when she was truly... herself again, she didn't want me to tell him. Any of them. I did what she asked because I owed her that." He paused for a moment as his jaw clenched, the wind ruffling through his hair, "I don't owe Rhys anything. He already took enough."

I didn't ask if he meant me or his family. I had a feeling the answer was both.

My entire world tilted on its side, but Tamlin wasn't done pushing. Not yet, not until he said, "My opinion is that everything good in Rhys died when those boxes floated down the river. And I know you'll disagree. Leur disagrees too. Trust me, I don't need to have this fight more than I already have."

Rhys's mask. The cruelty, the wickedness- I realized only now that Tamlin did not just choose not to see past it. He was incapable of it, not when that mask had gone up on the same day they both lost everything.

"You don't understand." I said. And though I knew it was fruitless, I tried anyway, "Do you think you're the only one who has secrets more complicated than they seem?"

He was quiet for a long, long moment. In that silence, I knew that this was the most honest conversation we'd ever shared. I was not cowering in fear from him or lashing out because I didn't know what to do with my own affection. I was not suffering in silence, waiting for him to see what was right in front of him.

He saw me now. And finally, after everything we'd been through together, now that it was over- I saw him. What was truly beneath the mask. The true mask, not the gold and emerald Amarantha had seared onto his face.

He didn't look at me when he spoke. He just kept staring at the water, watching the silver lick the shore, waiting for the impossible to become possible, his voice quiet and gentle in the way I knew he spoke when he was saying something real.

"I think..." He paused. Took a breath. Let it out slow, "I think that your mate has never given me a reason to see anything different. And he doesn't owe me one, not with what he thinks I did to her. Not with what he knows I did to you." 

His eyes lifted up to the moon cutting through the red and violet hues of the sun's death, just for a moment, but somewhere in that moment- I could see the pain on his face. The grief that had nowhere to go and nothing to be but rage, stripped bare to the vulnerability beneath as he whispered, "But I've been waiting. The Mother knows I waited anyway and nothing has ever come."

And in the next blink, before I could even comment on the words he'd said, it was over.

His eyes refocused on those waters and his mask went right back up, but I wasn't done talking.

"He saved me."

His head snapped over to me, "What?"

"From you." I lifted my chin to him, "He saved me from you."

Tamlin didn't say anything, just stared at me. I met his eyes, "If he never did another good thing in his life, then you can say he did that. There's your proof."

I expected hurt on Tamlin's face. In some way, that was why I had said what I said. I wasn't merely defending Rhys, but clearly... I didn't know what was behind that mask at all.

Instead of hurt, Tamlin's lip quirked up. He almost looked, satisfied, not broken when he answered, "I suppose that's true."

To escape from the way this entire conversation made me want to throw up, I looked at Lucien. It was clear that Tamlin knew what was on the other side of this pool, but the way Lucien was talking made me think he did too. And while Tamlin had his reasons to keep it a secret, I wondered why Lucien had done the same.

"And you've met her?" I asked him.

A nod.

"She's powerful?"

He blinked a few times, as if the very idea that I had to ask was preposterous, "You could say that."

"She's a shadowsinger." Tamlin spoke, eyes still trained on that pool, "The only other in existence, besides her mate."

Her mate?

Azriel?

The look on his face, that shock... could he feel her?

Did he know?

I felt like I was going to be sick. The world tilted as I leaned over, bracing my hands on my knees, forcing deep breaths down into my lungs.

It didn't help.

"You're overwhelming her." Lucien said, almost accusatory towards Tamlin as he rubbed my back.

"We're all overwhelmed." Was all Tamlin had to say for himself, sparing me a glance over his shoulder before he returned to his never-ending watch over the lake.

"It was all a ploy to get her home." Lucien murmured quietly next to me, "And you'll.... you'll see why. You'll like her."

I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him how utterly insane the words he'd just said to me were, but the sun had fully slipped below the horizon now. Any last trace of twilight had vanished, leaving us standing under a night sky blossoming with stars, a strange wind ruffling through my hair.

Birds hiding in their trees flew away, a rumble in the ground below my feet as magic burst in the air. The pool of starlight shifted, going from a minor glow to bursting light in no more than a blink, waves of its silken waters brushing up against my feet. I covered my eyes, staggering away, trying to figure out if I should run whenever everything just... stopped.

It all went back to normal in the blink of an eye- everything still and quiet.

And that was when I heard the melody.

As if everything had started singing the same tune, from the tall trees we stood by to the very ground beneath our feet. Every flower, every leaf, every drop of starlight- all singing the same song. A chorus in perfect tune with the rumble of the earth under my feet. I blinked a few times, spots dancing in my vision from that burst of light.

The song started to build. I felt Lucien tense, heard Tamlin take a breath, and then- right as that song reached its peak...

A hand broke through the surface of the water.

A female hand, golden skin marked with tiny droplets of silver, somehow smaller than I'd expected and then-

A head of wet, black hair, a gasp for breath. A sparkle of starlight splashing as Tamlin ran into the water, helping her towards the shore.

She coughed then, a shuddering breath and a low murmur, "I did that way too fast."

Tamlin chuckled, pulling her up to the shore and steading her as she kept coughing. His large frame blocked her from my sight, but I could hear him.

I could hear her.

I could feel power, familiar and different at the same time, an air of it that felt like the air was buzzing. As if the very land around us was welcoming her home.

"You're back." Tamlin murmured, amazement in his voice.

The woman's voice was slightly hoarse, but beneath the rawness- there was something beautiful about it. Like a melody and a command all at once, even with casual words, "I'm back."

All at once, I felt very, very out of place. All this history, all this weight, and I knew none of it.

And the smile on Lucien's face, the reverence in Tamlin's voice- it was like they were people I didn't know. As if keeping this monumental secret had split their personalities in two.

Tamlin shifted a bit, just enough that I could catch a glimpse of her. She was smaller than I thought she would be. Maybe just because of the way Tamlin spoke of her or the weight of the grief I knew Rhys felt. I had expected some imposing figure, for some indiscernible reason.

She barely reached Tamlin's shoulder.

Though, she wasn't petite. This girl... this girl was a warrior. More curves and muscle than I could ever dream of having, steady on her feet, with a posture that demanded authority without a single word- even soaked to the bone.

All at once, I knew what Tamlin meant when he said the stars knew what she was.

The silver starlight bled across her golden skin like a lover's touch- tender and reverent, as if it was in communion with her. It didn't shimmer or sparkle- it sang. As if the stars themselves had reached down from the sky to mark her as their chosen thing, their sacred flame, their ruler.

The glow wasn't just on her—it knew her. Every glint, every glisten, curved to her bones like it had waited an eternity to return home.

She didn't wear the stars.

She was their altar.

And despite it all, swirls of shadow drifted around her. They weren't purely black like Azriel's, but... lighter in a way. A strange grey, almost tinged with a lavender sort of color, but they blended too well with the darkness around us to see clearly.

There was a rush of power, no more than a twitch of her finger, and all of that liquid starlight vanished. Her gown, midnight black and jeweled like the night sky, was dry and more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. Long tresses of raven black hair that fell in waves and curls down her back, a glittering crown of amethyst and diamonds fashioned into three stars sitting atop her head.

When Tamlin fully moved out of the way and she lifted her face to look at him, the world seemed to tilt.

I nearly dropped to my knees.

If there had been any doubt of who she was, it vanished.

She was the spitting image of her brother. Bright violet eyes and the same devastatingly beautiful features- full lips, thin nose, high cheekbones. But her eyes, they were not the narrow, curved eyes that Rhys has. No, her eyes were large, adorned with kohl- like the eyes of a doe. It looked as if there were galaxies swirling within them, enchanting in some irrevocable sort of way, a weight of wonder and unshed tears as she looked around.

Exile. That was what Tamlin said.

Rhys had said she died a year after the last war with Hybern. Five centuries ago.

Five hundred years of exile.

That was Rhys's sister, that woman standing there. Rhys's sister, who was so beautiful I nearly forgot how to speak, who looked like she was holding the weight of a hundred lifetimes in her eyes. I could sit and mix a million different shades of purple, play with light and shadow with my paintbrush until my fingers went numb, and I would never be able to recreate the emotion and weight in her stare.

Regardless, I wanted to try.

"Are you okay?" Tamlin put his hands on her shoulders, pulling her attention back to him.

She cleared her throat, as if she was struggling to force down whatever emotion comes with such a monumental moment, "Not even a little bit."

She sounded like Rhys, a faint Illyrian accent covered by the velveteen smoothness of the High Fae. But the melody I had heard before, it was so much clearer now. An almost enchanting musical quality to the way her words flowed together, the way it blended with the sounds around us, like everything she said was backed by the hushed whispered on the wind.

My mind could not wrap around the fact that she was real, that she was alive and breathing, standing right here, talking to the male that had supposedly killed her with her brother's face and voice and shadows curling up her arms.

Lucien let out an almost hysterical laugh, laced with relief as he rushed forward and wrapped her in a hug. All the mystery about her faded into the background when she laughed, soft and light, "You saw me less than a day ago."

"Yeah, well it's been a pretty shit day." He muttered.

The smile on her face faded to something much softer, black brows knitting together, "Pray tell."

It was Tamlin who answered, "There was a... complication in Hybern."

"Oh?"

"Ianthe apparently went there behind our backs and decided to make a deal of her own."

This distraction, while monumental, was not enough to surpass the rage that swelled in me when Tamlin spoke, the memory in my head of Elain thrashing as they tossed her into the black water, the fire in Nesta's eyes when she pointed.

I was almost positive I would go to my grave with those memories seared into my eyes.

Leur, it seemed, wasn't pleased at all. A familiar frown curved across her beautiful face, "Why is she still living?"

I liked her already.

An exhausted look from Tamlin, a comfortable scolding in the way he said, "Leur."

"Right." She nodded, as if catching herself, "Go on."

"She revealed that Feyre had sisters, and where they were." Tamlin continued, "The Mortal Queens wanted immortality, and so the King used them as a demonstration that the Cauldron has the power to grant it."

She shut her eyes, rubbing her temples. Her voice was completely flat as she said, "Wonderful."

"One of them is Lucien's mate." Tamlin added.

She took a deep breath, eyes finally opening as she turned towards Lucien. Her left hand clenched and unclenched, over and over, as if she was trying to banish out the stress.

I recognized that habit. Rhys did that. All the time.

"Congratulations." She answered sarcastically, only to be met with a grimace. She didn't linger on it, just turned back to Tamlin, "Are they safe? Did everyone make it out okay?"

"They're with your family." He answered, "They're safe but I'm sure they're not okay."

"Well." She let out a long suffering breath, glancing around the clearing before her eyes went back to Tamlin, "I guess we'll add that to the list of reasons why the King of Hybern needs to die."

He just snorted, "What will that be? Reason number one thousand?"

"I don't't know. I lost count at least a few centuries ago." She waved him off before switching the subject again, "And everyone else? Is my family okay?"

My family.

I realized then that me and her had the same family- that she belonged with them just as much as I did.

How the hell were they all going to react to this? Should I have already reached down the bond for Rhys?

Tamlin took a sharp breath in, and I watched the moment that she read him like a book. Watched her jaw clench and her eyes turn into daggers.

"Can you just try to stay calm, Leur?" Tamlin held a hand out towards her, as if she were a dam about to break.

"Depends on what you're about to say." She answered, "Spit it out."

"Rhys and Mor are fine. Cassian and Azriel..."

Her face went as white as the ghost she was supposed to be, and Tamlin froze up- as if he couldn't get the words out, not in the face of her stare. I found my own voice somewhere in the back of my throat, deciding to grant Tamlin mercy, "Azriel was shot with an ash arrow- to get us to comply. He was bleeding a lot but he was conscious. The King negated the poison before we left so-"

Her eyes shot over to me, wide and filled with a look that I recognized. A worry and a terror that Rhys had when he believed I was in danger. As if she was some kind of mirror of him, paling more and more with every word out of my mouth.

Her and Azriel were definitely mates, which begged the question- how the hell didn't I know that?

"But Cassian." I swallowed hard, trying to get my mouth to form the words, "When the King activated the Cauldron, he shielded Azriel with his wings and-"

She flinched, face tight as she ground out, "Please, put a shield up."

My memories of his screams, of that image of his wings shredding, it was at the front of my mind. I was practically screaming it at her with no shield.

"I'm sorry."

She visibly relaxed as that mental wall went up in my mind, though I watched a swath of her shadows dart off into the darkness, as if she'd sent them to find answers. Hers moved differently than Azriel's. They were faster, swirling and twisting, never stopping. Like a dance, like starlight given life.

It was unsurprising that she was a Daemati, and an extremely powerful one at that- she was Rhys's sister after all.

Wholly and entirely his sister as she took a deep breath, and all that fear, all that terror- simply vanished behind a mask. When her eyes reopened, there was a completely calm smile on her face.

"You're Feyre Archeron." She spoke, "My brother's mate."

Something about her addressing me directly, the sheer beauty of her face, the familiarity of it, the air of power around her- had me stumbling for words. As if my brain had somehow shut down somewhere in the absurdity of the last hour, and all I could manage anymore was a pathetic, "Yes."

I hadn't known what I had expected, what exactly I was picturing when Rhys spoke of her. But what I knew I hadn't expected, in the short span of time that I'd known she was alive, was the immediate acceptance in her eyes, the warmth that blossomed on her face. As if that confirmation was all she had needed.

For a moment, the humor that sparked in her eyes, the smile on her face- she almost reminded me of Cassian in a way. The welcoming nature, the refusal to let things be awkward- she'd know him, surely. Rhys had said they were all close. I wondered-

"Well, I don't think I need to tell you who I am." She interrupted my thoughts, motioning to her face, "I always wanted a sister." She took a few steps towards me, holding out a hand, "My name is Leuruna, everyone calls me Leur."

A sister. Not just Rhys's sister, but my own now too.

As if it was just that simple, that easy, to gain a sister out of thin air.

For some inexplicable reason, tears threatened to well in my eyes.

I took her hand, her shadows skittering away from my touch like cool snowdrifts, but her skin was shockingly warm. Almost too warm to be normal, and... rough in some way. As if it was scarred.

I didn't check, just met her eyes, "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise." She smiled, holding my gaze for just one moment longer before she glanced back at Tamlin, "But- as lovely as this reunion is- we are lacking in time." Two lavender eyes found mine, "We need to go home."

Home.

The word hit me like thunder. And everything inside me, every bone and thread of my soul, agreed with her. Almost instinctively, I reached for the bond, seeking Rhys down its golden pathway, the rhythm of his breath and his heart on the other end like a tether back to life.

If he only knew what I was doing, who I was speaking to right now- I was certain he would rip the entirety of Prythian to shreds to get here.

"Feyre needs to make appearances when Hybern inevitably shows up to start investigating the wall." Lucien said, "And I'm almost positive Jurian will be here in the morning to discuss strategy."

Suddenly, as if it had just occurred to her, Leur's head snapped to Tamlin, "I can't fucking belive you made her come back here."

Tamlin flinched- flinched- and I realized with no small amount of shock that he, a High Lord, was afraid of her, "I couldn't very well leave her with Rhys after the King thought the bond was broken."

"I told you to bring them in on what you were doing." She sneered, "Clearly, you did not listen to me."

"If I walked into the Night Court, they'd kill me first and ask questions later."

That was more than likely true, but Leur paid it no mind. I could feel the power bleeding off of her, so potent that some instinct in me begged to shrink away from it.

Was it possible that she was more powerful than a High Lord?

"Oh? So, letters don't exist now?" She rolled her eyes, motioning to Lucien, "Isn't inter-Court dealings the entire job of an emissary? For someone who put up such a fuss-"

"Hybern could have easily intercepted a letter or any other communication. You know they've been watching Rhys just as much as we have." Tamlin was using that voice, the one that declared his word as final, "It was too great a risk."

Leur didn't even blink at that tone or the power behind it.

"Risk, my ass." She spat, "I think you just wanted an excuse to spend more time with Feyre."

"They have spies everywhere." Tamlin defended, "They'd have them here if they didn't think we were their allies."

Her eyes widened, genuine disbelief in them, "Have I taught you nothing?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but Leur cut him off, "You know what, no. I'm not even listening to your answer because it's not worth my time. You're unbelievable." She sighed, "We'll fight more later. I need a drink."

I realized that was her way of dismissing him. And perhaps it was a little sick, but some part of me enjoyed watching him be shut down like that.

I didn't have time to linger on it before she grabbed my hand, pulling me through the woods, navigating them as if she'd been born and raised here- "I've been home for five minutes and already I have to fight with these men." She grumbled.

I couldn't help it. It sounded like exactly what Mor would say, and I was exhausted, and I could barely process all that had happened in the past few days, let alone that I was walking through the woods talking to a dead girl. Despite it all, I laughed.

Through the gaps in the trees above us, her smile was lit by the moonlight. Irrevocably beautiful, like a piece of Rhys was here with me as we walked through the woods. It was intoxicating, that look on her face, the light in her eyes, and I couldn't keep myself from talking to her.

"You're certainly good at... handling Tamlin."

I wasn't sure if I was asking about her power or the way she so easily ignored his commands. Honestly, both had impressed me.

She scoffed, "I've been dealing with his bullshit for a long time. Over five centuries, now."

Right, best friends. I suppose that implied that they had grown up together.

"Where were you?" I couldn't help myself from asking.

She turned and looked at me, and then a ball of warm light appeared in her hand, lighting our path. It was a strange glow, too enchanting to be normal faelight- almost more like pure golden sunlight gathered in a ball. She didn't give me much time to ponder it before she answered, "The pool of starlight is a link between Prythian and a land across the Great Sea called Solarea."

Solarea- I'd seen it on my father's maps before. It was a massive territory, constantly war-torn and solely inhabited by fae, but my father had always said it was a place of unimaginable beauty. He'd never seen it himself, but he'd heard tales when he'd visited the human lands south of it during his travels.

I had so many questions, so much curiosity, so many things I wanted to know about her- but I found myself needing to know one thing above all of them.

"Was it really your father who betrayed you, not Tamlin?" My voice was quiet.

She took a sharp breath, the ball in her hand shaking a bit as she answered, "Yes, and he killed my father for what he did to me."

"Rhys hates him for what he did, or thinks he did." I answered before I could think better of it.

If it bothered her, there was no sign of it. No irritation or twitch, just a hollow sigh.

"I know." She answered, "I could have told him, everything, about the bargain I made with our father. I could have sent a letter home with Tamlin, or found a way to show him the truth- and believe me, I thought about it."

"But you didn't." I spoke, "Clearly, Tamlin visited you. Rhys could have too."

I realized too late that I was defending my mate, but Leur paid it no mind, "What's worse? Thinking I am dead or knowing I am alive somewhere he can't reach? Part of the bargain I made with my father was that I was never allowed to speak to anyone from the Night Court ever again, was it worth risking my brother's life and assuming a letter didn't count as speaking?"

I didn't know the answer, but she continued, "I don't know." She shook her head, an odd look on her face, "Maybe it's all an excuse I gave myself. Maybe I was just afraid."

"He misses you every day. I can feel it."

She laughed then, the bittersweet sound twinkling in my ears, "I know." Her smile died, "I think I was more afraid that if I saw him again, if I saw our family, it'd be so much harder to be away. I didn't think I was ever coming home... and I figured it was in everyone's best interest for me to stay dead to them."

I understood what she meant, but my heart broke at the prospect. I couldn't imagine how painful it must have been, how unimaginably lonely.

"They'll be happy to see you again." I offered, though it felt flat.

We were walking on the stone drive leading to the palace when she spoke again, the melody in her voice growing distant, "I would've burned the whole world to ash to get back to them. And you know, I almost did." She smiled without looking at me. "Good thing the stars got to me first."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I forced myself to stay quiet as she strode up the stairs to the palace. The black chiffon of her skirt billowed behind her as she did, tiny twinkling jewels shining with every flutter, as if the fabric was crafted of the night itself. There was an unimaginably casual ease to the way she threw those doors he had locked me behind open with a flick of her hand and waltzed right in as if she owned the place.

She was certainly Rhysand's sister.

"Love what you've done with the place, Tam," she called over her shoulder, her tone dripping with sarcasm. Her eyes scanned the pastel drapery and floral decor, and her lip curled slightly with distaste, "Very... spring."

"The Spring Court looks like the Spring Court." Lucien rolled his eyes as he walked in the door behind us, "Who would have thought?"

Leur turned her head, examining an intricate arrangement of fresh pink roses by the door as if they'd personally offended her, "I never cared for roses much."

"Lucien, light the fires. We'll burn them all." Tamlin strode through the doors next, giving her a sarcastic bow, "Any other requests, your Majesty?"

"Yes." Leur rolled her eyes, "Burn the florals, salt the earth, and maybe then this place will have some taste."

I bit back a laugh, watching as she made her way to a decanter of liquor and poured herself a generous glass. She looked so out of place here—this Illyrian warrior queen with her sharp edges and shadows—against the softness of the Spring Court's endless greenery.

She was everything I had wanted to be when I was trapped here.

Bold. Brave. Free.

I tried to ignore the way my heart pounded as the doors shut behind me, and I forced myself to take a deep breath as I stood in the entryway where I had collapsed in a mess of shadows and smoke. Leur's eyes snapped to me on a dime.

"Leave the doors open." She commanded.

As if it was that easy, Tamlin opened the door with a wave of his hand. As if all it took was one command.

The breath rushed back in my lungs, but Leur didn't comment on anything that had just happened. She didn't even make me acknowledge it.

Instead, she walked to the sitting room and sank onto the couch, her dress flowing with the sway of her hips. Every movement was fluid, controlled, like she had been born to command whatever space she occupied.

Blindly, like some sort of lost dog looking for its owner, I followed her.

"So, what's the plan?" She asked no one in particular, swirling the drink in her glass once before sipping it.

For someone who had just come out of a five hundred year long exile, she was certainly... calm.

Tamlin took a seat on the couch opposite her, his own drink appearing in his hand. I looked between them, the comfortable way they looked at eachother, the easy interactions, and wondered when the last time was that I saw Tamlin look so casual.

If I'd ever seen him look that casual and relaxed.

"You don't have a plan?" His brows rose, as if she was saying that the sky was green and the grass was blue.

"In case you haven't noticed, I've been a little distracted today, Tam." She shot him a look, "And of course, I have a plan. I'm asking if you have any input."

He scoffed, "Has hell frozen over?"

Her eyes narrowed, "Keep pushing me and I'll send you to go check."

I couldn't entirely hide my laugh, though Lucien made no effort to cover his own. Tamlin just smiled, shaking his head, "You're both free to do as you please. But Feyre needs to make a few appearances in front of Hybern. We can write off the majority of her absence as her recovering from being... mind controlled."

"Of course, we're free to do as we please." She blinked, looking mildly offended that he'd even have the nerve to offer- and I found myself liking her more and more with each passing second, "So, aside from Feyre playing docile Spring bride- you don't have any other requests?"

Tamlin took a sip from his own liquor glass, "No."

"Great." Leur said, "Well, I'm not interested in theatrics. Once Jurian is gone tomorrow, we'll be putting your emissary to good use and sending a letter to the Night Court."

"I told you." Tamlin said, "They have spies-"

"This is just getting insulting." She cut him off, "You do realize who you're talking to, right?"

Of course, she'd be a spy. I supposed that was unsurprising, all the shadows and secrets considered.

Tamlin just looked at her, "Rhys is going to level this entire fucking palace- you realize that, right?

A shrug, "You can afford a new palace."

"I can't afford to rebuild Prythian." Tamlin pinched the bridge of his nose, "So, if we could just call him here and then tell him-"

"The letter isn't going to Rhys." She waved a hand, dismissing him.

It was then, in the light, that I caught sight of the exact color of her shadows. A greyish lavender, like the shadows cast by bright sunlight on light stone, swirling around scarred hands as she spoke.

Burn scars- exactly like Azriel.

"You're the one who's so worried about spies." Leur gave Tamlin a look, "Hence why we'll be calling someone who can slip past them undetected."

For the second time in one night, Tamlin flinched- "Oh, so you don't just want my house destroyed, you'd like me to be dead as well."

She rolled her eyes, "He's not going to kill you- probably just... a light maiming."

Lucien burst out laughing so hard that I thought he might fall from his chair.

"Oh, that's really comforting." Tamlin put a hand on his chest, his voice dripping sarcasm, "I feel so much better. Thank you, Leur."

She didn't miss a beat, a mischievous smirk that looked like it belonged there spreading on her mouth, "You're welcome, Tam."

I laughed, and for a moment- everything didn't seem so terrible.

I looked at Tamlin, and I didn't see the monster I had made him out to be. I looked at him and I saw someone different than I'd ever known him to be, someone I didn't know but thought I might be able to forgive. I looked at Lucien and I could see how he could be my sister's mate. I didn't see the man who had stood by and watched as I faded, but the man I had met all those months ago when I first arrived here.

And then I looked at Leur, so similar to her brother, like a missing puzzle piece in my life- in all our lives, and all I wanted to do was to tell Rhysand.

Like air in my lungs, I wanted him to know. I wanted him to see his sister, I wanted him to know that Tamlin hadn't betrayed him, I wanted him to see the hope that I did when I looked around the room.

I reached for that bond, feeling it deep within my chest, and I was so close, just seconds away, from showing him. I could feel it in my mind, the images and the truth forming along that bond, and all I had to do was push. One push, and I could erase centuries of pain- to hell with what Tamlin thought he would do-

And I would have.

I would have, but then the shadows curled around Leur's ear and I watched her eyes go wide. She opened her mouth, terror on her face, just a moment away from warning us, 'Tamlin-"

The explosion tore through the manor before she could finish her sentence.

Glass shattered, the floor underneath us collapsing, walls tumbling to the ground, and I could feel my power shoot out of me instinctively. I gasped for air, feeling fire and smoke and ice in my veins all at once, and I searched for something, anything to help me. That wall of solid air, a beam of light, whatever could stop the way my body was crashing through the walls, or the screaming I could hear in my ears-

All around me, the manor shattered to pieces, burnt rose petals and torn shreds of ivy littering the debris flying all around me, and I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. There was no time.

And I had been so close, so close to sending that truth down the bond, so I morphed that message into the only words I could think of, one final desperate plea before I felt myself hit the ground and everything went black.

Help.

Chapter Text

Present

Prythian- House of Wind, Velaris, Night Court

Rhysand

"Majda needs some time, but Cassian's wings will recover." Mor's voice was solemn, shaken to its very core, "Amren says they're going to keep him asleep for a while."

I barely even registered the good news, not after everything that had happened today. All I could manage was a nod of my head, my eyes still trained on Azriel's sleeping face, "Good."

"He looks restless." Mor noted following my gaze.

I had no choice but to agree. Azriel did not look peaceful, laying there. He didn't look like he was healing. He looked like he had lost an extraordinary amount of blood and was still bleeding- which was the truth.

The wound from the ash arrow Jurian had shot him with had already closed, but Az had been bleeding long before he walked into Hybern's palace. 

He'd always been bleeding, in some way.

Even in the rare peace of unconsciousness, he looked haunted.

I didn't know where he'd sent most of his shadows, didn't know which enemy's darkness would be inhabited by something else tonight. There were too many to choose from now, too many names written down in blood red ink, too many problems coming from every direction to even hope to solve half of them.

Only a few defiant whisps remained, skittering across the bed to examine me sitting here watching them.

I managed a shrug for Mor, "He always does."

She didn't say anything to that. I knew she wouldn't, not when there was nothing left to say. There was no solution and both of us knew that.

But perhaps it was easier for us to talk about this unsolvable problem than it was to confront how irrevocably we'd failed today and created more problems with no solutions. The devil you know, and all that.

As usual, Mor didn't fail to pull her punches. She sucked in a sharp breath, "Listen-"

"Don't."

I didn't even look at her as I gave the command. I couldn't. I'd already seen enough rage and betrayal on her face for one day when I'd informed her that Feyre was High Lady. There wasn't enough strength left in me for any of it.

I couldn't sit with Cassian. The sight alone, and I'd bore witness to millions of battlefield injuries in my life, made me nauseous. Either from the guilt, the phantom pain in my own wings, or some horrible mix of both. Regardless, Amren had just about tossed me out on my ass- told me to come back once I'd fixed this mess.

The problem was that I didn't have a solution for anything.

Surely wallowing, as I was doing now, wasn't helping anything. But after that hit, after the King had broken... whatever he had broken- not the bond or the bargain, I knew that much- I felt completely dry of any energy. It had felt like my very blood was on fire, each beat of my heart spreading it further and every breath fanning the flames, until there was nothing left to burn but ash.

Had Feyre felt the same thing? Why hadn't the Cauldron snapped the ties between us?

I hadn't told the others what I felt. Not while Azriel was laying here half-dead and Cassian was in pieces in the other room.

Not when Feyre was gone.

Mor, of course, knew me well enough to know more was wrong than the obvious, but she didn't push. She backed off, brushing a wave of hair from Azriel's forehead before she slipped from the room. And then there was just me, my failure, and the shadows left.

It had only been an hour. Maybe two. I had no way of knowing. Time seemed to be passing like honey dripping off a spoon, too slow and still too uncontrollable to stop.

Already, I missed her.

I felt frayed apart, like today had lodged itself so deep into my bones that even the setting sun had not erased it. Feyre's sisters thrown in the Cauldron, my own brothers torn apart, the loss of my mate to Tamlin's grip yet again- I'd be paying the price for this black day for centuries and every cell in my body knew it.

All I wanted was some twinkle of light in the darkness. A brush of her hand. A glimpse of her face. A word from her lips.

I could reach down the bond, surely, but I'd have to be careful. If she was going to be playing such a dangerous game in Spring to spare us all- I'd have to be willing to forgo my own attachment to let her.

But I needed to know- did she feel it too?

When the Cauldron's power had hit her, what had it taken?

Did she have the same feeling I did? Like even while sitting in the smoking aftermath of all our plans blowing up in our faces- there was still something I was missing. Another shoe waiting to drop.

Azriel stirred, just a bit. A twitch of a scarred finger, a sharp breath, but he did not wake. It was enough to catch my attention, though.

Enough that when he turned his head and mumbled something almost unintelligible- I caught it.

A simple word- uttered in the haze of unconsciousness like a prayer to gods long dead.

A name.

"Leur."

He said it almost in a desperate sort of way. As if it was a reach for a hand that would never lace with his again, a hand that had long since returned to dust.

The same thing he was always reaching for. The only thing he ever truly wanted.

And the only thing he'd never get.

The only reason he hadn't followed her into the abyss of death was for us. Our family. Perhaps also the lingering notion that she would have wanted him to move on, live a life, find some happiness. 

He tried, as much as he was capable of, and the rest of us took what we could get. We'd accepted that he died when she did a long, long time ago.

It didn't make it hurt any less- knowing that mere existence required so much strength that it was all he had left to offer. Knowing that the hand outstretched at his side would never stop reaching, and knowing that she would never be here again to answer.

Which option was worse? Watching the healers try to stitch Cassian's flesh back together with magic and desperation or sitting here and staring at the broken pieces of Azriel that would never fit back together right?

Neither- preferably.

I'd have preferred a full bottle of liquor and a dark room to drown myself in- but I couldn't leave them alone. If my brothers had to suffer for my incompetence, then the least I could do was bear witness to it.

I told myself that was the reason I couldn't seem to keep my hands still as I sat vigil next to Azriel's bed. I told myself that I could not feel the shadowed presence looming next to me, conjured by the sound of her name on his lips, staring at me with accusatory violet eyes that called me a failure with every battered twitch of my heart.

I wanted to turn my head and look at her- truly and properly see her face without having to stare in a mirror- but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Not when I knew that the second I did- she'd vanish.

This was how she usually haunted me, in glimpses of figures out of the corner of my eye, in the echos of my own movements and the distant voice in the back of my head, in the whispered mumble on Azriel's lips.

"Leur." He said again, pleading more this time, a turn of his head as he shifted restlessly, "Leur, please-"

Should I wake him?

How long since I last heard her name spoken aloud?

Maybe I should calm his dream, gift him with a vision of her. An illusion, surely- that was all it would ever be, but he could have her back for a few moments. He could be happy, even if it was only a dream.

The question was- did I remember her clearly enough to conjure a vision of her in his mind?

"She's not listening." Azriel mumbled, still lost in sleep, "She doesn't even see them coming-"

What the hell was he dreaming about- anyways?

A memory of some spying mission or something, surely- those two went on about a million of them. I didn't really have time to question it before I was distracted by a tug of the bond in my chest.

Feyre.

Every bone in my body sang for her, every cell whispering her name like it was cool water dousing out an inferno. A glimmering, shining string pulled tight, my mind purring as I traveled along it, closer and closer to life herself on the other end. As close as I dared without distracting her, taking the crumbs of her presence and surviving off of them.

And just beyond the incomprehensible horizon of shields and distance- I could feel her.

She was... happy.

Happy?

Perhaps hopeful was a better word, but how the hell could she feel that way after everything she sacrificed, after everything that had occurred today?

Her sisters, Azriel, Cassian, Tamlin dragging her away- and she was hopeful?

It only lasted a moment, and then I could feel the bond move, as if it was being loaded with something, some message, some memory, and something in my chest gleaned in anticipation. Something in me could sense the gravity in her, knew that whatever she was about to show me was unimaginably important.

A ticking clock somewhere in the distance marked the passage of time as I sat here and waited- trying to figure out why I felt like it was counting down to something.

More weight on that tense bond, more seconds dripping by while I searched for an explanation, a sharp twitch of Azriel's hand reaching.

A sharp inhale, from him or me I couldn't tell- or maybe Feyre. Maybe she was the one who braced, and then-

In a split second, all of that hope drained into terror. Darkness erupted down the bond, pure chaos and freight. Sound and sense and images flashing in my head. Fire. Rubble. Dust. Shattered glass.

A small, scarred hand reaching through the chaos before it was swallowed whole by smoke.

Voices screaming for each other as pure destruction erupted around them. A snap still echoing in the air- rumbling the ground and drowning out their desperation. A collapsing marble pillar slamming into something solid as another voice started screaming.

Not Feyre, but Tamlin.

Not in rage, as I would have expected, but fear. A glimmer of magic cutting through the carnage, gold and bright as sunlight, creating a shield that barely held before it frayed apart. A flaming rose curling into ash and decay as the world as we knew it shattered.

And then Feyre hit the ground.

For a moment, everything went black.

My senses dropped out when hers did. I'd gone too deep into her mind on instinct, trying to understand, trying to save her, and now I was stuck. I forced myself out through her shields and drug myself along the bond rattling with the aftershocks of that explosion, towards my own mind and body, my own sense and reality.

I woke up to screaming.

"Rhys!" Mor was in front of me when I came to, her voice cracking like a whip through the chaos, "Rhys! What's wrong?"

Azriel was on the ground now, somehow, dragging himself to his feet with vines of shadow as he screamed, scrambling to untangle himself from the sheets.

He was screaming the same thing he'd whispered in his sleep.

Her name, over and over again. As if he'd lost the ability to say anything else.

"LEUR!" A scarred hand knocked the lamp off the bedside table, scrambling to grab Truth-Teller and its sheath, "LEUR!"

"Rhys, what is going on?" Mor shook me, forced me to look at her, "What the hell is happening?"

Help. Feyre's voice echoed down the bond as Azriel went still.

"Leur."

Not a scream, not anymore, but a sob. A plea. Wide, bloodshot hazel eyes lost in songs only he could hear. Near-unintelligible screaming dying to resigned silence and unimaginable devastation as his black shadows pulled tight around him. Blocked him from my sight as he folded in on himself.

"Rhysand!" Mor's hands gripped my arm. The sound of Azriel's ragged breathing, the scent of old blood and bitter herbs for healing salves, the distant, terrified cries of attendants—my senses blurred together.

I was screaming, I realized.

"Feyre." My own voice came out trembling, far weaker than I'd intended, "Something happened- I don't-"

An explosion.

The entire Spring Manor had been blown to bits.

With Feyre inside of it.

How long was I out?

And what the fuck was wrong with Azriel?

I didn't have time to question it. I didn't have time for anything but getting to my mate.

"Get Amren." I commanded Mor, a bit stronger now, "Tell her to meet me in Spring. Stay here and watch the city."

She nodded and vanished down the hall without another word. The King was still tracking my magic. If I winnowed, I'd lead him straight to us. And something told me that whatever had just happened in Spring had his name written all over it.

Fuck it. I'd fly- I decided.

Apparently, Azriel had already had that idea. Either he was too weak or too out of his mind to winnow, I didn't know. Only that he scrambled to his feet, strapped Truth-Teller to his waist, slammed the balcony door open so hard that it shattered, and leapt directly off of it.

I didn't question it. I just followed him.

And as we flew, both of us moving faster than we ever had before in our lives, the same question repeated in my head with every wing-beat.

Why was Azriel screaming for my sister?

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

Prythian- The Manor, Spring Court

Leuruna

It figures that I would step into Prythian for the first time in five centuries and immediately get blown to pieces.

That was just my fucking luck.

I'd been back home for mere minutes and I'd already set it on fire.

I suppose I only had myself to blame. I'd known this plan had too many unknown variables to ever work exactly as we'd intended. And of course, fueled by my own selfish dreams of returning home, I'd assumed that I'd expect it to blow up in my face and deal with whatever was left behind when I got to it.

I just hadn't thought it would be so literal.

I suppose this was just Hybern welcoming me home in the only way they knew how: fire, destruction, and copious amounts of blood.

Was I bleeding?

"Leur! Where are you?"

That was Tamlin, surely. At least, I assumed so. I couldn't exactly hear anything but a muffled echo over the ringing in my ears and the pulsing pain in my temples.

Think. My shadows whispered through the sound, You need to think.

I was alive- or I wouldn't have heard them. If Tamlin couldn't find me, then whoever had just blown the manor to dust probably couldn't either. I had time, if only a few moments.

Who had fired that blast?

Hybern, surely, who else would have a reason for such dramatic action?

Not Rhys. The shadows were watching my family. He was too preoccupied with trying to get Cassian and Azriel help and Feyre's safety to sense anything amiss. And he never would have fired a blast like that knowing Feyre was in the Manor.

A million other possibilities went through my head, but none of them made sense. Not one was feasible. I might have been foolish enough to go along with a plan I knew would go to hell, but I wasn't so blind as to not cover my bases.

Hybern soldiers approaching from the southeast. The shadows tugged on my arm, The King is with them.

I supposed that answered my question.

Find out how much they know. I answered them.

I thought he might have been tracking Rhys's magic, and if he was- I'd assumed it may not work to locate me when I used my starlight, because the magic was different than what was the same in our blood. That was the only reason I'd risked it.

Apparently, blood was blood regardless.

I suppose I should have known that by now.

But, like the fool I was- I'd stepped into the King's field of view, and he'd found me.

There was no way I was going to get him to leave Tamlin alone. I doubted that he ever truly believed that charade of loyalty, and we just gave him undeniable proof of his suspicions. I'd try, but it wasn't going to happen. I knew that.

But Lucien? I might be able to save Lucien. Feyre too, if the King still remembered what my brother was capable of.

"Leur!"

I very well might pull myself out of this rubble and kill Tamlin for screaming for me like that. He might as well have conjured a glowing sign over my head that declared to the world that I was injured and off-guard.

All of a sudden, as if the half-haze and ringing of the explosion had just subsided, sense and sound rushed back into me. Crackling fires, a throbbing pain in my ribs, smoke in my eyes, dust and stone all over my skin, my breath jagged in my lungs as I coughed. I was moving, dragging myself up and out of the rubble, trying to catch my breath and keep my magic under control.

The King is aware of your return. The shadows returned with their information, He is... not pleased.

No shit.

Large, pale hands covered in glass found my arms, pulling me upright. I couldn't get a breath down through all the smoke, could only cough and try to see through the sting in my eyes. Everything was a blaze of heat and agony and burning in my chest.

"Breathe, Leur. You need to breathe."

He was right. I needed to get my shit together and be on guard when the King arrived. And if I could find Feyre-

Fuck.

Feyre was in that blast.

Which meant that Rhys, more than likely, felt it.

I had minutes until he arrived, if that, and then- I'd have a much bigger problem than trying to get the King to potentially spare Lucien and Feyre. And there was no way I could focus, no way, not when it was just now hitting me that all that stood before me and going home to my family was a few measly minutes and the King of Hybern.

It seemed that no matter how much had changed in my absence, that had remained true.

Seeing them became real again after five centuries, in the exact same moment that I knew I wouldn't. Not yet- at least.

But Rhys? Rhys was coming. Surely, Cassian and Azriel- oh gods, Azriel- wouldn't be with him. Not after the memories of blood I saw in Feyre's head. But still- how many times had I wished for my big brother to come find me in the past five centuries? How many times had I had this same childish, hopeless dream?

"Breathe, Leur!"

Tamlin was shaking me, gripping my cheeks, trying to get me to look at him as his magic turned the smoke around us into fresh spring air. And the second that cool, clean air hit my lungs, the second I snapped out of shock was the exact same moment that everything in the world turned green.

The magic, the air, the trees burning in the distance, and the eyes that were staring at me.

Green irises and red blood dripping from his temple.

"Did you see Feyre or Lucien?" Tamlin was panting, frantic, pulling a glass shard out of my cheek I hadn't even realized was there. He healed the cut with a brush of his thumb, steadying me on my feet as I tried to think. Tried and failed because I was back in Prythian and Rhys was coming and everything was on fire.

It was then, in the middle of that panic, that I heard it.

At first, I didn't even notice it. I'd been hallucinating the sound for so long, dreaming of it, imagining it when the world felt like it was caving in but there it was. A deep melody, hauntingly beautiful and as slow as honey dripping off a spoon, a cool brush that replaced the lick of flame.

Finally real, after all this time.

Mine. Mine. Mine. They chanted, swirling around my arms and curling over my cheek.

My heart dropped down to my stomach.

Those were not my shadows. No, these were as black as midnight and as cold as ice. The shadows that had been curled around my heart since I first felt their brush centuries ago.

And through them, written in the frantic, reverent song in my ear, a claim. A promise so extraordinary that I must have been imagining it.

How hard had I hit my head?

Our twin darkness. Our light. Our mate. They whispered, We've spent every night searching for you. Calling you home.

I froze.

Every thought in my head, every strategy, every last ounce of focus- it all blurred into nothing. There was nothing around me. No fire. No king with a target on my back. No blood. No pain.

Only darkness and a beating heart echoing in the distance, whispering my name with every pulse- as if it had been carved there. A song that I could hear and breathe and feel, and a dark shroud that curled around me like the only merciful touch in the world.

And here I am. I answered, or maybe it was my shadows. I didn't know. I was barely able to comprehend the words.

Come home. They urged, Come back to us.

Reality cut through the beauty like a sharpened knife sliding through a screen, until I had no choice but to confront what I'd wrought behind it. And finally, after weeks of stoic planning and quiet, vulnerable hope, I cracked.

A sob broke through the smoke, raw and jagged and hotter than any flame could ever burn. I watched my own tears slip from my cheeks down onto the embers at my feet, sizzling into steam as I curled in on myself. But for the first time in so long, longer than I could really remember, I was not alone in my suffering.

Don't cry. The shadows brushed my cheek, soft as a willow, Please, don't cry. It's over. He's coming for you.

"Just... just keep breathing." Tamlin panted in front of me, "I'll be back. I'm going to find them."

He vanished into the smoke before I even had a chance to look at him. But I couldn't even bear my own breath, not through the bone deep-longing that had taken over my entire body.

How long had I dreamed of this moment? His shadows. His heartbeat. His presence in the distance. How many times had I reached and hit the black wall of death? How often had I drug whatever broken pieces remained of me together and begged for something I could never have?

And here it was now, in my hands. So close, but not mine. Not yet.

Just wait. His shadows soothed, twining around my own, He will not let any harm come to you. Shift into shadow, hide in the smoke, and wait for him.

No time. My own answered without my command, No time. No time. No time.

In the distance, I could hear them. Hybern soldiers, Hybern commands, the booming echo of the King's orders as his soldiers searched through the rubble. Here, shrouded by the smoke and Tamlin's magic, they couldn't find me.

I could make it out, if I did what the shadows commanded. Hell, I could winnow right now and be in Velaris before the King had a chance to blink.

But Tamlin was still here. Lucien was still here. Feyre was still here.

The King was gunning for me. Not them.

Was I selfish enough to let them suffer for my mistakes? How could I return home to Rhys, to Cassian, to Azriel- knowing that the price for my freedom was their capture?

I couldn't- I knew that. But with the shadows swirling around me and the sense of their master growing closer with every single second, it was so, so tempting to consider it.

Feyre is stuck in the rubble. Tamlin is trying to free her, but the King is moving right for them. My shadows warned.

Fuck.

I let myself cry for one more second. Let myself revel in the closeness, the whisper of cold darkness on my skin, the melody more stunning than any other twining in my ears.

I'd survived off of far less for far longer.

I could wait a little while longer.

I'm not going home. I told his shadows, standing and trying to steady myself on my feet, Not yet.

The most beautiful song in the world turned into a scream in the blink of an eye, No. No, no, no, no, you can't-

Just a little while longer. I braced myself against something, the remnants of a pillar maybe, as my head spun. Just a little while, and then it will be over.

No. Please, no. His shadows sobbed, trying to hold me back as I stumbled through the rubble, Can't lose you again, not when we just got you back.

Somehow, I found the strength to pull my shoulders back, evening out my steps as I walked out of the glamor, out of that tiny oasis of grief and confusion, and back into the fire.

There's no time. I soothed the shadows, my own tugging them backwards- either to restrain or calm them, I didn't know, It's too late. He will have to find me.

I found the King on the far side of the grounds that had once contained the Manor, just about where the slave's quarters used to stand. Right on the outskirts of the western woods.

Fitting.

Please. The shadows begged, Please, stay.

Down the bond, I could feel it as he received the reports from them. He heard their whispers, their cries, my own voice answering them. He could hear me.

For the first time in 500 years, I wasn't talking to nothing. I wasn't staring at the moon and hoping he'd hear the echoes of my words halfway across the world. I wasn't whispering to my own shadows and hearing nothing but my own song in reply. He could hear my voice. He knew I was here.

And he was crying.

Not again. The shadows pleaded, or maybe it was his voice through them. I didn't know. I couldn't recognize it through my own tears, Not again. Not again. Not again. Please, don't leave us again.

He will find me. I told them, Now that he knows to look.

Sorry. So sorry. Mate. Mate. Mate. They cried, a wrenched, out of tune melody, like sobbing.

It's okay. I breathed, closing my eyes. It's just one more obstacle. One more, and then I can go home.

Please. Don't go.

Forcing myself to keep walking, dragging in a slow breath to calm myself, and wiping the tears from my cheeks might have been the hardest thing I had ever done. Certainly, it was up there.

But I had no choice.

My dress was torn and half burnt, the beautiful layers of the skirt no more than tattered scraps of black chiffon. I was covered in dirt, blood, and ash, and I'd been a ghost for half a millennia.

But the King took one look at me as I walked through the smoke and knew precisely who I was. Time had no bearing on the feud between us.

I recognized him, just as he recognized me.

I hated him with every single cell in my body, just as he hated me with the same fervor.

I did not let my posture drop. I did not let him see an ounce of my weakness. No tears. No remorse. No begging.

He'd forced that out of me once, and he would never, ever hear me beg again.

I emerged, unburnt, out of the flame and shadow and walked directly in front of him and his entourage. I ignored it when they pointed their weapons at me. They were nothing. Meaningless, worthless rats who had never done a single thing to earn my mercy, and I let them see it.

The King of Hybern stared at me, guards surrounding him, with me wounded before him.

How the fuck had I been back for two seconds and already- I was right back where I'd last been? As if the last five hundred years had been no more than a blur, a blip in time of another life, and nothing had changed at all.

I could hold them off, probably long enough for my family to arrive. It'd be ugly, but possible. Even if I couldn't hurt him, I knew how this would go. I'd lived this before.

But Tamlin was injured, Lucien was missing, and Feyre was stuck under rubble.

It was me or them.

I'd lived this before too.

"Surely, my eyes are deceiving me." The King purred, raising a hand for his soldiers to stand down.

"They aren't."

A slow, disgusting grin spread on his face, "Of course not. All pets crawl their sorry selves home once they realize they are nothing without their master." He tilted his head, "I'd just believed I was effective in putting you down, Leuruna."

"You were." I smiled at him, blood dripping from my hairline down to my chin, "But, even Hel spit me back out."

His grin faltered. Enough that I noticed. Enough that my own widened.

"I see five centuries has only sharpened that vile tongue of yours." Black eyes narrowed.

"And I see you're still as predictable as ever after all this time." I said, mock-exhausted, "Go ahead, bring out the chains."

"That easy?" He raised his brows, "One blow and you surrender. You always were such a sacrificial thing, weren't you? Are you going to beg for your beast's freedom next?"

"He's a pawn." I waved a hand, "You know how the High Lords are- fighting dogs too obsessed with their own glory to see the leash they're on."

I knew he'd laugh at that, but it didn't stop the nausea from blooming in me at the grating, insufferable sound of it. He gave me an incredulous look, still chuckling, "You expect me to believe that's how you really feel?"

I smiled- sweet and sharp and soaked in blood.

"You'll take him too, if you haven't already. Torture him until he's in pieces, and you'll waste your own time. He knows what I allow him to know. Nothing more." I flicked a speck of ash off the sleeve of my gown, as if it was impeccably clean Night Court black- not covered in blood and glass, "Then you'll take me. And we'll dance the same steps we always do."

I waved a hand, "You'll scream and call it music. You'll hear me scream and think it's your victory. Neither will be true."

I glanced up, sensing it- that shift in the air. Rhysand's power, sure. But something else too. Wilder. Darker. Rawer. Grief-stained and sacred.

"If you were smart, you'd leave the Cursebreaker and the Fox buried here and hope no one finds them. But you're not smart, are you? You never were. So I expect you'll take them too."

He stepped forward. His power slid along my skin like oil-slicked fire. I didn't move. I didn't blink.

True darkness does not flinch before borrowed shadow.

"Is that so?" he purred.

A cold wind curled in from the north. The shadows pressed tight to my skin.

"You're already running out of time," I said quietly. "Would you like a reminder of what happens when you provoke a fighting dog?"

"Rhysand does not scare me." He scoffed. "Considering I already ripped him and his little entourage- including that bastard mate of yours- to shreds one today, I'm not concerned."

My hand ached with the need to punch him. But I didn't move. Not yet.

"If you take enough from someone," I said, voice low, "eventually they have nothing left to lose. I'd recommend you keep that in mind." A pause. "He's my father's son, after all. Need I remind you of how dark the night can get?"

"Is that why you're here?" He raised his brows, as if pleasantly surprised, "Stalling until your big brother can come and save you, like the pathetic, dependent little thing you are." He tilted his head, voice dropping to a mockery of pity. "You tried that once, remember? Waited and waited for him to come- I remember the fight you put up. But he never came, did he?"

I clenched my jaw shut so hard I was pretty sure my teeth cracked.

"Tell me, Leuruna, at what point did you realize you were going to die alone?"

It took more effort than I'd care to admit to swallow down the agony those words spurred in me, and somehow even more to force a smug look on my face and pretend I believed the words when I said, "I'm never alone."

"Is that so?"

I smirked, "Look up."

A flicker of something passed through his expression- not fear. Not yet. But the beginning of it.

It had been so, so long since I'd seen them. So long since I'd felt the powers that matched my own. Not all of them. No, one was missing.

The sky split anyway.

It didn't crack or rumble- it ripped. A gash of violet and pitch tore across the clouds as the earth trembled beneath our feet, as if it too remembered their names.

Magic surged- old, terrible magic. My family's magic.

Shadows poured from the sky like a second storm, curling and coiling, sentient and furious. And in the heart of that abyss was him. Not my father, like I would have expected- seeing such a display of power like this, but something worse.

Cutting through the sky above me was Rhys- wings spread wide, fury carved into every line of his body, starlight screaming in his veins.

And while that was almost enough to send me to my knees, what followed him ensured that I would hit the ground.

If Rhys was the storm, then Azriel was the void left after it.

The shadows started screaming, calling for him, leading him straight to me. And for a moment, I almost let them.

For a moment, I forgot about everything. Every strategy. Every plan. Every perfectly crafted word of manipulation and every reason why it had to be this way.

For a moment, I let myself dream.

The shadows were singing. Screaming. Calling for him. Guiding him straight to me. They'd waited so long. We'd all waited so long.

I could end it here. Step out of the veil. Collapse into his arms. Let Azriel pull me home, let Rhys shield me in that terrible magic that had always been gentler for me.

I could be done.

No more schemes. No more terror. No more burning.

I was so tired of holding strong.

So tired of keeping myself upright.

So tired of playing the same game over and over and over again.

But the pawn never makes it to the end. That's why it's moved first.

And if it had to be someone- it would always be me.

So I let the shadows go. Let them cry and scream and fight as I peeled them from my skin, one by one. Let the bond bleed as I forced it silent. Let the stars dim behind my ribs.

Violet power sparked at my fingertips, soft as dusk and sharp as the edge of a blade. It shimmered across the air like gossamer smoke- then pulsed. Once. Twice. Like a heartbeat breaking.

And then it spread.

A field of glamor bloomed around me, gentle and terrible. It moved like silk on water, painting the wreckage in illusion, cloaking my scent, my shadows, my presence. The King would see me. But no one else would. Not Rhys. Not Azriel.

Especially not Azriel.

But I left one last message to him. The final words I never got to say. The declaration that had been waiting centuries to see the light of day. Woven through darkness and lost in the smoke.

The truth. The eternal, unburnable truth that no fire, no time, could ever erase.

And then-

I hid.

And I let them fly right past me.

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

Azriel

The second the Cauldron erupted- I knew.

It wasn't a feeling. It was a detonation. A shattering of a wall I hadn't even realized was ever there.

And all of a sudden, the bond that had been nothing but silence for five hundred years... was singing.

Not whispering. Not humming.

Singing.

And out of nowhere, the golden bridge to nowhere was viciously, brutally alive. Every note was a flame. As bright and beautiful and blinding as the sun.

It was the only pain that had ever felt like hope.

I sent the shadows. I didn't even realize I had. I just whispered her name, and they went. Flying across the earth. Ripping through the air. Find her. Find her. Find her.

But the darkness had swallowed me whole before I could see the light.

I don't know how long I was unconscious.

Long enough to dream of her. Long enough to watch her walk into that manor, black crown gleaming, her hands trembling even as she tried to hide behind quips and jabs. Long enough to watch the sky catch fire.

I woke screaming.

I was already flying before I could think.

Every wingbeat was agony. My hands were bleeding from how tightly I clutched my blades. My ribs were fractured. I didn't care. I didn't care.

Because she was alive.

She was alive.

She was-

The first whisper of her voice hit me like a blow to the sternum. I faltered midair.

No. No, I didn't stop. I couldn't. I flew faster. Harder. Fire and wind clawing at my face.

I could hear her. I could feel her. Real, not imagined. Not the phantom that had haunted me for centuries, not a ghost in the back of my head, but real.

Mine. Need to get to her. Need to help her. Need, need, need-

Smoke on the horizon. Rubble. Screams. But all I could hear was her. Her voice—her truth.

Tell him I'm alive.

I hit the ground. I didn't know if I'd fallen or if I meant to land. Ash and smoke billowed around me, embers crackling under my hands. Or maybe, it was my power. I didn't know. Didn't care.

I was running.

Running, when the entire world lit on fire.

Tell him I love him.

I dropped. My legs buckled. A sob punched out of me like I'd taken a dagger to the chest.

Tell him I have loved him since I knew what love was.

Blood.

That was blood on the hand I had clutched over my heart. Either the arrow wound had reopened or those words, those impossible, beautiful, fleeting words had actually ripped my chest open.

Too much blood. Too much hope.

Nowhere to put any of it.

Tell him... tell him if I did all of it just to hear his voice one more time, then it was worth it.

I was crawling through the ash. Screaming. Sobbing. Unable to see more than a few feet in front of me through all the smoke. Surrounded by complete and utter destruction that paled in comparison to what was happening inside of me.

My skin burned. I bled. I didn't feel a single thing.

"Find her," I choked, crawling forward, mouth full of smoke. "Find her. Find her. Find her."

Mate. Mate. Mate.

Darkness shrouded around me. Cold and familiar and empty- too empty.

Where is she? I begged the shadows as they tried to help me back up, Why did you leave her?

She is our true commander. They breathed, Just as you are to hers.

WHERE IS SHE?

Left. They tugged me left and I was on my feet again, somehow, just as I heard her voice again.

Tell him I'm waiting for him to come find me.

Staggered, pathetic stumbling turned into a run. Through fire. Through smoke. Through death itself.

Tell him I have always been waiting.

And suddenly, I was nothing but ash and blood and breath. Running wasn't fast enough. I needed to fly. I needed to burn the sky to get to her.

The bond was no longer a tether. It was a song. A scream. A lifeline. And she was on the other end, the light at the end of the longest, darkest tunnel in existence.

The shadows weaved ahead of me, twisting through the smoke, finding something- some magic or ward or spell- and slipping their way through it. They broke it apart from the inside out, urging me to move faster, to come closer, to see what was on the other side-

But before I could take another step, I saw her.

A silhouette carved from memory and a miracle.

There, not seven feet ahead, wrapped in smoke and shadows and violet power, stood the ghost I had prayed into existence.

My knees nearly gave out.

Because there was no ghost.

It was her.

Made of flesh and blood and bone, with a soul made of shadow and starlight. The same way she'd looked in my dreams- only real. Breathing. Standing.

Her hair tangled and wild, her dress ripped and scorched. Blood and ash on her cheeks. A crown still glittering on her head, with the smoke bending around her like she'd command it too.

And a heartbeat. Thrumming through the distance. The beat to the screaming, writhing song of the bond.

"Leur," I choked- then screamed it. A sound so full of pain and wonder that it barely sounded like words, "LEUR!"

She turned.

Slowly. Like it hurt to move. Like she couldn't believe I was real either.

Our eyes met across the ruin.

All of a sudden, distance did not matter. Time did not matter. Circumstance did not matter. The thousands of days and nights that had passed since I was last graced with her presence did not matter.

My soul recognized her, long before my eyes did.

And her eyes-

Mother above.

Her eyes.

Somehow, I'd forgotten just how beautiful they were.

Violet. Luminous. Alive.

Those eyes saw me for the first time in five centuries, and I lost my ability to move. I was frozen in place, ripped from the dark without warning and thrown into a world where light existed again. And it had been so long, so unimaginably long, that I forgot what warmth even felt like.

But I could feel it now.

My lips moved before I could stop them.

Her name was the first true thing I'd said since the bond came back to life. Since I remembered what it meant to be something other than nothing.

And I said it again now. I called her back to me as if I could pierce the veil between life and death and bring her home with one simple word.

"Leur."

Barely more than a whisper, but it carved through the smoke like a blade. It reached her. I know it did. Because she looked at me- really looked.

And gods help me...

She smiled.

Soft and knowing.

Wrecked and radiant.

Unimaginable beauty in the middle of ruin.

And then, in a voice like silk and starlight, she said:

"Worth it."

That was all I got.

One breath. One look. One single word before a shadow moved behind her- before something struck the back of her skull so hard her knees buckled.

"NO-"

I ran.

I flew.

I burned.

But before she even hit the ground-

Before I could so much as blink-

She was gone.

Like she had never been here at all.

Only her crown remained, tumbling from her hair, catching the firelight as it tumbled to the ash.

I hit the ground.

Screamed like my soul was being torn from my body.

Screamed loud enough to black out the stars.

Screamed her name until the world shattered with it.

My knees cracked against embers. My hands found the crown- burning hot, still warm from her skin- and I curled around it like it was her. Like I could pull her back through it.

I felt the bond twist.

Felt the shadows scream and rage and howl, as if they'd rip the world in two to get her back.

But she was gone.

Gone.

And I was too late.

Again. 

Chapter Text

Present

Prythian- House of Wind, Velaris, Night Court

Rhysand

"Tell me she's going to be okay."

It was really all I could say. Over and over- the same words. In my head. On my lips. With every breath I took and every beat of my heart- I begged.

Who I was begging- I didn't even know. The Mother, the Cauldron, the wind, the world- hell, maybe even fate itself- just anything that would listen. Anything that would answer.

But it was not some cosmic force that answered my pleas. It was just Majda, her withered skin still flecked with Cassian's blood as she ran glowing hands over Feyre's shattered leg.

I could see the end of her bone. Broken and jagged and shockingly white, despite all the blood.

But Majda met my eyes and said, "Your mate will survive, High Lord. Take a breath."

I listened. What else was there to do for a woman who had been the first to hold you as a babe? The same hands that had healed every wound- from childhood bruises to battlefield injuries- now piecing my mate back together.

I breathed. I tried to think and found nothing but relief in the place where rational thought should be.

I took another breath and switched to praying I found the strength to think straight.

I needed to look away from her, at minimum. If I had the wherewithal to do that, then I could find a way to function again, surely. All I had to do was turn my head and trust that the healers would take care of my mate while I handled... whatever had just happened.

It sounded like such a simple, basic task. Easy. Just a quick, half-involuntary movement.

And yet, it felt utterly impossible.

Amren, of all people, gave me an opening. She dropped onto the balcony, dragging an unconscious, bloody Lucien behind her by his leg. The sheer absurdity of the sight was enough to distract me, to allow for my mind to work again, to allow me to turn my head- if only to ensure I wasn't imagining things.

Unfortunately or fortunately- I couldn't really decide- I wasn't.

Healer's swarmed her, a pulse of magic lifting the half-dead male up and onto a work table that had already been prepared for that very purpose, but it was Mor who surprised me. Mor, who went flying up to Amren, grabbing her by the shoulders, "Where is Azriel?"

The hard mask on Amren's face didn't waver in the slightest, her voice completely dry, "I'm going back."

"You heard what he was screaming." Mor panted, eyes darting over to me once before she looked back to Amren, "Why would he-"

"Let go of me, girl. I need to go." She shoved Mor off, turning on her heel. She had just winnowed and had barely even been gone for a second before Mor snapped to me.

Only then did I realize that while I might have successfully pulled my focus from Feyre, I still hadn't managed to make myself move. I was distracted, surely, but still completely motionless.

"Go with her." Mor pleaded, genuine fear in her eyes. I couldn't entirely tell what was bothering her most; Azriel screaming for ghosts after 500 years of silence, Feyre lying here burnt and broken, or me- still in shock.

Shock? Was that what this was?

"Rhys." She said again, sharper now, "Please. I've got Feyre... just-" She tripped over her own words, "Just please go see what's happening."

I didn't know if I was capable of speaking without screaming, but I knew I could move. I kept my eyes closed as I turned back to Feyre, placing a kiss on the back of her hand. I memorized the rate of her pulse, kept a tight hold on the feeling of it on the other end of the bond, and then I stood.

I leapt off the balcony and started begging the wind to clear my mind as I flew.

This time, nothing answered.

✵✵✵

I landed in silence.

Not because I meant to- solely because there was no other sound to greet me.

No birdsong. No wind. No buzz of wards in the air. No rustling of secrets in the woods.

The Spring Court was so rarely silent. The magic here has a pulse, a living, breathing thing that made every tree and every blade of grass sing a song. I had never heard it so quiet before, not even during the War.

This was the kind of silence that settles after something dies. A hush so heavy it felt like the smoke itself was holding its breath- entirely different from the world of roaring flames and screaming I'd pulled my mate out of less than ten minutes ago.

Ash drifted in slow, quiet spirals through the air, blanketing what remained of the manor in what looked like snow but was actually the opposite. Blackened, broken stone. Scorched trees. Scalded flower gardens. Shattered glass and flickering embers everywhere. Now that I was thinking clearly, the air had the distinct, unmistakable sour smoky scent of Hybern's magic.

I wasn't surprised that the King was responsible for this, but I couldn't imagine what could make him turn from allied with Tamlin to this in less than an hour and a half.

I had seen war. I'd made war. But this-

This was no battle. This was just destruction.

And there, in the center of it all, was Azriel.

He was on his knees, hunched over something in the dirt, trembling so hard that I could see it from here. His wings dragging on the ground, his head bowed, shadows clinging to him like a second skin.

No, not clinging. Writhing.

Az's shadows were slow. Thoughtful and intentional in their movement, creeping- as if they were trying not to draw attention to themselves. Almost gentle, in a way. Like a wolf trying to make itself seem less threatening.

Right now, they were thrashing.

Lashing out into the air like snakes in a pit, hissing and twisting and clawing at nothing. A dozen different directions, no pattern, no control. Not flanking him protectively, not swirling in rhythm- but completely unspooled. Like they were screaming.

I'd only ever seen them move like that once before. Once, for days on end until they ran out of energy and never got it back.

The thought alone had me moving for him. I could have sworn that the crunch of scorched earth beneath my boots was the only sound for miles. But he didn't even acknowledge my approach in the slightest.

"Az."

No answer. Not even a twitch. Just the steady, agonizing tremble of his shoulders and the shadows- lashing at the air around him like they would pry it open.

Another step. Then another.

"Az," I tried again, quieter now, "What's going on?"

Still nothing.

He didn't even flinch when I stopped right in front of him.

But I did.

Because this close- I could see what he was hunched around, what he was clutching to his chest like it would be ripped from him.

A crown.

One he was holding so tight that the edges had cut open the rough, scarred skin of his palms. Dripping blood down his arms, the muscles beneath strained like they had locked in place.

And the look on his face- what little of it I could see- wasn't fury. Wasn't confusion.

It was devastation.

Not just sadness. Not fear.

Grief.

So deep and feral it barely looked human. Like the part of him that functioned had been carved out, leaving only instinct behind.

I was certain that particular monster had already taken everything from him, but apparently I was wrong.

The rubble, the embers, the question of what the hell had happened here- all of it went out the window. Not only out of sheer concern, but at the sight of what particular crown Azriel was clutching like a lifeline.

There was no way I wouldn't recognize it. Not even after five centuries. Even if it wasn't seared in my memory like a brand, there was only one like it in existence. I'd been there when my father designed it with our family jeweler a few lifetimes ago.

It was Leur's crown.

The crown I knew Tamlin kept displayed above the remnants of her wings.

The blast- I realized now that it had taken the very last piece of her. At least, everything that wasn't dust in a tomb in the Royal Catacombs by now.

He'd been dreaming of her, calling her name, screaming for her through the smoke as Amren and I dug Feyre and Lucien out of the rubble. He must have felt that final string snap, whatever lifeless ties remained vanishing as those wings joined the rest of her in oblivion.

That crown was the only tangible thing left. 

As if the King hadn't taken enough today, he'd found a way to strip us of our ghosts too.

And with them, apparently, went the last of Azriel's sanity.

"We need to go, Az." I crouched in front of him, trying to catch his eyes, "The King has hurt enough of us today. Let's not give him anything else to break."

I didn't even believe my own words. There was no torture or blow that could possibly fracture Azriel more than he was right now. He was shaking so hard that the tears cutting through the ash on his cheeks were carving jagged lines.

"I saw her."

It was so quiet I barely heard it. And I might not have, if the shadows hadn't snapped like beasts on a chain at the sound of his voice and caught my attention.

I froze.

Azriel didn't look at me. Didn't even blink. He just kept staring at the crown like it was some sort of offering at an altar.

"She was there, Rhys."His voice was still barely a whisper. "In the smoke. I felt her."

I didn't answer right away. I couldn't. Not when the hope buried in his voice felt like a knife twisting in my gut after being stabbed about thirty times already today.

"Azriel." I finally found my voice, pouring most of my energy into trying to keep it even, "I know this is hard for you. I know it will always be hard for you. Trust me, I understand that better now than ever before- but Leur is dead. She died five hundred years ago. She wasn't in the smoke."

I took a deep breath and pretended like it didn't gut me too when I said, "She's gone, Az. And she's not coming b-"

"She's not gone."

Azriel's head finally snapped up. His eyes-wild and glassy and not there- met mine.

"She was right here in front of me. The shadows found her. They sang."

As if in confirmation, the black smoke around him twisted sharply, darting toward me like vipers before recoiling. I didn't move.

"She said it was worth it." He whispered again, like it was the only truth left in the world. His eyes lost their focus again, staring at some spot of nothingness in the hazy air as another bead of blood ran down his arm.

I put my hand on his shoulder, as if I could shake him out of this, "Az, listen to me. I know what you saw felt real-"

"It was real."

"No. No, gods damn it, listen." My voice came out sharsher than I intended, too frayed from catastrophically failing in Hybern, too raw from digging Feyre out from the rubble of Spring again, too done with everything crashing and burning down around me, "You've been under extraordinary amounts of pressure since Velaris was attacked. You were shot in the chest with an ash arrow earlier today. You've lost a lot of blood. You found her crown in the rubble- of course your mind went there. Of course you-"

"I'm not imagining this." His head lifted slowly, shadows seething so violently now they made the air crackle. "I know her. I felt her. Not like before, not like-" He forced a breath in, meeting my eyes, "The shadows knew her, Rhys. They knew home."

His voice cracked on the final word, alongside what remained of me.

I shook my head, "There is no home, Az. Not anymore. I need you to snap out of this. You and I both know she wouldn't want-"

"Don't you dare tell me what she would want again." His anger sparked from devastation so fast that it nearly gave me whiplash, "You don't get to hold that over my head anymore. Not when she's alive."

I gritted my teeth, "She is not alive, Azriel."

"I felt her." He put his hand over his heart as if trying to show me proof, the wound on his chest open and leaking blood again, "I can feel her now."

Azriel was already rising to his feet, wings flaring out behind him in one slow, savage sweep. His bloodied fingers clenched around the crown like it might vanish, "She's out there. Somewhere. I have to find her."

"No- Az, no." I stepped in front of him, tried to plant myself like a wall, "You felt nothing. She's no-"

He snarled like a wild beast, actually snarled, as the shadows lunged at me like they meant it. Not a warning. Not a bluff. A strike I'd seen him do a million times, but never with such conviction. The shock of it, all this emotion from him, all this fight, almost ensured he caught me off guard. I managed to throw up a shield just in time, right as the shadows hit it with a sound like cracking ice.

I'd forgotten, somehow, just how menacing he could be- when he had a true reason.

"Azriel." I snapped, throwing as much command into my voice as I could, "Stand. Down."

He didn't even flinch.

And worse- when I reached for his mind, desperate enough to cross any boundary, I found nothing. Not the usual, black shields of darkness. Nothing. As if he'd vanished into a void.

His shadows were shielding him from me entirely.

I gritted my teeth, sweat from the heat still blaring around us dripping down my spine, "You aren't thinking clearly."

In the blink of an eye, his posture straightened.

Azriel had been so lost, so broken, so weighed down by grief for so long that I'd forgotten how tall he really was. I'd forgotten how horrifying his shadows were when they poised behind him like a thousand knives sharpened and at the ready. I'd forgotten how dark his eyes could get.

He stood before me with the slow, terrifying grace of someone who knew precisely how much power they wielded and had no qualms about using an ounce of it.

And for the first time in a very, very long time- there was no pain in his expression.

It was dominance.

Not the kind we used to clash over in training. Not the kind I used at Court or the roles we played on battlefields.

No, this was something else. Older. Deeper. Like something in him had woken.

And I felt it.

"Get out of my way," he said again- not asked. Commanded.

It rolled through the ruined air like thunder.

And for the first time in centuries, I felt myself hesitate.

Because I didn't know if I could stop him.

He was a blade that had finally chosen its target. One that would cut down anything in the way to get to that bullseye.

"You're not thinking straight." I tried again. A little slower, calmer, as if I could will rationality back into him like I'd done to myself, "You don't know what you saw."

"I know exactly what I saw." He snarled, the lone siphon on his hand flickering, "You're just too afraid to admit that it could be true."

I didn't let the blow land. I brushed it off, stepping closer, "The whole damn world is falling apart, and you're letting it take you with it. You think she'd want you losing yourself like this?"

"I told you once, and I will not tell you again." His voice slipped even darker, "You don't get to speak for her."

The words cracked in the air like thunder. Sharp as a whip and loud enough to send a few stray stones tumbling down the broken manor wall beside us.

Enough was enough.

My magic flared, "Azriel, I am your High Lord and I am ordering-"

"I am hers."

He didn't shout it. Didn't snarl or spit or lash out. He simply said it. Quiet and certain. Like it had always been true.

I suppose it had.

"I always have been."

Azriel's eyes, still rimmed in red, locked on mine- not with challenge, but with clarity. A clarity I hadn't seen in him since before she died.

"Only she commands me." he said, "I followed you because she would have. Because you were the closest thing I had left of her."

His voice never wavered. Not once.

"But she's not gone. She's here." He breathed, "And I'm done wasting time."

He stepped past me. Not hostile, not forceful- just resolute. The shadows parted around him, no longer writhing, but lethally focused. Listening. Guarding.

"I know what I felt, Rhys. I don't need you to believe me. I don't have time to convince you." He adjusted his grip on the crown, blood still sliding down his wrist, and spread his wings, "I have to find her."

I would have watched him go.

After everything that had happened today, after all the horror and fire and blood, I wouldn't have stopped him. I didn't know if it was because I believed whatever impossible story he was telling or I knew there was no getting through his stubbornness. I suppose it didn't matter. Not really- anyways.

Because at the last second, right before he was about to vanish into the dark, a massive slab of rubble rose on a phantom wind and smashed into the back of his head so hard he went unconscious. He hit the embers in a drift of burning ashes and dust, finally allowing me to see Amren standing behind him.

I'd forgotten she had come too.

I let out a breath, clarity rushing back into me after all of that madness. I pointed a finger at Azriel, splayed out in the rubble, "What the fuck has gotten into him?"

I expected Amren to agree or maybe have some kind of explanation. Instead, I found only a frown.

"Not so fast." She met my eye, "He's right about what he saw, just wrong to run off wounded with no plan or direction."

For some reason, my heart skipped a beat, "What do you mean he's right?"

"I think she was here."

"That's impossible." I clenched my hands into fists, just about entirely fed up with all of this nonsense, "Leur is dead."

Amren shook her head, just slightly, bending down in the rubble to pick up a large shard of broken glass, "I don't think she is."

"I saw her head in a box."

"Stamped with the Spring Court crest." She added, stepping towards me, jeweled slippers entirely at odds with the scarred earth around us, "A Court known for exceptional shape-shifting magic."

I let out a breath, running a hand through my hair, my temples throbbing, "You can't be serious."

"What did the Cauldron break in you, Rhysand?" She stepped over Azriel to stand in front of me, "Not the mating bond, or you wouldn't have felt the explosion happen. And not the bargain- because that tattoo is still on Feyre's hand."

My mouth went dry, "I don't know."

"And why would the King- quite literally- blow his alliance with Tamlin to pieces?" She cocked her head, black hair like a sheet of silk, "We know he wants the Wall gone. Taking Tamlin prisoner will only ensure a Court of angry citizens to deal with in order to get to it, and why bother with that when he already had an agreement?"

"I don't know."

She put the final nail in my coffin when she said, "And the biggest question of all- why would Tamlin betray Leur and let his family kill her?"

My answer was the same. It always had been.

"I don't know."

"Something changed in the air, boy." She grabbed my hand, turning my palm up, "Something important. Your shadowsinger just tried to warn you, and you ignored him."

I didn't answer. I couldn't come up with anything to say, all I could do was watch as she used the jagged edge of that shard to cut a thin line across my palm, smearing my blood on the glass.

"Blood of his blood." She whispered, low and ancient and as sharp as steel, "Power of his power. Show me what remains of the shadow."

The shard flared to life.

A broken, worthless piece of glass became a vessel in the blink of an eye. And my blood on its edge spread through it like it was spilling into water, swirling around the center before the color changed.

From crimson to violet.

The same violet of my eyes, of her eyes. Swirling with a lighter, greyer lavender smoke that made the entire world tilt on its axis.

I'd avoided that color, that specific dusky purple, for centuries. I'd sworn to never look at it again, if only to selfishly save myself the pain. Not in the sky. Not in the shadows created by bright streams of sunlight. Not in a dress. Not in the gleam of a spell.

But there it was. Humming in that glass.

I knew it.

Not just from memory, not from logic.

But in my bones- where her magic had once lived beside mine like a second heart. My mirror. My sister.

Blood of my blood.

I staggered back like she'd taken that shard and smashed it into my chest.

Her magic. My magic.

Not a remnant from centuries-old, shriveled wings burning. Not a crown that had collected dust for half a millenia. Her power was here. In the glass. In the smoke. In Azriel's conviction and Amren's logic and my shattered will.

And then, that residual magic in the glass began to pulse.

A heartbeat that should have ceased centuries ago, but there it was. And there was no other explanation. This was no trick, no farce, no grand ploy. It was real, and I could no longer deny it.

That magic was alive.

My knees buckled.

Not metaphorically. Not emotionally.

I physically collapsed. The world tilted sideways, ash rising like snow, and the wind keened through the ruins as if mourning something I hadn't realized I'd lost until this very moment.

She had been here.

Leur had been here.

My sister was alive, and she was right here.

And now she wasn't.

I hit the ground. Hard.

The last thing I saw was that crown, still bloody in Az's hand on the ground next to me. And then-

Nothing.

✵✵✵

Somehow, as if I'd imagined this entire nightmare, I wound up right back where it all started.

Sitting by Azriel's bedside, watching him sleep.

I'd lost my mind. Wholly and entirely. Flew out to the middle of the ocean and screamed until my throat went raw, drained myself dry trying to fight against nothing, cried until I could have formed a new ocean with my tears.

I thought about going to Hybern and sinking the entire island into the sea. Unleashing everything I kept so tightly bound until the King used the Cauldron to kill me or I got her back- whatever came first.

It had been Feyre who called me home.

Majda had ensured that she'd almost been completely healed. Just a few scrapes and bruises that were already fading. She'd fared much better than Lucien in the blast, who had wound up with his entire left arm and shoulder crushed by a massive slab of marble. He'd hit his head too. Hard.

The healers said it would be a while before he woke again.

Feyre, it seemed, had been the only one among us to maintain any semblance of logic. Amren, perhaps as well- though I was never entirely certain she counted. Barging into Hybern with no plan, no information, and no direction was a foolish move. All it would do was ensure I wound up in a tomb beside the one Leur was supposed to be in.

And the story my mate had to tell, the memories I'd seen in her head, they'd taken the entire world and turned it upside down.

I didn't have tears left. I didn't even have any rage. All that remained was guilt and grief so potent that I had gone completely numb.

I wasn't the only one. I could still hear Mor crying down the hall, begging Feyre to reiterate the same story she'd already told five times now.

Azriel was already a wreck, and the Mother knew that when Cassian woke up- the world would remember exactly why they called him the Lord of Bloodshed.

And I was a coward who couldn't bring myself to think about reality.

Tamlin's betrayal, it turned out, had been a performance. A ruse. And I had believed it.

I'd been blinded by my own rage, and now I paid the price for it.

And Leur... Leur was alive.

She'd been alive the entire time. Alone. In... Solarea apparently- of all fucking places in the world.

And worst of all, I'd been thrown, kicking and screaming like the fool I was, into the burning realization that I had wholly and entirely failed my sister.

I was supposed to watch her. My mother said it over and over again. Drilled it into my head, into Cassian's head, even Azriel's when he came along.

Watch your sister, Rhys. Protect her. Take care of her.

Abandoning my little sister for five centuries was a far worse failure than killing her.

There was no suffering in death. Not beyond the brutal pain and the inevitability of ceasing to exist. It was a tragic, horrible loss, but not for her. Leur was supposed to be at peace, living among the stars.

And she wasn't. She was in Hybern. In chains.

All of a sudden, Azriel stirred. It was a twitch, barely noticeable, but it was there. Just as before, but all the more painful because now I knew exactly what was coming.

The shadows moved too. They'd never really stopped- but now they were awake. Conscious. Intentional. Sharper than blades and far, far deadlier.

It almost felt like they were looking at me.

I braced myself, standing from my chair, winnowing in front of the door, and planting myself like a tree. Though, I had no roots. Nothing tying me to sanity aside from the mating bond.

Did I even have the strength for this? Did I even agree with what I was about to do?

I didn't have any time to question it.

No time, because Azriel shot out of bed before his eyes had even fully opened. With the hit he'd taken from Amren, I knew he should have been, at minimum, lightheaded.

But he wasn't.

He went from entirely unconscious to completely awake and on his feet in the span of two seconds.

He tapped the siphon on his hand, six others appearing alongside scaled armor in a rush of magic. And with all the ease of the brutal, honed warrior he truly was, Truth-Teller was sheathed at his side and his attention snapped to me like lighting.

"Move."

One word. Low, rough, and full of shadows. A warning, not a command.

But I couldn't.

I squared my shoulders, narrowed my eyes, "No."

His jaw twitched.

"Move."

"No."

His voice came out through his teeth, "I need to go to the armory, Rhys. Move."

I shook my head, "You aren't going anywhere."

He didn't say anything. Just cocked his head in that predatory, borderline terrifying way he did when he was about to throw a punch and scoffed, madness glinting in his eyes.

But there was nothing he could do to me that I would not deserve.

His tongue traced over his teeth like a wolf, the shadows poised to strike behind him, salivating at the thought of my blood. And with an impressive amount of restraint he said, "Fine. I'll go with what I have. I don't need anything but Truth-Teller."

I didn't say anything. Not when he shot me one last glare. Not when he turned on his heel and threw open the balcony doors. Not when his wings spread wide like an angel of death.

And not when he went to leave, and hit a wall.

A mental wall.

One that ensured he could not step a foot outside this house.

It had been far harder than usual, getting into his mind. The shadows had just about choked the life out of me, but with more time than I'd had at the rubble- I was able to do it.

I just couldn't decide if I'd regret it or not.

"What did you do?"

He didn't turn to look at me when he spoke, but his voice went so hard that the rising sun outside slipped behind the clouds at the exact moment the deadly melody sounded.

I let out a breath, forcing my tone as even and commanding as I was possibly capable of, "I told you. You aren't going anywhere."

Azriel didn't turn around.

But I saw the way his fingers clenched.

The siphon on his right hand flared. Then the one on his left.

Then all seven.

Like stars collapsing.

Like fury made flesh.

"You got in my head," he said quietly.

A statement. Not a question.

"You were unconscious," I said. "And I had no choice."

He slowly turned to face me, "You always have a choice."

"You would have died."

Something I'd thought long, long dead sparked to life in his eyes. Something that made me want to take a step back from him as he snarled, "So, you want to what? Do nothing? Leave her there? Abandoning her once wasn't enough for you?"

I'd forgotten how mean he could be when he was truly angry. 

I deserved it.

"Nobody is abandoning anyone." I shook my head, "We have no idea what's going on and the last time we barged into Hybern with a chip on our shoulder, just yesterday, you and Cassian almost died and Feyre's sisters got thrown into the Cauldron. How will getting ourselves killed help her?"

"A chip on our shoulder?" His eyes widened, just slightly, "Do you fucking hear yourself? Leur is alive. Your sister, my fucking mate, is alive and captive in Hybern- and you want to sit around and wait for what? A way to fight against the Cauldron?" He shook his head, "Every second you hesitate, she suffers. And you want to sit around playing war council."

It was the first time he'd ever admitted that they were mates out loud. After centuries of silence and years and years of denial and dancing around before that, it was here, after everything had blown up in our face, that he finally said it.

"Leur would want-"

"Enough!" He snapped, sapphire power wrapping around his hands and snapping in the air like a whip, "I have listened to you use that bullshit, meaningless excuse for five fucking centuries, Rhys. And I'm done."

He pointed a scarred finger at me like a brand, like he'd just marked me for death the way Nesta Archeron did to the King of Hybern, "Leur is alive. If she wants something, she can tell me her damn self when I go and get her. You don't get to use her to bend me to your will anymore."

"That's not what I'm trying to do." I kept my voice calm, even, "She'd want you alive. You can hate me for saying it all you want, but a million years could pass by- and it would still be true."

I met his eyes, hazel so long drained of color that they'd slipped into grey, "I'm your High Lord, Azriel. But more than that, I am her brother. You might not see it, but this is what is best for Leur right now. I'm protecting her in the only way I can."

"This isn't protection. It's cowardice." His power burned brighter, like a flame that had gotten so hot it turned blue, "She doesn't need your grief, Rhys. She needs your help. And if you're too scared to give it, then get the fuck out of my way."

I didn't rise to his words. Didn't snap, didn't argue.

The words struck deep- but I let them. Let them settle in my bones alongside every other failure I'd buried there.

Maybe he was right. Maybe this was cowardice.

But it was also the only option that didn't end with all of us dead before we could even reach her.

I took a breath. Slow. Steady.

"You're not leaving until we have more information."I met his eyes. Let him see the finality there. The truth of my power wrapped tight around that one command, "That's a formal order."

He didn't answer right away. Just stared at me with a hatred I didn't ever think I'd see him direct towards me.

Maybe I deserved it. Maybe he just didn't have anywhere else to put it. It didn't matter.

After a long, horrible silence, one filled with unimaginable pain and centuries worth of unspoken words, Azriel simply met my eyes and said, "I will never fucking forgive you for this."

I believed him, but he wasn't done.

"And if she dies. If Hybern kills her-" He cut himself off, as if he could no longer bear the words coming out of his own mouth, regrouping with a sharp breath, "If I lose her before I even get her back, I'm going to kill you."

That wasn't a threat. It was a promise. I knew Azriel well enough to know that he meant every word.

And I knew he'd do it too.

All I had left to say for myself was, "I'd rather you be alive to hate me than love me in death."

I didn't wait for his reaction. I couldn't.

Perhaps I was the coward he claimed I was.

I turned and walked out, shutting the door behind me with hands that didn't tremble until they were out of sight.

And at the end of the hall, with Feyre and Mor still crying in the other room, Cassian in pieces across the hall, and Azriel burning with rage, I slid down the wall like the floor had been pulled out from under me.

And with my head in my hands, I prayed.

Once again, I didn't even know who I was praying to. Anything that could help. Anything that might answer.

Tell me I didn't get it wrong.

Chapter Text

526 years ago

Prythian- Windhaven, Illyria, Night Court 

Cassian

The sleet was coming down sideways. So fast, so wild, so unimaginably cold, that it felt like little pins jamming into my back. 

I had no idea how I was going to make it until morning. 

It wasn’t the first time I’d had that thought. Honestly, it wasn’t even the first time this week. But something about the violence of the sleet compared to yesterday’s colder, softer snow felt more real. Less like a slow, peaceful death and more like a brutal attack- one that ended with me frozen solid by daybreak. 

I’d been using my wings to shield what the scrap of canvas I’d managed to find in the trash behind the seamstress’s shop couldn’t. I needed a cloak, but in lieu of taking more lashes for stealing one- or fighting someone who had one- I’d decided to hope I could find enough fabric to piece one together. I had… about enough to make half of one so at minimum, one side of me was protected from the wind and ice. 

The problem was, my wings had stopped shivering about an hour ago. 

I assumed that was probably a bad thing. 

If I kept moving, I’d stay alive. That was the first rule in the list I’d compiled since being sent here to Windhaven. My survival guide, written nowhere but in my own head, each lesson learned through the worst of what trial and error has to offer. 

1. Don’t stop moving. 
2. Don’t sleep outside if it’s wet. 
3. Don’t go into the nice part of town where the big cabins are, no matter how warm it seems.
4. Don’t show weakness. 
5. Don’t talk unless it’s to get food or shut someone up. 
6. Don’t cry. 
7. Don’t ever cry. 

Tonight, I was breaking every damn one. 

I told myself the warm droplets cutting through the sleet were just defiant bits of ice, dragging stars down with them as they fell from the sky. Not tears. Couldn’t be. Definitely not.

At minimum, I was still walking- mostly in circles around camp, as if I was trying to find somewhere dry in a world made of ice. And I hadn’t talked to anyone. For any reason. 

The lashes still healing on my back ached. Of course, I was no stranger to them. But these ones were sharper, harder, brought on by my fight with the High Lord’s son. Between a bastard and a Prince, guess who got the blame for it? 

At minimum, the violet-eyed brat’s leathers were warm. Too small and too short, but warm. 

All of the trainees were told to treat him as any other peer when Prince Rhysand decided to grace us with his holy presence. I followed orders, so I challenged him and won his clothes as a prize. Just as I had done to every fresh-faced, highborn little fool that walked in there with a chip on his shoulder and fresh leathers. 

It probably wasn’t the smartest move in retrospect. The last thing I needed was to piss off the High Lord, of all people in the world. I’d just vanish, and no one would even notice.

Just one less bastard to tolerate, I supposed. 

Though, we’d both only been given three lashings. If it was truly a problem, I’d have gotten a hell of a lot more. Still, I felt like these were different, somehow. Worse. 

I wrapped my half-numb wings tighter around me, sank deeper into my hood, and kept walking. 

My stomach had stopped growling hours ago. That was always the worst part- when the ache stopped being sharp and started feeling like a hole, like something had been scooped out of me and left behind nothing but cold. It made my head swim, my thoughts blur.

I wasn’t sure if I was shaking from hunger or from the cold. 

Probably both. My limbs weren’t working right.

Everything in me screamed to lie down. Just for a minute. Just to rest.

But I knew how that story ended.

That was how the boys who didn’t make it were always found- curled up beneath a tree or beside the river, blue and stiff and empty. And the only thing the camp did was burn the bodies to keep the beasts from dragging them off.

I wouldn’t be one of them. I wouldn’t let them win like that.

But maybe… maybe, if I just sat down for a moment- 

“Cassian.” 

I didn’t recognize the voice that called me. I didn’t honestly think that anyone remembered my name besides the training commanders. At least, I hoped anyone hadn’t. 

Footsteps sounded behind me. Too light for a patrol. Too steady for a drunk. 

Who else then? 

I kept walking, assuming- or perhaps just hoping- that I’d imagined it. Was I that cold? Had I already gotten to the point in the night where I started seeing things made of ice and oblivion? 

“Cassian, wait!” 

I stopped dead. 

Surely, I wasn’t imagining that. It almost sounded like- 

I turned, slowly, and there he was. Rhysand, panting on the muddy, frozen path behind me, carved from ice and oblivion but real. Too real. With violet eyes that were far too bright in the dark and his wings pulled tight to his back. No coat. No hat. Just a half-laced pair of boots and an unreadable look on his face. 

“My house has a fire.” 

I blinked, half-convinced he’d lost his mind, “What?” 

“It’s warm.” He said, pointing faintly to a path in the woods behind him, one that led to a glowing cabin surrounded by some strange kind of magic. A ward. 

How had I wandered so far into the nice part of town? I’d broken rule number three without even realizing it. 

I knew my feet weren’t working right. The rich people with the big cabins didn’t want some vagrant bastard wandering around their yards. Normally, if I wandered too close to here, the best case scenario was to be chased out and screamed at. 

Worst case? The archers’ commander put an arrow in my shoulder a year ago for digging through his trash.

Rhysand pulled me out of the haze of confusion by taking a step closer, “It’s warm and there’s an extra bed in my room. My mom just made bread. I think she’ll let you stay if I ask nice.” 

I just stared at him, waiting for the punchline. 

Surely, he wasn’t serious. 

But would he really go out of his way to run out in the freezing rain, just to insult me? He was a spoiled brat, sure, but not cruel. Not like that.

“You…” I blinked, squinting through the rain. “You want me to come to your house?”

If he was serious, could I even say no? He was a Prince, after all. But  a warm bed… it sounded too good to be true. Hell, I’d have taken sleeping on someone’s porch  but for some reason, but the same boy I’d beaten the hell out of for the coat I was wearing just nodded and said, “Let’s go”

I didn’t argue. I couldn’t- not through the shock and the cloud of ice in my mind. All I could manage as he led me, numb and trembling, down the path was a croaked out, “Why?” 

He didn’t turn around to look at me, but his words held a weight I couldn’t understand such a pampered, highborn child having when he said, “No one else was going to help you. And I could.” 

I didn’t think I could answer that if I tried. Not pity, as I’d expected. But as if… because he had the ability to help me, he had an obligation to. 

The world didn’t work like that. It was backwards, sure, but it just didn’t. 

Apparently, the Prince didn’t care much for the way things were supposed to work. Though, why should he? 

At nine, he was more powerful than any of us. Everyone knew that. 

So, I kept my mouth shut and followed him up the porch steps, passing through that strange magic as if it wasn't even there. 

The cabin wasn’t grand by any standards. It was big, sure. Bigger than most of the cabins, even out here. Perhaps just second to the Camp Lord’s cabin down the road. I could remember hearing that it was the Lady’s family’s before she was mated to the High Lord, and her father had been a high-ranking commander. 

Most people were confused when she came here with her children. They were expecting the High Lord to build something grand for his family to stay in when the Prince reached training age. Something to flaunt all that wealth and status to us lesser-thans.

But aside from a faint buzz of warding magic, it was just a cabin they stayed in. Same as the rest. 

“My mom’s going to be mad at first.” Rhysand warned me, a hand on the doorknob, “I’m not supposed to be out. Just let me talk to her.” 

I blinked, confused, “Okay?” 

When he swung the door open, the warmth legitimately smacked me in the face. It was as if this boy had somehow just opened the gates to heaven. 

A place with no rain. No cold. No wet leathers. 

A place that smelled like fresh bread and honey and cinnamon and the warm, heady scent of cedarwood burning in a crackling fireplace. 

A home.

I might have nothing to my name, but even I knew that there was a difference between mere shelter and a home. And this… this was the latter.

If I’d been expecting grand decor, I was wrong. A crackling fireplace, a wooden sewing table, a plush couch and two armchairs with hand-knit blankets tossed on the arms. An old, upright piano shoved against one wall served as the only sign of wealth and status in the place. That and the fine paintings lining the staircase. 

The door opened up into a small entryway, hooks full of fine wool cloaks and fresh leather boots on the wall next to me, just before a doorway to what I assumed was the kitchen. And just beyond the curve of the hall, a wide open living room with stairs on the far wall. 

And on the couch, an absurdly beautiful woman sat with a little girl’s head resting in her lap. Brushing her hair. 

Logically, I knew that was the Lady and Princess of the Night Court. To me, they just looked like a normal family. At first glance, at least. 

Both were extraordinarily beautiful, in a way that seemed almost unnatural. Unreal. And the woman… her wings were unclipped. She could fly. And she had a large, sparkling black diamond on her finger. 

But the girl? 

She was no more than four. And she looked like a typical Illyrian child. Caramel skin, long curly hair, a flannel nightdress, small wings. Unsurprisingly, she had the same strange, glowing violet eyes as Rhysand that marked her as other and the pointed, High-Fae ears of a half-breed. 

But it was the magic around her that stopped me cold.

Everyone knew the Princess was a shadowsinger. Not only the only Princess in Prythian’s entire recorded history, but one gifted with the rarest magic of all, at that. She was a coveted thing, spoken of in whispers and old folk tales, marked as different from all the rest. Very few had ever even seen her, and now- I understood why. 

The power was almost… enchanting in a way.

The shadows, if you could even call them that, looked less like darkness and more like starlight given life. Like the purple flowers that grow in the woods at springtime made into smoke, sparkling and shimmering with iridescence when the firelight shined through it and dancing around her shoulders as she sat up out of her mother’s lap. 

“Rhysand! You’re soaking wet!” The woman, Lady Night, shot off the couch, “Why the hell were you outside?” 

Of course, the Prince seemed mostly unphased by her obvious anger, his voice calm and even, “Can we talk in the kitchen, Mom?”

The woman’s brown eyes shot to me like an arrow, going wide for a split second. I’d expected to find more confusion, considering I was a complete stranger standing in her doorway in the middle of the night. 

Instead, something cut through her anger for a moment. Too fast to make out. Gone before it was ever really there. 

Her face looked familiar. I knew I’d seen her before, from a distance, but that wasn’t it. She almost reminded me of my mother, in a way. Just taller, and with straighter hair.

My mother’s face went red when she was mad too. 

“I-” She stumbled over her words a bit, clearly more than shocked by… whatever Rhysand was doing in bringing me here. She shook her head, as if to clear it, before she continued, looking back at the boy next to me, “Fine. At the table. Now.” 

The words had barely finished leaving her mouth before she spun on her heel, disappearing through that kitchen door in a blink. Though out of sight, she still yelled, “And you better not track mud and water all through this house, Rhysand!”

The Prince just snapped his fingers and in a blink, we were both completely dry. The magic shocked me just as much as the feeling did. Even if the cold lingered, at least I was dry. 

He motioned for me to set down the scrap of canvas I was holding over my side by the door. In a daze, I obeyed, following his lead and slipping my boots off at the same time he did. And when I was standing here in nothing but threadbare socks with holes in the toes, he just said, “Stay here.” and vanished. 

So, I did. 

I stood there, still soaked to the bone on the inside, still shaking despite the warmth of the polished wooden floor under my feet. I tried not to look around too much. Tried not to breathe too deep, or touch anything. Or exist at all, really. 

I was a bastard. Bastards don’t have homes. Especially not ones like this. 

I did not belong here. 

I kept my eyes on the door Rhys had disappeared through, unsure if this was still a trap somehow. Maybe they’d come back with guards. Maybe I’d still get tossed out.

But then I felt it.

Eyes on the side of my face. 

I turned and just about hit the ceiling. 

When or how the Princess had slipped off the couch and crossed the room completely silently, I didn’t know. I jumped, not expecting her to be standing no more than a few feet away, half-hidden by the shadows at the edge of the hallway. 

Tiny. 

She was so small. A knit red blanket dragging behind her like a cape, at least three times her size, that strange smoke helping her hold it up. Long curls of  raven-black hair with two glowing violet eyes blinking up at me. 

Same as Rhysand’s- but softer. Bigger. Brighter. 

I had absolutely no clue what to do. 

We were told to treat Rhysand like any other peer but the Princess? I’d gotten no such order. And everyone knew how special she was, how rare, how strange… surely, I was supposed to bow? Or kneel? Or… something? 

My heart was thundering now, louder than the storm outside. I was covered in dirt, in bruises and old blood and shame , and she looked like she’d blow away if the wind howled too hard. 

Like something made of starlight and flower petals. 

Like touching her wrong would break her. 

And still, she was staring at me. Almost… curious. And pointed. Like she was trying to figure something out. 

Then, she tilted her head slightly to the side and said, in the tiniest, sweetest voice I’d ever heard, “Kneel.” 

My stomach dropped. 

Shit. 

I’d messed up already. She was a child, and even she knew I hadn’t done it right. I bowed my head fast, too fast, eyes squeezed shut like that might soften whatever punishment came next. 

“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I didn’t mean to disrespect you.”

But nothing happened.

No footsteps. No calling for her brother. No mocking laughter. 

Just a pause. A shift in the air, and then- 

Something warm settled over my shoulders.

I opened my eyes to this tiny little girl with her face scrunched in concentration, reaching on her tiptoes to throw the blanket she’d drug over here around my shoulders. The fabric caught on my wings as two small hands tried and failed to drape it around me properly. The shadows twined and helped her, their brush somehow… warm. Like sunlight. 

“You looked cold.” She said softly. 

She was standing right in front of me now, little feet in thick socks, like something out of the storybooks my mother once read to me. And the action was so kind, so pure, that I didn’t know what to say. My throat was tight. 

All I managed was a pathetic, choked, “Thank you, Princess.” 

She giggled as if that was the funniest thing in the world, the sound so bright that I could have sworn the clouds outside cleared just enough for a peek of starlight to shine through, “You don’t have to call me that. Only grown-ups do. And they’re all boring.” 

I stared at her, dumbstruck. This little creature- this girl - had the most powerful magic I’d ever seen and she’d used it to give a blanket to a bastard. And now, she was standing barefoot in front of me like it was nothing. Like I was nothing to be afraid of.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Cassian.”

She didn’t ask why I didn’t say my surname, as I would have expected her to, as everyone else always had- forcing me to admit that I didn’t have one. At least, not a true one. Bastards were given the name of their birth-camp as their last name. Nothing else to claim us but the land, I supposed, as if our mothers were nonexistent. As if all children were no more than their father’s possessions. 

And Blackcliff, a tiny, worthless camp in the middle of the mountains, was just as much a shame as being a bastard.

The Princess didn’t even comment on it, she didn’t say her own surname either. She just smiled, as if she liked my answer and said, “I’m Leuruna. But everyone calls me Leur.” 

Then she turned, motioned towards the fire like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and said, “You can sit with me. You’re still cold.” 

Where she pointed, so did the shadows. They moved with her, a few defiant tendrils swirling out from the rest to curiously examine me kneeling here as she walked away. I stared at them, frozen in complete disbelief, when they almost… beckoned me to follow her. If such a thing was even possible. 

I obeyed regardless. 

The Princess- Leur, as she’d said- had to jump to climb onto the couch, curling back up by the fire. Like the fool I was, I awkwardly trailed behind her. I almost sat down on the spot she patted next to her, but at the last moment- I remembered that I was still dirty. Dry, sure, but I couldn’t remember the last time I had a proper bath. Not since it was warm enough to wash off in the river, I supposed. 

In lieu of getting the couch dirty, knowing I’d already sullied this blanket she gave me, I sat down on the ground in front of the fire. 

This, however, the Princess asked about. She had that curious, innocent look that I’d seen before in her eyes again, shadows curling around her arms, “Why are you on the floor?” 

I figured that honesty was best, or maybe I just couldn’t think of a better excuse than, “I’d rather not get it dirty.” 

Her brows furrowed for a moment, eyes glancing around at the side of the couch next to her as if it had offended her somehow by being clean, “That’s dumb. It’s for sitting.” 

She said it like it was obvious, so utterly confused that I nearly burst out laughing. And I might have chuckled if in the next second, she didn’t move and distract me entirely. 

Without any care, she jumped right off the couch and down onto the ground next to me, scooching over until she was right beside me, holding her hands out towards the fire. 

This little girl was so strange, so completely different from how I would have expected a Princess to act, that I almost completely forgot that I was sitting in front of a warm fire in a cabin.  

How the hell had I wound up here? 

Leur tucked her legs under herself, little wings ruffling from the movement. The shadows surrounding her curled back from the burning light of the fire, skittering away to hide behind her, behind me. 

“Is it true that they sing to you?” I asked, if only out of sheer curiosity. 

I heard someone say that once, that the Princess could hear the song of the darkness, and I’d always wondered what that would be like. Constant music in my ears. 

“Not with words.” She said, suddenly almost… nervous, “Just like… humming. Or music in your chest.” 

Was I making her uncomfortable? 

“Sorry.” I muttered quickly, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I just… I thought it sounded cool. That’s all.” 

Her head whipped towards me so fast that her hair smacked against my arm. She smelled like lavender and something softer. Like innocence made real.

“Cool?” 

She sounded so confused that something in my chest pulled tight. Like a string about to snap. 

Had she been judged?

“It’s rare, isn’t it?” I questioned, trying to catch her eye. 

The vibrance in her had faded. Even the shadows were slower now, pressed tight to her as if they were trying to make themselves invisible. She stared at her hands twisting in her lap, her little voice so sad as she said, “I’m the only one.” 

How lonely it must be, to hear such beautiful music all day and have no one to share it with. 

“All the more special then.” 

She blinked, confused by that praise. Those words, like someone returning her kindness was the strangest thing she’d ever heard, “You really think they’re cool?” 

I smiled before I could stop it, the warmth of the fire piercing deeper than just the physical, “Of course, I do.” 

“People don’t usually say that.” she said, voice smaller, “They think it’s creepy. Or weird. Or… wrong- I guess.” 

I got the sudden, intense desire to find whoever had said that to her and beat them to hell. 

Instead, I just shook my head, “That’s stupid.” 

She perked up as if a light had just lit within her, and I continued, “They aren’t creepy. They’re… kind of beautiful. They move like they’re alive. “ 

The smile she gave me was so bright that I was almost blinded, childlike excitement gleaming, “They are alive.” 

My brows raised, “What does that mean?” 

“Rhys says they’re like a part of me.” She tucked her knees to her chest, spinning to face them, “And they are, but they’re not. They have their own voice, and they talk to me. They tell me things.” 

“Like what?” 

“Answers. Secrets. Whatever I ask.” She said, “And they warn me… about dangerous things.” 

Once again, I asked before I thought about it, “What do they say about me?” 

And this little girl, the Princess of the Night Court, just tilted her head and said, “That you’re afraid. And lonely.” She met my eyes, “You need a home.” 

I couldn’t argue with that. I just hadn’t expected her, of all people, to be the one to say it. 

Ever since I’d been pulled away from my mother, I’d been alone. I could honestly say that this was the first conversation I’d had since where I wasn’t being ridiculed or made fun of or about to punch someone. 

Leur continued, listening close to the string of purple smoke that curled around her ear, “But they won’t tell me why. They said to ask you.” 

I swallowed hard, my hands shaking just a bit. But there was no judgement in her eyes, only curiosity. 

She’d told me her truth. I suppose I could tell her mine. 

“People don’t like me because I’m a bastard.” 

She blinked, “What’s that?” 

“It means that my parents weren’t mated or married.”  

The frown that spread on her little face seemed out of place, “Why does that matter?” 

I shrugged, “Because people say it does.” 

The seriousness in her voice never wavered, but her words were so simple. Easy, simple words that, for the first time, sounded like the truth. 

“That’s so silly.” 

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. I laughed so hard that it almost felt like crying. 

And Leur laughed too, the sound like a melody, as if she only knew how to communicate in song. 

“I guess it is silly, isn’t it?” I said through a chuckle, running a hand through my hair. 

I watched her eyes catch on my knuckles. Eternally split and still bruised from my fight with her brother a few days ago. I barely even had a second to brace myself before she asked the question. 

“It is.” She said, “Are you the boy who got in a fight with Rhys? The one who took his clothes?” 

Well, shit. 

All of this kindness was about to go right out the window when she found out that I was the one who gave her brother a black eye. If she didn’t already know. 

Once again, as if I was incapable of doing anything else, I told her the truth. 

“I had to.” I said, “I needed clothes.” 

She didn’t frown, as I had expected her to. She didn’t even blink. She just nodded, as if that made perfect sense. 

“Okay.”

I blinked, “Okay?” 

She tilted her head again, curls bouncing. In the firelight, they almost had a blue tone, as if crafted from the night sky itself, “I don’t like it when Rhys is hurt.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Her eyes perked up, “But… you had to. And you didn’t hurt him that bad. He says the bruises will be gone in a few days.” 

I just stared at her, stunned into complete silence. 

“And,” she added, with a smile that was way too smug for someone her size, “if you beat him, that means you’re really good, right?” 

“I… I guess?” 

She grinned like that settled it, “Then you should train me.” 

I just about choked on my own spit, “What?” 

“Rhys teaches me things.” she said through a yawn, “The stuff he learns in training. He says I should know how to protect myself too. I practice out back. Or in my room when Momma says it’s too cold.” 

“You’re… what? Four?” 

“It’s a head start. That’s what Rhys says.” She shrugged, “By the time everyone else my age starts training, I’ll already be the best.” 

“Smart thinking.” I applauded, “You’re the Princess. Won’t you have formal training?” 

“I’m not supposed to learn how to fight.” She frowned, adorably angry, “Because I’m a girl.” 

I blinked at her, “You’re serious?” 

She just raised one tiny brow, shadows curling around her wrist, “Of course.” 

For the second time in one night, I laughed. Sharp and breathless and so unnatural that I surprised even myself. 

“You’re crazy, Princess.” 

She tilted her head, “Is that a bad thing?” 

“No.” I shook my head, “I’m starting to think it’s a good thing.” 

Her grin just widened, shadows dancing behind her like they were laughing too. I watched her watch me, like she was delighted by the fact that she’d made me laugh at all. 

"So, will you train me?" 

She looked so hopeful, as if I was dangling the moon on a string in front of her. 

I glanced back at the door to the kitchen, "Let's see what your mom says."

Clearly, the Princess did not like that answer. She crossed her arms indignantly, finally looking like the young, pampered royal that she was as she huffed out, "It doesn't matter what she says. You're staying." 

"Am I?" 

"Mhmm." She nodded, and I genuinely believed her when she said, "I want you to stay. So, you will." 

I quirked a brow over at her, "Is that how that works?" 

"Rhys says my powers are getting stronger. He thinks I'll be more powerful than him." Leur tapped the side of her head, "If Momma says no, I'll convince her."

More powerful than Rhysand?

As in... the Rhysand who was considered one of the most powerful people on the planet at nine years old?

If that was true- 

I cut my own thought off, turning to her, "So, you can read minds?" 

She shifted then, pulling her knees tighter to her chest with a little shiver, scooching the tiniest bit closer to me, "Yup." 

"Are you listening right now?" 

She shook her head just a bit harder than nessecary, perking up, "I have to go into your mind to hear. Kind of. But I'm not allowed. My father calls it an invasion of privacy. And Rhys says it's none of my business."

I let out a sigh of relief, brushing my hair out of my face, "So, if I say no to training you, will you make me?" 

A mischevious little grin spread across her face, dragging out her words in a sing-song voice, "Maybe."

I laughed then. Easier than before. Lighter, somehow.

But Leur just grinned as if that's what she intended all along. 

Her shadows settled across her shoulder like a blanket as she rested her head on her knees, “You have a funny laugh.” 

I smiled, “What does that mean?” 

“It’s just… full.” She said through a yawn, “Like it had to come out all at once.” 

I smiled, “Is that a good thing?” 

“Mhmm.” She mumbled, her voice losing its sparkle, slipping closer into a slur. 

“You’re tired.” I noted, watching her rub one eye with the back of her hand. 

“No, I’m not.” She countered, even with her eyes closed, “I’m wide awake.” 

“Sure.” I laughed, “And I’m a rich man.” 

That was when I noticed the shadows pulling in, curling like a cocoon around her back, retreating from the fire and hiding her in the dark.

“You cold again?” I asked.

She didn’t answer right away. Just kind of hummed in the back of her throat, the way kids do when they’re too tired to form full words.

I adjusted the edge of the blanket where it had slipped down off my shoulder. “Want this back?”

She shook her head, too slow, “You’re still cold too.” 

“Then let’s share, yeah?” I adjusted the blanket so it draped over her too. “Can’t have the Princess freezing to death on my watch.”

Her eyes cracked open, unfocused and hazy. And I assumed that we’d just sit there like this until Rhysand and his mother came back, but Leur just scooched closer. Until she was resting against my side, head against my arm, breathing slow and even as she mumbled, “You’re warm now.” 

I was, wasn’t I? 

Her shadows coiled tighter around us, blanketing her back like a second skin. One of them brushed against my arm. 

I didn’t dare move.

“You can stay, if you want.” She whispered again, barely audible. Her fingers curled into the fabric of the blanket, “We could be your family.” 

I was utterly positive that she had no clue what those words meant to someone like me. 

How the hell had I wound up here? 

An hour ago, I was alone in the rain. Freezing. Lonely. Afraid. 

Just as Leur’s shadows had said. 

But when Rhysand and his mother finally walked back in- I was sitting in front of the fire. Dry, but not clean. Utterly motionless, with the Princess of the Night Court snoring against my arm. 

Somehow more surprising than any of that was the fact that neither of them looked shocked at all. 

In fact, they both laughed. Not mockingly, but warm. Like everything in this strange, other world was. 

“That girl can wrap anyone around her little finger.” The Lady said, lovingly exasperated and  offering me a warm look, “I understand that you’re Cassian?” 

“Yes ma’am.” I nodded, trying not to jostle Leur. 

"Call me Hashna." She said, "I never cared for titles much." 

Absurd, coming from the Lady of the Night Court. 

She offered me a half smile, meeting my eyes, “Are you alone?” 

“I’m a bastard.” I said, my heart pounding in my chest, “I was sent here for training.” 

“That’s not what I asked you.” She met my eyes, “I asked if you’re alone. If anyone is looking after you. If you have a family.” 

I let out a breath, “No, ma’am.” 

She nodded once, then stepped closer. Brushed a gentle hand over Leur’s curls as the little girl snored softly against me.

“Well,” she said, voice low and certain,“You do now.”

I didn’t know what to say. 

Honestly, I might have entirely forgotten how to breathe. 

She hadn’t even offered. She just decided. 

Just like her daughter, apparently. 

A tear slipped down my cheek, and for once- I didn't care at all who saw it. 

Chapter Text

Present

Prythian- House of Wind, Velaris, Night Court

Azriel

I couldn’t remember falling asleep. 

I’d been awake for days, however many I didn’t even know, stewing in my own rage and avoiding what I knew would come for me when I closed my eyes. 

It wasn’t the dreams that bothered me. 

I’d grown used to them centuries ago. Glimpses of her face and watery, fading memories of her voice. Sometimes they were beautiful- rare memories of peace and true joy and what it felt like when her fingers laced through mine. 

Sometimes, they were the opposite. 

I chased after shadows I could never catch, heard long-dead echoes of her screaming, replayed that moment when I ran into a bloodstained clearing in the Illyrian mountains over and over again. Horrible memories on an endless loop. 

I was used to those too. 

But the bond was alive again. She was in the distance, faintly, but there. Real. With a heartbeat and breath in her lungs.

A miracle and a curse all at once, for too many reasons to name.

Right now, it was nothing but a curse.

Torture, for both her and me. 

That mating bond had linked us again, how- I didn’t know. I didn’t particularly care. She was real and alive and moving and breathing, and I could see it. In dreams, I could see through her eyes. 

Right now, all I saw was black. 

There was the sound of water splashing, muffled voices screaming in the distance, a distinct burning sensation in her chest- my chest? Both? I couldn’t tell. 

I had no sense of where she ended and I began. Not that I ever had. 

And then light, gasping breath, coughing, a glimpse of a dark stone floor. 

“Stop.” A weak, male voice pleaded, “Just stop. She has nothing to do with this.” 

“You truly expect me to believe that?” A rougher, darker voice answered. The King, laughing condescendingly as Leur tried to catch her breath, “The Great Traitor, innocent as we march to the battlefields?” 

“It was me.” The weaker voice, Tamlin- I assumed, answered, “I did all of it.” 

“Bullshit.”

“It’s true.” He breathed, “I’m responsible. I lied. I blamed her, but it was me. I covered up her death because I wanted to find a way to bring her back. And I did.”

“Let me just stop you right there.” 

A glimpse of the King’s hand, spindly, pale fingers raised. Black spots dancing in her vision- surely from a lack of oxygen. And she was moving, crawling away, the skin of her arms covered in blood and dirt and I was sick. I was so sick that I might wake from this dream just to vomit-

But I wasn’t that lucky. 

Fate forced me to be an eternal, helpless, voiceless bystander. A witness. Always nothing more than a witness.

“Magic to bring someone back from the dust only exists in one place, High Lord.” The King stood from his throne, walking down the dias towards them.

Only now, through my horror, did I realize that they were not in the Palace of Bone. At least, not in any section I had ever seen. This throne, this place, it was darker. Colder. 

A throne room in a dungeon? Surely only the King of Hybern would be so egotistical as to need one, but where? If I could just see enough, if I could give Rhys- at minimum- a location…

“Do you know where that is?” 

Tamlin was a wreck of blood and bruises on his knees, a shackled hand trying to pull Leur behind him. She couldn’t catch her breath. I could tell just by the way her lungs sounded. Full of water.

Or blood.

Probably both. 

Sick- I was going to be sick. 

And yet, despite her coughing and the pain from what I assumed was a broken leg based on the sensation, Leur managed to get herself upright, vision clearing with a few quick blinks, “Don’t waste your breath, Tam. He can’t hear anything over the sound of his own brilliance.” 

That was surely her. Only Leur would continue to insult her captors while actively being tortured. 

And only Leur could make it genuinely sound threatening. 

The sound of her voice though, even hoarse and trembling, was enough to make every logical thought in my head vanish. 

“I should’ve known even death wouldn’t be enough to shut you up.” The King scowled at her. 

I felt a smirk spread on Leur’s face, cold and dark, “I thought you wanted me to talk? You’ve all certainly done your fair share of begging.” 

Something cold spread in the King’s eyes, something that made me want to scream, to warn her, but I had no mouth. No body. 

Nothing.

The King took a step. Tamlin scrambled to move in front of her, but the guards grabbed him. Drug him away screaming and fighting.

All the while, Leur didn’t move. She didn’t even flinch. 

“You know what begging looks like, pet, and this isn’t it.” The King stopped in front of her, “Would you like a reminder?” 

She just rolled her eyes, “I’m sure I’ll get one regardless of my answer.” 

A grin, so disgustingly satisfied that I was certain I’d vomit, and then a purr, “Smart girl.” 

I couldn’t even tell what they did. There was a stab of pain, sharp and hot, and then a shift. Something that felt like a rip, being pried away, a ringing in my ears and a blur of my vision. 

And all of a sudden, I wasn’t looking through her eyes. I was watching through shadow, and for the first time- I saw her clearly. Not through smoke. Not in a dream.

Real. Alive. Right there. 

She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

Regardless of the blood, the dirt, the fear on her face- no light in this world could ever compare to her. Radiant and ruined- like the sun crawling out of a grave.

There was fire in her eyes even through the haze of pain. Strength in the way she breathed, even if it hurt. She looked like war. Like hope. Like everything I’d ever lost and everything I’d ever loved wrapped into one fragile, furious shape.

And gods, she was alive.

She was alive, and she was looking at me. 

Nothing else around us was moving. Tamlin was frozen mid-scream, the Hybern guards looked like statues behind their silver helmets, and the King- the King had a hand raised to her, grey power wrapped around it like smoke, a blow waiting to strike. 

But time had paused. 

Nothing existed but her and me. 

I wasn’t here, not really. I was a phantom. A shadow on the wall. A nightmare.

But Leur was looking at me like I was salvation.

“Why are you here?” 

I didn’t answer her. I couldn’t. The song of her voice had lulled me into speechlessness. 

“Not yet.” She said, “It’s not time yet.”

What did that mean? I needed to ask her. I needed to say it, but I couldn’t. I could only reach, cemented in place by some otherworldly force, my hands nothing more than threads of shadow. 

And Leur, as real in this dream as she had been in the smoke, just smiled. Smaller than I remembered. Heavier, somehow, as if it was in spite of the world’s horrors.

And all the more beautiful for it. 

“I knew you’d find me.” She said, “Even in here.” 

I love you. 

Something in me screamed it, over and over. Hands of nothing trying to rip a heart of flesh out and put it in her hands, as if it wasn’t already there, as if it meant anything after everything. 

I love you. I love you. I love you. 

She flinched then, either from whatever echoes she could hear or the words that came out of her mouth next. Soft and broken and pleading, the truth behind that strong exterior and the act of defiance she put on for the King. 

“Wake up, Az.” She whispered, “I don’t want you to see this.” 

No! No, no, no, no- 

Something inside of me pounded against internal walls of separation, screamed until my voice went silent, fought until I broke my own hands. 

A glimmer of tears in violet eyes, a tremble of her lip, and a crack in her voice and my heart at the exact same second, and then she whispered, “This isn’t how I want to come back to you.” 

And then everything sped up again. 

I felt myself reach so hard that nothing became something, and then there was a cracking sound. Sharp and brutal and horrific when an involuntary cry sounded. A blur of pain and then-

And then… I was awake. 

Heaving and covered in a sheen of sweat, with moonlight pouring through the glass balcony doors onto my bed. I found myself half in a panic- with nowhere to go and nothing to do but scream. 

And yet- no sound came out. 

I felt like I couldn’t breathe, as if my throat had closed up to trap the terror inside me and the side effect was my death. I bolted off the bed, throwing the doors open as hard as I could.

And the moment I stepped outside, the moment the wind hit me in the face, was the moment I found the ability to force my lungs to work again. I collapsed onto all fours, sobbing or gasping or breathing- I couldn’t even tell. 

I had no clue how long it took for me to catch my breath and no clue how long it took for my heart to go back to normal. All I could hear, pounding and then haunting, was those words over and over in my  head. 

This isn’t how I want to come back to you. 

I wanted to scream. I wanted to smash every last inch of the polished marble in this house until it was no more than dust tumbling down the mountainside. I wanted to use my shadows to rip that command out of my own head and lay waste to Hybern until I found her. 

But that was impossible. I knew that. Rhys’s magic was too strong, and the only person who could have ever outpaced his daemati abilities was currently being tortured in Hybern. 

Instead, I pulled my knees tight to my chest and hid my head in my hands, trembling with a longing so deep that I was certain it would kill me before this nightmare ended. 

Perhaps the dreams were better than reality. At least I could feel her there. I could hear her. See her- even if it was in the darkness.

At least she wasn’t alone. 

In reality, I had no options left but to wait. 

For what? I didn’t know. I wasn’t sure how Rhys intended on getting his precious “information” considering he locked his Spymaster up like a dog in a cage. I suppose the only intel I could gather was from my dreams, but Leur- 

Leur said it wasn’t time yet. 

What did that mean? What could we possibly be waiting for? 

Everything I thought I knew, the truths that kept me sane all this time, the hard ground I stood on- all of it was nothing but sand under my feet now. Quicksand that was slowly swallowing me whole, consuming me with teeth made of lies and secrets. 

Clearly, the King was under the impression that Leur did something. The Great Traitor- he called her. I knew people in Spring used that particular nickname for Leur after the war. They’d felt it was a betrayal for her to fight at her father’s side in Rhys’s place after his capture by Amarantha. 

I’d suspected then that it was deeper than that, and apparently- I was correct. 

But what could she have done? How did she get so involved with Hybern?

And why the hell did the King call her his pet?  

Tamlin claimed he lied, about what I didn’t know. He said he blamed Leur for something but it was really him, which I seriously doubted. So, clearly he was lying to cover for her, but why? What did she do?

What really happened on the day I lost her? 

I had an endless list of questions but no answers, and no way to find the truth either. My head ached as the wind whipped around me, throbbing as if someone was banging on my temples with a hammer. 

The shadows stirred. 

Soft at first, like the flutter of a heartbeat. As if they were waking from their solemn, endless wallowing behind my back, just enough to whisper, Not alone. 

My head snapped up. In a blink, I was on my feet, scanning for danger, for a threat, for something, anything- 

And surely, I found danger. But not in some malevolent force. 

Nesta Archeron was staring at me. 

She stood on the balcony just down and to the left, a few levels below me. The wind, the distance, none of it mattered. I could make out her features like she was carved out of lightning. 

A swath of navy velvet clung to her, her sandy blonde hair braided in a coil around her head. As beautiful and angry as she was before the Cauldron had turned her High Fae. 

But her anger- 

I recognized it, now that I was consumed with the same thing. 

Rage. Primal and hot and screaming- with nowhere to go. Burning too hot to contain inside but too vicious to let out either. 

She didn’t flinch when I met her gaze. She didn’t even look away. 

She just kept watching- as if she was daring me to be the one who avoided her. 

Instead, I pulled on my shadows and winnowed down to her balcony. 

She didn’t even startle at the rush of magic when I reappeared. She just turned her head and stared at me here, as if she was just taking advantage of the closeness to further examine… whatever she’d been watching me for. 

Maybe she saw the same thing I did- rage, pain, and hatred. Maybe she could see the quicksand pulling me down. 

I just leaned against the far side of the balcony railing, crossing my arms, “You’re not going to jump, are you?” 

It was a genuine question. Blunt, sure, but genuine. 

She only scoffed in answer, “No.” 

I let out a breath, half from relief and half because I needed to, “Then what do you want?” 

Nesta just tilted her head at me. To anyone else, the movement would have been threatening- especially after what I saw in her when she first emerged from the Cauldron. I just simply didn’t care enough about my own life at this point to feel fear. 

“You were much nicer before.” She noted, “You were the only one with manners.” 

I fought the urge to roll my eyes, “Being polite is the last thing I give a shit about right now.” 

The girl in front of me gave me a look that almost seemed like approval, just a flash before it vanished. And then she nodded, “Why?” 

Her curiosity took me off guard enough that I leaned back, “What?” 

“I’m not blind. I know something happened after-” A chill visibly ran up her spine, but she steeled herself against it, “Everyone is acting strange, and I just watched you have a breakdown on your balcony in the middle of the night.” She narrowed her eyes, “I’m asking you why.” 

I forced a breath in, as deep as I could manage, and tried not to let my voice waver when I said, “Someone we thought died a long time ago… came back.” 

Nesta just stared at me, waiting for more. 

I suppose speaking to someone who understood true rage was better than listening to Rhys blather on about what was ‘best for all of us’, so I continued, “She’s my mate. Rhys and Cassian’s sister.” 

Two blonde brows furrowed, “I wasn’t aware they are related.” 

“They’re not.” I shook my head, “My mate is Rhys’s sister through blood. Cassian was kind of… adopted into their family when my mate was young. She was always adamant that they were both her brothers.” 

“And you?” She met my eyes. 

I swallowed, “I came later.” 

“After that?” 

I didn’t need to follow her dropped gaze to know she was looking at my scars. She’d already examined them once when we were at their estate. 

I wondered how much clearer she could see them now with those High Fae eyes. 

“Yes.” I nodded, “After that.” 

“Hm.” She nodded, as if in agreement, “So, then where is she?” 

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My throat had closed up. 

But Nesta pushed anyways, “You said she came back, so then where is she?” 

When I found the strength to speak, my voice sounded far away. Muffled, as if I was underwater. 

“Tamlin staged everything. He lied to the King, played all of us, and somehow broke whatever curse was keeping her away.” I explained, “Hybern found out- that’s why they blew up the manor. And the King took her captive.” 

She just scoffed, a bitter, disgusted thing, “Figures.”

I didn’t have anything to say to that, so I said nothing. I just stared out at the night sky over the ocean, as if I could see far enough to find her across it. 

“So then why are you here?” 

I knew the question was coming. I didn’t want to answer it, for fear that saying it out loud would break my fragile control into pieces and end with me snapping Rhys’s neck. 

No, I couldn’t do that. 

Leur would be more than upset if I brutally murdered her brother, and he was still my best friend- despite the fact that I currently wanted him dead. 

My answer came out through my teeth, a growl barely restrained, “I have orders to be here.” 

She looked me up and down with that trademark cruel judgement, one brow quirking, “So that’s all it takes? A few clipped orders and you heel like a good little hound?” 

“Rhys is a daemati.” I explained to her, “The most powerful daemati in the world, actually- aside from my mate. I’m physically incapable of leaving this house.” 

“Does he control everyone like this?” She cocked her head, “Or just you?” 

“He’d never normally do this.” I answered, “He thinks he’s doing the right thing.” 

“Is he?” 

“No.” 

There was a pause then. Long and heavy and cold. She offered no sympathy, but I didn’t want it anyways. She just listened, nodded, and eventually said, “So, what are you going to do about it?” 

“What?” 

She met my eyes, “Are you going to act? Or just keep proving how well-trained you are?”

“Why do you give a shit?” I scowled. 

“I want the King dead.” She answered bluntly, “And you look like you’d make him suffer.” 

I stared at her.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t soften. Just stood there like a statue carved out of fury.

And then she said, “You thought she was gone. Now you know better.”

I blinked. That was it?

But then she added, “Try not to waste it.”

And turned, walking back inside before I could say anything.

She didn’t offer to help. Didn’t ask what I’d do. She just knew I’d figure it out.

Maybe because she knew what it felt like- when the only way forward was through rage.

And for the first time in days, I didn’t feel alone in it.

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

Feyre 

The hall was still and silent, save for the faint rush of wind through the balcony archways and the occasional flicker of shadows moving along the walls.

As if I was controlled by the hush, I walked silently too. Well, as silent as I could. My leg had healed enough in the past three days for me to put weight on it thanks to the accelerated fae healing, but there was still something aching there. A bone fusing back together after all the chaos and fire and blood. 

I didn’t need to guess to know where Rhys was. 

If he wasn’t in the library or the war room pouring over Hybern maps and old documents, he was here in the infirmary wing with Cassian. Our General had yet to wake after his injuries. Majda had said he lost too much blood, any more and he would have been dead by the time they left Hybern- so it would be a few days until he woke up. 

It had been five days, and Cassian still hadn’t stirred. 

And while that was worrisome, even though Majda and Amren both insisted it shouldn’t be, perhaps more troubling was the fact that Cassian’s unconsciousness had ensured he stayed oblivious to the hell wrought upon us all when Leur walked out of that pool of starlight. 

A thin sliver of candlelight glowed beneath the door to Cassian’s room. The air here smelled like boiling water and herbs and blood. As if my body remembered the state it was in when I was last down here, a pain shot up my leg. 

I ignored it and kept walking. 

I didn’t knock on the door. I just walked in. Cassian lay unconscious in the far bed, still and too pale, a thick bandage wrapped around his ribs and another binding the length of his thigh. His wings were suspended above the mattress by delicate cords, healing salves already drying across the stitched skin. 

Rhys didn’t look up when I entered. He was seated beside the bed, elbow on his knee, chin in his hand- silent, watching.

“Have you been here all night?” I asked.

He only nodded.

I shut the door behind me, dragging a stool over to sit beside him, “Why?” 

He swallowed, “Reach out and feel his mind. He’s about to wake up.” 

I didn’t check. I believed him. 

I studied Cassian’s pale, unmoving form for a long moment before I asked, “Do you want to be the one to tell him?”

Rhys didn’t look away from his brother’s face. “I have to be.”

“Because of her?” I said softly.

His jaw tensed. His voice, when it came, was low, “Because he’s her brother, just as much as I am. More, maybe.” 

My brows furrowed, “What does that mean?” 

“Leur and Cassian were two sides of the same sword. Where I hesitated, he always knew what to do. He never questioned her- never made her feel like she had to explain herself. They just…” Rhys shook his head, the words slipping through his fingers. “When she was upset, she went to him. When she was hurt, she went to him. When she was afraid, she went to him. He was safety, in a world that never gave her any.”

He took a breath, “And she was the same thing for him.” 

I studied the side of his face, trying to determine what that bittersweet feeling I sensed down the bond was, “And you?” 

“I tried to do the same.” He shrugged, “But you can’t protect someone from a fire you’re both trapped in.”

I tried not to let that sting, but it did anyway. I let it burn because it was the least I could do in light of all the pain in this room. And I turned and looked back at Cassian while I rode out the pain. There was an old, ratty red knit blanket thrown over the sheets now, one that hadn’t been there before. I assumed that Rhys or Mor had brought it in here in the past few days. 

I changed the subject, if only to spare Rhys from any more of this particular conversation, “Do you really think telling him as soon as he wakes up is a good idea?” 

“No.” My mate answered simply, “But I have to.” 

“Why?” 

“Cassian and I always had an agreement when it came to Leur.” He explained, “She was the one thing we never wavered on or fought about. When Az came along, we knew she was safe with him. He was in love with her the minute they met. But… if Azriel wasn’t with Leur, one of us was- or we knew where she was. We were in agreement from the time she was four that we weren’t letting anything happen to her.” 

He took a sharp breath in, shooting a pulse of guilt and grief down the bond that was so potent it nearly knocked me out of my chair, “The night she died, I was supposed to be with her.” 

Finally, I understood the guilt in his voice when he first told me those words. I hadn’t understood the gravity then, the reality of what he was truly saying, but I saw it now. He didn’t just believe he failed Leur and their mother- but his brothers too. 

“Azriel was out on a mission for my father. Cassian was working, training some younger group of Illyrians.” Rhys breathed, “I was supposed to be with Leur, but I got drunk instead. And by daybreak, she was gone.”

I flinched, but he wasn’t done, “I can’t lie to him. Not even for a minute. Because even after all of that, Cassian is the one who identified her body. Not me. I was too much of a coward to look.” 

I reached out, laced my fingers with his, “It’s not your fault, Rhys.” 

“Everything is always someone’s fault.” He shook his head, eyes still trained on Cassian, “My failure robbed Azriel of his mate and took the one person who always understood Cassian away from him. I owe him this.” 

There was nothing I could say to argue with that. All I could manage was a weak, “How do you think he will take it?” 

“Horribly.” 

I nodded, “Well, if you expect the worst, then you’ll either be right or… pleasantly surprised.” 

My mate just sighed, every last bit of his exhaustion laced within it, “Nothing about what’s about to happen will be pleasant.” 

Before I could answer, Rhys went still. 

And then Cassian stirred.

It was subtle at first- barely more than a twitch of his fingers against the red blanket. But Rhys was already on his feet, shadows pooling in his gaze like storm clouds. I held my breath as Cassian shifted again, this time letting out a low, rough groan that scraped through the silence.

Rhys didn’t say a word. He just stepped closer, knelt beside the bed, and waited.

Cassian’s brow furrowed. His eyes fluttered- then opened, unfocused and hazy with pain.

“Rhys?” His voice was cracked, gravelly. He blinked once. Twice. “What… what the fuck happened?”

Rhys swallowed hard, “Hey, Cass.” 

Cassian’s hand flew to his side, to the bandages, “Hybern- Nesta- where is-”

“You’re safe. You’re home.” Rhys said, firmer now. “Nesta is safe. She’s here with us.”

Cassian let out a breath and tried to sit up- then hissed and collapsed back, clutching his side. “Holy shit- my wings- what-” 

“You were injured in Hybern.” I said gently, as Rhys magicked a glass of water in his brother’s hand, “Majda says you’ll make a full recovery. You just need some time.” 

I physically watched the relief bloom on Cassian’s face. Perhaps from the news that he’d fly again or the water he lifted to his cracked lips. 

“Don’t drink it all at once, Cass.” Rhys warned, “You’ll just throw it back up.” 

He limited himself to a few slow sips, letting out a low sound of content as he pried himself from the glass. I watched him take a breath, then two, recovering right in front of my eyes. 

Though, the peace only lasted a few moments before he looked back at Rhys, “Tell me you killed Tamlin.” 

My mate didn’t say anything, and neither did I. I was too preoccupied with trying not to remember the sight of Tamlin panting, talon-tipped hands digging through fire and stone to give me space to breathe, the look on his face when three ash arrows were shot into his back. Azriel screaming through the smoke and Rhys clawing down the bond for me, fire and ash and-

My thoughts were cut off when Rhys let out a breath, “It’s complicated, Cass.” 

“Not really.” His brother’s face went dark, “He’s taken enough from us. And every time, we just let him get away with it. What do you think he’ll go after next? What else-” 

“Hybern has Tamlin.” I interrupted, “I went back to Spring with him after… everything. The King must have found out that Tamlin and Lucien were playing him, so he blew up the entire Manor.” I met Cassian’s eyes, “I barely made it out.” 

Two bushy black brows furrowed, “Playing him? For what?” 

Rhys tensed, “We need to tell you something, Cass. But you have to try to stay calm. You’re still injured and you’ll only make it worse if you move.” 

Cassian’s eyes narrowed, even with his voice strained he still managed to sound menacing when he said, “I’m not promising shit.” 

Rhys didn’t flinch. “It’s about Leur.”

Silence.

Something detonated in Cassian’s eyes. A caged, perfectly controlled explosion of pain at just that one name, but nothing on his face moved. All of it was locked behind walls of steel, brick, and unwavering grit. 

An ancient strength- one that I knew was finally about to crack. 

Cass’s jaw clenched, “What about her?” 

There was a few seconds of silence. A clarity right before the world went to hell, just like the moments before the Manor exploded. Peace and quiet and logical thought for just a second. 

And in the next, Rhys set the entire world on fire. 

“She’s alive.” 

Cassian blinked a few times, looked at us both like we had both lost our minds, “That’s not possible.” 

“It is.” My mate’s voice was grave, “She’s alive, Cass.” 

Cassian’s breathing was speeding up, his heart pounding faster with every second that dripped by, “Don’t lie to me.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Rhys.” 

“I’m not.” My mate repeated, firmer now, “Tamlin saved her… somehow. He shifted someone or something to look like her, took the blame for her death, and he saved her.” 

The male on the bed in front of me was shaking now. More undone than I had ever seen him in my life, than I ever could have imaged someone like Cassian being. His voice wavered when he said, “Bullshit.”

“It’s not.” I cut in before Rhys could speak again, “I saw her. I talked to her.” 

There were tears in Cassian’s eyes when he looked at me. Angry, hot tears that looked like they’d burn when they fell. 

“Please, Feyre.” He cracked, like a log that had burned so long it started to fall to pieces, his lip trembling, “Please don’t lie to me.” 

“I can show you.” I offered, letting go of Rhys’s hand to grab his own, “You can see her.” 

Cassian didn’t answer with words, only a frantic, panting nod. In an effort to appease him, I just met his eyes. His shields, what little remained of them, were trembling. And the mind behind them was nothing but incoherent, horrible screaming. I tried not to hear it as I slipped past, weaving image and sound into his mind. 

I showed him what I remembered. Her walking out of that water, the sound of her voice when she spoke, the drift of shadow around her, the wonder in her eyes as she stood on Prythian ground for the first time in centuries. I showed him how worried she was when she heard she was hurt, the half-smile she gave me while we walked through the woods, the sight of her waltzing up the Manor stairs as if she owned them. I didn’t show him the explosion or any of its aftermath, but I did show him her laughing on the couch, violet eyes glimmering and breath in her lungs. Alive and vibrant and herself- from what Rhys and Mor had said. 

And when the memories finished, Cassian was openly sobbing. 

I’d never heard such a sound. Cassian was strength itself. Big and boisterous, fueled by joy and rage- but this? This was something small and so very fragile that it felt like one more push and he’d shatter entirely. It was not the rage or the immediate action I’d expected from him, though I was sure that was coming. But for a moment, something vulnerable shone through. 

Rhys had tears on his cheeks too, centuries worth of guilt eating him alive right in front of me- and there was nothing I could do to stop it. 

I was certain it couldn’t possibly get any worse, that this was the rock bottom I’d expected us all to plunge towards when Cassian whispered, “I never thought I’d hear her laugh again.” 

The words weren’t loud. They weren’t bitter or even disbelieving.

They were… hollow. Empty in a way that made it clear how long he’d carried that grief, how deep that absence was carved into him.

No one spoke.

Not Rhys, not me.

Because what could we possibly say to that?

What words could you offer someone that captured lifetime's worth of hurt and turned it into hope?

Rhys’s eyes slipped closed. Not only out of sheer exhaustion but something that understood the exact weight in Cassian’s words. Some part of him that was still locked in grief at the end of it all. 

And Cassian just sat there, breathing hard.

And then, slowly, terrifyingly slowly, he wiped at his face. Not to hide the tears- he didn’t care that we saw. But to ready himself.

To become a General again.

His entire body went still. Not stiff, not bracing.

Still.

I’d seen Cassian angry. I’d seen him bloodthirsty. But this wasn’t that. This was surgical. Ruthless. As if his grief had sharpened itself into a blade.

He looked up at Rhys. His voice didn’t shake, didn’t crack.

“Where is she?”

Every word I knew tumbled out of my head. 

And worse- Rhys choked on his own breath. He knew, just as I did, that the worst of this conversation wasn’t even here yet. 

“Where?” Hazel eyes snapped to me, bloodshot and hard, “You said she’s alive, so where the hell is she?”

I couldn’t. 

I could not be the one to take all that hope and squash it under my boot. 

Cassian’s voice sparked like a flame popping, hot and wild and burning, “Where is my sister, Feyre?” 

I wanted to tell him that she was down the hall, that she’d waltz in here like she had in the Manor in just a moment. Intact and unharmed, with a crown on her head and centuries worth of wit on her lips.

But that would be a lie. 

“Where is she?” he repeated, “Because if you don’t tell me, I will find out. And I don’t care if my wings are torn off. I don’t care if my legs break when I stand. I’m going to find her.”

Rhys sucked in a breath, “Cassian-” 

His brother jerked off the bed, as if he’d rip himself free from the cords keeping him together in a moment’s notice, his head snapping to my mate, “Where, Rhys? Where is Leur?” 

Rhys flinched. 

Actually, legitimately flinched. 

But he answered anyway. 

“Hybern.” He said, “The King took Leur and Tamlin captive after the Manor exploded.” 

Cassian didn’t move for a moment after Rhys spoke.

Just sat there. Breathing. Processing.

Burning.

Then, slowly- so slowly it made every muscle in my body tense- he swung his legs over the side of the bed. The cords holding his wings up pulled tight, the farthest one snapping under the pressure.

“Cassian.” Rhys warned.

He didn’t answer. Didn’t look at either of us. He was shaking, not entirely from weakness but from the sheer force of the storm building inside him. The bed creaked beneath his weight as he started to push himself to his feet.

“I have to go get her,” he said quietly. Too quietly. A deadly sort of calm, “I have to go get her now .”

“Cassian.” I stepped back, trying to keep my voice as soothing as possible,“You need to rest. You nowhere close to having your full strength back- ”

“She’s alone .” His voice cracked- then rose. “She’s alone and we’re just sitting here .”

“Tamlin is with her.” Rhys attempted. 

“Tamlin?” Cassian’s movements paused, as if by the sheer absurdity of the sentiment, “You mean the asshole who betrayed her, Tamlin? The one who practically tortured your mate, Tamlin? The one who got Nesta and Elain thrown in the fucking Cauldron? Fuck, he’s probably still working with Hybern. He’s probably the reason she’s there in the first place.” 

“He saved her.” Rhys reasoned, “You saw them in the memories. Clearly, they’re still-” 

“I don’t give a fuck who’s friends with who, Rhys.” Cassian snarled, “Leaving our baby sister alone with a beast might work for you, but it doesn’t fucking work for me.” 

He moved to get up again, and Rhys pushed him back down on the bed. Two hands braced on Cass’s shoulders as he said, “No.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Cassian snapped, “Where’s Azriel? There is no fucking way-” 

“I made an executive decision.” Rhys interrupted, his voice calm, “No one is going anywhere until we know what we’re dealing with.” 

“And how the fuck did you get Azriel to-” 

Cassian cut himself off. 

I could have sworn I physically saw the gears turning in his head, the realization sinking in. And the horror and the rage that bloomed on his face nearly took my breath away- 

“You commanded him.” Cass’s voice came out a quiet, horrified whisper, “You won’t let him leave.” 

Rhys’s voice cracked, even with the strength he was willing into himself, “I’m trying to keep as many of us alive as possible.”

“At her expense?” Cassian shook his head, “At Leur’s expense? You’re out of your fucking mind. Me? Sure, leave me there to rot. But Leur?” 

“No one is leaving anyone anywhere.” Rhys’s voice came out through his teeth, “I just think we need, at minimum, a target before we-” 

“No.” Cassian shook his head, reaching up and ripping the cords off himself. If he felt any soreness or pain, not an ounce showed as he said, “No. I’m not listening to this.” 

“It’s an order, Cassian.” 

“I don’t follow orders when it comes to my sister.” Cass snapped over at Rhys, more venom than I’d ever seen from him, “You, of all fucking people, should know that.”

“What are you going to do?” Rhys argued, “Shoot up out of your deathbed and go storm Hybern?” 

Our General just gritted his teeth, “If I have to.” 

“Cassian, you’re not thinking clearly.” My mate tried to reason, pushing him back down again, “Trust me, I understand. But if you were in your right mind-” 

“I’m not in my right mind!” He snapped, “I am not in my fucking right mind, Rhys, because our sister just came back from the dead and got kidnapped in the same day.” A heaving, gasping breath, “And honestly, I don’t fucking understand how you are.” 

“Someone has to be.” Rhys snarled through his teeth, his temper finally flaring, “Someone fucking has to be, Cassian.” 

“Well, have fun with that.” His brother snapped, shoving his hands off, “I’m going to get Leur.”

Rhys didn’t have time to stop him before Cassian shot off the bed. I physically heard something rip as he did so, some wound or stitch reopening and perfuming the air with the scent of blood. 

“Cassian.” I tried to reach for him, “Stop.” 

My mate grabbed him then, pulling him from his wobbly stance on his feet and back down onto the bed, all the while Cassian snarled, “Dammit, Rhys! Let me go!” 

“You’re hurting yourself, Cass. You’re in no position to-” 

“I don’t care!” He fought, his skin going paler by the second, “I have to go! I have to find-” 

His voice distinctly cut himself off. Sharp, like a blade had sliced clean through it. 

No. Not a blade. 

Rhys’s magic.

“I’m sorry.” A tear dripped down my mate’s cheek, “I’m so sorry, Cass. I can’t let you tear yourself apart.” 

Cassian didn’t answer. I was pretty sure he couldn’t, not with how Rhys held his mind. 

In the next second, his eyes slammed shut and his back hit the bed again. 

I felt a pull on Rhys’s magic, drained and unimaginable all at once, and in the next- Cassian looked precisely as he had before the conversation began. Clean bandages. Intact stitches. Cords holding his wings in place.

Neither of us said anything for a very, very long time. 

What was there to say? 

No one was entirely right, but no one was entirely wrong either. And I wasn’t entirely sure which truth hurt worse.

I tried to gather my thoughts for an unimaginable length of time, but every time I got close- they spiraled right back down into the depths. 

But I had to say something. 

I didn’t even know where I was going, my voice listless and quiet when I whispered, “Rhys…” 

He didn’t even lift his head from his hands, his words muffled, “I can’t, Feyre.”

“Do you want a moment?” I offered, “When was the last time you ate?” 

He let out a long sigh, scrubbing his hand down his face as he looked back up at me, “I don’t know.” 

“Okay.” I nodded, stepping forward to brush a strand of hair from his eyes, “You stay here. I’ll get something.” 

“Thank you.” He breathed, meeting my eyes. 

He didn’t have to say what for. I knew. 

I just gave him a half smile in answer, “I’m with you, Rhys.” 

I didn’t wait for his reaction. I just turned and left, quietly shutting the door- even if a tornado couldn’t wake Cassian from the sleep he was in. 

The House was silent. Nothing but the whistling of the wind and a multitude of strained, out-of-tune heartbeats. I padded down the stairs, heading towards the closest kitchen when a flicker of movement a few landings above caught my eye. 

It took me a moment, and a closer look, to realize what I was seeing. 

Elain. Not unmoving, curled up by a window, but standing- barefoot, in a long white nightgown. A few levels above in an unused portion of the house. 

The Royal Family’s old quarters. The ones that Rhys never used, if only to spare himself the memories. He’d had a different portion renovated for his accommodations and this section converted into the infirmary and the armory. 

But the upper floor of this section of the palace, the highest levels in the house, were sealed off and left untouched. I’d never even wandered up there. 

It hadn’t felt right. 

Why the hell would Elain be up there? 

I took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the pulse of pain in my leg and forgoing getting Rhys food for now until I confirmed I wasn’t losing it. But there she was, not a vision conjured by a too-tired mind, but real. Devastatingly beautiful and slender in this new High Fae body, staring blankly at two shut, ornate doors carved with the stars and covered by a black sheer. 

And Elain was just standing there. Staring at it. 

Still as stone. Her hands at her sides, her face pale. Eyes locked on that curtain like she was waiting for something to step through it.

“Elain?” I called gently, placing a hand on her shoulder,“What are you doing awake? The sun is almost up.”

She didn’t answer.

Instead, her head turned slowly- unnaturally slowly-to glance out one of the narrow windows nearby. The horizon was beginning to shift, streaks of deep blue chasing the stars.

Her voice was quiet when it came, almost childlike.

“Not yet,” she said.

Then, after a heartbeat:

“It’s not time for sunrise yet.”

And she turned back to the curtain.

Still staring.

Chapter Text

524 years ago

Prythian- Hewn City, Night Court

Rhysand

The deeper we went, the colder the stone got. I stayed close to Leur, who was humming some melody under her breath and dragging her fingers along the wall like she could read the cracks in the stone. Utterly unbothered by the way the walls felt like they would swallow us whole and the darkness chasing our heels. 

Our father walked ahead with no light to guide our path, just our eyes. I knew if I complained, he’d tell me that our rare violet eyes were made for seeing through darkness, and I could not ever hope to be the High Lord of the Night Court if I was afraid of my own shadow. 

I wasn’t afraid of my own shadow. I was afraid of creepy dark tunnels that went on for miles, where anything could be hiding in wait. But, that’s what he would say. And there would be no sympathy. In fact, if I made it clear I was afraid- he’d likely lock me down here until I wasn’t anymore. 

“Just to make you stronger.” He’d say. 

So, I kept my mouth shut and endured it in silence. 

At least Leur wasn’t afraid. Then again, my sister made no sense. She’d hum and skip her way into an abyss but crawl in my bed and shake like a leaf through thunderstorms. Befriend monsters, but scream over a bug. 

A week ago, I watched her climb up Cassian’s back like he was a tree because a spider crawled across her foot. He’d laughed himself sick while I found the little beast and killed it. 

And here Leur was now, careless and bright as ever, holding my hand while we walked down the dark path to… somewhere? Hel, probably. 

It wouldn’t surprise me, knowing our father. 

He was quieter than usual today, walking with smooth, steady footsteps, the diamonds making up the stars on his black velvet cape twinkling just the slightest. Catching light from… somewhere. Our eyes, maybe. 

And so we walked. And I tried to stare at those stars. And Leur kept humming. And my father kept ignoring us both. 

Until we reached the end of the tunnel, where a dark obsidian archway waited with two doors made of the same stone, groaning open with a wave of my father’s hand and a hiss of stale air. 

“You two will not touch anything unless I instruct you to.” He said, glancing back at us with glowing eyes, “Understood?” 

Leur gave him a solemn nod, like he’d just entrusted her with the secrets of the entire world.

I nodded too. Though, truthfully, I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

Inside, the Night Court’s ancient magical archive looked nothing like a library. Sure, there were shelves full of spellbooks, but the rest of the room was full of black pedestals surrounded by shimmering, iridescent wards. Atop them, everything I could have possibly imagined. Scrolls. A hand mirror glowing with strange green power. A long silver needle. A chalice. A veil made of lace and black smoke. A golden compass. 

Against the walls stood larger items. A massive hourglass- big enough for me to lie down in- trickling sand so slowly it barely moved. And beside it, a massive crystal ball, swirling with white power. 

All the way across on the other side of the room, there was a longsword. Not enchanted or special in any way, but the blood on it-

The blood on it was fresh- as if someone had just used it. And black. 

Beside it, a large black scepter formed into a snake’s head. With two glowing red eyes and a sheen of crimson power echoing off of it. 

Leur looked like we just took her to a candy shop. 

All I felt was dread. Every pedestal in this room felt like it was holding something alive. Something that was watching me . 

On the far wall, carved from obsidian and purest, shining silver, was the crest of the Night Court. A mountain topped by three eight pointed stars- big enough to take up nearly the entire wall from the floor to the vaulted ceilings. Our father walked up to it with that smooth, purposeful way of his, while I practically drug Leur alongside me. 

Ouch. She whined into my thoughts, Don’t pull so hard, Rhys. 

Father said not to touch anything. I warned her, You have to be good or he will get angry. 

He’ll be angry anyway. She rolled her eyes, sticking close to my side again, Did you see the hourglass? 

Yes, I saw. 

She tugged on my hand, as if to get my attention, Isn’t it cool? 

It's probably dangerous. I said, Don’t go near it. 

Her eyes shot up to me, a seven-year-old scowl on her lips, more adorable than it was intimidating, You sound like Father. 

For some reason, it felt like an insult. 

I didn’t have time to think of an answer before my father stopped in front of the wall. I brought Leur over to stand next to me beside him, staring up at the massive crest. Only up close did I realize- each of the stars had a circle of glass set into its center. Not cut to reflect light. Not shining.

Just… waiting. Empty.

Like they were supposed to hold something, once.

My shadows don’t like that scepter. Leur whined, slipping over to my other side, It’s hurting them. 

It’ll be fine. I told her, Father wouldn’t bring you here if it was dangerous. 

She didn’t answer, just shifted uncomfortably, bouncing on her heels. 

“Leuruna.” My father began, and I knew a lesson was imminent, “Tell me what you’re looking at.” 

Leur’s eyes were wide and clear, full of starlight and wonder as she said, “Our Court’s crest.” 

“Yes.” He nodded, “But it is not only the crest of our Court. This is our family crest as well.” 

My sister shifted a bit closer to me, in that way she did when our father questioned her. As if she wanted his approval so badly that she was afraid of him. 

Or perhaps just afraid of what he’d do if she got an answer wrong . 

I tried to slip her answers when I could. Or study with her so she knew everything he could possibly ask. The last thing I wanted was for her to learn the hard way, as I did. 

But this lesson… this was new. I didn’t even know where my father was going with this, or why we were here in the first place.

“Rhysand.” My father turned to me then, “Explain to me why this is our crest. Why these symbols , out of everything?” 

I swallowed. My father, with his pale skin and long, shiny black hair, could be terrifying when he wanted to be. Like some ancient power made flesh, waiting for the moment to strike. 

He’d been kind, once. Loving, even. But those days were over now. 

“The mountain is Ramiel- a landmark of our Court.” I told him, “And the three stars are the stars that appear overtop Ramiel during the Blood Rite.” 

“Name them.” 

I blinked over at him, “What?” 

“The stars, Rhysand.” He repeated, voice harder now, “Name them.” 

Leur let go of my hand to hug my arm, shying away from that demand. But I just swallowed and said, “The one in the center, at the top, is Carynth. On the right is Oristes, and on the left is Arktos.” 

“Excellent.” He praised, giving me a nod before he looked back down at my sister, “Leur, tell me why we draw them as eight pointed stars.” 

My heart dropped down to my stomach. 

How the hell was she supposed to know the answer to that? Even I didn’t know, and I was five years older than her. 

Leur blinked up at him. Just once. 

Then she looked at me. Nothing more than a quick glance, a request for help, but I had nothing to give her. My mind was completely empty. 

“Don’t just stand there gaping.” Our father scolded her, “And stop hiding behind your brother. He will not always be there to protect you.” 

My heart was beating so hard I thought it might fly out of my chest. Leur’s shadows twisted closer to her, as if they would replace my protection when she stepped out from behind me, squared her shoulders, and looked straight up at our father. 

As if that was all it took for her to be brave, she spoke. And in the calmest, clearest voice I’d ever heard, she said, “I don’t know.” 

Our father’s brows shot up, “Excuse me?” 

But Leur, fearless, half-foolish little Leur, just repeated herself, “I don’t know.” 

There was a pause. Not quite silence- something tighter than that.

Our father stared at her.

Then, to my shock, a breath of amusement curved his mouth. Not a smile. Just the ghost of something close.

“Good,” he said at last. “Better to admit ignorance than speak in error. That, at least, shows some promise.”

Leur blinked. I blinked. 

But our father just turned back to the crest. 

“They are drawn with eight points- one for each of the Seven Sacred Constillations, and the eighth- the longest, uppermost point- is for time itself.” He explained, “As time rules us all.” 

He glanced over his shoulder at me, “Rhysand. Tell me what each of the Seven Sacred Constellations are.” 

“The Hunter, the Flame, the Sword, the Crown, the Archer, the Eye, and the Skull.” 

He didn’t say anything about my correct answer, just looked down at my sister, “Leur, why are they important?”

“They protect the world.” She answered, half-bored, “Guide us.” 

“And they are called?” 

Her shadows swirled around her in that restless way of theirs as Leur said, “The Hands of the Mother.” 

“Great.” Our father said, waving a pale hand to beckon us closer, “Look carefully at the stars. Do you see the alcoves?” 

We both nodded. 

He seemed so tall. He couldn’t have been any taller than the training commanders… 6’4? 6’5? But somehow, our father seemed like such a large man. Lean and lithe, but big. Towering over everyone and everything. 

He was strong too. Not just in power, but physically. 

Standing this close to him, even with all our power- his own power in our blood, felt like a trap. 

“Those are meant for pieces of the starlight.” He explained, voice smooth, “The biggest prize of all, and one we have not yet obtained.” 

Leur, of course, asked, “How do you get pieces of starlight, Father?” 

He didn’t answer, just reached up and ran three fingers over the center of the top star. As if in reverence. Respect, even. 

 “Carynth,” he said, voice low, “The Holy Star. The light of the world. The light of souls. ”

Leur blinked up at him, shadows coiling in stillness around her feet.

“It was born in the moment of the first eclipse,” our father went on, “when the sun and moon touched- when light and darkness met for the first time. That moment tore a hole in the sky, and from it spilled a single flame of creation. Carynth.”

I felt an instinctual shiver creep up on me, but I kept myself still. Calm. Listening. 

Just as he would expect me to be. 

“From Carynth,” he continued, “came the seven sacred constellations- each made of seven fragments of that divine light, cast across the heavens to guide and mark the passage of time. Each constellation is a story, a warning, a prophecy in and of itself. But Carynth is something more. It is not a star, but the origin of stars. Not power, but the source of power.”

He ran his fingers over it again. Slower this time. Softer. 

“It is said that the gods poured Carynth’s light into a single vessel. A counter to the Cauldron itself. The Apenati.”

My breath caught.

Before I could think to stop myself, I asked, “I thought the Apenati was more of a theory. A hypothetical.” 

My father just shook his head, “The Great Opposite is no theory, Rhysand. It is the force that shapes fate, that balances life and death. And Carynth…” He glanced down at Leur for a moment, then back to me, “Carynth’s light is in everyone and everything.”

My sister was so still I thought she might have stopped breathing. 

“They say it fell from the heavens into the End and the Beginning.” He continued, “Where time loops and the stars are born again.” 

Leur’s voice came out a whisper, filled with all the wonder of a young child and none of the fear that should have come alongside it, “Where?” 

“No one knows.” He said, “There’s theories, but none that were proven true.” 

I blinked up at the star, staring at my own reflection in the radiant silver, “Can it be wielded?" 

“Smart question, Rhysand.” My father nodded, “Technically, yes. But just like the Apenati, the Holy Star chooses its wielder. They are the same, in a sense. Interconnected in a way no one truly understands.” 

“Have you ever seen it?” Leur asked quietly.

Our father looked down at her. And for a moment, something unreadable passed across his face- like he might say yes. Might tell us some fantastical, otherworldly tale. 

Instead, he said, “Everyone has seen Carynth, Leuruna. You need only open your eyes. But in raw form… no. Some say it appears as golden light. Others, silver. But every account agrees: it is not of this world. It is the kind of power only the gods can understand.” 

He let the silence linger for a moment. Then he lifted a hand- not toward the top star, but to the one on the right.

“And that,” he said, “is Oristes. The Dusk Star.”

I braced myself. 

“Where Carynth was born of the first eclipse,” Our father said, “Oristes was born of the second.”

Leur tilted her head. “There was another eclipse?”

He nodded once. “Yes. But it was not an origin. It was a return.”

He stepped toward the wall again, the star’s eight silver points catching the low, impossible light. “The second eclipse came five centuries after the first. A reunion. The sun and moon found each other again after an age of separation. Light and shadow, meeting once more- but this time… they did not part.”

His voice was low, reverent. “They merged. And the world changed.”

“Changed how?” I asked. 

Altair looked over his shoulder. “Everything that had been divided- was forced to become whole. And from that fusion came Oristes. The Dusk Star. Born not of peace or war, but of choice. Of consequence. ”

He turned fully to face us. “Oristes is not creation. It is obliteration. Power born from power. It tears down what was so something new can rise in its place.”

Leur’s shadows curled tighter, brushing just the slightest bit across my skin like warm breath.

“It is not evil,” He added, “But it is not gentle. Oristes paves the path to salvation… through any means necessary. It does what must be done. Even when no one else dares to.”

Silence, for a moment.

“Some say it appears as an iridescent light.” He continued after a time, “Some say its power is entirely lost to time.”

He looked at the center of the crest again. “Carynth is the first light. The soul.”

Then the right. “Oristes is the dusk. The reckoning.”

I waited for the third, but he didn’t continue. Just kept staring. 

So I asked, “And Arktos?” 

He sucked in a breath, crossing his arms, “The Arktos is a mystery. It does not exist yet.” 

Leur’s little brows furrowed together, “But we saw it. It was in the sky last spring. Over Ramiel.” 

“That is the only time it appears.” Our father said, “Carynth and Oristes are always in the sky. They just align over Ramiel during that specific week. And Arktos, it is a light that does not truly exist. Not yet. You can only glimpse it then.” 

“Will there be another eclipse?” I asked, “To create it?” 

“One would assume.” 

His voice was tight. Thoughtful. Like even he didn’t want to guess. 

He turned fully to face the crest again, arms still crossed, “If Carynth was born of creation, and Oristes of destruction… then Arktos must be born of what comes after .”

“The end?” Leur whispered.

Altair gave her a sideways glance. “Or the beginning.”

I shivered. I couldn’t stop it this time.

Our father’s voice dropped lower, almost like it wasn’t meant for us at all. “Some believe Arktos will appear during the final eclipse. A third union of the sun and the moon- not to bring light or shadow, but to end the cycle altogether.”

“A true eclipse,” he continued, “When sun, moon, and stars all vanish from the sky. And what’s left… is choice. The freedom to forge something new.”

He stared at the final star, the one on the left, its glass center just as empty as the others.

“Arktos,” he said quietly, “is the star of becoming. Of what has not yet happened. It holds no form, no fixed meaning. It will be shaped by the one who brings it into being.”

“Who?” I asked, before I could stop myself.

He just scowled for a minute, then shrugging, “That’s yet to be seen.” 

I frowned. “Then why did you bring us here?”

My father’s eyes gleamed like twin stars, his voice dropping low, “Because you both need to understand that there are things in this world that are greater than you. Even you. ” 

He looked up to where those glass chambers remained empty, and I followed his gaze. 

“They are not just stars. They are the divine order. The only power that has a will too great to be corrupted. The weapons that wield their masters, instead of the other way around. They do not yield. And they do not answer to bloodlines or crowns.” He explained, “Not even ours. Not even though we have claimed them.” 

This was a lesson on… humility ? That was what he drug us down here for?

He spun, his cape flaring with the movement, eyes trained on me, then flicking over to Leur, “If we ever find the source of that-” 

He cut himself off, going completely still. My head snapped to follow his gaze again and I found- 

Nothing. 

Leur wasn’t standing next to me anymore. 

My stomach dropped. 

My father’s head snapped around so fast that I thought he might break his own neck, a spark of power flaring out of nowhere. And then Leur- 

Leur was standing in front of the hourglass on the other side of the room, utterly tiny in comparison to it, shadows peering over her shoulder curiously, a small hand outstretched. 

The ward rippled around her, like it was unsure if she belonged. 

I told her to stay away-

My father moved faster than I’d ever seen. A blur of black and diamonds, and Leur’s hand moved even closer, and I stayed completely still, and then- 

“No!” 

He grabbed her wrist and yanked her back with such force that I heard a sickening crack. 

And then she was on the ground, clutching her arm with a cry, shadows swirling around her like a storm. And my father was heaving, his face bright red, his voice a snarl through his teeth, “I told you not to touch anything.” 

Leur just started bawling.

And I-

I hadn’t even taken a step. 

Fear had frozen me in place. Cemented my feet into the ground. Chained me here as a bystander while Leur-

My sister clutched onto her arm harder, sobbing so hard that my ears rang. It was then, long after the damage had been done, that our father finally recognized what happened. His face softened, if only slightly, and he took a step towards her, “What’s wrong, Leur? Let me see.” 

She scrambled back, just a bit, flinching away from his hand. 

And he paused for a moment. Frowned. 

And then grabbed her. 

Leur let out a scream, fighting against him while he pulled her good arm away from the injured one, inspecting the strange angle it hung at as he snarled, “Do not make me go into your mind, Leuruna.” 

She went still at once. 

Her lips trembled, and our father leaned closer, inspecting something on her arm. And then Leur’s eyes found mine. They were so red that the violet seemed to glow, shimmering like glass, begging me for something. Anything. 

Anything but nothing.  

“It’s broken.” Our father assessed, “Majda will have to reset it.” 

Leur held her breath to keep from making a sound. 

“You disobeyed me,” our father went on, still gripping her arm in that too-firm hold, inspecting the skin around the break. “You walked away without permission. You went near something you do not understand. ”

He turned toward the hourglass again- still glowing faintly with that inner light, though the ward around it had gone still once more. As if it, too, had recoiled from what had just happened. From the glare he gave it.

But Leur wasn’t crying anymore.

She was silent. Eerily, terribly still. Shadows tight and coiled around her like snakes- ready to strike. Her little body curled in on itself, like she was trying to disappear. Trying to undo it.

My father straightened slowly. Looked at her. Then at me.

And without a word, he winnowed.

We landed in the House of Wind, in the center of the sitting room that adjoined our family’s suites. The floor rushed up too fast when I wasn’t braced for it, the lights too bright, too disorienting. And I stumbled, trying to catch my balance as my father cradled Leur’s limp, shaking form. 

Not one second later, the main doors slammed open. 

Our mother stormed into the room in a plum gown, bangles of gold on her wrist as she stomped over to out father, wings held tight to her back and face twisted in the most menacing, terrifying look I’d ever seen. 

“What did you do?” She breathed, voice a death sentence. 

My father didn’t answer. Not really, at least. He merely said, “She touched something she wasn’t supposed to. She would have killed herself if I didn’t stop her.” 

An excuse, not an answer. 

My mother’s eyes snapped to Leur’s arm, wrong and already swelling, then back to our father. 

I could have sworn that he, the most powerful High Lord in Prythian , took a half step backwards. As if her glare alone would burn him to ash. 

It very well might. 

My mother’s nostrils flared, her cheeks beet red, her voice like a whip, “ What did you do ?” 

A buzz of power rang out, as if he was showing her something mentally, and my mother’s cheeks somehow got even redder. 

“Give her to me,” she growled.

He hesitated.

“I said,” she snarled, stepping forward, voice low and shaking, “give. her. to me.”

He obeyed.

Gently, almost tenderly, he passed Leur into her arms. But my mother didn’t even look at him. Didn’t acknowledge him. Her entire world had narrowed to my sister- too still, too quiet, staring blankly and shaking like a leaf.

Then my mother said, flatly: “Go get a healer.”

“She needs-”

“Go. Get. A healer. Now.”

Our father vanished.

And the second he was gone- 

Leur broke.  

She burst out crying like a dam had just cracked open. The tears came in a single, choked gasp- and then she was screaming. 

Not in pain.

Not in fear.

But grief. Rage. Betrayal.

“Rhys!” she sobbed, shaking violently in our mother’s arms. “Rhys- Rhys!”

My legs finally moved. Finally, after being cemented in place from the moment my father stopped talking.  

I ran up to my mother and reached for her good hand, and she flung herself toward me, shadows fleeing, body trembling like a bird in a storm.

“I’m here,” I said, voice cracking as I picked her up, “I’m here, Lunet. I’m right here.”

She clung to me like she was afraid I’d disappear too.

“I want to go home,” she sobbed into my shirt.

I blinked. “You are home, Leur. We’re in Velaris. We’re—”

“No,” she cried harder, shaking her head against my chest, banging her fist against me, “No. I want to go to Windhaven. I want Cassian!”

I glanced at my mother.

Her eyes had gone soft. Filled with tears.

She brushed a hand through Leur’s dark hair, the same way she used to brush mine when I was small. And in that voice that always meant truth, she said:

“We’ll go home as soon as you’re better, baby. I promise.”

Leur let out a hitching breath.

And I just held her tighter, like maybe I could be brave for the both of us. Like maybe I could still protect her, even after I’d failed.

Even after I froze.

Even after I did nothing.

Chapter Text

Present

Prythian- House of Wind, Velaris, Night Court

Feyre 

“It was a throne room.” Az said, his hands shaking where they were clasped on the table in front of him, “Not one I recognized. There was no outside light, so I’d guess it’s highly secured or underground.” 

Rhys sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand down his face, “You’re positive it’s not the Palace of Bone?”

Azriel looked like an inferno right on the edge of exploding when he said through his teeth, “I already told you that five times , Rhys. I’ve spent centuries watching that place. I know it inside and out, and what I saw is not the Palace of Bone.” 

“Okay.” Mor jumped in, leaning forward and putting a hand out, “Great. We can rule that out.” 

We were all gathered in the war room attempting to hash out a plan, or at minimum, a direction. Laying out all the information we have and trying to go from there. 

It was safe to say that it wasn’t going very well. 

“So, it’s a secondary location.” I pulled the Hybern map in front of me, “One with enough importance to have a designated throne room. Do we know of anywhere like that?” 

“The problem is that our maps of Hybern’s mainland are utterly atrocious.” Amren jumped in, swirling the blood in her goblet around as if she was aerating fine wine, “Venturing beyond the coastlines there is dangerous- even for a shadowsinger. We’re working with a primitive amount of information.” 

Azriel’s head dropped into his hands like the weight of the past had finally cracked his spine. I could practically feel the frustration boiling off of him from here, hot and furious and caged. 

“What about Leur’s records from the War?” Mor looked over at Rhys, “Was that not her assignment?” 

“It was.” Rhys nodded, “But half of them are missing and the other half are written in code.” 

Why would half be missing?

“Surely, Az knows how to read her code.” Mor reasoned, looking over at our shadowsinger, “Didn’t you two use the same one?” 

She received nothing but a nod in answer, black shadows swirling around him like chains. 

“Hold on.” I raised a hand, “Can we pause for a moment?” 

“You’re the High Lady, girl.” Amren scoffed, “You don’t need to ask us.” 

I didn’t say anything about that, just continued, “What did you say Leur’s assignment was in the War?” 

“We had two shadowsingers and about a million different places that we needed information from.” Rhys answered, “My father decided to keep Azriel at his side to send him where was most dire, while Leur monitored other battlefronts and movements with a unit of spies- which mostly included gathering intel and finding weaknesses on Hybern’s mainland.” 

“Azriel, you said that Tamlin was taking the blame for something that Leur did. He said he lied when he said she did it, right?”  

He nodded again, but there were flames in his eyes now. Hot, dark flames.

I ignored the chill that ran up my spine and looked at Rhys, “What was Tamlin doing during the war?”

“Spring was allied with the Loyalists.” He answered, voice tight, “Tamlin was leading his father’s war bands for a while until he was reassigned to further their ties with Hybern. That’s how Amarantha met him. He was fighting with her troops.”

“I think this is more complicated than we know.” I shook my head, “Leur and Tamlin were both in Hybern. Clearly, something happened. They got involved in something that went beyond the War. Something personal.” 

I looked around at all of them. I met Rhys’s eyes first- violet and bloodshot. Then Mor’s amber and Azriel’s ice cold hazel, before finally finding Amren’s silver. “Azriel said it was obvious that the King not only personally knows Leur, but that he hates her. How involved were all of you in Leur’s movements in Hybern during the first war? How much do you actually know of what she was doing?” 

“Nothing.” Amren scoffed, sipping her blood, “Clearly.” 

My mate gave her a sharp look, but it seemed that Amren cared very little about his ire. She just shrugged, unbothered while motioning for him to speak. 

“Truth can’t be used if no one knows it.” Rhys sighed, “My father didn’t want any possibility of anyone even figuring out what Leur was doing or where she was, let alone the specifics of her missions. Not just for the information but because if anyone wanted to hurt me or my father, he knew she’d be the target. Not to mention the threat her power and ability posed to our enemies. Our father  didn’t even tell me where she was because he knew it could have been tortured out of me or pulled from my mind.” 

“Maybe.” I nodded, “Or maybe , he had her doing something far more nefarious. Something he didn’t want any of you to know about.” 

Mor’s face was pale when she looked over at me, as if this conversation had drained the life from her, “Like what?” 

“Something that would have put her in close contact with the King. Something that would give her an opportunity to personally hurt him.” I said, “Something that would give the King a reason to blow his alliance with Spring to dust at the first whisper of her being alive. I mean, who’s to say that the King wasn’t responsible for her death in the first place? Tamlin openly said that his Court played no part in their murder. Not just him- but the entire Court. So, if Spring wasn’t responsible, who was?” 

I was met with nothing but silence. 

Three blank faces stared back at me. Unmoving. Unblinking. 

Amren, however, seemed pleased. She smiled as she said, “Now, someone is finally making sense.” 

Shockingly, the next person to speak up was Azriel. 

“I agree with you, High Lady.” He said, giving me a nod of his head, gratefulness shining in his eyes, “We’ve been sitting in the dark so long that we’re comfortable in it. And whatever information or truth that Leur and Tamlin have- the King clearly doesn’t want us to know too.” 

“The only other person who might know anything is the Autumn Court Prince knocked out down the hall.” Amren added, “If he even remembers how to speak after the hit he took- that is.” 

“Real helpful, Amren.” Rhys shook his head, “Thanks.” 

“You can be as pissy as you want, boy.” His second in command gave him a sharp look, “But your shadowsinger is right . We’ve been content with the story Tamlin fed to us so long that we didn’t even bother to think for ourselves.” 

“Okay, fine.” Mor raised her hands in defense, “We all should have seen this a long time ago, but we didn’t. And now we do. Where do we go from here?”

“The healers said that Lucien will wake up any day now.” I said, “We’ll have more information then.” 

“Speculating on what we have no way of knowing is a waste of time.” Rhys sat up a bit straighter, “We could sit here for hours and debate what Leur did in Hybern and how Tamlin was involved, and at the end of it- nothing would be different. We need to actually do something .” 

“Do you realize the amount of things that could go wrong if we go in blind?” Mor countered, “The history is important. We could be walking into a trap without even knowing it.” 

Azriel looked at her, and for once there was no softness in his eyes. Only rage. 

“I’m not saying we go carry out a mission tomorrow.” Rhys breathed, “But we can’t sit around and twiddle our thumbs and wait for answers to fall in our lap.” 

Azriel’s focus snapped to Rhys like a whip. And his voice, when he spoke, was so dark that I almost flinched, “How do you suppose we do that, Rhys, when you locked us all up in here?” 

“Not everyone.” My mate took Azriel’s barely contained threat on the chin, brushing it off like it was nothing- on the outside, at least, “Just you. And you can draft a plan for your spies to infiltrate Hybern’s mainland. I want to compile a list of potential targets for us to hit as a distraction and potential locations where Leur and Tamlin are being held.” 

Azriel’s face didn’t move an inch. 

He just kept staring at Rhys, who had already moved on to his cousin, “Mor, I want you to try and locate the rest of Leur’s documentation from the war. Check every archive, every vault, everything we have. Turn the Hewn City upside down if you have to. We need to know the extent of what she was involved in. And Azriel will help translate what we do have to build out his plan.” 

Finally, Az spoke again. He tilted his head slow, like a predator deciding on his next meal, and said, “And what will you be doing, Rhys?”

Once again, my mate refused to comment on his rage. 

Honestly, what could he say? Rhys was right. I knew that. 

But Azriel had every right to hate him for his decision. I would have, if the situation were reversed and it was Rhys that was taken. 

Though, I didn’t think it was particularly fair that Azriel was angry at Rhys but not me, considering we’d made the decision together. I suppose it was just easier to swallow with me. I wasn’t there when Leur was. I’d only known her for an hour, really. But Rhys? 

Rhys was her brother. 

Still, at night when the house went quiet, I lay awake remembering the instant acceptance in Leur’s eyes. Her kind words whispered in my head over and over again. 

I always wanted a sister. 

Leur already saw me as her sister. Was it right to abandon her in Hybern while we talked ourselves in circles trying to make some half-thought-out plan?

Would I ever allow the same thing for Nesta and Elain?

My mate’s voice pulled me back to the present, “Amren, Feyre, and I will be addressing the bigger elephant in the room.” 

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, almost as if he was daring Rhys to say something wrong, “Which is?”

“Solarea.” 

✵✵✵

The library was quieter than usual today. 

Or perhaps, down here in the lowest levels, we simply just could not hear the quiet footsteps and murmurs of the priestesses. The darkness here felt alive, like something that was barely fended off by the faelights lining the pathways, waiting at the edge of the light for the chance to pounce. 

I supposed it was only fitting, considering the mood. 

With a solemn expression on his face, Rhys carefully plucked a large golden scroll tube off the shelf. It was utterly massive, about as tall as he was, and wider than his entire hand. A wind of magic uncapped it and pulled out the large piece of parchment within, undoing the thin ribbons keeping it bound together and rolling out the scroll on a large work table beside us. 

He let out a long, tired sigh, bracing his hands on the table, “Alright, let’s start with what we do know.” 

I went to stand next to him. Of course, Amren magicked a plush armchair on the side of the table and curled up in it, picking at her nails while Rhys and I examined the map. 

I’d expected the fae to have better maps of the continent on the other side of the world than my father did. 

I was wrong. 

I’d seen a few of his big maps when I was a child. I could even remember selling one that had been hidden away when the debtors came- right after we’d lost everything. I’d been sad to see it go, that final bastion of what our life was before it went up in flames. 

But we’d needed to eat far more than we needed to reminisce. 

My father used to tell me tales of the western half of the world when I was young. Apparently, he’d taken a trip to the Human Lands on the southwest continent just before my mother fell pregnant with Nesta. He’d said that there was no wall there, no separation between the Fae in the northern continent and the Humans in the south. They even did trade. 

My sisters were horrified by the prospect, but I’d wondered for hours what such a world would look like. 

Solarea was a country that took up the majority of the northern continent, split into three major territories with the capital city in the center of them. The largest, Anil, took up a space nearly eight times the size of Prythian. 

And that was just one territory. 

Adhira, north of Anil and just slightly smaller, was still just as sprawling and massive. The final territory, the smallest, was Astra- located in the west. Though it was still about twice the size of Prythian. And in the center of the map, marked by a golden sun, was the capital city- Aelius. 

Still, what Solareans considered a city looked about the size of the entire Night Court. 

“Well, we know that they only trade with the humans.” Amren said, still picking at her nails, “They have armies of millions and waste it all on fighting the Ciatnens.”

“That’s all these territories, right?” I said, motioning to the seven smaller territories on the outskirts of the map.

“The Ciatnens once had control of the entire continent.” Amren nodded, “But it’s fertile land, extremely rich in natural resources. Gold- if the rumors are true. And- like all good things- someone came along, tried to take it for themselves, and ruined it.” 

“The Solareans?” I questioned. 

“That’s what they call themselves now. But they’re from all over the world.” She said, a mild distaste on her mouth, “What they should be called is colonizers.”

“The Solareans and the Ciatnens have been at war for 30,000 years. The land is pretty much built on their feud.” Rhys said, “Imagine war scaled up by a thousand. Armies of millions. Power beyond imagination. Obscene military feats that none of us could even comprehend. No one has tried to build a relationship with any of them if only for the sake of not pissing off the other side.” 

“Meaning, it was the perfect hiding place for an exiled, Night Court Princess.” Amren finished for him, giving us both a sharp look. 

“The rulers of these territories-” Rhys motioned to the absurdly vast stretches of land that made up Solarea’s three main states, tattooed fingers dancing along the coastline,“They don’t even call them lords or governors. They’re called Generals.” 

My brows furrowed, “Why?” 

“That’s what they are.” He glanced over at me, “They’re not politicians. They’re soldiers. Weapons, really.”

Amren joined in then, “They say Solarean generals paint their faces with blood before battle, and it’s not always their enemy’s.” 

She met my eyes, silver blazing in her stare as she said, “Just to remember what they are.”

A chill ran up my spine, but I shook it off- keeping my voice even, “Great. So we don’t want a reason to cross paths with the Generals.”

Amren just shrugged, unbothered by the horror, “Frankly, I’d like to meet one. Just to see if the legends are true.”

“I’d rather we avoid that, if we can.” Rhys sighed. 

I looked down at the map again- at the golden sun marking Aelius, that blinding center of it all- and wondered if this was where she’d spent all those centuries. If those generals with their blood-painted faces had looked at her and seen something even darker staring back.

“Who do the Generals answer to?” I questioned, “A King?” 

Amren nodded, tapping a finger over Aelius,“Legend has it that he’s the richest King in the world, and perhaps the most powerful.”

I swallowed, running a fingertip over a border, “So, we’re considering them a threat?” 

“Maybe.” Rhys shrugged, “Maybe an ally, if Amren’s theory proves true.” 

I blinked, my hand paused over the crescent moon next to Adhira, “What theory?” 

“You claim that Tamlin shielded you from the Cauldron.” Amren answered, “And he was wearing some strange, glowing gold bracelet.” 

“He was.” 

“There’s only one magic in the world that could accomplish something like that.” She said, “The Cauldron is not something you can avoid. It is the well of creation. Or it was- before it was abused.” 

“Exactly. There’s nothing of equal power to the Cauldron.” I shook my head, looking to Rhys for confirmation. 

But instead of receiving it, all I got was a frown, “That’s not… necessarily true.” 

“Nothing exists without an opposite, girl. Everything is the absence of something else.” She met my eyes, “Hot and cold. Up and down. Light and dark. Creation and oblivion.” 

I blinked, “You’re saying the Cauldron has an… opposite?” 

“Precisely.” Amren nodded, “And this object is infamously in Solarea’s possession.”

My jaw slackened a bit, “The bracelet?” 

She laughed then, not entirely mockingly but not entirely pure either, “No, High Lady. I believe that bracelet contains, at minimum, a piece of that power.” 

I forced a breath down, “But if even a piece has that kind of ability…” 

Rhys didn’t even look at me as he finished my sentence, “Tamlin is in possession of a weapon with unequal value to our cause.” He took a breath, rubbing his chin, “And it doesn’t take a master strategist to figure out where he got it.” 

Finally, my jaw actually dropped open.

 “You think Leur has it? The actual weapon?” 

“At minimum, she knows where it is.” Amren leaned forward in her chair, “And how to wield it.” 

I was stunned into complete silence, but Rhys just let out a breath, slumping down in the chair next to me, “I don’t understand how the hell she could have gotten it.” 

I stared at the map, trying to piece it all together.

The Cauldron had always been the endgame. The thing none of us could fight. We’d assumed, without ever really saying it, that if Hybern really turned it loose, there’d be nothing we could do to stop it. Not really. The book was a long shot, but it was the only one we had. And we just saw how useless I was in using it-

But this changed everything.

If the Apenati, whatever it may be, was real- if Leur had it, or even knew where it was- then maybe we weren’t as cornered as we thought. Maybe we weren’t entirely outmatched.

I didn’t know if that made me feel relieved or even more out of my depth. 

“What is it?” I asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer. 

It was Amren who spoke. 

“A sword.” She said, “The king of swords.” 

She stood then, walking over to a shelf as she spoke, each word sending another chill up my spine, “It’s said to be crafted from the light of the oldest star in the night sky. The light of souls.” 

She flicked her wrist and a phantom wind of magic pulled a book from the shelf, flipping  it open to a golden page and placing it in front of me as she said, “It is the end and beginning of all things. The keeper of this world’s cosmic balance. Where the Cauldron is fate, the Apenati is choice- the thing that cuts the thread instead of weaving it.” 

I stared down at the image she showed me. A glowing sword of pure gold, crafted with unimaginable beauty. Perfect and simple, with a massive diamond at the center of the pommel and smaller ones gleaming on the hilt. 

Beautiful, but deadly- as if all that purity was meant to be covered in blood. 

“Legend says it chooses its wielder.” Rhys added, quietly, “What if it chose her?” 

“Look at you using that big, beautiful head of yours.” Amren gave him a satisfied, albeit demeaning, smirk, “It would explain the golden light Feyre saw her use.” 

Rhys’s eyes went as wide as saucers, his voice laced with disbelief, “That’s real too?”

“Oh, it’s real.” Amren grinned, “Perhaps the only real thing in this world.” 

I looked between them, utterly lost, “What are we talking about?” 

“Nothing.” Amren waved me off, sighing as she looked back to the map, “Anyways, we need to ensure there’s no contact between Solarea and Hybern. If the King was smart, the first thing he’d do after obtaining the Cauldron would be to try to ally or at minimum- broker peace with the Solareans.” 

I kept staring at Rhys, waiting for him to explain what the hell had just happened, but he just kept staring off into space. Lost in thought or whatever was occurring in his mind. I thought about reaching down the bond for him, but Amren pulled my attention away. 

“The last thing we need is to fight against both. That’s why the Great Opposites were split between the sides of the world- to prevent one person from holding all the power.” 

I took a breath, refocusing on the map and the task at hand, “How do we find that information?” 

“Well, it’s going to be unimaginably difficult without our shadowsinger. That’s for sure.” Amren gave Rhys a pointed look, before she glanced back at me, “Do you think you could find your way back to the pool of starlight you described?” 

I knew the Spring Woods well enough to nod my head, “It might take me a while, but yes.” 

“Well, we know we aren’t getting into Solarea any other way than through that portal.” She said, “And trying to procure information from Hybern is a dead end.” 

“Why can’t we go in any other way?” I looked between them. 

Rhys, finally snapped out of his stupor, answered, “They have obscene wards over their borders. Even if we wanted to contact them, it’s just about impossible.” 

“But your ex-fiance has apparently had a way in this entire time.” Amren said, “You two should go back to the pool. See what you can find out.” 

“While you hunt for the bracelet?” Rhys grabbed my hand, squeezing it once while he looked at his second. 

She nodded, “Either it fell off in the explosion or it’s in Hybern with him.”

I let out a breath, rubbing my temples. The image of the Apenati in the book in front of me felt like it was watching me somehow, a golden stormcloud hanging over my head as I asked, “Okay. When do we leave?” 

Rhys just stood, pulling me up with him, and said: 

“Now.” 

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

Azriel 

Mor hadn’t spoken to me for our entire walk through the house. 

Her slippers were loud on the marble though, so I knew she was anxious. Even without the shadows. 

Her footsteps were always louder when she was worried. 

And while she might not have anything to say to me, I had plenty to say to her.

So when we made it up the stairs to the war archives, far enough away for everyone else in the house to be out of earshot, I spoke. 

“I don’t understand you.” 

She stopped walking, the red silk of her dress swaying as she turned to me, “What?” 

“I don’t fucking understand you, Mor.” I met her eyes, letting everything I’d bottled up in the past few days come roiling out of me, “You’re supposed to be my friend.” 

She blinked, confused, “I am your friend, Az. You know that.” 

“No, I don’t.” I shook my head, “You knew what losing her did to me. You knew how much I love her. How much I always loved her. You knew that she was everything to me, and you took Rhys’s side? When he finally decided we need to do something, you tried to talk him out of it? What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Of course, as usual, instead of speaking about it, she avoided it by turning and walking away from me. Dismissing me with the wave of her hand, “Rhys is right. You aren’t thinking rationally.” 

“Get back here, Morrigan.” I snapped. 

She stopped on a dime. 

“You don’t get to write me off. Not this time.” My voice shook, either with rage or pain or both, “And for the record? I think I’m the only one thinking clearly.” 

She spun back around to face me in a blur of blonde hair and diamonds glinting, her face flushed with emotion as she pointed a finger at me, “You are letting your own desperation cloud your judgement, Azriel.” 

“No.” I shook my head, my voice as hard as stone in my throat,“I’m just not willing to sacrifice my mate for war strategy.”

“You think this is easy for me?” She threw her hands in the air, “You think it’s easy for Rhys? You think we don’t know exactly what she’s going through, what every minute costs us…  him more than anyone else?” 

“You’re far too content wasting time digging through records that might help, instead of actually looking for her.” I spat, “Shall we just wait here until Hybern sends us an invitation to her execution?”

“Mother above, Azriel.” She rolled her eyes, “You are so melodramatic.” 

“Which is it, Mor?” I cocked my head, power burning through the siphons on my hands, “Do you give a shit about your cousin being tortured or not?” 

She hardened, hands covered in gold jewelry clenched into fists, her words growled through her teeth, “You know I do.” 

“Then why don’t you have my back?” I spread my arms wide, as if I could reach far enough to have an answer, “ Rhys is the one that is out of control. He’s chained me up in here like a dog. Did you know he knocked out Cassian because he tried to get up and look for Leur after they told him she was alive last night? Since when does he use his power to control us?” 

“Fifty years ago.” She answered without missing a beat, “When he locked us up here to protect us from Amarantha. Say what you will, Az, but he doesn’t do anything maliciously.” 

“And how much faster do you think that situation might have been handled if he didn’t force us out of it?” I asked, “Do you think that Feyre would have had to be tortured for three months and murdered for it to end? How many times did you agree with us that it, while noble, wasn’t the right call ?” 

“He’s our High Lord, Azriel.” She attempted, “We don’t have to agree with his orders. We just have to follow them.” 

“He’s also our friend,” I said, voice softer now. “He’s her brother. And you-” I shook my head, eyes burning. “You were her sister , once.”

Her throat bobbed.

“So where the fuck are you now?” I breathed. “Why am I the only one fighting for her?”

I stepped forward, shadows curling around my boots. And Mor’s voice was shaking as she said, “I’m doing everything I can.” 

“If it was anyone else- Feyre, Cassian, Amren, you… fuck, even me , Rhys would be burning down this entire world to find them.” My voice heated again, “And you’d expect him to. You’d march right alongside him.” 

Silence stretched, brittle as glass between us. But she didn’t deny it.

So, I kept going.

“But when it’s Leur?” My voice dropped, low and lethal, “Suddenly, it’s damn-near treason to want her back. Suddenly, I’m not thinking clearly. Suddenly, strategy matters more than she does.” 

“You’re twisting this,” Mor said quietly, but her voice was less certain now.

“No,” I growled, shadows licking at my heels. “I’m finally seeing things as they are. Rhys is terrified and he has always let his own fear get in the way of protecting her. And you’ve always let him.” I pointed a finger at her now, “You’re the one with the powers of truth, Mor. Look for yourself.” 

I took a breath, chest heaving. The rage was still there. But underneath it- there was sorrow. A hollow kind of knowing and a crack in the center of my heart.

My voice lost all its steam when I whispered, “I won’t lose her again. Not for anything. I don’t care what he orders.”

“And what are you going to do?” Her eyes gleamed, sharp as a blade. “Gallop off on your white horse, thinking love is enough to save her?”

“I’m going to try. I’m going to do everything I possibly can until I get my mate back.” I spat, finding all that rage again, “I’m not going to sit around on my ass, twiddle my thumbs, and wait for a miracle- which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for you.” 

“Well, good luck with that.” She matched my venom, spinning on her heel,“I’m going to look for the missing records elsewhere.” 

I gave a humorless smile, “Let me know if you find a spine while you’re at it.”

She froze- then turned, tossing over her shoulder with a scoff, “And let me know when blind hope starts answering prayers.”

And then she was gone, the red silk of her dress vanishing down the corridor.

And yet, her slippers clacked the entire way down. 

I didn’t even bother telling her that blind, useless hope in the middle of darkness had already answered me twice.

Because it was blind hope that gave me Leur in the first place.

And it was blind hope that just gave her back.

✵✵✵

The war archives were a solemn place. 

Perched in one of the highest spires of the House of Wind, the archives were a dark, spiraling tower of strategy and memory. The stone walls curved endlessly upward, lined with towering shelves that followed the shape of the spire, winding toward a narrow, vaulted ceiling that vanished into shadow. You could climb the stairs to reach the top- if you wanted to read spy reports and battle plans in the clouds- or stand at the bottom, like I did now, where a massive, obsidian table sat rooted in the center of the room like the anchor of it all.

No windows. No warmth. Just a faint, eerie hum from the faelight flickering along the columns, like the walls themselves remembered every war planned within them.

And I hated it.

I hated every fucking thing in this house, honestly, but this room most of all. I wanted to burn everything in this place. 

He sent me here to sort through records like she wasn’t suffering as we spoke, so I could translate scraps of her life and wonder what the hell they were doing to her until I went mad. 

If he’d let me leave, I would have already found her by now.

My shadows curled tighter around me, restless. Mournful. Like they missed her as much as I did.

I could barely feel her now. A thread, faint and fraying, pulled tight and silent through the bond. I’d been trying not to panic about it all day.

I failed. Constantly.

She hadn’t looked too bad in the dream. Not fine, surely not fine , but no fatal wounds. And she was still fighting. 

That was a good thing. 

She’d make it, so long as she kept fighting. 

All across the shiny black stone of the table in front of me were records. A few scrolls worn at the edges, ribbons freshly untied. An entire stack of parchment scattered. A closed leather-bound logbook, already marked with a tab, another notebook open next to it. Rhys’s scent lingered in the air, so I assumed he’d been the one to scatter everything like this.

I stood there, staring down at the mess he’d made of her, throat tight with something I couldn’t name. Maybe rage. Maybe grief. 

Probably both.

Then I saw it. A note pasted to the inside cover of the open book. 

A note written in her  handwriting.

Not some scribe’s. Not copied. Hers.

I’d recognize it anywhere. Looping, perfect cursive, tilted just slightly to the right. And seeing it made my knees feel like someone had just kicked them out. 

Her notes were just about everywhere in most of the files and reports we had. Once we were both old enough and trained enough to start carrying out missions, her father had us gather intel on just about every single place in the world. Together, we compiled hundreds of logbooks worth of information about every single creature and government on this planet. 

Information that was still valuable today, five centuries later.

But most of those notes were things she scribbled down somewhere and someone else transcribed into legible, clean copies. I recognized the wording, usually never the handwriting. 

But this was hers. 

My fingers trembled when I reached for it. The ink was faded with age, but still bold. A single line in familiar, inpatient hand: 

“Raven’s minds are connected.”

I stared at it.

The swoop of the R. The exact way her s was always straight at the top.

And just for a moment… I had her. Like she was sitting right there next to me, elbow on the table, eyes bright with fire. Writing something down so she didn’t forget, or remembered to look into it further. 

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe. Tried to think. 

It wasn’t enough. 

I was no longer content with scraps and echos. I couldn’t live off whispers of sunlight anymore. 

Not when I knew she was out there, that she had always been out there. 

Not when I knew she was waiting for me to find her. 

Not when I knew that she loved me. 

My fingers lingered on the page for a moment longer. Then I let go- because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to.

I stepped back, swallowing the ache in my throat, and braced my hands on the table.

The shadows had been curling tighter and tighter around my shoulders for minutes now, not mournful anymore- but insistent.

Not here, they whispered.

I glanced at the stacks of parchment, Where then? 

A tug at my elbow.

Then another, like a pull toward the shelves behind me.

I followed.

Up a few steps along the curving spiral of the wall, around a dark marble column I hadn’t even noticed.

Then they stopped-hovering over a chest tucked in beside the bookshelves. Not hidden, exactly. But placed somewhere no one would bother with. The lock was old, the brass dulled and etched with faint symbols I didn’t recognize. 

And inscribed on top of the lid, one word. 

“Draemir.”

My brows furrowed. 

What is it? I asked the shadows. 

Answers. They answered, their melody low and twining, What exists beyond the nightmares. 

I knelt. The lock wouldn’t budge when I tried it, so I summoned just enough power to sear through the metal. It snapped with a hiss and fell open.

Dust puffed upward as I lifted the lid. Faded maps, scraps of parchment, a big leather-bound ledger. About fifty small black notebooks, all bound with different colors of ribbon.

I recognized notebooks like that. They were Leur’s. She was always writing in them. Everything from notes about her day to song lyrics or melodies she thought of. This many would be… at least a few years worth of her thoughts.

And on top of it all- one single sheet of thick, creamy paper. Nearly untouched by time.

My shadows passed it to me.

There was no title. No signature. Just a drawing. A sketch, fine and detailed, inked with shadow. A coastal palace- spires of black stone and great iron gates carved into a cliffside, looking out over an endless, fog-shrouded sea.

Underneath, a single line written in looping, slanted cursive: 

“Draemir. Westward fort and secondary seat of the Hybern crown. King favors it for its isolation. Coastal fog protects from aerial reconnaissance. High command uses lower halls. Vaults rumored beneath.”

A second palace? 

How the hell did we never know that Hybern had a second palace? How had I never even heard a whisper about it? 

It wasn’t your assignment. The shadows answered my thoughts, You were meant to be looking elsewhere. It was ensured that you did. 

Clearly. I snapped back at them. 

I knew Leur was up to a hell of a lot more than she’d said during the war. I knew it even then. But this? 

I shuffled through the papers, setting the drawing aside and flipping through what was beneath. Maps of the floorplan. Notes on entrance points. Battle plans for attacking the palace. Lists of what was inside the vaults. Routes to take to get to different points. The rotation schedule for every single guard shift in the palace. 

Every last bit of information I could possibly need to get inside. All of it written solely in her handwriting. 

The shadows ruffled, spiraling a larger piece of parchment out and unfolding it. It was a crudely drawn floorplan of what looked like a dungeon, as if she’d done it too fast to include the detail that would normally be there.

On the lowest floor of the palace’s underground portion within the cliffside, the dungeon was pretty standard. Cells, torture rooms, weapons lockers, the usual- but from the looks of the drawing, the cells were pits in the ground, sealed from the top with wards and solid iron bars tempered with bloodbane. 

And in the center of the floorplan, a throne room.

There was an arrow pointing to it, and a note in Leur’s handwriting that said: 

The King has a fondness for watching traitors be tortured from his throne. Need a contingency plan if caught. 

Caught doing what? 

I supposed it didn’t matter. I could ask her myself. 

I could ask her, because I was almost positive that Leur had just given me the answer to where she was. 

The relief didn’t even hit before my shadows curled around my ear, Rhys is walking up the stairs. 

I shoved everything back in the chest, shutting the lid and winnowing the entire thing to the closet in my quarters before I jumped over the side of the railing and landed right next to the table. When he finally walked in, I was sitting in a chair, translating a document in front of me out of Leur’s code onto a blank piece of parchment. 

I didn’t look at him. I didn’t trust what might slip out if I did.

He didn’t bother with a greeting. He knew he’d only get ice or silence in answer, so he just asked, “What are you doing?” 

I kept my voice bored and even, with just the tiniest bit of bite, “Exactly what you asked me to do.”

He nodded, a little hesitant as he took a step inside the door. He didn’t sit, so I asked, “I thought you three would have left for Spring by now.” 

“How do you know about that?” 

I didn’t even look up from my paper, “I know about everything.” 

He didn’t answer, but his eyes were trained right on my forehead. As if he could stare his way through my shields of shadow and pierce into my mind again. 

That wasn’t fucking happening. 

“We were about to leave.” He said, voice distant and more strained than earlier, “But Lucien woke up.” 

I knew that already. I just simply didn’t care. 

I had no interest in secondhand stories and half-truths. The only thing I gave a shit about was getting Leur back. 

Everything else could wait. 

I didn’t look up. Just kept writing, shadows curling tighter at my back.

So I said, dry as dust and twice as cold, “Great. Can he string a sentence together, or is he still seeing stars?” 

Rhys’s silence said enough. I stopped writing and finally looked at him. 

Only now did I see the stress and guilt carved into every line on his face. 

“He remembers everything.” he said finally, “And he knows what happened to her. He knows why .” 

Chapter Text

November 17th, 521 years ago

Prythian- The Manor, Spring Court

Leuruna

Spring was always beautiful in the evenings. 

One thing I did like the agreement my father had with the High Lord of Spring was how bright it was here. I loved Illyria. I loved the cold and the mountains and the people who looked and spoke like me, but in the winter- it always felt so dark. I was certain at this time of day, the sun had already set in Illyria. No matter that it wasn’t even dinner time yet. 

I missed the sunlight when I was away from here. Tamlin and I liked to make pictures and shapes from shade with my shadows when it was really bright outside. 

So, I was usually more than happy to take my monthly trip to Spring. 

I’d traded one pain for another, though, because now I missed my brothers. 

Usually, Rhys came with me. My father didn’t want me here alone when I was little, and Rhys didn’t like Tamlin’s brother, Navin. So, he was usually here with his tough, sour face on, “protecting me” as he liked to say. 

Navin never bothered me when my brother was around. He was older than us, even older than Cassian, but he was afraid of Rhys. My shadows told me. 

But Rhys wasn’t here this week. 

Apparently, there was something going on in Windhaven. Some new trainee from a distant camp, Archdale or Rosehall- I couldn’t remember which, that had been sent there and caused some big commotion. I wanted to stay behind too, if only to see what was so special about the new boy, but Father said I had to come here.

It was my responsibility, he said. 

But everything felt a little colder without Rhys here- even in the sunshine.

And without my brother here to train us together, Tamlin had to work on his training with Navin. And I wasn’t even allowed to watch , let alone pick up a sword. 

Well- technically I wasn’t watching. 

And I certainly wasn’t holding a sword. 

I was just… conveniently sitting on the terrace of the third floor, sipping my afternoon tea and reading, while Clove, the human slave who had been assigned to my care since I was a babe, brushed my hair and pretended like she didn’t know exactly what I was doing. 

As the third floor terrace just so happened to overlook the rose garden and the small field adjacent to it. 

Which just so happened to be where Navin was making Tamlin eat dirt. 

“Stop squinting.” Clove whispered, brushing out a knot. “If you wanted to spy, you could’ve just asked.”

“The light hurts my eyes.” I said, “That’s all.” 

It wasn’t a lie. I might have missed the sunlight, but my eyes didn’t. Father said our eyes weren’t meant for places that were as bright as Spring always was. 

Clove just laughed under her breath and set down the brush. I squeaked as she dragged the whole chair across the terrace, too surprised to grab anything. I was laughing by the time she set me in place under the shade of a pergola covered in twining vines of wisteria and ivy and left to carry the side table over with my tea. 

“Better?” She asked, red hair catching the light like flames as she set the table back down and knelt in front of me, brushing a curl from my face. 

“Mhmm.” I nodded, “Thank you.” 

“Allergic to the sun, Nymerin?” A low, gravely voice asked from behind. 

I spun, only to find Vern- Tamlin’s eldest brother- sitting in his wheelchair in a shadowed corner of the terrace, tending to the ivy with a swirl of light green magic around his good hand. 

Vern, the assumed heir to the Spring Court, had been poisoned when Tamlin and I were little. My father said that the slaves rebelled against their treatment here and set a trap to target their future High Lord. Morvain flowers, glamoured to look like a normal rose, hidden amongst the flower gardens. Vern, younger at the time but still fully grown, liked to tend to them with his mother. 

He’d pricked his finger on a thorn, and that was it. 

Morvain was a deadly, irreversible poison. It looked like a black rose, beautiful and all the more lethal for it, with sickly, faded green stems and big, sharp thorns full of dark venom. There was no true cure for it, because it was so rare. 

Legend says that it only blooms over the grave of someone that had truly been betrayed. And only once- as vengeance. At least, that was what Father said. 

Tamlin’s father, Florian, had found some concoction from a distant land that could slow the progression of the poison. And he believed that the healing gifts in Dawn might be able to completely cure Vern, or at least save him from the certain death creeping towards his heart. 

But Dawn had refused to help, not unless the Spring Court abolished slavery entirely. 

Florian had even asked my father to help negotiate, as Night was the leader of the Solar Court’s alliance, but the High Lord of Dawn was still refusing to help. And all the while, Vern got worse and worse. 

When we were very little, he used to walk with a cane. But the poison had spread completely down his right leg now, paralyzing it entirely. Even in the warmth of Spring, Vern was always wearing a tunic with long sleeves and a high neck- to cover the black veins from the Morvain spreading. I could see just the barest edge of a dark vein on the side of his face. 

I didn’t say anything about it. 

Aside from Tamlin and Clove, Vern was my favorite person in Spring. He was kind and humble, unlike Navin, and he taught me about different plants and all the uses they have. Rhys liked him too. He said that Vern would be a good High Lord, if he survived- that is. 

“No.” I answered him, slipping from my chair and padding over to him, “I just wanted to sit by you.” 

“Liar.” He teased, light green eyes glinting in the shadowed light. The sparse clouds overhead made the sunlight streaming through the little gaps in the pergola dance. Light to shadow and then back to light again. 

“Maybe.” I giggled, fiddling with my skirt as I went to stand by him, “What are you doing?” 

I knew I shouldn’t like the dresses I wore in Spring, as I was pretty much forced to wear them. Only light colors, usually lavender or blue for me, and always fluffy- like a proper Princess, my mother said. 

I liked them anyway. My mother spent hours hand-sewing every jewel and layering every bit of tulle. They were beautiful, like everything else she made. Every once in a while, I got tired of the puffiness and missed the flowy, loose chiffon of my Night Court dresses. But I liked them both. 

Vern’s good hand lifted, fingers trailing just above the ivy’s leaves. A soft pulse of green light flickered from his skin, coaxing the vines to uncurl and shift. One tendril twisted around another, too tightly.

He clicked his tongue and whispered something to the plant- words too low to catch. His magic sparked again, gentle and warm, and the tangle loosened like it had sighed. Vern reached for a small silver knife resting beside his chair and trimmed a browning leaf free.

He held it up between two fingers. “You see this?”

I nodded.

“It’s not dead yet. But it’s not helping the plant anymore either. It’s taking sunlight. Taking water. Slowing everything else down.”

He dropped the leaf into a bowl on his lap. “Sometimes you have to cut things away so the rest can grow, Nymerin.”

He said it gently, like it wasn’t meant to mean more than gardening. But I saw the way his shoulders sank. The way he winced as he reached for the next vine.

I didn’t say anything.

I just moved to sit beside him, and helped him untangle the rest.

We talked while we worked. Boring, simple things. Everything and nothing at all. Vern was always kind, always teaching something, always willing to listen about anything. I understood why he was Tamlin’s favorite brother, even if the only other option was Navin. And Navin was as close as a person can get to evil while still wearing a crown of sunlight and emeralds. 

Everyone in Spring calls me Nymerin or Nyme, after a violet flower that only blooms at midnight during a full moon. Even the High Lord. 

Navin calls me Nymmie. Always dripping with fake affection, like I was some baby. 

And he was mean to Clove. Well, really, he was mean to all of the humans. 

Even from three floors above, I could tell Tamlin was tired. His face was all red, in that way it got when he was too hot, and his shirt was completely soaked. For November, it was an especially warm day. Even for Spring. 

Go give him some shade and a breeze. I whispered to the shadows, But make sure Navin gets none. 

They let out a sound that was almost like a snicker, then said, As you wish. 

A plume of lavender smoke slithered away, slipping off the side of the terrace and vanishing into the sky. A few moments later, a conveniently placed “cloud” had shaded the spot where Tamlin was standing, doing the drills his brother had assigned to him. And, as if the light that should have been there now had no place to go, the spot where Navin stood got impossibly brighter. Hotter, too.

I kept myself from smiling, so I didn’t give anything away. And Clove, who undoubtedly noticed that half my shadows had mysteriously vanished, handed me back my tea to cover my mouth, shaking her head some at my antics. 

She was always like that. She had no issue with my general mischief and curiosity here in Spring. Most of the time, she subtly helped me pull off… whatever I was trying to do. Only very rarely did I get that stern, motherly look from her and a whispered, “Just be careful, Nyme. Curiosity killed the cat, you know.” 

But this time, she didn’t say it.

Instead, a low laugh rumbled from beside us. I turned just in time to see Vern watching the sky with narrowed eyes and a wide grin.

“You made that cloud, didn’t you?” he said.

I sipped my tea. “No idea what you mean.”

“Mhm.” He shook his head, amused. “And I suppose it was a complete accident that the light doubled on Navin’s side of the field. My poor brother probably thinks the Cauldron’s punishing him personally.”

Clove let out a quiet snort- quickly followed by a hand clapped over her mouth. Her eyes darted toward the field, like Navin might somehow hear her from three floors below and come storming up to deliver one of his pompous lectures. Or the punishments I wasn’t allowed to see. 

Vern waved a hand. “It’s fine. Laugh. The Mother knows we need it around here.”

Clove hesitated. Then she let the rest of the laugh slip out, soft and warm and real . Things were so rarely real here in Spring, and I liked her laugh. It was kind, like she never meant for it to make anyone else feel small. Even if she sometimes looked like she was afraid of being punished just for stepping wrong.

I hated that. Hated that she flinched. Hated that someone as good and clever and pretty as Clove had to hide like that.

Because she was pretty. Even if most fae called humans ugly, or simple, or muddied. Clove wasn’t. Not to me. Her red hair glowed like the fire my mother kept lit in our hearth during the winter and her freckles were like constellations, always shifting when she smiled. She had soft hands and a sharper tongue than anyone expected- especially when it came to Navin behind closed doors. And she cared for me like I was her own daughter.

I hoped one day she wouldn’t have to laugh quietly. That she’d get to do it loud, in the sunlight, without looking over her shoulder.

Vern rummaged through the pouch strapped to the side of his chair, muttering to himself. After a moment, he pulled out a little folded paper sachet and peered inside. He sighed, long and theatrical.

“Of course,” he said. “Out of moonleaf. Again.”

Clove arched her brow, and Vern gave her his trademark, charming smile. 

“It helps me sleep,” Vern replied, amused and defensive, “And, I quite like not hearing Navin’s voice echoing in my head at night.”

Clove tried and failed to hide her smile.

I perked up. “Is it a plant?”

He nodded solemnly. “A very specific one. Pale green leaves, silver undersides. Grows low to the ground, prefers soft soil and filtered light. But it’s hard to find, and easy to confuse with other plants.”

“I can find it,” I said, already shifting in my seat.

“I believe you could,” Vern said. Then added, with studied casualness, “Only problem is… you’ve never actually seen it before.”

I stilled.

He looked down into the empty pouch like it had wounded him. “Tamlin has. He’s gathered it with me a dozen times. Knows the exact spot.”

Clove groaned immediately. “Your Highness…”

“So unless you’d like to suffer a sleep-deprived, snappier version of myself…” His eyes flicked up to me, “Then someone’s going to need to borrow Tamlin for a short while.”

I sat up straighter.

“You want me to sneak him out of training?”

“I would never suggest such a thing,” Vern said, his good hand over his heart, “But you might be able to figure out a way. Tell him it’s for you. That you want to go explore the woods. And if he just so happens to find some moonleaf along the way, well…”

Clove rubbed her temples. “You’re a menace.”

“She’s bored,” Vern said gently. “And she’s capable. She’s the only shadowsinger in the world. Give her a reason to use them.”

His words were light, but something in them curled around my chest and warmed it.

“I’ll bring him back before anyone notices,” I promised.

“Take your time,” Vern said. “Moonleaf doesn’t like to be rushed.”

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

Prythian- Eastern Woods, Spring Court

Tamlin

Leur's laugh cut through the air like sunlight breaking through the canopy above us, wild and unrestrained. She was ahead of me- again. I couldn't seem to catch up no matter how fast I pushed my legs, no matter how many roots and branches I ducked under or leapt over.

"Too slow, Tam!" she called over her shoulder, a dark blur as she vanished deeper into the woods.

"I'm letting you win!" I shouted back, though it was a lie.

She was faster than me, always had been, and she knew it.

I leapt over a fallen log, my boots skidding slightly as I landed. "Wait up!" I yelled, but she only glanced back long enough to flash me a grin before darting to the right, vanishing into a thicket.

And she merely laughed, the sound like an echo through the trees. A melody to harmonize with the slow hum of the grasses, the tinny song of the trees, the high-pitched note of the flowers bending under running feet. Leur was always that way, making music with every step and every breath. 

I pushed harder, my hands reaching out to catch her as if she wasn’t always a solid three paces in front of me, as if I had any shot of reaching her. The ends of her gown trailed behind her as she ran, combined with the shadows that matched it- she looked like a lavender blur. She glanced back at me, freedom written on every feature, wind rushing through long, shiny black curls. And I was laughing, laughing so hard that I fell two more paces behind her.

Laughing so hard that I completely missed the drop off of a steep hill overhead. 

Leur noticed it, though, - because of course she did - but only a beat too late. She tried to stop herself, only to stumble and keep moving forward, still trying to scream out a warning- 

“Tam! Stop! There’s a-”

Her voice was cut off when the soft ground of the edge slid and sent her flying over the edge so fast that her wings shot out to catch her, but it was too late for that to work. She was already rolling down the hill in a tumble of shrieks and grass and a splash of water as she fell directly into the large pond at the bottom. 

No, not a pond. Something else. A sparkling silver pool. Not full of water but light. 

I was stunned by the sight for only a moment before I ran after her, stumbling down the steepness of the hill with panting breath. I stopped to pick up her gold diadem on the way, which had flown off her head sometime during the fall. It was a special one my father gifted to her for her seventh birthday, a circlet of gold and nymerin flowers forged from amethyst, with a crescent moon made of diamonds at the center. 

By the time I made it down to the bottom of that pool, Leur’s entire face was bright red. She was an absolute mess. Soaked from head to toe in droplets of silver, limp layers of tulle ripped and plastered to her legs, hair stuck to the side of her face, and one puffy, glittering sleeve had been torn off at the shoulder. Her hands were clenched into fists, a glare so prominent on her face that I had to keep myself from immediately laughing. 

“Are you okay?” 

Her fury only grew, hotter, as if that strange, glowing water surrounding her was fueling it, “Don’t you dare.” 

I choked down another laugh, trying and failing to keep my face even, “Don’t what? I’m just worried about you.” 

Somehow, her cheeks went even redder. She looked so ridiculous standing there like that, angry as the sun when it sets, burning so hot- I half expected steam to come out of her ears, “If you laugh at me, Tam, I swear to the Mother I’ll-” 

The sound of her voice was cut off when I completely lost control and burst out laughing so hard that I keeled over, gripping my stomach. 

“ Tamlin! ” she shrieked, splashing toward the edge of the pool. “It’s not funny!”

But it was .

I couldn’t stop laughing. I could barely even get a breath down between peals of my own laughter. It was the kind of laugh that was so hard it was silent.. And that only made Leur louder.

“My dress is ruined!” she cried, holding out the limp, dripping layers of tulle like I’d be able to fix it with an apology, “My mom just made this! She’s going to kill me.” 

I wheezed harder, leaning against my knees, tears forming at the corners of my eyes. “You tripped into a magical pond, Nyme. I think the dress is the least of your worries.”

She glared up at me with all the rage a nine-year-old could muster, silver droplets sliding from her tangled curls. “It was not a trip! The ground gave out!” 

“Sure.” I nodded between snorts. 

“I liked this dress.” She whined, ruffling the glowing water off her wings, “I look like a wet bat now.” 

I was laughing again before I could help it, and that time, she chucked a handful of glowing water straight at my face. I stumbled back as some of it landed in my eye and my vision went white for a moment. It didn’t burn, but it didn’t feel like water either. Liquid, but not really, soft and velvety slid across my cheeks as I tried to wipe it away. 

I opened my eyes, regaining my vision, just in time to catch her about to splash me again. 

“Don’t.” I warned her, raising a hand and taking a step back, “Navin’s already going to be mad I ditched him. I don’t need to give my mother a reason to take his side by coming home covered in some strange, magical liquid.” 

Leur didn’t back down, “Say you’re sorry.” 

The anger in her brow threatened to make me laugh again, “I’m not, though.” 

Her face merely hardened, “Say it or I’m using my shadows and dragging you in here.” 

She’d do it too. 

So, I took a breath and said, “Okay fine. I’m sorry. Happy?” 

“No.” She scowled, glaring up at me, “My dress is still ruined.” 

“Well, I just got a lesson on regenerative magic the other day.” I said, walking up to the edge of the pool and holding out a hand, “Come out and we’ll see if I can fix it.” 

She blinked at me for a moment, then- as if it had just occurred to her- looked down and examined the fluid she was knee deep in. The glimmers of light reflected in her eyes, making the violet shimmer as she stared down at it.  Her voice lowered to a whisper, “What is this place?” 

The fury was gone from her face, replaced by something quiet. Something close to reverence.

I stepped closer, careful not to touch the surface. The pool looked like it was made of stars- liquid starlight, maybe… if such a thing existed. It pulsed faintly, like it had a heartbeat, like it was alive. The edges weren’t muddy like a normal pond. There were no reeds, no frogs, not even moss. Just stones- smooth, pale grey stones arranged in an almost perfect circle around the bank, like someone had placed them there on purpose.

And just under my feet, around the shoreline, unbloomed nymerin flowers.

“I have no idea,” I said, voice just as quiet now. “It’s not on any of the maps.”

Leur dipped her hand into it again, letting the silver run through her fingers. Her shadows danced up her arms and swirled around her shoulders, mimicking the fluid, curious. One of them even dipped a tendril into the surface and shot back with a sharp flick like it had been stung. Leur giggled, clearly delighted.

I could have sworn that the water glowed brighter at the sound, as if it was pleased too. 

“Maybe it’s a blessing pool,” she offered, splashing a little. “Or a star pond. Maybe the sun comes here to sleep.”

I smiled faintly. “Maybe it’s cursed.”

“Maybe you’re cursed,” she retorted, and stuck her tongue out.

Her shadows swirled again, dancing around the billowed edge of her torn skirt. They were growing more animated by the second, flitting like they were feeding off the light- or trying to snuff it out. Not malicious. Just… drawn. Entranced.

I was about to laugh again, until I caught something—just for a moment. A shift in the light. A flicker that didn’t come from the trees overhead.

The sun was setting.

My gaze swept across the horizon, through the trees, the angles of golden light darkening to amber, then rust. Something about it made the back of my neck prickle. Like the forest was watching, holding its breath, waiting for something.

“Leur,” I said carefully, keeping my tone calm, “We should head back.”

She didn’t look up, still mesmerized by the way her shadows were playing with the water.

“Just one more minute.”

My chest tightened. I didn’t know why. I didn’t know anything, really. Only that something in my bones told me this place wasn’t meant for after sundown.

I forced a grin, “You’ll turn into a fish if you stay in too long.”

She snorted, “You’re such a baby. And there’s no fish in here.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be getting something to help Vern sleep? His moonleaf?” I reached out a hand, “Let’s go before we’re too late and both my brothers are mad at me. The sun is already setting.” 

I didn’t mention that if we weren’t home by sundown, when Leur’s father was coming to get her, I was pretty sure he’d actually kill me. Or my father. Or all of us. 

Altair, the High Lord of Night, was terrifying.

My comment about Vern clearly got her attention. With an exaggerated sigh, she trudged closer, taking my hand. Her skin was as cold as ice, which was odd. 

Leur was always warm. Almost… unnaturally warm. As if all the fire in her burned too bright to fully contain itself. I couldn’t remember ever feeling her this cold before. 

And as soon as she stepped out of the pool, I swear the light shifted again. Just a bit, like the place had gotten duller. 

I didn’t say anything.

Didn’t mention the feeling in my chest, the one that still hadn’t gone away. That said we’d stumbled on something old.

Something that had been waiting for her. 

“Promise me we’ll come back here.” She said, attempting and failing to straighten herself out. It was no use, she was a complete and utter mess of sparkling water and ripped lilac fabric.

I didn’t answer right away, just held out a hand and steadied my breathing the way my tutor taught me last week. I let my magic rise, warm and steady, and imagined the way she had looked before. Glittering jewels, puffy sleeves, perfectly embroidered gold flowers, hair in perfect black ringlets down her back, skirt flouncy and cheeks tapped with rouge. And when I opened my eyes- 

She looked exactly as we did when we walked into the woods. I’d somehow even shifted her wings back hidden, the way she always kept them when she was here. Sometimes, I forgot she had them. 

I didn’t know I could do that. 

I smiled at her anyway, letting my magic fizzle back out. If I stared too long at her face, if I remembered that she was not just my best friend but one of the prettiest girls I’d ever seen- I’d get clammy and nervous and weird. And she’d tease me until my face turned as red as the roses in my mother’s garden.  

I just pulled her diadem from where I’d tucked it under my arm, straightening it out and placing it over her brow. The diamond moon caught the light, shimmering as if it was blessed somehow. 

“There.” I said, “You’re you again.” 

She gave me a half-grin back that was somehow brighter than all the starlight behind her, “Answer my question, Tam.” 

“Sure.” I laughed, “We’ll come back. Now, let’s go find Vern’s moonleaf. He gets grumpy without it.” 

✵✵✵

Navin was waiting for us on the stone stairs leading up to the Manor when we got home.

Arms crossed, face set in a hard line, orange light dancing across his face. 

The sun was truly setting now, streaks of crimson and pink marking the place where it fell, the edge of bright yellow just barely visible over the trees in the distance. Leur, it seemed, was less than bothered by the way my older brother was glaring at us. She was practically skipping along next to me, a basket full of moonleaf balanced in the crook of her elbow, her eyes brighter than usual. As if that starlight or… whatever it was had lingered on her skin. 

I just gulped down a breath and hoped that Vern was still awake to talk Navin out of beating me into next week. 

I had very little hope when we made it to the bottom of the stairs and he started walking down, his voice a growl, “You little shits. I’m going to-” 

He was cut off by the distinct rushing sound of someone winnowing in behind us, and then a velvet smooth, dark voice.

“You’re going to what, boy?” 

Navin went as white as a ghost. I watched him gulp as he froze, completely paralyzed with fear. 

I didn’t need to turn to know who it was, but I did anyway. Leur’s father was standing there as if he was the horseman of night, bringing the darkness along with him, dark power legitimately rippling off of his skin, as always. Goosebumps raised on my arms. 

I bowed. Half-instinct, half-fear for my own life. 

Navin did the same, his voice shaking as he raised his head again, “Nothing, sir. I was just teasing, that’s all.” 

Altair merely stared at him, clearly not believing my brother’s excuse for a second, “Of course you were. You wouldn’t dare threaten my daughter with anything.” He gave a smile that was more threat than warmth, “Isn’t that so?” 

Just then, my father walked out of the door, a fake, cheerful grin on his face, “Setting my boy straight, Altair?” 

The High Lord of Night merely shot a glare over at Navin, “Someone has to.” 

Altair and my father were already deep in conversation, voices lowered as they stepped aside from the main path- more growled syllables than sentences, clipped and sharp enough to make even Navin flinch as he passed to run back in the house like a dog with his tail between his legs. I couldn’t hear much, just a few words here and there.

“…too close to dusk,” Altair muttered.

“Nothing happened,” came my father’s clipped reply.

Altair’s voice, colder than ice, “There are still beasts in these woods, Florian. This is your Court. I shouldn’t have to remind you.”

I kept my head down. I wasn’t supposed to be listening. But the way my father clenched his jaw said he wasn’t going to argue, even if he wanted to.

The front door creaked open.

Clove stepped out onto the stairs like she was walking into a chapel, soft and silent and straight-backed, the hem of her pale dress brushing against the stone. Head bowed, as all the slaves were meant to walk. 

She didn’t speak at first—just walked down the steps and held out her arms. Leur passed her the basket, and Clove nodded, inspecting the moonleaf inside.

“I’ll get it to Vern,” she said, voice so gentle it barely stirred the air. Then she handed Leur a small bag- her things- and leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Go on,” she whispered.

Leur gave her a smile and turned to me then, her eyes catching the glow of the horizon. She was just as unbothered by our fathers arguing as she was by Navin. Then again, it would have been stranger if our fathers got along for once. All they really ever did was argue, even with their rocky alliance. 

“Tell Rhys I said hi.” I said, reaching out and squeezing her shoulder. 

She just gave me a grin, “I will.” 

I knew she was excited to go home. She’d been more melancholy than usual this trip. Usually, she moped around missing Cassian. This time, she’d moped around missing both of her “brothers”. I was almost jealous of how much she loved them, the fact that when we weren’t together- she was still happy. 

At least I had Vern. 

She gave me one last smile in answer before darting over to stand by her father. Their conversation, as usual, ceased immediately when she appeared. The grin returned to my father’s face, though this one was far less forced. 

I had a feeling he’d wanted a daughter, from the way he doted on Leur. He was kinder to her than he ever was to me or my brothers. It was supposed to be impossible for a High Lord to have one, but there she was. 

Sometimes, I wondered how much of our betrothal was political and how much was to fill that need. 

“Oh my little Nymerin.” He smiled, crouching in front of her with two hands on her shoulders, “I hope you had fun.” 

Leur’s shadows skittered away from his touch, but she smiled, “Of course.” 

“We’ll be missing you.” He said, placing a kiss on her cheek, “Until next time.” 

Leur gave him a sparkling nod and then took her father’s hand, and with one last glare between the two High Lords, the Night Court vanished. 

They were gone for less than a second before my father’s smile dropped and he spun to me. 

His voice, low and dangerous and far too calm, growled out, “Where the hell were you?” 

“We got lost.” I spewed out the lie Leur and I had agreed on, “Vern sent us looking for moonleaf.” 

“Moonleaf?” His blonde brows rose, his anger not letting up for even a moment, “He has entire jars full of moonleaf, Tamlin. Your mother keeps a special patch just for him.” 

I just shrugged, “I don’t know. He told Leur he was out.” 

My father just gave me an unimpressed look, “If you’re going to lie, at least do it convincingly, Tamlin.” 

My entire body tensed, as if already bracing for the blow, but my mind spit out the only thing I could think to say, the question I had wanted to ask him since we started walking home.

"I saw something, in the woods today."

His rage paused momentarily, but the growl in his voice remained when he spoke again. "What now?"

"Leur and I were running. Playing," I admitted, my voice stammering with the lies. "And I saw a pool... but it wasn't water. It was-"

"Starlight," he finished for me, a flicker of something dark in his eyes that I didn't recognize. "Leur didn't see it, did she?"

"No." The lie rolled off my tongue effortlessly. "She ran the other way, in our game."

Just based on his reaction, I could tell that her falling into it would be something very bad. He said nothing, only stared at me for a long moment.

"What is it?" I pushed, unsure if I was trying to distract him from my punishment or figure out what we’d found..

"It doesn't matter, boy. Just keep away from it." He shook his head, his eyes pensive, and for a brief moment, I dared to hope he had forgotten about his anger.

"Why?"

"It is a secret within our Court, Tamlin. It's memory is lost, and it needs to stay that way."

I blinked a few times, not caring if I was repeating myself, "Why?"

"Because within that starlight, legend speaks of a great power. A power that can rival the Cauldron, bring the dead back to life, transport to far away lands, Make and Unmake anything it chooses to be worthy." He breathed, "During the day, when the stars are hidden behind the clouds, it is nothing. It is simply starlight. At night, when those stars shine down on it once more, it becomes something else. That is when it activates."

The sunset… the feeling I’d had…

Had it deemed her worthy?

"Promise me that you will never tell another living soul of its existence." He demanded.

A command. A High Lord's command.

I shot out the words before I had even thought them, "I promise."

He moved then, crouching in front of me. His hands rested on my shoulders, firm but not rough, as if he was trying to drive the words, the warning, into my very soul- burn it into my memory.

" Never enter it at night, Tamlin. No matter what happens, do not ever go in that water."

Chapter Text

Present

Prythian- House of Wind, Velaris, Night Court

Feyre 

Azriel looked like darkness himself. 

Clearly, I had entirely underestimated just how powerful and imposing our shadowsinger could be. 

He stood in front of the chair Lucien sat in, arms crossed, shadows seething, with the darkness of an abyss in his eyes and raw, untamable cobalt power crackling around his hands. Staring down the Spring Court emissary as if he could will the answers out of him if he stared long enough. 

I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that he could, honestly. 

At this point, I didn’t know if I was wishing for Leur back for her sake or Azriel’s more.

Or mine. 

Even I had to admit that Azriel was terrifying.

Lucien seemed mildly unnerved, perhaps not nearly as much as he should have been- considering how thin the spymaster’s patience was stretched. The redheaded male shifted uncomfortably in his seat, staring back at Azriel with that strange, golden eye of his. He was still drained and exhausted, he told me that much, but he was awake. Alive. Asking about Elain and avoiding Rhys’s burning violet glare as if it would melt him alive. 

I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Rhys had the ability to do that too. 

My mate was sitting next to me, a sweating, tattooed hand clasped tight in my own, teeth clenched so hard I thought they might break. Whatever he’d found in Lucien’s mind had clearly unnerved him, but there hadn’t been time to ask what he saw yet. 

Really, there was very little time for anything but trying to ensure they all didn’t kill one another before we got the information we needed. 

Amren, as usual, was the only one not on the edge of her seat. She had her legs tucked under herself, toying with her ruby necklace as she assessed Lucien with those strange, otherly eyes of hers. Mor had positioned herself as far away from Azriel as possible, leaning against the corner of the room, utterly breathtaking and basked in a ray of buttery sunlight that did not match the solemn mood around us. 

Shockingly, Lucien was the first to speak, covering up the tension and awkwardness of the moment with a sly smirk thrown in Azriel’s direction, “I see why you and Leur are mates, shadowsinger. You’re just as horrifying as she is.” 

The sunlight flickered through the sheer curtains ruffling in the breeze, dancing across Azriel’s face as if it was trying to calm him. 

But his eyes only darkened despite the warm light shining into them. 

Azriel didn’t answer. Not right away. He just kept staring. 

Lucien swallowed, glancing over at me once before he looked back to Azriel, “Isn’t this supposed to be an interrogation?” 

When Azriel finally spoke, his voice was so dark that a chill ran up my spine. Like the growl of a beast that killed for sport- not survival, “Do not push me, Vanserra.”

Despite his strong exterior, Lucien sank back in his chair. Just a bit. Enough that Rhys noticed and took the opportunity to speak. 

“Here’s how this is going to work,” Rhys said, so softly it was almost kind. Though the words couldn’t be farther from it as he said, “You’re going to tell us what you know. Every scrap of it. If you don’t, if you leave anything out… I’ll rip it from your mind myself- along with your ability to do anything but scream. Do you understand?” 

I could tell Lucien had about a million snarky replies on his lips when he looked over at my mate, but he merely nodded. “No need for the knives and theatrics,” he said, voice tighter than before. “I’ll tell you everything.”

Azriel moved so fast he was a blur. Standing still, too still, in front of Lucien. And in the next- 

In the next, he was standing behind him, one scarred hand gripping the tan skin of the male’s throat and the other gripping Truth-Teller, the gleaming, impossibly sharp black tip of the blade no more than an inch from Lucien’s good eye. 

I moved on instinct, either to stand or stop him- I didn’t know. But Rhys put a hand on my knee, his voice whispering against my shields, Leave him be. This is all for show. 

“I might pluck the other eye from your skull just for the fun of it.” Azriel snarled, “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you right now for keeping my mate from me.” 

Are you sure about that? I asked Rhys. 

He didn’t answer. He was too busy glaring back at Lucien, whose eyes had snapped to him as if he was begging for my mate to stop this. Pleading somehow with solid, magical gold. 

“Don’t look at me, Vanserra.” Rhys shrugged, sitting back in his seat, “I’m not the one holding the knife.” 

Lucien drug in a shaking breath, his eye whirring upwards to meet the dark shadow looming over him. All he managed to come up with was, “Leur is my friend. I doubt she’d be thrilled if you killed me.” 

Az didn’t even miss a beat, “I’ll take my chances.” 

“She didn’t want any of you to know she was alive until she could come home.” The male continued, the bandage around his forehead slipping from how hard Azriel had him tilted back, “I did what she and my High Lord asked.” 

“Is she the one who put that mental block in your mind too?” Rhys joined in crossing his legs. 

A mental block? I asked before I could even stop it. 

Rhys didn’t even look at me when he answered, Like forming a shield in someone else’s mind. My sister is… particularly skilled at it. Look for yourself. You can only see bits and pieces of his memories. 

Rhys couldn’t get through it. That was what he was saying. 

How was it possible that even Rhys couldn’t find a way through her magic?

Lucien nodded. Well, as much as he could. 

“Her being alive was supposed to be a secret.” He said, still looking up at Azriel, “The last thing we wanted was for the King’s daemati niece and nephew to figure out our plan when we initially approached Hybern for an alliance. And after she came back… it was supposed to be an advantage.” 

“An advantage for what?” Azriel hissed. 

“The war.” Lucien’s voice evened, if only slightly, “Leur is the King’s biggest threat. She knows too much about him and has too much power- not to mention that he hates her to the point of distraction. We wanted to use her strategically.” 

Rhys cocked his head, “Against the King or for him?” 

“Against him.” Lucien answered, too fast, his hands- bound at his sides- shaking just the slightest bit, “Our entire alliance with Hybern was a ruse. Tamlin would never ally with the King.” 

“He already did.” Rhys said. Pragmatic, as if Lucien didn’t have a blade a breath away from his eye, “In the first war with Hybern.” 

Lucien shook his head, or attempted to, “That was a ruse too. He went to Hybern because Leur was there.”

Azriel pressed the blade a fraction closer. “What exactly was she doing in Hybern?”

“Spying,” Lucien answered flatly. “Gathering intelligence on the King’s movements. Military bases. Propaganda. Weak points. Ripping them apart from the inside out.”

Rhys’s voice was like ice cracking, “How?” 

Lucien didn’t answer. 

He took in a sharp breath, holding it in his lungs as if he could steel himself. And a moment later, I knew precisely why he did so. 

Azriel’s hand tightened so hard that his knuckles went white, Truth-Teller shifting from Lucien’s eye to hovering just over the pulsing artery in the male’s neck. He repeated Rhys’s question but darker, colder, as if he could pry the answer out of him just by demanding it, “How?” 

Shockingly, Lucien answered immediately. 

But his words… they weren’t the answer anyone truly wanted. 

“She developed a personal relationship with the King.” Lucien said, “Pretended to defect from the rebel alliance. Offered to work for him as a shadowsinger.” A breath, a pause, “Slept with him to get the information she couldn’t get anywhere else. Fed every last scrap of information back to-” 

“What did you just say?” 

Azriel had gone completely still. Even his shadows. 

No, it was Rhys who was speaking now. 

Rhys , who had endured fifty years of being referred to as nothing but Amarantha’s whore, who had just been forced into and crawled his way out of the same game, who knew- better than anyone else in the world- precisely what that kind of sacrifice meant. 

Rhys , who had shot from his chair and was surrounded by extraordinary amounts of power buzzing in the air. It was pouring off of his skin, as if he was crafted from darkness, as if he was no more than a second away from leveling the entire world to ash. I could feel the pulse of it in my veins, the bottomless well that had just opened up next to me. 

Lucien just swallowed, turning his head to my mate slowly- as if he was looking at a wild animal about to attack. And Azriel- 

Azriel let him. 

His hands went completely slack. Truth-Teller clattered to the floor. I physically watched his knees buckle, and I watched his shadows wrap themselves under his arms to hold him up as he staggered back. Sinking into the shadows on the other side of the room as if he could run from what Lucien was about to say. 

And Lucien… Lucien just kept staring at Rhys. 

I stood then, putting a hand on my mate’s arm- as if anything I could do would stop the storm that had just started brewing in this room. I hadn’t even bothered to look at Amren and Mor’s reactions. 

I was almost too terrified to see what I’d find. 

And Rhys just spoke again, his voice in that unshakable command he so rarely used, dark and cold and utterly lethal, “You’re going to say that one more time. Slowly.”

Lucien obeyed, his voice calm but filled to the brim with dread. Or maybe it was pain, I couldn’t tell. 

“Leur shared an… intimate relationship with the King of Hybern during the first war.” He said, something like sympathy in his eyes, “She… didn’t particularly have a choice.”

Right then and there, I knew the King was dead. It was over. 

Rhys was going to kill him, if Azriel didn’t get to him first. Or Cassian. 

Or me. 

My hands were shaking. 

Rhys’s hands clenched into fists, “Who knew of this?”

“Your father. That’s who she was reporting all the information to.” Lucien said, “And Tamlin- but he wasn’t supposed to.” 

“Then how did he find out?”

“In the last year of the war, Tamlin overheard some of Hybern’s soldiers talking about your capture, Rhysand.” Lucien answered, “He knew Leur was working in Hybern as a double agent, so he got himself reassigned to bring the intel to her. And then he joined Amarantha’s troops as a distraction while Leur planned to get you out. He realized what was really happening then, when he saw her. But by then, it was too late to do anything about it. He was already… playing the same game she was.” 

That was why Amarantha was so obsessed with him. 

And if Leur and Tamlin were betrothed, then she had every reason to hate Leur with the same fervor she’d hated me. 

Was that why she targeted Rhys? Now and then? To hurt Leur?

“And then what?” My mate pushed, “She blew her cover to pull me out, and then?”

“She went back.” 

Silence spread through the room. Almost like a fog, slowly creeping in, unnoticeable until we were all too stunned to speak. 

Why the hell would she go back? What could have possibly-

“I don’t know why.” Lucien attempted to raise his hands in defense, but with them cuffed at his sides all he could manage was to pull on the chains, “Neither of them really… speak of this period of time. At all. The only thing I’m sure of is that it was bad.” 

Rhys still hadn’t moved. He was panting hard enough that I could see it, shoulders rising and falling with a barely constrained rage. 

I decided to ask what he couldn’t voice, “Okay. So, then how did she get out?” 

Lucien opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat. As if he couldn’t bring himself to say something to make it worse, not with Rhys practically vibrating next to me. 

“You said you’d tell us.” I attempted, shocked by the plea in my own voice, “It’ll be fine. Just say it.” 

He sucked in a breath, glancing over his shoulder at the space where Azriel was supposed to be. But all that existed on the far side of the room was darkness. 

Lucien’s face paled, but he spoke anyways. 

I knew it wouldn’t be good, but I couldn’t imagine how horrific it could be. Not really. Not until Lucien said, “Leur killed the King’s sister.” 

You could have heard a pin drop. 

Even the whistle of the wind outside seemed to pause for a moment, as if even the skies knew the weight of what he’d just said. 

“That’s not possible.” Amren finally spoke up, sitting straight in her chair for once, “The Silent Army killed Kirian.” 

And Lucien just looked over to her, his face utterly serious and his voice as grave as I’d ever heard it as he said, “I don’t think you understand. Leur is the Silent Army.” 

Something in the air went still. 

Chairs scraped. Amren sat forward at last, eyes narrowing like she’d just smelled blood.

I blinked. “The what?”

“The Silent Army,” Amren repeated for me, fingers drumming against her knee. “Halfway through the war, whole Hybern camps began vanishing overnight. Throats slit, fires still burning, bodies stacked like offerings- or not found at all.”

She didn’t blink.

“No sign of a fight. No survivors. Just gone.”

Azriel didn’t reappear. Rhys didn’t speak. Lucien didn’t move.

Amren leaned back again, one brow lifting with a kind of grim admiration. “We assumed it was a rogue unit. Highly trained, highly protected. But it wasn’t. It was her.”

My gaze drifted past her- toward the window.

Mor was still standing there, sunlight glowing gold against her hair.

Her arms were wrapped tight around her ribs now. Her head bowed, her face turned just enough to see that her cheeks were wet.

She hadn’t made a sound this entire conversation. 

And Rhys-

Rhys looked like a statue.

I skipped over the absolute insanity of what Lucien had just revealed. I had to. There was nothing else to do but keep pushing. 

“Did the King know it was her?” I asked.

Lucien shifted in his seat, eyes flicking around at the room of crying, enraged faces, “Not until Tamlin told him that she was the one who killed Kirian.” 

All of a sudden, Rhys moved. 

Just like Azriel had earlier. Motionless one second and an inescapable fate in the next, jet black power snapping like a whip through the room as he snarled, “Why the fuck would he do that?” 

“He thought he was saving her.” Lucien defended, “She couldn’t stay there and be tortured anymore if he blew her cover for her. I don’t-“ The Autumn Prince leaned back, away from my mate staring directly into his soul, “I don’t think either of them were thinking clearly, at the time.” 

“Obviously not.” Amren scoffed. 

A low rumble spread through the room. Small, like a tiny earthquake rattling the very mountain we stood on. 

“Okay.” I raised my hands, forcing myself in between Rhys and Lucien- who was defenseless and bound to the chair, “Okay. Enough. No one here is to blame for any of this. And clearly, no one needs to threaten anyone to get the information we need.” 

“I led with that, actually.” Lucien snarked, letting out a sigh of relief as I forced Rhys away, “Do I need to be chained up?” 

“No one trusts you, fox.” Rhys spat over my shoulder, “You’re lucky you’re not in a cell.” 

Calm down. I whispered against his shields, as gentle as I could muster, You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgement. 

“Do I need to remind you that I wasn’t even born until 150 years after the war?” Lucien countered. 

“No.” I whipped my head back at him, pointing a finger, “But you can explain to us what happened when Leur died. If you know all of this, you should know that too.”

The emissary just sighed, throwing his head back just the slightest. Around his neck, a large handprint had already begun to darken into a bruise. 

“Leur spent the entire year after the war in hiding from the King. He was hunting her.” He began, warily eyeing Rhys’s reaction behind me, “Of course, she’s just about the hardest person in the world to track- so he wasn’t getting anywhere. But in the meantime, your father found out that her and Azriel were mates.” 

Out of nowhere, as if the sound of his name had summoned him, Azriel rematerialized out of a swirl of black smoke, with eyes of ice and tears on his cheeks. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, staring. 

As if he was waiting for Lucien to deal the killing blow. 

And of course, he delivered. 

Lucien looked right at him and said, “Leur said that he wanted to kill you. And to save your life, she offered herself in your place.” 

Azriel flinched, but Lucien didn’t stop, “He exiled her instead of killing her. Made a blood bargain to ensure there was no way out.” 

“But it wasn’t enough for him.” I finished for him, disgust biting through me alongside red-hot rage, “He told the King where she was, didn’t he?” 

The tension in the room didn’t let up, not for a second. There was no time. Lucien just nodded, shooting a borderline-sympathetic look over at Azriel, “Tamlin knew about the blood bargain. Leur told him. They were supposed to meet that night to say goodbye, but Leur never showed. And when he went looking… he found a body.” 

The finality in it, the horror of the entire situation…

I felt like I was going to throw up.

Then again, I couldn’t even tell the difference between Rhys’s emotions and my own anymore. It was like a tornado, twisting it all together.

But what happened when it burned itself out?

What was left now that we had the truth? 

And shockingly, Azriel broke the silence. 

“But he saved her.” 

His voice didn’t sound imposing anymore. All the darkness and rage and threat… all of it had vanished and everything that was left was just broken. 

Lucien didn’t answer. 

Azriel took in a shaking breath, shaking so hard that his shadows were trembling too, “It was my fault." A pause, so weighted that it almost knocked me down. And then, half a sob and half-truth as he said, "I killed her.” 

Mor finally stepped out of the corner, her own voice weak, “Az, no.” 

He heaved in another breath as if it could help, as if it take Lucien’s words and make them untrue. And Lucien- 

Lucien was the one who looked at Azriel and said, “You didn’t kill her. They did.” 

Lucien, who knew precisely what it felt like to have a love be killed for the mere sin of loving him. 

And Azriel, as if he knew that, paused for a moment and stared back at the male. For a moment it was just them and that pain. That specific, endless pain. That loss-

“I can’t.” Azriel shook his head, fresh tears rolling down his face as he backed away from her, “I just… I can’t.“ 

He didn’t finish his sentence. He just spun on his heel and vanished out the door, leaving nothing but the shock behind. Mor immediately followed behind him, rushing from the room in a blur of red and tears. 

An immeasurable amount of time passed. Maybe thirty seconds. Maybe an hour. I didn’t know. My mind was spinning too fast to tell. 

“Why frame himself?” Amren asked eventually.

“Public knowledge that Hybern brutally murdered the Lady and Princess of the Night Court would have resulted in another war.” Lucien answered, “And after everything they did to win the last one, Tamlin wasn’t going to let that happen. He kept her secrets because he felt like it was his fault.” 

Rhys broke his silence with a growled out, “Wasn’t it?” 

“In a way, yes. In a different way, no.” Lucien said, “If you’re asking my opinion, I’m pretty sure he was hoping you’d kill him for it. He…” A breath, sharp and laced with something too old to name, “He wanted to die when she did.” 

I found myself staring at the door Azriel had vanished out of. I couldn’t get that image out of my head. His tears. The horror in his voice. The pain, centuries old and still as fresh as ever, ripping him apart right in front of my eyes. 

And in the next breath, as if I’d conjured it, something slammed in the house. Hard. Hard enough to make the crystals in the chandelier overhead rattle. 

What was that? I asked Rhys. 

He was looking at the door, not me when he said, I don’t know. Can you-

Yes. I answered before he even asked.

In all honesty, I wanted to go check on Azriel. I wanted to make sure that he was okay after… all of that. 

But I didn’t want to leave Rhys alone either. 

I’m fine. He said, reaching out and squeezing my hand, Amren is here. Just-

I’ll take care of him. 

My mate gave me a thankful look, as pleasant as I was sure he was capable of right now. And with one last glance back at Lucien, I turned and followed the same path Mor had taken just a few minutes ago. 

The only problem was- I was almost positive there was nothing anyone could do to fix this. 

✵✵✵

My footsteps echoed as I moved down the corridor, the familiar stone beneath me suddenly feeling foreign- too large, too empty, too cold. Somewhere ahead, Azriel had fled. Somewhere ahead, Mor had followed.

I didn’t know what I’d say when I found them. I didn’t even know what I could say.

A chandelier still swung slightly above my head from whatever impact had rattled the entire mountain. I passed it without looking up.

I was just rounding the corner near the stairwell when I heard it- soft, purposeful steps coming from the other direction.

Nesta.

She didn’t look surprised to see me. Then again, Nesta rarely looked surprised about anything. Her face, devastatingly beautiful as a human and a million times more so as fae, was as unreadable and hard as ever. But something sharp lingered in her eyes. 

“What was that sound?” She asked, voice clipped. 

“Nothing.” I shook my head, “How’s Elain?” 

“I don’t know. I was just reading.” My sister scowled, holding up a leather-bound book and glancing at the hall behind me, “Does it have to do with Azriel’s mate?” 

I blinked, “How do you know about that?” 

Nesta’s face didn’t even move an inch as she said, “He told me.” 

“Azriel?” 

She nodded, “He told me your… mate locked him up here too. To keep him from finding her.” 

“It’s complicated, Nesta.” I sighed, “Did you see him pass by here?” 

“He and the blonde went flying up the stairs just before the entire house shook.” She said, motioning to the stairwell behind her. 

“Thanks.” I huffed, slipping past her and taking the stairs two at a time. 

What shocked me, if I could even feel the emotion anymore after being locked in it all day, was the fact that those same quiet footsteps followed after me. 

I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “What are you doing?” 

I didn’t turn back to look at her, but I could hear the frown in her voice when she said, “Going with you.” 

“Why?” 

There was a pause then, filled with nothing but us climbing the stairs and my breath coming in pants from the latent ache in my leg. And at the end of it, Nesta’s voice was softer. Not gentle by any means, but soft- by her standards, at least. 

“Azriel is the only tolerable one out of this entire group.” 

I didn’t have anything to say to that. Not really. 

I suppose it made sense that they’d get along, especially right now- when both of them were dominated by rage. And that rage, mostly, was directed at the same place. 

The King of Hybern. 

Perhaps the smartest plan was to let Azriel and Nesta do as they pleased. I had a feeling that they might genuinely find a way to kill the male, if only out of sheer hatred. 

This entire war could be over before it even truly began. 

My half-mad musings were cut off when we made it up three floors to where Azriel’s quarters were, and loud, angry voices started echoing down the hall. Pain so potent in the air that I swore I could taste it . 

I raised a hand, motioning for Nesta to stop, and she obeyed. We lingered there, about three steps down, just out of sight, listening. 

I heard Azriel speak first, his voice cold and hard and unimaginably angry, “Explain it to me, then. You have the gift of truth, and you didn’t know any of this?” 

“I wasn’t looking!” Mor defended, “And neither were you. Neither was Rhys, or Cassian, or Amren. We were all busy fighting, same as you!” 

“Altair whored her out to the King of Hybern. She was-” Azriel cut himself off, as if the words were too painful for his own mouth, “She killed Kirian. And Hybern killed her, not Spring. Altair was the betrayer, not Tamlin. You mean to tell me you heard all of that, every bullshit story we were fed, and didn’t even have an inkling that it was all a lie?” 

“My power is complicated. You know that, Az.” Mor’s voice was strained, peaking as she said, “You’re her mate! You’re the one who was obsessed with her. You watched her like a hawk, so how didn’t you know?” 

Nesta reached out and grabbed my arm, squeezing it, as if even she knew the hellstorm that was about to roll in from those words. But even after a long, tense silence, Azriel’s voice came out calm. Deadly. 

Completely and utterly resigned. 

“Get out.” 

Mor held her ground, “No.” 

“Dammit, Mor!” Az snapped, something that felt like sparks whizzing through the air, “Get out!” 

“No.” Mor repeated, and I could practically see her straightening herself, “You are justifiably angry, Azriel. You need someone to blame. And if that’s me, then fine.” She took a breath, as if to brace, “So long as you aren’t alone, stewing in it.” 

Azriel didn’t say anything right away, but I could feel the tension in the air, the inferno about to catch fire. And finally, all he said was, “I really don’t think you want to hear what I truly have to say, Morrigan.” 

“No.” Mor’s voice shook with emotion, some deadly mix of anger and grief, “No, I want to hear. Go ahead. Tell me how you really feel.”

Azriel had gone quiet in a way that wasn’t mere silence. It was warning.

Nesta gripped my arm harder. I didn’t breathe. Neither of us did.

But Azriel’s calm, deadly quiet only let up for him to say, “Get the fuck out, Mor. I don’t want you here.” 

The silence that followed wasn’t empty.

It was dense. Pressurized. As if the entire mountain had gone still- listening, waiting, holding its breath with the rest of us. Shadows stirred faintly down the hall like smoke without fire, coiling in anticipation.

Nesta’s grip on my arm didn’t ease. I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t look at anything. I was frozen, waiting, holding my breath alongside the stone. 

But in the end, I heard Mor turn and walk away without another word. Her footsteps approached the stairs, and my eyes shot to Nesta’s. Both of us were frozen with no clue what to do. No time to run back. No reasonable explanation for what we could be doing here besides eavesdropping. 

But when Mor came storming down the stairwell, face flushed scarlet red with fury, she only gave us a quick glance and muttered, “Good luck. He’s fucking impossible.” 

And then she was gone. 

Nesta and I just kept looking at one another. There was a beat, where I was waiting for her to make the first move and she was waiting for me to do the same. Or at least I assumed so, until she pushed past me just as I did to her a few moments ago and went walking right up the stairs. Shoulders squared. Posture utterly perfect. Every step with purpose. 

I watched her go, watched her disappear down the hall, heard her open the door and shut it behind her. Gentle footsteps came to a stop before there was the low creak of a chair and then- 

Nothing. 

Absolutely nothing. 

I was curious enough to follow her, climbing the last three steps and walking down the hall to the suite with a set of dark blue doors, a silver waxing crescent moon on one and a waning crescent on the other. 

I walked inside, finding myself in a dark sitting room with an empty fireplace and thick curtains blocking out the sunlight. There were three doors around the room, with one knocked off the hinges to reveal the room behind it. A shadowed, colorless bedroom with all light blacked out, except for the balcony door. Thrown open and shattered, with the whistle of the wind swirling through the lifeless room and one brilliant beam of sunlight pouring through. 

I suppose I figured out what the sound was- Azriel had tried to leave. 

And failed. 

Azriel was slumped in one of the plush lounge chairs in the main sitting room,, his wings hanging lifeless and his head in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. Strands of dark, wavy hair and his shadows hid his face entirely from sight, and he didn’t even look up when I walked in.

And sitting in the chair opposite him, with the book she’d been holding open and illuminated by a violet faelight on the table next to her, was Nesta. 

Reading, casually, as Azriel was having what could only be described as a mental breakdown in the chair across from her. 

I didn’t say anything. I didn’t really have anything to say. I just took up the chair next to Nesta, crossed my legs, and waited. 

An immeasurable amount of time passed in the silence. Where Nesta and I sat here, her reading and my trying to think, and Azriel didn’t move. Somewhere in one of the connected rooms, an old grandfather clock was clicking, counting the seconds we wasted on our own grief. 

Why were we waiting? 

I’d thought it was the right thing, but now… I wasn’t so sure. If anything that Lucien said was true-

I had to swallow down bile before I could finish the thought. 

If anything Lucien said was true, then we were lucky the King was even keeping Leur alive. 

Or perhaps unlucky.  

The things he could be doing to her, to Tamlin, crawled through my imagination like rot. 

I was snapped out of my thoughts when Azriel spoke, not even looking up at either of us, “What are you two doing here?” 

My voice caught in my throat, probably because I didn't even know the answer. But Nesta just calmly shut her book, folded her hands over it in her lap and said, “We’re sitting with you.” 

“Why?” 

It was a croak. Low and sad and unimaginably tired. 

And all Nesta said was, “The blonde might be a liar, but she told the truth when she said you shouldn’t be alone.” 

Azriel didn’t answer. And I… 

I said nothing to defend Mor. 

We all just kept sitting here, weathering the storm, waiting for an absolution that wouldn’t come until the King of Hybern’s head was on a spike. 

And all I could think to myself, over and over, was that I had no clue who was right and who was wrong anymore.

Chapter Text

November 17th, 521 years ago 

Prythian- Windhaven, Illyria, Night Court

Azriel 

“Do you like your hair long?” 

No one had ever asked me such a question before. 

In fact, I really couldn’t remember if anyone had ever asked me if I liked or disliked anything. I was supposed to just take what I was given and keep my mouth shut. At least, that was what my stepmother always said. 

But Hashna, the Lady of the Night Court, asked me all sorts of things that I didn’t understand. 

I didn’t quite understand why she had taken such a liking to me, or why she’d invited me into her home to stay with her. I didn’t even know how she knew my name. She must have asked some commander my father had spoken to. 

All I knew was that she approached me after training on the first day, with a warm smile and a cloak to wrap around my shoulders. She claimed she knew my mother, my real mother, and invited me in. 

I hadn’t had anywhere else to go, so here I was. 

My father had shipped me down here to Windhaven with little more than the clothes on my back. Certainly no goodbyes or arrangements for my care. 

I was sure he was just happy to be rid of me. 

I never realized how much there was to the world beyond the darkness. 

For so long, my world had been quiet. So simple. Just me and the song of my shadows, occasional bursts of life and light when I was allowed out for training and visits to my mother. I’d grown so used to the nothingness, so accustomed to pain, that I did not realize the world could exist without it. 

Clearly, I had been very, very wrong. 

Here, in Windhaven, the world roared with life. 

Swords clashing in training rings, orders screamed into chilled air, boots crunching against earth, so many voices from so many different directions. So many different ways to speak- mocking, laughing, teasing, challenging. So many foreign sounds all mixed into one, like a symphony with no conductor. 

And the colors- I had no idea so many hues existed. Not really. 

Fresh imported fruits in vibrant, beautiful colors, pale clean snow, the warm glow of firelight against rich, lacquered wood. An entire basket of yarn in every shade imaginable. The auburn glint of Cassian’s hair in the sunlight compared to the bluish-tint of Rhys’s. The gold bracelets on Hashna’s wrists, glimmering with real diamonds that refracted multicolored sprays of light everywhere when the light hit them. 

The colors had been my favorite part so far. I couldn’t get enough of them, no matter how overwhelming it sometimes felt. I was almost addicted to all the variety, amazed by all of the things that everyone seemed to take for granted. 

My shadows could barely keep up with the constant influx of information. They were still adjusting, I supposed as I was, eternally twisting over my shoulders. 

Though, even they hesitated to retreat when the warmth and the sound and the light felt like too much. 

Because perhaps for the first time in my life, I wasn’t certain that I actually wanted to retreat. 

This world and all of its bustling, overwhelming life seemed like too much, but I knew that the darkness was far too little. 

One thing I did know for certain was that too much would always be better than too little. 

And Hashna was kind. Rhysand, her son, and Cassian, another bastard that Hashna had apparently claimed, were kind too. Mostly. They pushed me- not with malice, like my brothers, but with an unspoken challenge to be better. They were the only two warriors in this camp that hadn’t gawked at my shadows when I arrived. In fact, they hadn’t even really glanced twice at them. 

I assumed it was because of the Princess, but I hadn’t met her yet. 

The boys, however, had been teaching me how to fly- or attempting at least. I could tell that they were trying to get me to speak too. Though, I hadn’t quite managed it yet.

And I hadn’t been able to answer Hashna’s strange, meaningless question. Not even when she continued, “I noticed it's always hanging in your eyes. I could trim it for you, if you’d like.” 

I hadn’t had an answer for that. Not because I didn’t know- my hair always bothered me when it fell in my face. 

I just couldn’t remember the last time I spoke out loud. 

My throat didn’t work, so I’d nodded instead. 

And here I was, sitting at Hashna’s sewing table with a plush, expensive towel over my shoulders, water droplets dripping down my neck as she carefully trimmed and combed my hair. Cassian and Rhysand were sitting on the floor on either side of the coffee table, playing some card game. 

It was soothing, in some strange way. Drinking it all in and wondering if this was what a normal life was meant to be like. A warm cabin with brothers who didn’t despise or torture me and a mother that was warm, kind, and sane. 

Hashna was kind and beautiful, and- like so few females in the camps- she could fly. She reminded me of my mother, or what I imagined my mother could have been if she hadn’t been worn down by cruelty to the point where her mind cracked open. 

She was always sewing something. She’d bought me fresh new leathers, not hand me downs, and then pinned and prodded at them until they fit me perfectly. Put new laces in my boots and darned my socks. She’d even sewn me a wool cloak with a clasp made of real silver. 

I looked over to what she was working on now, a tiny delicate dress made of a strange, half-transparent flowy fabric made into layers and layers of violet. Hand sewn glittering stones on the sleeve. 

 I wondered, or maybe hoped, that it was for Rhysand’s sister.

There were signs of a missing person all through the house, and the other warriors spoke about her sometimes- so she must stay here. At least sometimes. Boots far too small to belong to anyone else sitting by the front door. A piano that no one else had played. Smaller, female clothes hanging to dry with the laundry. 

I’d wanted to find the nerve to ask Rhys or Cass if the rumors were true, if she had shadows like me, but of course that would have required me to speak. So, I hadn’t. 

It seemed too good to be true, the prospect that someone else in this world might understand. Though, she was a Princess. I doubted she’d have any interest in speaking to some strange, scarred bastard- even if I had shadows too. 

It was easy to forget that Rhysand was a Prince, that Hashna was the Lady of the Night Court. They were so humble, not at all what I’d have expected, in this modest cabin with its crackling hearth and Cassian’s boisterous laughter. 

I wondered if the Princess was similar. Perhaps I was just hoping. 

The dress that Hashna was working on seemed to take that hope and squash it under a boot. 

That dress and its light colors and thin fabrics did not belong here. Made for walking down grand, shining marble hallways and waltzing through sunshine-drenched gardens- like the ones in my dreams. 

I had no idea how my imagination could conjure such images, but they came to me anyway. Hazed and blurry, like most dreams were, but they still felt real. Some impossible, perfect world full of laughter and beautiful things. 

“There we are,” Hashna said, ruffling my hair and pulling the towel from around my shoulders. “You’re a whole new boy.” 

My hair felt lighter and cleaner than I could ever remember, and when Hashna handed me a small, ornate hand mirror- I barely recognized myself. Not that I’d looked in many mirrors before, but I knew I’d never looked like this. My cheeks were starting to fill out a little and my hair was combed and cut properly. I had nice, clean clothes on and no dirt on any part of me. 

“So handsome.” Hashna gave me a warm smile, squeezing my shoulder once before she grabbed the broom and started sweeping. 

I stood, holding out a hand in offering to do it for her. She shouldn’t have to sweep up my hair, but she just waved me off, warmth in every movement, “Go play with the boys, Azriel. We only have a few more minutes of peace before trouble comes knocking.” 

I had absolutely no clue what that meant. Perhaps it was a saying I didn’t know about. There were a lot of those. 

I just gave her a nod and as much of a smile as I could muster before I went to sit next to Cassian. He had the widest, proudest grin I’d ever seen on a person's face as he slammed his cards down on the table and said, “Read it and weep, princeling.” 

It seemed he had won, from the way Rhys rolled his eyes, grinning as he moved to reshuffle all the cards. I watched his hands move, drinking in their laughter as he turned to me, “Coming to join us?” 

I wanted to tell him I had no clue how to play… whatever it was that they were playing. But there was no gesture or movement I could think of to do so. 

I’d just figure it out along the way, I decided. That was how I learned most things. 

I gave him a nod, moving to sit when my shadows perked up, swirling towards the door. 

Someone’s coming. 

I barely even had time to react before the old, oak door slammed open, a brush of ice and snowdrifts spilling onto the wood floor with it. Like a snap back to reality, to the harshness of the outside world. 

I shifted into shadow entirely on instinct, vanishing into the corner by the stairs where the firelight didn't quite reach. But all of a sudden, there was a sound. 

A beautiful sound. 

Laughter, bright and entirely unrestrained. Like a melody. 

“Oh no,” Rhys groaned. “Brace yourself, Cass..”

And then there was the flash of a small figure, slippered footsteps tracking snow everywhere. A rush of a warm, spicy scent hinted with something floral. And then that figure practically tackled Cassian. 

“Leuruna!” Hashna scolded, “You were not raised in a barn! Close the damn door!” 

Leuruna. 

The Princess.  

If I wasn’t so caught up, I’d have already connected that thread. But I felt like I couldn’t think straight, like that wind had enchanted me when it carried her here. 

The door swung shut through a small flick of power, no more than a waved hand. It was then, when she moved, that I saw them. 

Shadows. 

Not like mine. Not dark or poisoned, but light- a shimmering lavender so light it was almost white. Swirling around her with quick, excited movements like starlight given life. 

“Safe to say you missed me, half-pint.” Cassian chuckled. 

“Terribly,” A muffled voice answered, a head of dark wavy hair shoved into his chest, “I cried every single day.” 

“Oh, is that so?” 

Another laugh, this one just as breathtaking, “Of course. I must have ruined every single handkerchief in the Spring Court.” 

The Spring Court? Was that where she had been? 

I found myself more curious about her than I’d ever been about anything in my life. Some gnawing need to know everything, to memorize it all, to search and search until…

Until what? 

What was I expecting to find? Why did I need to know so bad?

She had warm, tan skin. Paler than Cassian or I, closer to Rhys’s but sunkissed in a way- despite the harsh, freezing winter outside. Long waves and curls of black hair, bluish like a raven’s feathers in that same strange way that Rhysand’s was. The same color as a starless night sky. 

“Good to see you didn’t miss your own flesh and blood.” Her brother scowled. 

She moved so fast that I could barely even see it, letting go of Cassian and flinging herself backwards to tumble into Rhys, “I did miss you. I always do, even when you’re grumpy. ” 

Her shadows swirled with her, avoiding Rhysand’s touch, skittering across the floor faintly. Like little snowdrifts, swirling and examining and stopping short right in front of me. 

“How was Spring?” I heard Rhys ask. 

“Good.” Her answer was short, clipped, as if she were hiding something, “Tam says hi.” 

I assumed that was confirmation enough that she had been in the Spring Court, though I had no clue why. And who was Tam? 

The youngest Prince of Spring. My shadows answered, He is the same age as the Princess. They are friends.  

“Nice of him.” Rhys unclipped her coat for her, sliding it off her shoulders with a gentleness I didn’t realize he was even capable of, “What manner of mischief did you two get up to today?” 

“Vern sent us looking for some plant he makes medicine out of. I snuck Tamlin out of training.” She perked up then, as if her own words had excited her, voice growing more animated with her shadows, “Navin was so angry. You should have seen his face.”

Cassian leaned back with some proud grin on his face- as if he’d been the one to encourage her mischief. But Rhys just frowned, “Will there be a problem?” 

The Princess’s hair swayed when she shook her head, tiny little snowflakes melting in the heat of the fire, “Dad took care of it.”

I realized then that she was saying the High Lord scared off… whoever Navin was. 

Second eldest Prince of Spring. My shadows explained, Prideful and unkind. 

In that case, he might have just gotten what was coming to him. 

Her brother let out a relieved sigh, something close to a smile finally spreading on his face. He reached up and brushed some snow from her hair, “Well, I’ll be there next time. Just to make sure he doesn’t get any ideas.”

I was wholly entirely entranced by this conversation. The sound of her voice, the swirl of her shadows, the brightness that had seemed to appear when she did- like sunlight disguised as shadow at midnight. 

So entranced, in fact, that I didn’t even notice that Hashna had leaned her broom against the wall and walked to stand behind her daughter, hands poised on her hips, amused sternness in her tone, “Now I know you didn’t just barge in here and completely ignore your mother, Lunet.” 

She spun on a dime in a blur of lavender and dark hair, and the world stopped. 

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. Every single word I knew tumbled out of my head.

She wasn’t what I expected. Not royalty, not polished perfection- something else entirely.

Alive. Wild. Glowing.

I hadn’t realized that such beautiful people existed in the world. 

It was her eyes, really. Her eyes were that same strange, slightly glowing violet of Rhys’s. Marking them as other in some way that was entirely indescribable. But her eyes were different from her brother’s. 

There weren’t words for it. Not really. Beautiful wasn’t a big enough word. 

All I knew was that she was looking directly at me.

Looking. At. Me. 

And her shadows, those starlit things, moved.

Not with fear, but with curiosity.

One curled around her ear, just as mine always did to me. I saw her blink, just once. Her head tilted, the faintest furrow between her brows. I realized only then that there was a spattering of tiny, light freckles on her nose. As if the light itself recognized that she was something special too, and decided to bless her for it. 

The shadows were speaking to her. About me.

She knew I was here. She was looking right at me. She could see me. 

But she didn’t flinch. 

She didn’t look unnerved either, or confused. Just curious, if anything. And I-

I wasn’t afraid. 

For once in my life, someone was looking at me and I was not afraid of what they saw. In fact, I almost… wanted her to see me. 

How many times had I dreamed someone might notice? Might understand?

This girl, the Princess of the Night Court, might very well be the only person who ever could. 

And then, just as I was starting to wonder if she could possibly ever  want to understand, she slowly stood up. She didn’t even look at her mother, who was still waiting for a greeting. 

She was too busy watching me. 

And in the softest, kindest voice I’d ever heard, she said, “I see you.” 

I didn’t move. I didn’t even know if I could, really. 

But a tendril of lavender smoke swirled towards me, and I could hear their song. Not my own, but a shadows voice nonetheless. Humming a simple, calm melody in greeting. And my own- 

My own answered with a harmony. 

The Princess’s eyes widened, and she took another step towards me. She was wearing a sparkling dress the same color as her shadows and a gold crown made of purple gemstones and diamonds shaped like the moon and flowers. Like some strange, otherworldly creature from another world where perfection was real. Normal, even. 

A small, tan hand reached towards the corner. 

“It’s alright.” She said, “You don’t have to hide. It’s safe here.” 

I wanted to believe her. 

I wanted to believe her so badly that my bones ached. Every shadow I was crafted from weeping, silently, waiting for somewhere safe for as long as I could remember. 

No threat. My shadows whispered, Only light. 

And I realized then, only then, that I didn’t truly need proof to believe her. I didn’t need to wait or let something grow. I didn’t need to do anything. 

All I had to do was turn from shadow into flesh. 

And so I did. 

“Oh!” She startled a bit, eyes widening. 

Not in fear but surprise. Or something warmer, something that simmered down into a faint pink blush on her cheeks and a stillness in her shadows as she repeated herself. Softer this time. Quieter. Less like shock and more like… awe. 

“Oh.” 

Thank the Mother I let Hashna cut my hair. 

Thank the Mother I was in this damn house to begin with, honestly. 

“Are you…” She paused, fingers twitching as if she was barely stopping herself from reaching out, “Are you a shadowsinger too?” 

Talking to me. She was talking to me. 

Her words wrapped around me like silk, soft and filled with wonder. I opened my mouth to respond, but the syllables seemed lodged in my throat. I’d been told to be quiet so many times in my life that speaking no longer seemed like an option. But for her, I wanted to.

I nodded instead, hoping it would suffice, and her lips parted into the smallest, most dazzling smile I had ever seen.

“I didn’t know there were others,” she whispered, as though the realization were a fragile secret meant only for us.

Neither did I. I wanted to say it, needed to say it, but my voice failed me. 

If I had been expecting some stuck-up, snotty Princess, I found the complete opposite. This girl, while utterly breathtaking, was real. Utterly radiant, smiling as she reached a hand out and even more violet shadows slipped free from it like spilled smoke. Twisting and weaving so fast that mine looked almost stationary, a few tendrils snaking up closer to brush against my skin. 

It felt so much lighter than my own, warmer too. Like a breeze while sitting under sunlight, like they just might thaw me out. Everything in me pulled all at once, like a lurch, a dragging of whatever soul or shadow I was made of closer to her. 

My shadows didn’t touch anyone. Every once in a while, they might brush across my mothers hands. But this girl…

They didn’t even hesitate. 

They wrapped around her hands like they knew her, snaking up her arms and twirling over her fingers as she played with them. In less than a minute, a tendril of black was wrapped around her finger. 

I had a feeling I might just be in the same boat. 

“Do you hear that?” She asked, “It’s like they’re singing to one another.”

And I did. Of course I did. It was only the most beautiful music I’d ever heard. 

Her gaze flicked back to me at the same moment mine went back to her, a spattering of bright red flushing on her cheeks, a timid smile as she said, “They like you. They don’t-” Another pause, another awestruck look at the vines of lavender twisting their way up my arms, “They don’t ever get that close to someone unless I tell them to.” 

No one had ever said such a thing to me before. 

Honestly, I couldn’t even remember the last time someone had even said that they liked a thing about me. No one did, beside my mother in her rare moments of clarity. 

But apparently, the Princess of the Night Court did. 

And my shadows, they liked her too. 

Swoops and swaths of black swirling around her entire body like spilled ink, brushing against her cheek curiously, coaxing another dazzling laugh from her lips. And at the sound, their melody grew brighter- as if she had sparked an energy within them that had been dead before. 

I noticed Hashna watching us behind her then, hazel eyes darting between me and the Princess for a moment. She had a look on her face that I didn’t understand, too. Like she knew something we didn’t. 

She spun then, looking at Rhys and Cassian, who were watching us too. A false request on her lips, “Can you two carry your sister’s bags upstairs and then go chop some more firewood? It’s supposed to be cold tonight.” 

Neither of them answered. They just kept staring at me. 

The Princess was looking at me too. She had never stopped. 

“What’s your name?” 

My name. It was the simplest question, yet it felt monumental, as though giving it to her would alter something fundamental in the universe, change night into day, raise the sun in the sky. 

“He doesn’t talk.” Rhys warned his sister quietly, “We don’t know if he even can-” 

All at once, her amazement sharpened into annoyance, a quick spin over her shoulder, a snap, “Did I ask you, Rhys?” 

And Rhys, who had never seemed to be afraid of anything, leaned back from his younger sister and muttered, “No.” 

She just huffed, “Mind your business, then.” 

Cassian, as if he’d just snapped out of a trance, clapped his hands together and looked at Hashna, “You said firewood, right, Hash?” 

She nodded, “Make sure the crate is full.” 

Cassian stood, picking up a small plum leather suitcase that had been left by the door. But Rhys didn’t move. 

“Rhysand.” Hashna’s voice went a bit harder, “Today, please.” 

“Right.” He snapped himself out of it, standing quickly and following Cassian up the stairs. 

“Did you eat, Leur?” Hashna asked the Princess. 

She was completely distracted, eyes trained on the way she was swirling my shadows around her wrist, voice far away, “No. Tam and I didn’t get home until late.” 

“I’ll make you something.” Hashna said, waving for her to follow as she walked to the kitchen, “Come sit at the table. Azriel will keep you company.” 

Her head snapped up like a whip, eyes bright as the purple flowers that grew beside my mother’s porch, “Azriel? Is that your name?” 

A beat. A moment where I drug a deep breath into my lungs, a crack in my throat as I tried to make a sound and nothing but a croak came out. Embarrassment burst open inside of me, and yet-

Her face hadn’t changed. 

She was just waiting. Patient as ever. 

And so, I swallowed. I took another breath. 

And for the first time in longer than I could remember, I spoke.

“Yes.” I managed to rasp, my voice hoarse from disuse. 

In the kitchen, Hashna froze in place. 

If Leur noticed or cared about the sound of my voice, it didn’t show at all. Instead, her smile widened, “It’s nice to meet you, Azriel.” 

I would get down on my knees and beg, just to hear her say my name again, just to see her smile at me like that again. 

I wanted to say more. To keep her speaking so that I could live in that sound a little longer. But I merely nodded, unable to trust myself with more words.

She stuck out her hand towards me, as proud as ever, and said, “My name is Leuruna, but everyone calls me Leur.” 

As if everyone in this entire court didn’t know her name. As if she was not a Princess and I was not a bastard-born Illyrian shrouded in darkness. As if we were just two random people, meeting for the first time. 

I stared at her palm, stunned, memorizing the lines there. Small, delicate fingers twisted with shadow and starlight. Smooth, perfect caramel skin. 

And I hesitated. 

My hands were scarred, ugly, undeserving of touching something so perfect. 

But her shadows darted out from her fingertips, wrapping around my own and tugging, urging me forward, and I obeyed. I reached out and wrapped my hand around hers. 

Her skin was warm, warmer than I remembered other people being. Not like fire, not burning, but as if they were made of something far softer. Light, maybe. Her grip was gentle but not unsure- and almost instinctively, I flinched at the contact. 

Not from pain, but sheer disbelief. 

She glanced at the scars for a moment, but didn’t linger. Didn’t judge. There was no spark of horror or pity or disgust on her face, just acceptance. As if they didn’t mark me as something broken but told a story that she wasn’t afraid to read.

Leur. My shadows whispered her name, memorizing the sound, turning it into a song, Leur. Leur. Leur. Leur. 

Her eyes went wide, amazement flashing within them as she glanced at the black smoke around her. 

She could hear it too. 

They were singing to her . 

Could I… speak to her through them?

I pushed out a message, simple, my voice no more than a whisper of a song, It’s nice to meet you too, Leur. 

All at once, the most brilliant laugh bubbled from her lips, as if she was full of such pure joy that she couldn’t contain it in her small body. As beautiful as beauty could be when a lighter, softer melody sang, How are you doing that? I mean, I know how, but… you can hear me, right? I didn’t know anyone else could- She laughed again, almost nervously, and her shadows twirled faster, like petals caught in a sudden breeze. We can do this? Speak to each other through them?

I hadn’t known I could, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. I was sure as hell going to let her think that I knew how to do all kinds of cool things- if only so I had a reason to keep speaking to her, a reason to keep staring at her. 

Yes. I offered her a smile of my own, Though, you’re the only other shadowsinger I’ve met.  

Her eyes went wide, Do others exist?

I blinked a few times. I’d only ever heard of her having shadows, and even then- I hadn’t known they were like mine, that they sang and swirled and danced. Albeit, hers seemed much better than my own. Lighter. Prettier. 

Not that I know of. I answered, Just you and me.  

Just you and me. I like the sound of that. 

Perhaps my heart had stopped entirely then, but she resurrected it with a squeeze of our joined hands, a shift closer, Is it easier for you? To talk like this?

To talk where no one but her, the only person I wanted to speak to, could hear me? Yes. A million times yes. 

All of a sudden, speaking didn’t seem so terrifying. All of a sudden, I wanted to. I wanted to hear the song of her shadows all day every day if I could. 

I wanted to see if I could make her laugh again. 

Yes . I answered, I’ve been… quiet for a long time. 

You’re different from me , she whispered, the words more serious than before, But not as much as I thought.

How so? 

You’ve seen more darkness than I have, she said simply, But you carry it well.

I forced a small nod, entranced with the look in her eyes, terrified it would turn into pity. But all I saw was a look of understanding, as if it was simply that easy for her to see what no one else could. 

But then she frowned.

No, I hadn’t meant to make her sad. I didn’t want- 

But, if we only talk like this- then only I can hear you.

As if she believed that my voice was so important that everyone else should hear it too, as if I mattered beyond what I could do or hear, as if she felt selfish being the only one to hear what I had to say. 

Why would I ever want to talk to anyone else? I responded, I’ve never met anyone worth talking to before.

Or anyone who truly wanted to listen. 

It wasn’t a joke, not really, but she laughed as if it was. As if she couldn’t believe that out of all of the people I’d met, albeit that wasn’t very many, she was the best of them. The only person I’d really, truly wanted to speak to so badly that the fear and the anxiety didn’t matter. 

I’m telling my brothers you said that. She giggled. 

Brothers, not brother. 

She saw Cassian as her brother too. 

That was my first bit of information, stored away in some corner of my mind I’d cleared out just for her. My first piece of the puzzle. 

And a hopeful one- at that. 

Because if Cassian, just as much a bastard as me- albeit one who carried it better- could be her brother…then maybe I could be her friend. At least.  

Is that what I wanted? To be her friend? 

I didn’t know why, but it didn’t feel like enough. Once again, I lacked words big enough for what I needed to say. 

If you tell them I can speak, they’ll never leave me alone. I shot back, Especially Cassian. He talks so much I’m surprised he still has a voice. 

It wasn’t particularly clever, but her laugh burst out anyway- bright and delighted. 

That’s true. She answered, her fingers squeezing mine in approval, Though, I’m not much different from him.  

I could see that. She carried the same brightness about her that he did. A humor. A look on the world that chose to see the good and blatantly ignored the bad- as if in defiance of its claim.  

Well, it’s not so terrible when you do it. I offered. 

Her black brows furrowed, nose scrunching in an adorably confused look, How so?

Did I immediately give away too much? Was it already blatantly obvious- just how entranced I was by her? 

Was this not a normal reaction for everyone to have upon meeting her? 

How could anyone, shadowsinger or not, look at this girl and not immediately want to spend their every waking moment doing so?

Did I have the courage to tell her the truth? 

What if I did and she thought it was strange? What if she told her mother she didn’t want to be around me anymore and Hashna threw me out? Or worse- told her father. 

I was sure the High Lord wouldn’t bother with sending me back to the cell. I’d just die for overstepping around the Princess. 

Probably a horribly painful, dark, and brutal death. 

But… I felt as if I already knew enough about her to know that wouldn’t happen. Knew that the girl who had waited so patiently for me to speak and didn’t flinch at my scars in the slightest wouldn’t judge me. 

And certainly, I’d already decided this had to be normal for her. 

Your voice is much prettier. I said, smiling as if it was a joke- but it wasn’t. 

But there was that laugh again, weaving some sense of foreign satisfaction and pride into me with every melodic peal.

I memorized the sound, stored it away, felt as if I could survive off the joy in it for the rest of my life if I needed to. 

You’re funny. She smiled, I’m glad I met you. 

I could really only say one thing in answer, one truth above them all, I’m glad I met you too, Leur.  

I caught one glimpse of the brilliance of the happiness in her eyes before Hashna called from the other room, “Leur, are you coming to eat? It’s getting cold.” 

She never let go of my hand. She held it the entire way to the kitchen, only letting go to sit at the table and eat the soup Hashna had warmed up for her. We didn’t speak, but the shadows kept singing. Cassian and Rhys came and went, slipping out the back door to the woodpile.

And when she had finished and washed her dish, she sat right back down and grabbed my hand again. 

Thank you for sitting with me. 

I didn’t get a chance to answer, to tell her that silently sitting with the Princess of the Night Court while she held my hand and ate a bowl of soup was somehow one of the most interesting things I’d ever done. Hashna turned to us and said, “Alright, you two. Up to bed.” 

Leur frowned, but her mother just shook her head, “Pick out your nightdress. I’ll be up in a few minutes to wash your hair.” 

“Do I have to?” She whined, giving her mother what must have been the most convincing puppy-dog look I’d ever seen. 

Surely, Hashna was a lot stronger than I was, because I wouldn’t have been able to deny her anything, “Yes. You do.” 

“Ugh!” Leur let go of my hand to throw both of hers in the air dramatically, falling against me as if she could barely keep herself upright, “You’ll be brushing out my curls until the boys leave for training at dawn!”

I didn’t know if I was more startled by her closeness or the utter confidence she had that I would catch her. 

Though, I would. I already decided that, or perhaps it was decided for me. 

“I have no interest in listening to you or Cassian sneeze everywhere for the next week.” Hashna scolded, “I can practically see all the pollen in your hair.” 

She did smell faintly of pollen, a brush of Spring still clinging to her skin, though- for the life of me- I could have sworn that she smelled much more like something else. Lavender and cinnamon and something I couldn’t describe… like starlight. 

“Would you believe me if I told you I already washed it?” She attempted, head perking up from where it was leaning against my chest. 

Hashna didn’t even blink, “No.” 

“I did!” She tried again, still not sitting up  from my grip, “I fell into a… puddle today. No more pollen.” 

“You have shadows, Leuruna.” Her mother groaned, “How the hell did you manage to fall into a puddle?” 

I realized then, at that little bit of scolding, that she was leaning into me. She was nervous… and she was shifting closer to me. As if I could help her. As if I was strong and capable and-

“Tamlin pushed me.” She tried. 

A lie, my shadows noted. 

“Now, you and I both know that’s not true.” Hashna gave her a sharp look. 

She doesn’t have an answer. My shadows whispered, And she can’t say the truth. 

Why? I asked them, unsure if she could hear this too. 

Though, it didn’t seem as if she could. 

She made a promise not to. Was the only answer they gave.

I supposed that I didn’t really need to know why. But, there was another opportunity laid out before me now. A better one.

She was leaning into me for safety, for something to get her out of this, and I could give it to her. I could prove to her that she was right to do so, right here and right now. 

And maybe someday, she’d lean on me again. 

“They’re not perfect.” I blurted, my voice scratchy and unsteady. 

Hashna’s eyes went wide. It was the first thing I had ever said to her, had only given her nods and looks of thanks thus far- even when she took me in. 

But here I was, speaking for the first time, to defend this girl I’d met less than an hour ago. 

I almost backed down, almost, but Leur spun in my grip to look up at me. Eyes wide and hopeful, and so, I went on. 

“Shadows, I mean,” I continued, feeling the words scrape their way up my throat. “They can… they can sense danger, but they don’t always catch everything. They’re better with, um, movement or sound. But… stuff like puddles, or… or roots sticking up from the ground…” I shrugged awkwardly, my shadows twisting around my shoulders. “They miss that sort of thing all the time. It’s not Leur’s fault. It’s… just how they work.”

It wasn’t true of course. The shadows sensed everything, despite how much sound it made or if it moved or not, but Hashna seemed to accept it. Though, she looked more amazed at how much I had just said than anything else. 

I supposed that was the most I had spoken ever, or at least that I could remember. 

I could tell Leur wanted to smile, poorly hiding the quirk of her lips as she whispered through the shadows, That was brilliant. Thank you. 

You’re welcome, I answered, barely able to hide my own grin. 

As if she’d taken me and drug me into the light, into some fantastical other world where smiling was something that came so naturally I had to stop myself from doing it every second of every day. 

“Fine.” Hashna huffed, “But I’m still washing your hair.” 

“You’re trying to torture me!” She groaned again, falling right back into my arms. 

Just as I said I would, I caught her. I couldn’t even stop my laugh at the dramatic way she draped herself against me, as if she’d truly fainted. 

Hashna ignored her antics, just looked at me, a warmth I hadn’t seen before in her hazel eyes, “I’m so sorry you have to put up with her, Azriel.” 

I gave her the only answer I really could, “I don’t mind.” 

Leur was still busy pretending to play dead. She couldn’t entirely hide her grin, through she did make a good effort of schooling it away. 

Hashna couldn’t help but smile either, “No, I don’t think you do.” 

I didn’t know what that meant, but I didn’t have time to contemplate it before she snapped out of that warmness as quick as it appeared, voice sharpening again, “The longer you wait, the longer it will take, Leuruna.” 

“Fine.” Leur grumbled, finally giving up her act and wriggling out of my arms. I would have been upset at the loss of contact if she didn’t immediately grab my hand and start stalking towards the stairs, lacing her fingers with mine as she pulled me along with her, “Let’s go, Az.” 

Az. 

No one had ever really called me that before. 

I liked it though. A new name for a new life in the light. Her name for me. 

Az was not a person that was locked in a cell and forgotten about. Az was a person who knew what color and sound and life were. A person that Leur knew. A person whose hand she held and whose arms she fell into without any question that they’d catch her. 

I wanted to be that person. 

What did you actually fall into? I asked her, curious enough as we walked up the stairs. 

She glanced back at me, a mischievous smirk dancing on her mouth, It’s a secret. If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone else. 

I thought we already established that you’re the only person I want to talk to. I blinked, confused. 

She stumbled, skipping a step, a little shriek leaving her mouth, and I caught her again- for the third time in one night. 

For a shadowsinger, she certainly was clumsy. Though, from the grace in which she typically moved with, or had thus far, that didn’t seem right. 

“Thanks.” She panted, stopping for a moment and spinning in my arms to face me. She was a stair above me, about level with my height now, and I had to remind myself to let her go once she had her bearings again- even if I truly didn’t want to. 

I doubted she’d grab my hand again now, which was disappointing because when we reached the top of the stairs- I wouldn’t see her again until morning. 

Though, my ire didn’t hold me for long. Not as she looked at me and smiled, holding out a pinky towards me. 

What did that mean? 

Swear it . She said softly, Swear you won’t tell anyone- not even my brothers.  

I didn’t even need to think about it, I swear it.  

She waited for a few more seconds, blinking, looking between her pinky and me. 

Was I supposed to do something else? 

Her brows furrowed, “Haven’t you ever made a pinky promise before, Az?” 

How did I tell her I had absolutely no clue what she was talking about?

“Um.” My voice came out a bit clearer now, easier in some way, “No?” 

“Oh.” She blinked, almost in a sad sort of way, “Well, it’s when you swear something and link your pinky with someone else’s. Like this.” She showed me, crossing her pinkies and wrapping them around one another.

I couldn’t say that really helped my confusion, “Why?” 

“If you break our promise, I get to cut off your finger.” She said, wholly serious. 

“What?” 

She burst out laughing then, that bright, beautiful thing that- now that I heard it while standing- made my knees feel weak and wobbly. 

“You should have seen your face.” She giggled, still smiling, “That was a joke. Of course, I’m not going to cut off your finger.” 

I laughed then, though the idea wasn’t as preposterous to me as it seemed to her. Yet, I supposed it was a good thing that she didn’t know such unadulterated cruelty existed in the world. 

I realized, after the fact, how easy it was for her to coax a laugh from me. I hadn’t even really considered it until now. 

When was the last time I had laughed at something? Had I ever?

And why was she looking at me like that? 

Like she was just as amazed by my smile as I was by hers, as if she was memorizing the sound of my laugh too. 

I met her gaze for just the briefest of moments before she blushed again, glancing off to the side and stammering a bit as she continued to speak. 

“It just- it means that you’re not going to break our promise.” She explained, “Like a guarantee.” 

Of course, I wasn’t going to break the promise- especially not to her. Why the hell would I ever do that? 

Did she think I would?

I supposed if I swore not to and kept my word, then maybe she wouldn’t need another pinky promise- if that was truly how they worked. 

Though, I found it harder than it should have been to hold my pinky out to her. Not because of what it meant- but purely physically. 

Ever since the flames, I found such movements harder than they had once been. My grip was fine, but more delicate, precise movement with my hands made them shake- if I could get them to work at all. 

Leur noted it, surely, but she still didn’t judge it, merely linked her pinky with mine and offered me another dazzling grin. 

It was a pool of starlight. She said, Tamlin, the Prince of Spring, and I were running through the woods and the ground gave way at the top of a hill. I fell right into it. 

I blinked a few times, confused, A pool of starlight? Is that a thing? 

I mean, I don’t know if there’s any others, but there’s one in Spring. Oh, I wish you could have seen it. A wistful look came over her face, It’s so beautiful. Magical too. 

I didn’t know what to be picturing, though the watery image in my head was fantastical enough- yet, it didn’t even hold a candle to the beauty of the glimmer in her eye as she continued, Tamlin said we shouldn’t tell anyone about finding it, because we don’t know what it is. 

He’s your friend? I asked, Tamlin?  

Another puzzle piece as she nodded, My best friend.  

For some reason, I disliked that answer. 

I found myself jealous at the mere thought that someone else could spend so much time with her, know so much about her, share their own promises. 

Though- surely, the Prince of Spring didn’t have shadows to speak to her through. 

And I lived with her now. I’d have all the time in the world to know her even better than he did. 

Is Spring nice? I found myself asking. 

It’s pretty. All the sunshine is nice. She answered, spinning again and taking a step up the stairs, holding a hand out behind her, But I like it better here. 

Why’s that? 

She stopped walking, glancing over her shoulder at me, and then wiggling the fingers of her outstretched hand. 

She was expecting me to take it. 

As if she’d already decided that we held hands now, everywhere we went. 

I wasn’t complaining. I just took her hand, and she brushed over it to answer, This is my home. My people. I like Spring, but I don’t belong there. 

I supposed it made sense. I didn’t know a ton about the other Courts, but I knew enough to know that Leur, with her shadows and starlit violet eyes, would be out of place. 

Well, then I am glad you’re home. I offered, more than a little disappointed when we reached the top of the stairs and came across the doors to our respective rooms- or, what I assumed was her door. 

Judging by the violets and golden stars painted around the frame- I assumed it couldn’t really belong to anyone else. 

I’m glad I’m home too . She smiled, stopping short in front of the door. 

For a moment, she glanced back at our hands, at our shadows mingling together. Almost longingly, as if she didn’t want this to end as much as I did. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” I said out loud, if only to break through that slight frown on her face- though it seemed inconceivable that the prospect of being away from me was the reason it was there. 

And yet- away it went. Violet eyes meeting my own, “Goodnight, Az.” 

And warm, glorious light replaced some of the darkness inside of me as I said, “Goodnight, Leur.” 

Letting go of her hand, peeling my shadows away from hers with one last melody of protest, turning my back to her and walking into my room- had to be one of the hardest things I had ever done. As if, after the first glimpse, I was addicted to her joy. 

But Rhys and Cassian had already come back in from the cold, changed, and got in bed by the time I came back from the washroom. They’d given me the bed by the window, claiming neither of them liked the draft, though I knew that wasn’t the reason. 

There was no draft, just a cool stream of moonlight that slipped between the curtains and cut through the dark. 

I slipped under the covers, feeling like my entire body was still tingling, adrenaline or just sheer life thrumming in my veins. I was staring at the hand she’d held, wondering if all of that had been real, whenever Cassian spoke, sitting up in his bed.

“So, you can talk.” 

I glanced over at them, finding him watching me, and two slightly glowing violet eyes watching from the darkness on Rhys’s side of the room. 

Leur’s were prettier, I decided. The same shade, but hers sparkled differently. As if light lived inside them. 

“Yeah.” I told him, “I can talk.” 

He blinked a few times, as if startled I had answered him, but he cleared it away quickly. Instead, a wicked grin spread across his face, “And, you’re in love with my sister.” 

In love? 

Was that the word I was looking for? 

Had I ever really loved something before? Did I even know what it meant? 

But what else could love be, if not the way that one glimpse of Leur rewrote my entire reality? Took a world that was too much sound, too much light, too much color- and made it into perfection, so long as she was in it. 

Then again, I had no interest in confirming it to her two massive, obscenely powerful older brothers that I had to live and train with everyday. That seemed like a bad idea, even if they already knew. 

How did they know? Was it that obvious? 

You haven’t said a word to them all week. My shadows called me out, She showed up, and all of a sudden you can’t stop talking. 

Yes, it was obvious. Though- I hoped it wasn’t to her. 

And I had already beaten both Rhys and Cassian in hand to hand- though I hadn’t managed to beat Cass with a sword yet. If they decided to beat the hell out of me, I might win. 

Though, probably not if Rhys used his magic. He’d probably heard every thought in my head already, including these ones, so- there was no point in hiding it.

So, instead of saying anything else, I just looked between them and said, “Thank you- for being kind to me.” 

Cassian’s brows furrowed. Rhys sat up in his bed. 

But I just muttered, “Goodnight, guys.” Rolled over, and shut my eyes. 

It took me longer than usual to calm myself down enough to sleep. Though, it was a full moon. I always got my best sleep when it was that bright outside- when the light drove away the nightmares and replaced them with those dreams. 

Yet, I didn’t dream of palaces or gardens. 

I dreamt of silver pools of glowing starlight, a small hand in my own, and bright peals of melodic laughter. I dreamed of violet eyes and lavender shadows, of a world where I was strong and brave, a world ladened with life and happiness. 

And when I woke, it was to the same thing I did every morning. Warm, buttery sunlight peeking over the horizon, the scent of fresh bread and breakfast, and Hashna calling up the stairs for us to come eat before it went cold. The world outside shimmered with gold and frost, a small chill in the air as I pried myself from the sheets and followed Rhys and Cassian out our door. 

But when I got to the hallway, the door across from ours with the violets and golden stars had just started to crack open. 

I’d almost been convinced that I had dreamed her, come up with some perfect vision in my mind of the world’s only other shadowsinger. 

But there she was, in a long flannel nightdress, violet eyes bleary from sleep, with freshly-washed hair that fell in perfect, shining waves down her shoulders. Surrounded by shadows that darted out to mine the moment she opened the door. 

I wasn’t convinced that I wasn’t still dreaming. 

Though, I was convinced that what Cassian had said last night- that was more than likely the truth. 

A startling realization, and one that didn’t particularly bode well for my situation and status in life in comparison to hers. But- 

When Leur saw me standing here waiting for her, she smiled. Softer than last night, but no less beautiful. 

Smiled, held out a hand, and said, “Good morning, Az.” 

I decided, right then and there, that the rest of it didn’t matter- at least not right now. I’d figure it out later. 

For now, I just laced my fingers with hers and let my own smile spread across my face as I said, “Good morning, Leur.” 

Chapter Text

Present 

Hybern- Draemir Palace, Western Coast

Leuruna 

“Well, it could be worse.” I reasoned, my voice hushed, “ Both of my arms could be broken.” 

Tamlin was a mess of blood and dirt, leaned up against the corner of our cell, wheezing through his broken ribs, with bleary emerald green eyes at odds with the purple bruises surrounding both of them. Still, he managed to scoff, “Way to be optimistic, Nyme.” 

“I’ve had more broken arms than I can count.” I said, yanking myself to my feet with my good arm- only for my legs to give out and hit the ground again, “I’ll survive- if I can ever get off this fucking floor, that is.” 

“Just sit down.” Tamlin panted, “You aren’t climbing out of here with one arm.” 

I managed to get myself back to my knees, staring up at the wards shimmering above us, “How much are you willing to bet on that?”

He lifted his hand, still crusted with blood from when they ripped his fingernails off yesterday, clutching a half-eaten apple, “I’ll bet the other half of this faebane-laced apple. Unless you want me to start offering limbs.”

“I’m not eating that shit.” I grumbled, half-dragging myself over to the stone wall, “Lacing the food with faebane was my fucking idea. How dumb does he think I am?” 

“Well, it’s this or starve,” Tamlin tossed me the apple, “And you haven’t eaten anything since we got here, which is why you’re on the verge of passing out.” 

“The water is bad enough. I don’t need any more,” I said, dodging the fruit as it hit the floor, “And I have a plan.” 

Tam just gave me a sharp, tired look, “I thought you said it couldn’t get any worse.” 

“Asshole.” I glared back, “Shall I leave you here and break out on my own?” 

“You’re going to have to.” He groaned, “I don’t think I can move.” 

I yanked myself back to my feet, holding tight to the wall while my head spun. My voice sounded muffled, even to my own ears, “Well, you have a day to get it together. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

Tamlin answered as my vision began to clear and the dizziness slowed to a stop, “Where the fuck is Rhys?” 

“Not coming.” I said, spinning to lean my back against the wall, “If he was, he’d be here by now.” 

My hands shook as I fiddled with the chain on my arm, but I didn’t know how much of it was from exhaustion and how much was from something worse. Something that hurt far deeper than anywhere a torturer could reach. 

Tamlin’s eyes were lingering on me, “What about A-” 

“Don’t.” 

The word came out of me so sharp, so fast, that it almost physically moved me. As if I needed to lunge, needed to run, needed to be anywhere or anything but something that remembered what was missing. 

“He wouldn’t leave you here.” Tamlin said, “Not if he had a choice.” 

“Please, Tam.” I begged, squeezing my eyes shut, “Just stop.” 

“I don’t know him that well. Not like you do. But even I know that.” 

I grabbed my wrist and broke it just to escape from the way his words threatened to rip me to pieces. 

And to get the chains off. 

Tamlin suddenly sat up, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“A lot.” I ground out, gritting my teeth and shifting the bones, everything in me burning as I squeezed my hand through the cuff. I didn’t know if the faebane in the metal or the way the skin had gone raw and bloody beneath was the worst of it. 

His voice dropped to a hushed whisper, “Did they not maim you properly this morning? Thought you’d finish the job?”

“I told you we’re leaving tomorrow.” I answered, “I need to figure out a way out of here- different from the way I went last time. That’s too predictable.” 

“That might be the worst idea you’ve ever had.” 

I met his eyes, “Definitely not.” 

“Eh.” He shrugged, “It’s debatable.” 

“Do you have a better one?” I spun to face him, “Because I’m all ears.” 

Silence. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

“What are you going to do?” He reasoned, “Say you climb to the top. There’s still iron bars and wards keeping you in here.” 

“Those wards can’t keep shadow in.” I told him, “And neither can the bars.” 

He blinked, “You have no magic.” 

“What do you think I went on a hunger strike for?” I asked him, “My health?” 

“You’ve had faebane cuffs on this entire time, not to mention the steady stream of it they’ve been injecting into us.” 

I smirked, dropping my voice as low as it could go, “My starlight burns through it faster than normal. And… I took a potion before I left Solarea to speed it up even further.” 

He just blinked at me in answer, shocked. 

Finally, he said, “Why didn’t you tell me you made a potion that can do that?” 

I gave him a tired look, “Should I have done that before or after you lost your fucking mind and locked your teenage bride up in your house?” 

“She’s 20.” 

“Oh wow.” I deadpanned, “What a difference that makes. In that case-” 

“Are you going to bitch at your brother for this too?” He tilted his head, “Or just me?” 

“Rhys and I have bigger problems.” I motioned around us, to the chain that was still around Tamlin’s ankle, “Clearly.”

Tamlin didn’t answer. And I just glanced up at the top, where cold, sterile light was streaming down the ten-foot drop to where we were chained. Or he was. I climbed up yesterday to watch the guard rotations, learned that the winners who worked Hybern’s dungeons still had a penchant for falling asleep on the job, and then climbed back down. 

But that was before today’s bout of torture. Nothing more than the regularly scheduled beatings and screaming for me to tell them what I wanted to know. And a fun trip to a beast’s cage- I wasn’t even sure what it was. Something with way too many fucking teeth.

They weren’t happy when they snapped its neck though, that was for sure. 

I’d gotten tossed down here when they were bored with my silence and jabs, broke my arm on the landing, and here we were. 

I could feel the magic beginning to stir in my blood, the tiniest wisp of lavender spinning around my hand. A few more minutes and I could shift fully into shadow, which was good- I wouldn’t have to climb. 

But I did have to sustain the magic long enough to get up there, out of the dungeon, and to somewhere secluded enough to rest for a moment. That was the real issue.

“Why do you think he’s hesitating?” Tamlin asked.

“I don’t know.” I answered, still staring up at that light above, spots dancing in the corner of my vision, “It’s been a while since we had a chance to catch up, in case you haven’t noticed.” 

More magic built inside of me, like ice defrosting into a flowing river. A tempest of light and shadow and rage spilling into the same destructive flow. 

“What about the others?” Tamlin questioned, his voice low, “The Council.” 

I shot him a look that was more a reminder to keep his mouth shut than anything else, “They have orders to follow.” 

He rolled his eyes, “Name me one time any of you ever followed orders exactly as they were given. Just one.” 

I didn’t have the mental strength to think of an answer. Or maybe, there truly wasn’t one. 

I just kept staring up, watching, waiting to find the strength somewhere inside of me. There was a dusty plane where it should have been, tumbleweeds blowing through my mind. 

I was using everything I had left to keep standing, to keep my mouth shut when the pain came, to keep myself from thinking about the fact that my family was just a narrow sea away. 

To keep myself from thinking about the fact that they knew I was alive, knew I was here, and they hadn’t come for me. 

I’d exhausted all logical thought on the subject long ago, within the first few days in this hellhole. If I were Rhys, would I risk going against the Cauldron again? 

Probably not. 

But for my sibling… that was a different story. 

Maybe Tamlin was right. Maybe he was changed. Maybe everything good in him did die when I did. 

I didn’t know if I believed that. Either way, believing or not believing, felt like giving myself too much credit.

Every single cell in my body was screeching to go home, begging for safety after so very long without it. The warmth of an Illyrian cabin filled with laughter and people I’d fly to the ends of the earth for. 

A ringing started in my ears. Imperceptible at first and then louder, until it shifted. Morphed. Changed shape until it was a melody. 

“Leur, are you listening?” 

Tamlin had been talking, saying something. Probably something important. But I wasn’t hearing him. 

I was listening to the shadows. 

The shadows, who had just gotten loud enough for me to hear again, were singing the same thing over and over again. One desperate, pleading cry. The true want somewhere beneath whatever composure was keeping me upright. 

Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate. 

Like a chant. Like they could call him to us if they just said it enough times. They slithered up my spine like a thousand whispers, each one vibrating through my bones.

And while I was staring up at that light, something dark darted across it. Nothing but a quick flash of black. Indiscernible. Moving far too fast to be caught. 

And the shadows- 

The shadows started screaming. 

It felt like they were tearing something open inside me. A door I’d been too scared to knock on for centuries, a corner of myself that had been locked away so long I forgot it existed.

“I have to go.” I said to Tamlin, “Just stay in the dark and stay quiet.” 

“Leur, no.” He tried to sit up and failed, slumping back down only to grit his teeth and try again, “This is a horrible idea. If anything goes wrong-”

I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I just let myself become the darkness and vanished. 

In shadow form, the world looked different. Everything existed in a dark haze, and I was nothing. I was wind and song and a trickle of smoke- and absolutely nothing more. Eyes and ears, darkness slipping past a ward that was not meant to contain it, and then- 

Something in the corner of the room shifted. I saw it out of my peripheral vision, or whatever vision the shadows had. I made myself completely invisible, clinging to the darkness between the oubliettes, before I even investigated what it was. 

Draemir’s dungeon was a labyrinth of torture chambers and winding hallways- built to get lost in. Luckily, I’d ensured I knew every inch during my time here. 

I had a feeling I’d wind up here someday. 

But the tangle of black smoke in the corner- I’d spent years of my life praying I never saw it in this horrendous place. 

And then words, a melodic voice whispered through darkness. Salvation. The light at the end of all this terror. 

I see you.

Nothingness went still on both sides of oblivion. 

There was a phantom heartbeat pounding in the center of me, a complete stillness and silence. As if everything in the world had vanished, slipped away, and there was just us in an endless black void. 

My magic stuttered, still weak. Or maybe, it was from the shock and the gnawing, aching want crawling poisoning me from the inside out. But then there was a pull, a command of the shadow I was made from, and I let him take me. I let myself drift on his wind, content with wherever it took me.

I found myself in a dark room with an iron door and bloodstains on the floor. A torture chamber, surely, but they all looked the same. Lit with one singular, flickering sconce and filled with echos of screams and anguish- some of which were my own. 

But all of a sudden, this dark, horrible room was safe.  

My magic, strained from just that much, stuttered back out and died. And I was back in physicality, with bones that ached and skin that was bleeding and bruised, on my hands and knees with my head spinning from the exhaustion. 

And I was crying. 

Hot, wet tears slid down my cheeks in a steady stream, as if I lacked the ability to do anything but cry anymore. 

Black shadows slithered out from the darkest corner of the room, so fast that I barely even saw it. And I knew then that it wasn’t him, at least not physically, but his shadows. Not like last time, not some-

All of them. 

He’d given me every last one. Perhaps only retained the tiniest little scrap, so he could speak to me. 

One brushed against my cheek, cold and achingly familiar, and then his voice came again- lower, steadier, heartbreakingly close. Like a dream. The answer I’d been waiting for after screaming into a void for five centuries. 

I see you, Sunlight. He said, I found you. 

I had to clasp my good hand over my mouth to muffle the sob that poured out of me. It was uncontrollable, a collapse of every brick wall I built inside myself at once. 

And I watched as those shadows pulled back, just the slightest bit, to twist and bend themselves into a shape. The form of an Illyrian warrior who’d had my heart in his hands from the moment I laid eyes on him. His face, his body, his wings , made entirely from jet-black smoke. 

I was already on my knees, but I collapsed even further. Pulling in on myself, trying to contain the way my soul felt like it was shattering and healing all at once.

You aren’t alone, His voice whispered, every syllable like the brush of a fingertip across my skin. That form moved to kneel before me as he continued, I’ve got you.

I just cried harder. Shook like the entire world was rattling. My own shadows wrapped around me, half of them spilling through the space between us like violet smoke to swirl around him, and all I managed to ask was, Are you real? 

How many times have I had this dream? This hallucination? Him, finding me in the darkest corners of this world, with that low, reverent tone he used when I was upset in his voice and a hand that was willing to hold mine until I found the strength again. 

How many times had I begged for it? 

That form reached out with a ghostly hand, slowly pulling my hand from my face before he cupped my jaw. And I felt it. I felt him . 

His spirit in the dark, his voice in my ears, his heart- beating as wild as I mine- down the long, long line of the bond.

When he answered, his voice was shaking too, just the slightest. And he whispered, I’m real, Leur. I’m right here. 

I opened my mouth to speak, but only a sob came out. And when I pulled on my magic to try to speak that way, it didn’t answer. 

It was weeping too. 

Words caught in my throat, and I choked. Forgot how to breathe. How to speak. How to do anything but stare at that face made of darkness and cry. 

But that phantom hand slipped from my jaw to the back of my neck, cool fingers woven through my blood-matted hair, gently pulling me closer. 

And then he gathered me into his arms.

Not solid, not flesh- but it didn’t matter. I knew the shape of him, the reverence in the way he held me. The way his shadows folded around us like his wings would have. Like a shield against all the pain and exhaustion. 

His chest wasn’t real, but I buried my face there anyway. And I felt him press his brow to mine, heard his voice, soft and steady and raw:

I can’t get to you yet. But I will.

A beat passed, filled with the shudder of our breathing- mine too ragged, his too far away.

You’re not safe. His voice didn’t tremble. It was honest. Quiet. But you’re not alone.

I miss you. I told him, I am so fucking tired of missing you. 

You have no idea. He whispered it into my ear, and it felt real . Too real. Like cool breath and the scent of smoke and cedar, Every day. With every breath. You are in everything I do. 

Something in those words snapped me back to reality, if only partially, and I pulled back to look at him as if I could actually see into his eyes, Are you safe? Feyre said you were shot. 

There was an echo of a watery laugh, one of the most beautiful sounds I’d ever heard, and then, A hundred arrows couldn’t kill me, Leur. Not when you came back to me.

I just burrowed closer, wishing that all of this was over so hard that I half-expected it to come true. But it didn’t. I was still here, in this dungeon.

All those years, all that time, I told myself I just needed to see his face one more time. Once more, and I could die happy. And I would have.

But it wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

After centuries of war and heartache and pain, I wanted to live. I wanted out of this goddamn hellhole. I wanted to go home. I wanted him.  

I wanted the chance to love him, the way I always wanted. I wanted to see him smile every single day. I wanted domestic mornings and epic battles and everything in between with him at my side. I wanted love, and peace, and joy, and all those things that had seemed so meaningless and out of reach before. 

But it wasn’t out of reach anymore. It was here, holding me, whispering in my ear. 

My solace. My light. My mate. 

A sob ripped out of me, but the shadows muffled it. Az’s ghost just held me tighter. Closer, as if he’d be the glue that pieced me back together. 

Don’t cry, Leur. Please don’t-

You know. I told him, You know what we are. 

There was a pause. A stillness to the shadows. And then-

I’ve always known. Even before the bond snapped. Even before I knew what it meant- I was yours.

And at that, I finally told him the truth. Not whispered to the moon, not a message from the shadows. I told him now, where he could truly hear me, the worst-kept secret in the entire world. 

I’m yours. I said, It was always you, Az. Always you. 

I heard him cry then. Or I felt it. In my chest, something warm and broken and filled with such unimaginable, boundless hope that it almost killed me. 

I can feel you, he breathed. I can hear you. But I can’t touch you. I can’t save you. All I can do is this. 

He touched my cheek again, like it was a prayer. A promise, but his words didn’t make sense to me. 

What do you mean? I asked, What happened? Why can’t you-

A thumb of shadow wiped away a tear as he said, Rhys has a block on my mind. I can’t leave the House of Wind. It took me this entire week  just to figure out how to get my shadows to go find you.

Rage rippled down my spine. 

Perhaps instead of hugging my brother after 500 years, I’d punch him in the face. 

And then hug him. 

Why? 

A scoff, I’m losing my mind, that’s why. He thinks it’s a death trap. 

I nodded, He’s not entirely wrong. You shouldn’t be here, Az. Even this- its not safe. I don’t want the King to target you more than he already is. 

A cool band of shadow wrapped around my broken wrist, soothing the burn that had been stinging there for hours, a thread of him- drawn across the world, Then why are you out of your cell? 

My brows furrowed, How long have you been watching?

Since I found the chest of information on this place. 

My blood ran cold. 

That chest- the information in those diaries, every horrible, foul thing I did- 

The shadows pulled me up by the chin, forced me out of that sprial, Stop that.

What? 

I don’t care what you did, Leur. He told me, soft and sincere, You could kill a hundred people, right in front of my eyes, and I’d say they deserved it. And the King- 

I felt his anger then. Far in the distance, but cold as a snowstorm, sharp as ice, The King will die for what he did. I’ll rip myself to pieces to do it, if that’s what it takes. 

I believed him. 

I knew that tone in his voice. That shift when all his softness vanished and only darkness remained, when the world finally glimpsed what’s created when someone is raised without light. 

I loved him all the same. Through blood and darkness and horror, through light and joy and laughter. 

And I knew that the man I love had never been a liar. 

You said it wasn’t time yet. He asked, What did that mean? 

It doesn’t matter. I shook my head, Not anymore.

What doesn’t? 

The Cauldron. I told him, I wanted to see if I could deactivate it, but it seems someone already beat me to it. 

Even in this strange, ghostly form, I could see the confusion on his face, Who? 

I don’t know. I shook my head, But I know the King hasn’t been down here for two days because he can’t get it to work. 

Then answer my question. He said, Why are you out of your cell?

My magic was strained from using it, spread so thin that my voice was almost cutting in and out, I need to get out of here, Az. I don’t have time for… whatever Rhys is doing. 

More anger, not towards me- but my brother. I kept talking anyways. 

Tamlin and I can keep our mouths shut. But you know what comes next. You know why they’re keeping us in the same cell. 

He let out a dejected sigh, They’re going to start using you against one another. 

I can’t do it, Az. And he knows that. He knows it’s the only way he can get me to talk. He’s been gearing up for it this whole time. I said, And if the King figures out where I’ve been and what I’ve been doing, he will kill me. 

I could practically feel the questions on his tongue, but all he said was, I can help you. You just need to tell me how I can undo… whatever the fuck Rhys did. 

He rewired your mind. I said, It’s not possible unless he or another daemati undoes it. 

Somewhere down the bond, there was a string of curses so foul that it would make a sailor blush. Maybe in his mind. Maybe he said it out loud. I didn’t know. 

But I felt like laughing. 

Here, in what was surely just about as close as I could get to literal Hel, I wanted to laugh. 

Az had always had that effect on me. 

But before I could say anything or think of any possible way around it-

My shadows froze. At the exact same moment that Azriel’s went still too. 

Like prey spotting a predator too late, the moment the trap snaps shut. 

Silence, just for a moment. 

Hide. Az demanded, sharp as a blade, You have to go back into shadow. 

Phantom hands pulled me closer, back, away from the light of the sconce and into the corner of the room. But when I tried to find the darkness, there was nothing. Not enough shadow. Too much light. 

The wards over the entire palace wouldn’t let me winnow. Nowhere else to hide. Not in a bloodstained stone box of a room with one exit point. No cover, not when it led to a hallway that had suddenly flared to life. Sconce after sconce lighting with flame down the hallway like an executioners parade. Smooth, sure footsteps. 

I recognized their cadence. I’d recognize it anywhere. 

Fuck. 

I can’t. I hissed, I don’t have enough power. 

I couldn’t stay here and use his shadows to hide behind. I’d just corner myself. 

I felt the ghost of a brush across my waist, something that felt like a kiss on my temple. 

And then, I heard a command. 

Run, he said. 

And I did. 

Some burst of adrenaline or energy shot through me. And I had to try. I wasn’t just going to sit and cower and wait for the King to find me. I shot out of the doorway into the hall, running on legs that were barely healed from being snapped yesterday. With muscles that had no energy and bruises on every inch of me. 

But Az’s shadows- 

Where my strength failed, his did not. Just as it had always been. He held me up now, pushed my legs forward when I couldn’t, kept me going when the world spun and everything went blurry. I was aiming back for the cell, content to throw myself back down it and break whatever would shatter when I hit the ground. 

And then, right when I turned the corner to the great room with the pits, there was a whizzing sound. I knew what it was, saw the shadows lunge to snatch it out of the air, but it was already too late. I’d practically run straight into it.

The arrow struck me straight in the shoulder, so hard that I stopped in my tracks and fell backwards. My head cracked against the stone, and everything fizzled out.

And then it was just muffled sounds, voices, shadows hiding, pain thrumming through me like a heartbeat. A tug on my very soul that I, once again, lacked the strength to answer.

It could have been a second or an hour. I’d have no way of knowing. Only that when I opened my eyes again, all I could feel was pain. In my head, my wrist, my shoulder- where an ash arrow was sticking out of me, burning every inch of torn skin it touched. And there was blood. 

Too much blood. 

A concerning amount of blood- pooled around me. 

I didn’t even try to move. I couldn’t. 

I knew he’d come to me anyway.

And just as I expected- there he was. The King, with a dark, satisfied grin on his face, hands clasped behind his back like he was taking a pleasant stroll through the gardens, smiling down at me while I bled. 

I’d been here before. 

But unlike last time, I wasn’t alone. 

Az’s voice whispered in my ear. Low and quiet, a brush of cold slithering up my back, I’m coming, Leur. I’ll find a way. Just hold on. Wait for me, sunlight.

I wanted to answer. I wanted to tell him that I would, even when they killed me, even when I was nothing, but no words came. Not through shadow. Not through speech. 

I was watching the King blur in and out of focus, delirious from the pain that had finally caught up to me. 

Or the blood loss. 

Probably both. 

“Well,” came that voice, slow and smooth, “I figured you’d try eventually. You’ve always been a stubborn thing.” 

I just stared back at him. 

“Sleeping guards, wards that can’t contain shadow, plenty of dark corners to hide in.” He shook his head, “Didn’t it occur to you that it might be too easy, pet?” 

No- but it probably should have. Then again, it's not like I was thinking clearly.

Desperation makes people sloppy. I supposed the bullshit I’d been spewing all this time really was true.  

Figures, as usual- I’d learned my own lesson the hard way.

“I was curious to see if you were still the backstabbing, selfish whore I remember.” A smile, razor sharp, “And what do you know?” 

He crouched down, reached for my face, but I flinched away. My head spun with the movement, but I didn’t want his hands on me. His spindly, disgusting, blood-stained hands. 

I tried to slide myself backwards, the ground slick with my own blood, tried to get away from that touch- but it was no use. I was too slow, and he had me cornered. 

He grabbed my face, yanked me up to look at him so sharp and quick that a pulse of pain rushed through me and everything started spinning again. Black, soulless eyes bore into my own.

“You left your beast to rot so you could save yourself. Seems like the answer is yes.” 

Go, I whispered to Az with whatever strength I had left, Please. Go. 

No. He whispered, I’m with you, Leur. I’m not leaving you again. 

Don’t watch this. I pleaded. 

All he said in answer was, I’m with you. Where you go, I go. 

And the King’s smile grew wider, colder somehow. 

“Tamlin’s always been a loyal dog, no matter how many times you kick him.” He purred, “Sweet little nymerin. Did you if you brew that flower just right, it becomes a poison?”

I realized then that I wasn’t his target at all. Not really. 

I was just a tool. One that was fun to break- but a tool nonetheless.

I love you. Az said, as if it was torn out of him.

I didn’t even have time to process the words, or say that eternal truth back, before the King smashed my head back down onto the ground.  

Listen to my voice, Leur. Just focus on me, not the pain. 

A laugh, cod and wicked, and then-

I’ll find a way. I promise. 

Another crack. 

Pain.

Black.

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

Prythian- Eastern Woods, Spring Court 

Rhysand

“Should we be on guard?” Feyre asked, hand in mine as we walked through the woods. 

The last time I spent this much time wandering around these particular woods, I was still a child. Watching Leur and Tamlin tease each other and trying to keep them from being the destructive hellions they truly were. 

I suppose I was doing the same thing now- only on a much larger, darker scale. 

“Anything lurking in these woods can feel our power.” I told her, “Just keep an eye out, but we should be fine.” 

She glanced back at me, “What about Hybern?” 

“Winter and Day both sent forces down here right after the Manor exploded- to guard the wall.” I explained, “And those were Autumn ships on the coastline. If they were trying to take up residency here, we’d know. I wasn’t aware Tamlin had so many alliances but apparently-” 

“Or they don’t want Hybern exploiting the weakness Spring being unguarded creates.” She muttered.

“Enemy of my enemy is my friend isn’t always true.” I told her, “But in this case- maybe.”

She didn’t answer, blue eyes peering through the shadow, “This way, I think.” 

I raised my brows, “Eventually, this hill has to drop off, no?”

“The pool is in a valley.” My mate said, “And the western side is steep.” 

I nodded, trusting her and following, feeling nausea spread through my gut with every passing moment. Something in the air felt old and quiet, like the very air here demanded reverence, like every leaf and every blade of grass was reminding me of the secrets they kept. 

Reminding me that my sister, who should have been dead, had walked on this ground less than two weeks ago- with breath in her lungs and words on her lips and impossible stories to tell. 

I didn’t know if it was hope or dread I felt, and perhaps that was the worst part. A deadly mix of both eating me alive, haunting my dreams, making my thoughts race and my hands shake. 

“Can I ask you a question?” 

Feyre’s voice pulled me from my morbid thoughts, just as it had since everything went up in flames. My anchor, steady and strong where I failed. 

I turned to her, finding her eyes trained on the path through the brush ahead of us. The faelight in my hand danced across the freckles on her nose like starlight. Beautiful- like some otherworldly thing. 

And about to ask me something horrific, surely. 

I tried to keep my voice even and light as I answered, “Anytime, darling.”

I held my breath to brace myself. 

But all she said was, “Leur and Azriel.” 

The air drained out of me as if I’d just deflated, a collapse of any sense of escape from the ancient memories lurking in my head in one swift, perfect blow. 

Beautiful, lethal little thing- my mate. 

“What about them?” 

“Did you know they were mates before…” Her voice trailed off, going meek, “You know.” 

That question, at least, conjured a smile on my face. Or something like it. 

“From the moment they met, actually.” I told her. 

She nodded, as if signaling for me to keep talking, so I did, “My sister is hard to read. Always has been. There isn’t a soul on this earth that can put on a fake smile or act quite like she can- to the point where even she believes her own cover. It’s part of what made her such an excellent spy- the ability to convince anyone, anywhere that she’s something she’s not.” 

“I noticed.” Feyre said. 

“But when Azriel came around- it was  like…” I shook my head, focusing on the mist and dew swirling around my ankles as a distraction, “It was all just… real. When I think of the times I saw her the happiest-  truly, genuinely happy- it’s always because of him.” 

“Did it surprise you?” She asked, “Her sacrificing herself to spare him?” 

I didn’t bother to hesitate, “Not even a little bit.” 

A half-smile spread on Feyre’s face, “So, sacrificial love is genetic?” 

“Apparently.” I shrugged, “But I’m not sure where we got it.” 

The lie tasted bitter in my mouth, but I said it anyway. I had to.

“Well, obviously Azriel feels the same way about her.” She pushed again. 

Where was she leading me? What cliff was I about to fall off of?

“I’ve never seen anyone look at another person the way Azriel looked at my sister.” I admitted, “Like she was the sun itself.” 

She stopped walking for a moment, honey blonde braid flipping over the black leather on her shoulder as she turned to look at me. Really look at me, as if she were trying to sniff out a lie. 

Or waiting for me to understand something I did not. 

We stared, and the willows sang. And then- 

“We’re here.”

I only realized then that she was standing on the edge of a steep decline, ankle deep in plush grass. And at the bottom of the hill, nestled into a valley that looked like it was made for it- a shimmering silver pool.

Beautiful and ancient. 

I had the same feeling in my chest now, staring at that light, that I had when I was staring at the Cauldron. 

Dread and awe combined with darkness- and the realization of just how small I could feel.

Something in me woke up, like a pull in my blood. Faint and quiet, but it was there. A sensation, like I was being called back to something long since forgotten. The surface rippled without wind, silver and strange, as if the moon had melted into water and never cooled.

The hill dipped steeply beneath our feet, damp with midnight dew and fog. Feyre moved first, her fingers tightening around mine as she stepped forward- never hesitant, never uncertain. I followed.

Each step toward the pool made the world quieter. And when we reached the base of the valley, mist curling in coils around our ankles, I stopped a few feet from the edge of the water. 

I did not fail to notice the nymerin flowers surrounding the shoreline. And visible through a huge gap in the tree canopy overhead, a full shining moon beamed down on the silvery water. As if this was what it created, what it poured down onto the world below to light the darkest of nights. 

And just as the legends claimed- under the light of a full moon, the nymerin flowers were bloomed into a sea of blue so deep it had turned to violet. 

The Pool of Starlight pulsed- just barely- like something alive beneath the surface was breathing. Or waiting.

Perhaps it wasn’t starlight at all. Perhaps it was moonlight.  

Feyre stared at it, then at me.

“Okay,” she said quietly, “we saw it. Now what?”

I shrugged, “I suppose we get in it.” 

Her eyes went wide, “What?” 

“It must be a portal of some sort.” I said, “And only way to know where it leads is to go through.”

She shook her head, “But I was in this water before. Tamlin and I swam here.” 

If this whole story was true, Tamlin saving Leur and somehow using these waters to resurrect her and send her to Solarea- then why the fuck would he bring Feyre here while Amarantha was watching him? 

Why swim in it? 

“When?” I asked, meeting her eyes, “During the day or night?” 

“Day.” She answered. 

I blinked, “In your memories, when Tamlin first brought you back here after Hybern- he was clearly waiting for something. And Leur didn’t appear until the sun fully set.” 

“So, what?” My mate asked, “You think it’s only active at night?”

“Probably.” I nodded, “Like I said, only one way to find out.” 

Feyre reached out for me, but it was too late. I had already stepped into the water. 

Velvet. That was the first word that came to mind. Velvet, and cold- shockingly cold. The kind of cold that bit straight through flesh and bone and memory, as if it knew every part of me and sought to wash it clean.

“Rhys!” My mate hissed, “This is a horrible idea!” 

“It will be fine.” I waved her off, “Just wait there.”

I kept wading, muttering under my breath as the cold rose higher and higher, “How the hell did you swim in this? It’s freezing.” 

I glanced over my shoulder, finding Feyre standing on the stones, crouched down with her fingers just brushing the surface. She sucked in a breath and drew her hand back, “It was not this cold before.” 

The starlight shifted. Or maybe it was the moon above us- glowing like it had spilled into this valley just to watch.

I waded forward. The bank sloped down gently at first, water lapping at my calves, then thighs. Every inch deeper stole more warmth, until it felt as if I were stepping into something alive.

And then- suddenly- I couldn’t touch the bottom.

I had to tread the water swimming out into the center. The water here was so deep I could feel it yawning beneath me, like a mouth about to open.

“It’s not doing anything,” Feyre called, “Maybe it’s selective. Or it requires magic to work.” 

“Well-” I glanced around, my heart pounding in my chest, “If Leur’s magic can get it to work, then so can mine.” 

I felt a sense of… something. Anxiety? Fear? I couldn’t name it. All I knew was it was making my head blurry and strange, my breathing ragged and my entire body shaking from the cold. 

“I don’t think that’s how this will work.” Feyre argued. 

“Hold on.” I answered, “Let me try something.” 

She said something in reply, but I didn’t catch it. I took a breath and slipped below the surface. 

It was all just… white. The kind of white that flashes in front of your eyes when a bright light is shined in your face. And the pressure- it wasn’t just the pressure of water but something greater. Even my magic faltered in this unknown, and I surfaced, gasping for breath, “Nothing.” 

“Rhys!” Feyre called for me, but I was already diving again. 

This time, I opened myself. 

Not just to the water- but to the power beneath it. The threads of magic I’d buried all this time. Every last bit was willing the light around me to show me what it was, what it had done, what lay on the other side of this door. 

It hurt- like stretching a wound that had barely begun to scab.

And the moment I let go- truly let go- I felt it.

Something old stirred. In me. Around me. 

Both at the same time. Everywhere and nowhere at all. 

And then- I was yanked downward.

I didn’t swim. I didn’t fight. I couldn’t.

Water crashed in my ears. My lungs burned. My magic pulsed and flickered- futile. 

My mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out. 

No, all I heard was a voice. 

Ancient. Male. Carved from rock and darkness, like stone grinding against time. 

The King of Night. The great Crown.

I couldn’t scream, but my lungs did. Pleading, begging, reaching for air that would never come. 

You seek knowledge, but knowledge is not the key to control. 

I was reaching, with hands or magic- I couldn’t tell. Just trying to find something - anything- solid. 

Do not repeat your father’s mistakes. You cannot control this. And what you truly seek, what your heart wants, is already slipping through your hands. 

It sounded like a mountain had learned to whisper. Like time itself cracked open and called my name.

A pause. 

And then, soft as a night wind: 

The Sun is dying. 

I thrashed upward- but the water kept me.

Even the Night cannot exist without the Sun. 

Drowning. Gasping.

Save her- and there you will find your answers. Look no further than the sunrise. 

And then- 

Nothing.

Air rushed back into my lungs as I slammed back into existence. 

On the ground. On a shoreline- but the very same one I had just left. 

I went nowhere.  

And the pool- the pool was completely still and quiet before me. As if it hadn’t just tried to drown me, whispered prophecies in my ear, and spit me back out. 

Feyre was already kneeling beside me, gripping my face. “Rhys? What happened?”

I could barely hear her.

All I could hear were those words echoing in my head like a curse:

Even the Night cannot exist without the Sun.

And no more than a second later, as if I needed any proof, a band of familiar jet black shadow slithered out of the darkness around us. Too fast. Too frantic. 

Azriel was looking for us. 

All I would have needed to see to know something was wrong was the quick, jerky movement of that shadow. But the way it wrapped around my wrist, the way it touched my skin and tugged me up to my feet- my heart somehow dropped further than it already had. 

And then a demand, cold and sharp and screamed into my ear- 

You need to come home. 

Right. Now. 

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

Hybern- Draemir Palace, Western Coast

Tamlin

Leur had been gone too long. 

I’d been here before, waiting for her with my heart pounding and sweat dripping down my back. A mess of anxiety and blood and dread. 

I’d been here more times than I could count, really. Always, irrevocably, waiting for her in some capacity. 

I knew what was coming. I could feel it in the air. Hear it. Feel it. Just like before. 

Death was waiting on the horizon. Maybe mine. Maybe hers. 

Probably, and hopefully, both.  

And when it inevitably came, when the steel bars above me finally swung open with a low, eerie creak, I somehow still wasn’t prepared for it. 

I wasn’t prepared for the sickening, crunching thump of her body hitting the ground either. Thrown in like she was trash before the bars snapped shut again with an echoing, impossibly loud bang . 

The moment I saw her, I lunged.

Or tried to.

All of a sudden, magic flared. Cold, cruel magic. The King’s- probably. 

And the chain on my ankle, bolted into the far side of the wall, was too short to reach her. 

I hit the floor as it snapped tight, the broken bones and wounds on my body screeching in pain, some low groan leaving my mouth involuntarily. And Leur- 

Leur hadn’t moved. 

She was crumpled on the other side of the drop, body bent wrong, limbs askew like a broken doll. There was an ash arrow sticking out of her shoulder, and her head was turned towards me so I could see the blood leaking down her temple. 

She had a heartbeat, though. I could hear it. Strained and half a beat too slow but there. 

All around her violet shadows were trying and failing to wake her, frantic and terrified- which didn’t surprise me. Leur’s shadows had always been sentient things. 

No, it was the black scraps of shadow- someone else’s shadows- woven through them that shocked me. Brushing her hair from her face with the most reverent, gentle touch I’d ever seen. 

And still all the blood and brokenness and horror wasn’t the true issue. Wasn’t what made my heart stop in it’s tracks. 

No, it was the flower in her left hand. 

A black rose. Twisted. Wilting. Alive in all the wrong ways. 

Its thorns were embedded deep in her palm, puncturing skin that had already known too much pain. Her blood mixed with it- creating some deadly combination that dripped down the scarred skin of her fingers. 

Poison and memory and fate, pressed into her skin like a brand.

And the veins on her wrist… 

They were already turning black. 

It was the same poison that had cracked my family apart long before the High Lord of Night ever came for us. 

The same poison that killed my brother- creeping up Leur’s wrist like rot. 

Morvain.  

Chapter Text

518 years ago 

Prythian- Burial Gardens, Spring Court

Tamlin

The rose felt deceptively delicate in my hand. White velveteen petals, full and heavy, in perfect bloom. I was certain my mother had ensured it would be flawless, just like everything else. 

Perfect flowers. 

Perfect sunshine. 

Perfect gowns. Perfect jewels. Perfect veils. 

And a perfect, gleaming oak casket. 

I wondered if I was the only one who saw the truth. Every beautiful, perfect flower here was already dead. We’d cut it from its stem, severed it from its roots, to make these perfect arrangements and sprays of flowers. They would all wilt into nothingness soon, shrivel up into a shell of the life that had once pulsed within it. 

I supposed that was fitting. Vern was the same way. A flower that had been cut from its stem a long , long time ago. Rotting away in front of our eyes, slowly and painfully, until the ash finally claimed him and his heart stopped beating. 

He died years ago. I knew that. 

The second that thorn pierced his skin, or perhaps a few months ago when the convulsions and paralysis had finally claimed his ability to speak. I could still see it in the back of my head, pale green eyes wide, pleading, staring at me as he lay motionless in the bed. My mother would dote on him, wash him, bathe him, force food down his throat- like a perfect little doll. 

I wondered what it felt like for him, trapped in his own head. 

In a way, this felt like a relief. The funeral. The final rest. 

Vern, for the first time in nearly a decade, was at peace. No pain or rot could reach him anymore. 

In another way, it felt as horrible as it truly was. Just as his death had been. 

My mother- screaming in the dead of night. I was certain I’d live my entire life, whatever an immortal lifespan entailed, and never hear screaming like that ever again. 

My father running into the room. This pillar of strength and power and status, a High Lord, falling to his knees. Navin staggering away, sick from the sight of what Vern had looked like on the bed. 

And for once, I related to my brother. 

By the time our eldest brother died, he no longer looked like a person. Just black veins and twisted limbs. So thin he looked like a skeleton with skin stretched over it. So still. No longer something living but an object, a relic of what once was. Wrong, in every horrible way my mind could imagine. 

Leur hadn’t admitted it, but I knew she saw it too. She’d been here, visiting as usual, trying to think of anything to distract me. Just as she had been once a month for the past year, ever since Vern was bedridden. 

She’d have heard that scream in the dead of night, too. Leur was a light sleeper- always had been. 

And I saw the shadows in the corner of the room flicker. Just the tiniest bit. There for a moment and then gone. 

I wondered if she saw what came after. If she saw the way my mother raged at the world and cursed the Mother for taking her son, smashed every beautiful thing in the room. If she saw the way my father had snapped and carried Vern’s body to the woods. 

Navin and I had followed, with nowhere else to go and nothing else to do. And for a moment it was just the four of us, in a way it never had been and never would be again. 

I remembered the starlight glimmering in the light of the moon, the cold splash of the water as my father defied his own orders and ran into the pool, the crack in his voice as he begged whatever ancient power had resided there to bring Vern back to life. 

Nothing had happened. The air remained heavy and thick and full of grief. The liquid starlight did not take him. He’d just floated there like a flower petal falling into a pond. 

There had been no sound in the days since. Nothing but my mother’s relentless sobbing. 

Even Leur hadn’t said a word. She asked no questions, made no jabs, just trailed behind me like a shadow, a beacon of constant support. 

Her family was here somewhere. I’d seen them all arrive. An entire entourage of high-ranking officials and royalty of the Night Court, even the evil from the Hewn City. 

And even the two Illyrian bastards that Leur’s mother had taken in. The one she’d claimed as her brother and the other one. 

The other shadowsinger. 

He was watching me. I could feel it. I knew his eyes were on me and her, on the way she was holding my arm, on the way she stood with me instead of with her own family. I’d heard her ask my father if it would be okay yesterday, without me even asking. 

I would have, but I’d assumed the answer would be no. 

But of course, for Leur , my father had agreed. 

Certainly it shattered every etiquette and royal protocol in Prythian, her standing crowned with us as if we’d already claimed her, but no one cared. Not even Leur’s father, who undoubtedly should have said no. 

No. The only person who cared was that shadowsinger. And I knew why. 

I just didn’t have it in me to care. Not now. 

Someone had missed one of the thorns on the rose I was given. A sharp, long curved thing, piercing into my palm, drawing blood that leaked through my fingers onto the ground below. 

Leur said nothing, just stood silently beside me. A sheer, dark veil over her face, shadows hidden mostly from sight. People were staring at her. Spring court citizens and courtiers whispered behind our backs, but she just kept staring straight ahead. Perfect poise and posture, her own rose delicately balanced in her hands, a Princess in every sense of the word. 

The Priestesses finished their ceremony, whispering their final prayers, each of them placing a white rose atop Vern's casket.

And then, I stood and watched. As all of the people in our court, all our closest allies, did the same with their own. Hundreds of them on that light wood, a signal of respect from all of them. Summer had sent a few emissaries and a note from the High Lord speaking of their condolences, just as Winter and Day had. Autumn was here, Beron and his wife, their four sons, redheaded and cruel, bowing their heads as they placed their roses. Night, of course. A rose from Altair, from Hashna, from Rhys, from the two Illyrians, from the other advisors that crowded around them- like a goodbye from the darkness.

There had been no offer of condolences from Dawn.

And finally, after all of our court had gone, all that remained was my family.

Navin went first, his hands shaking. A rare display of affection, of weakness, as he pressed a kiss to those delicate petals and left it with the rest.

It was fitting, when Leur and I stepped forward and she placed her own rose atop the casket- not a petal out of place, and mine was covered in blood. 

I owed Vern nothing less. 

"Goodbye," I whispered, though I knew he could not hear me. Still, the words felt necessary, as if they would somehow tether me to him just a little longer.

They didn’t. 

It was just a farewell. The end of something that could never be mended. 

My parents stepped forward next. 

My mother had somehow pulled herself together into the prim and proper Lady of Spring image she usually donned, though it was so strange to see her in black. It looked wrong on her, like it was draining the life from her. And my father, I could not read a thing on his face. 

Hard as stone. Mouth in a hard line. Shoulders squared. 

As if he were preparing for a fight.

As if he were approaching a battlefield , not his son's casket.

My mother placed her rose with a choked sob, at the exact moment that Leur's body went tense. So tense that it caught my attention, even now.

And when I looked over at her, all the color had drained from her cheeks.

"What is it?" I asked.

My father put a hand on the casket, a moment of pause for his eldest son.

"Something is wrong." Leur whispered, shaking her head. Her hand trembled in mine.

My father did not place his rose down. Instead, he handed it to my mother and turned his head to the centuries standing behind him.

"Bring them out."

My mother's eyes shot open, "Florian, no."

He did not care.

His eyes went distant, glimmering with something I did not recognize. Not at first.

But then the gates to the royal plot swung open, and guards started pouring through. Guards, dragging humans behind them. Chained and bound, gags in their mouths, akin dirty and bloody and-

That was Clove at the front of them. Leur’s handmaiden. She’d just seen us off less than an hour ago, looking completely fine. Normal as ever. 

Now she was beaten bloody, in chains, red hair ripped from her neat bun and wild as a flame around her head, half delirious as she shook her head at Leur. Some silent command I did not understand. 

"No." Leur whispered under her breath, as if she hadn't meant to say it aloud, "No. He can't mean to-"

"Shut up." Navin snarled down at her.

My father pulled a sword from the sheath at his hip, the blade gleaming under the afternoon sun.

And suddenly, it all clicked.

He intended to kill them all.

Whispers broke out in the crowd, a mix of shock and pleasure, darkness and light.

"Tamlin." Leur tugged at my arm, as if I could do anything.

I couldn't move.

This was a side of my father that had always been hidden from her, this cruelty, this hatred for humans. But me? I knew what this was.

I knew that if I moved, if I showed any ounce of sympathy or remorse, my father would beat me until I couldn't walk.

I knew not to flinch, not to cry, not to speak.

But Leur?

Of course, she was no stranger to cruelty. A female raised in the Night Court would know it like the back of her hand, even if they didn't have the life that Leur did. But this was something else. This was something far more egregious than anything the Hewn City and its horrors could concoct. That was monsters ripping one another to shreds, blood fueds and rage, a norm.

This was the senseless murder of innocents. Some twisted form of revenge.

"Citizens of my court, and my valued allies-" My father began, his voice a cool mask of diplomacy, "I present to you the murderers that took my son's life."

On their knees before him, the humans quivered, their faces etched with terror. Tears streaked down their dirt-smudged cheeks, their muffled cries barely audible through the gags in their mouths. One of them, a boy who couldn't have been much older than Leur or me, trembled so violently that the chains around his wrists rattled.

Clove just kept looking at Leur. 

My mother’s sobs grew louder, but I’d grown so used to the sound that I barely heard it anymore. 

Leur's hand tightened in mine, her grip like a lifeline, and I could feel her trembling. Her breaths came quick and shallow, her eyes wide and brimming with something I couldn't quite place- fear, anger, desperation. A mix of all three.

She was begging me to do something, anything, and all I could do was stare.

It was unsurprising that Leur's mother had been the first to speak up.

“Florian, you cannot be serious.” Hashna’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding, those Illyrian wings held tight to her back, “This is madness, not justice.” 

My father didn't even glance at her. "This is my court," he said coldly, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. "And my justice. You’ll do well to keep your mouth shut, woman.”

Altair didn’t say anything. Not a single word. All he did was step forward and place a hand on Hashna’s shoulder, venomous violet eyes trained on my father. 

And that tiny simple movement was enough for my father to take a step back. Closer to the humans, his voice somehow commanding and weak at the same time, “You have no say here.” 

“True.” The High Lord of Night nodded, pale skin nearly translucent in the sunlight, “But tell me- what crime did these slaves commit, Florian? We all know the humans who tended to that morvain flower are long dead.”

"Their kind killed my son!" My father's voice cracked, a fissure in the mask of control he wore.

"You sadists, of all people, dare to call me-"

"Your grief blinds you," Hashna interrupted, her tone softer but no less firm. "Your pain clouds your judgment. Killing these people will not bring your son back."

"They deserve this," Navin spat, his voice sharp and filled with venom. He stepped forward, his face twisted in disgust. "They're filth. They're nothing. Who are you to defy the High Lord of the court in which you stand, mongrel?"

Everything went silent. Nothing but a distant ringing sound, like a warning bell. And all of a sudden, Navin couldn’t speak anymore. 

He could only gape, shaking and held in place, eyes wide as he realized his mistake. 

Altair was standing before him with glowing violet eyes, my brother’s mind in the palm of his hand, his cheeks flushed with rage, “How dare you-” 

“Enough!” 

The voice that interrupted them was small. High pitched. Melodic. 

I recognized it. Of course I did. I’d just assumed it was impossible, that she’d never be so foolish as to get in the middle of this argument. 

But there Leur was, shoving her way between her father and Navin, cheeks flushed with adrenaline. 

“All of you, stop this!” she demanded, voice trembling but strong. “Vern wouldn’t want this.” 

Of course, she was the only one to remember what we were all truly gathered here for. The only one who saw the bastardization of my brother’s memory, happening right in front of her eyes. 

Shockingly, Altair took a step back from Navin and released him- if only to grab Leur and plant her at his side. 

My father turned his cold gaze on her, and for the first time, I saw it land fully on Leur- not the vision of this perfect daughter  he had created in his mind, but the true daughter of the Night Court, my future wife, the child who had never truly belonged here.

"Stay out of this, Nymerin," he said, his tone a warning. "This is not your concern."

And Leur only lifted her head, that trademark defiance blazing in her eyes as she said, “It is my concern. It is the concern of everyone standing here, who does not want to watch you use Vern’s memory as an excuse for your own cruelty.” 

“Leur-” I whispered, my mouth barely even moving, “Stop.” 

But she didn’t stop. She just stood straighter and made a command of her own, “Let them go.” 

Everyone gathered held their breath. 

Waited to see if this child, this tiny girl, could truly stand up to a High Lord. 

Some in awe of her bravery, others waiting in fear, a few scowling- as if it was out of turn. And surely it was, surely whatever she was doing broke a million laws and customs, but Leur had never cared for rules much. 

"Enough," my father snarled, his voice like thunder. The air seemed to still, the world itself holding its breath as his gaze bore into her, “You will keep your mouth shut, girl. No one here gets to tell me how to mourn my son.” 

A dismissal, as curt and unaffected as a High Lord would be with one defiant child. 

Anyone else would have backed down. Anyone else would have run away screaming at the look in my father's eyes. In fact, some of the courtiers already had fled for the gates.

But not Leur.

No, she just cocked her head in the sort of way that demanded challenge, like a predator looking at prey. Her tiny feet planted in the ground, her shoulders squared as she lifted her eyes to meet the thunderstorm that was my father's.

"And you will not tell me to stay silent while you murder innocents," she said, her voice ringing out clear and unyielding. She let go of my hand and took a step forward, standing between him and the humans.

I wanted to pull her back, to stop her, to protect her. But I couldn't move, couldn't speak. My heart pounded in my chest, terror and awe colliding as I watched her.

The humans behind her seemed to shrink further into themselves, their eyes wide as they looked at her, as if she were some beacon of hope in this nightmare.

All except for Clove, who perhaps looked prouder than I’d ever seen her. 

My father's face darkened, his grip tightening on his sword. "You dare defy me?"

Leur didn't even flinch. "I dare to stand for what's right, for what Vern would have wanted. And this isn't it."

Navin moved then, stepping forward as if to grab her, to drag her away, but Altair's voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"Touch her," he said, his tone deadly, "and you'll answer to me."

My father's lips curled into a snarl, but before he could respond, a voice- low and smooth and filled with shadows- echoed through the air.

"Perhaps you should listen to her, Florian."

I knew that voice, so different than I’d ever heard it, but I would recognize it anywhere.

Every head turned toward the source, and there, stepping forward to Leur's side, was Rhysand. The future High Lord of the Night Court, unspent power glimmering in his hands, his expression amask of calm fury.

Behind him, two Illyrian warriors. Even in their youth, I knew that was precisely what stood before me.

Two flickering red stones on Cassian's hands, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched as he stared at my father.

And on the other side right behind Leur, his shadows curling around him like a second skin, was Azriel. His hazel eyes burned like embers, and his presence was a storm, dark and unrelenting.

They did not stand in front of Leur, they did not shield her.

No, they stood with her. As if she, tiny and fierce before them, was their leader, their voice .

They were all fully off the rails, defying every rule and custom set in place for us.

And not one of them cared.

“We won’t stand for this.” Rhys snarled at my father, “We will stop you.”

My father's lip curled into a snarl, his knuckles white as they gripped the sword. "How dare-”

“I think what my son means to say-” Altair cut in, stepping in front of both Rhysand and Leur, “Is that the Night Court will happily offer asylum to any human refugees from Spring.” 

My father just stared at him, unmoving. 

And Altair cocked his head and said, “Surely exile is a better option than slaughter. You get your vengeance-” 

“Justice.” My father attempted to correct. 

Altair just shot him a look, then kept going, “You get your vengeance, and there is no unnecessary bloodshed.” 

“Everyone knows the Night Court doesn’t keep slaves,” Navin snarked. “You probably just want the pleasure of killing them yourself.” 

Altair did not even look at him. 

He just pointed a finger and Navin flinched. But the High Lord of Night kept staring at my father, hardening from a practiced, smooth politician into the cruel beacon of death he truly was, “Control his mouth before I rip away his ability to speak. Permanently. ” 

“Stay out of this, Navin.” My father commanded, “This is not your battle.”

My brother shut his mouth immediately. 

He knew the punishment that would come if he didn’t. Just as I did. 

My father turned back to Altair, raising a brow, “And if I don’t accept your terms?” 

“I’m merely offering a… safer alternative.” His dark opposite answered, “Word of this will travel.” 

Dawn. 

Altair was saying that this might be enough for Dawn to do what they’d been threatening all these years, starting a war for the liberation of the slaves. 

And everyone knew that the Night Court would choose the Solar Alliance in that war… which meant that they’d be marching on us too. 

“Let them know.” My father spat, “Let every human worm in Prythian know how much the Spring Court values their pathetic, short lives. Let the fae who debase themselves to protect them know where we stand.” 

Leur moved, as if to say something, but Cassian reached out- a large hand flickering with ruby power pulling her back, a near imperceptible shake of his head. 

“You are letting grief speak.” Altair shook his head, “A poison thorn does not kill the whole garden unless you let it.” 

“Please, Florian.” Leur wormed her way out of her brother’s grip to step forward, tears welling in her eyes, “Please, don’t do this.” 

For a moment, he just stared at her. In a strange sort of way, almost as if he did not recognize her anymore. Didn’t know who it really was that was standing there, even with the crown he’d given her glittering on her head. 

“You’re attached to that… thing.” He whispered, almost to himself, glancing between Clove and Leur, “You’re protecting it.” 

“Florian.” Altair growled, another step forward, “ Don’t. ” 

It was already too late. 

Everything in the world slowed down. The guards drew their swords. And then Leur was moving, screaming, trying to lunge for Clove. 

And at the last second, right before she could dive in front of her handmaiden, Rhys caught her. Or maybe his magic did. I didn’t know. 

I didn’t see. 

All I saw was the gleam of my father’s sword as he lifted it high in the air, casting a shadow on Vern’s casket. 

“NO!” Leur screamed, violet shadows thrashing and seething, “No! Please!” 

It was too late. 

Clove didn’t scream. 

There was just one singular tear that fell down her cheek as she stared at Leur. As if in apology for a crime she did not commit. 

And in the next moment, with a swing of my father’s golden sword and a spray of blood, her head toppled to the ground. 

The world seemed to break open at that moment, as if I was watching the collapse of my entire life in slow motion, watching everything I had known crumble into dust and blow away with the wind.

But Altair didn't flinch. His hand shot out, catching my father's wrist before the blade could strike again. The clash of power, lights versus darkness, reverberated through the field. Made the air go sour and the ground shake. 

My father's gaze burned with hatred, and finally- so did Altair’s as he said, "You'll bring war to your doorstep with this," voice like the low rumble of a storm. "You'll burn everything you've built to the ground."

"Then so be it," my father snarled back, yanking his arm free.

For a moment, they just stared at one another. 

Leur kept screaming, trying to fight against Rhys’s hold as Cassian and Azriel shifted from behind them to in front of them. 

I never even moved an inch. 

Everyone standing here, all the people that had gathered to see Vern be returned to the earth, held their breath. 

And finally, the darkness around Altair slipped from a deep plum into black, and the tension snapped like a string. But instead of retaliating, instead of stopping this, the High Lord of Night just took a step back, balled his hands into fists and said, “Then you’ve made your choice.” 

“No.” Leur’s voice broke through, sobbing, “No. Father, please-” 

"Keep her quiet, Rhysand." Altair's dismissal was flippant, cold, as if he couldn't bear to hear her cries. His back was already turned to the humans, to the bloodshed that was moments away.

"No!" The word ripped from Leur's throat like a physical wound, raw and jagged. Somehow, she wrangled out of Rhys’s grip and broke into a sprint. Charging towards the humans in a blur of violet shadow. 

It was Cassian who moved, faster than thought, faster than any eye could follow. He caught her mid-stride, her arms flailing, screams splitting the air in two. With a practiced ease, he spun her and crushed her to his chest, clamping a siphon-topped hand over her eyes. 

“NO!” she screamed again, voice cracking as my father’s blade lifted, “No! Stop this! STOP IT!” 

No one listened. The humans knelt, silent and resigned to their fate, eyes wide with terror as they stared up at my father. 

“Rhys! Rhys, please! Make it stop!” 

There was the clean, whooshing slice of a blade cutting through the air. A strangled scream. 

Blood. 

The scent of roses. 

I kept my eyes ahead, kept my face still and impassive, kept myself steady as a tree.

I said nothing. I did nothing.

I pretended I didn't see the crimson red splatter across Vern's casket, the stark contrast against the pale wood and flowers, staining his memory before he’d even made it in the ground. I pretended I didn't hear the terrified cries of the remaining slaves kneeling before my father, each plea cut short with brutal finality. I pretended I didn't see their bodies slump one by one into the growing pool of blood that seeped into the earth.

I pretended I didn't see Rhys clamp a hand over Leur's mouth as Cassian handed her back to him, muffling her sobs as he pulled her against his chest. His arms caged her trembling form, his face a mask of fury and sorrow as he whispered something in her ear- words meant only for her.

I pretended I didn't see the shadows. Those swirling, writhing things that wrapped around her small frame, blocking her view of the carnage, muting the sound of death. They coiled around her protectively, like living barriers, shielding her from a world she couldn't stop but didn't deserve to see. Not just that familiar lavender, no, but black too. 

The black wasn’t hers. I knew that. It was… his.

And I pretended I didn't see her hands claw at Rhys's chest, her desperate, tear-streaked face buried in his tunic as her body heaved with silent screams.

This was my father.

This was my life.

I couldn’t change it.

And no matter how much it shattered me inside, I knew the consequences if I dared to defy him. If I so much as flinched, he would see it. He would notice.

So I didn't.

I stood there, silent and still, watching as the blood soaked into the ground and life drained from innocent eyes. I watched as my father wielded his blade with vengeance, his fury striking again and again, unwavering in its purpose.

And I told myself- forced myself- to believe that there was nothing I could do. Nothing anyone could do.

When it was over- when nothing but silence and broken forms lay before him- my father turned. His steps slow, methodical, as if savoring the devastation he'd wrought.

Without a word, he took the wilting rose from my mother's trembling hands. The delicate bloom, once so pale and fragile, trembled in his grasp.

And then, as if it were a final, calculated act of cruelty, he dipped it into the blood pooling beneath his feet, staining its dying petals deep red.

The sight of it burned into my mind, more vivid and horrifying than anything else I had witnessed.

A rose no longer white with mourning, but dripping with the lives it had stolen.

He raised it high, his voice cold and resolute. As if he meant to carve this moment into history when he said, “Let them know.” 

I wanted to scream, watching that bloody rose be placed atop Vern's casket. I wanted to rip this entire court, every flower, every vine of ivy, every root that tied me to this land, to shreds. I wanted it all to burn, to crumble into ash and nothingness.

But I couldn't.

Because all I could see- all I could feel- was that shadowsinger staring at me. 

Not with hatred. Not with rage. 

Just… disgust. 

Like he was asking how I’d stood still and let it happen. 

How I’d just dropped Leur’s hand and froze... 

Even I didn't know. 

And now there were fifty chained corpses, laying here at my feet. 

I knew every single one of their names. 

Halen, the seamstress. 

Strin, the cook. 

Clove, the handmaiden.

I don’t remember what happened after.

Maybe someone said a prayer. Maybe someone finished burying Vern. 

Maybe the flowers wilted faster than usual.

All I remember is the sound of her crying. 

And the scent of roses. 

Chapter Text

Present

Prythian- House of Wind, Velaris, Night Court

Feyre 

When we winnowed back to the House of Wind, Rhys’s boots had barely even hit the ground before Azriel had him pinned against the wall. 

And only word I had for the way the shadowsinger looked looked was undone.  

Wholly and entirely undone. 

Red cheeks. Bloodshot, dark eyes. Tears that hadn’t fully dried. Blue light flickering in his siphons like a dying flame. Hands that were shaking as they locked around my mate’s throat. 

I moved before I even really thought about it, lunging for them when Amren- who I hadn’t even noticed was in the room- put a hand on my arm. She stopped me in my tracks with a sharp look, perhaps more dire than I’d ever seen her, “I’d stay out of the middle of that, High Lady.” 

“Az- what the fuck?” Rhys groaned, barely even trying to get out of the shadowsinger's grip. 

And Azriel was shaking so hard that the entire world seemed to follow, his voice so dark that even the sun hid behind the clouds, “She’s dying.” 

Rhys’s eyes flicked up, “What?” 

His spymaster just squeezed his throat harder, “She’s. Dying. And if you don’t let me leave this fucking house, I’ll make sure you follow her.” 

Everything in my body screamed, instincts roaring in me to stop this, to save Rhys but- 

“Don’t do this, Azriel.” Rhys kept his voice calm, even as his lips turned blue, “Hurting me won’t save her.” 

I honestly expected that to work. 

But it didn’t.

Azriel, despite being an understandable wreck, was still reasonable. Scarily intelligent enough to wait Rhys out. 

It seemed he was done waiting. 

Because a dark, cold smirk spread on his face, like some beast that had been hiding under our noses the entire time, now catching the scent of blood. 

“Tell me, does a mental block remain if its maker dies ?” 

“Alright.” Amren stepped in then, shoving her small form between them, “That’s enough.”

Azriel let go of Rhys, but his eyes never left my mate’s. Even as he backed off. There was a promise in that stare- a threat laced into every breath.

And Rhys-

Rhys had just… taken the hit. 

I could feel his power rippling under his skin, the strength in every muscle, the well of darkness that endlessly stretched within him- but he hadn’t even tried to fight back.

I somehow found the courage to step forward, squaring my shoulders, “No one is killing anyone, Azriel. How about we all just sit down and you can explain what’s going on?” 

It was then that Nesta, of all people in the world, chose that exact moment to walk in- casual and calm as ever, as if she hadn’t just walked into a battlefield. A silver silk dress with long, elegant sleeves and a stack of ancient papers and books in her hands, that signature scowl carved onto her face like it was set in stone. She didn’t say anything, just set whatever she was carrying down on the table, took a seat, and crossed her legs.

“Now is really not the time, Nesta.” I said, already moving. 

“I asked her for help.” 

I froze. 

Rhys spoke before I could, spinning on Azriel like he’d caught fire, “You what?” 

“You saw the same thing I did when she came out of the Cauldron.” The shadowsinger answered, “She has power. And, more importantly, rage.” 

“And I’m pretty sure I give more of a shit about your sister than you do.” Nesta added, that usual demeaning bite in her tone as she narrowed her eyes at Rhys, “Which is odd, considering I’ve never even met her.” 

Just as most of Nesta’s words did, that jab wormed its way under Rhys’s skin and started wreaking havoc. I could feel it catching everything on fire, until it was some horrible mess of pain and grief and anger. 

And yet, Rhys’s voice remained restrained. He cocked his head at my sister and said, “You confuse volume with value. You’re young, Nesta. Untrained. And angry enough to think that’s the same as giving a shit.” 

I knew it was coming, but it still made the room go silent when Nesta sat up a bit straighter, tilting her head as she said, “My sister is four years younger than me, and you just made her the High Lady of your Court. If I’m so young and naive, what does that make her?” 

Outside, the wind howled. There was a thunderstorm on the horizon, brewing somewhere over the sea in the distance. But in this room- it was completely silent. 

No one had an argument for that- at least, not one that didn’t fall apart after a few moments of logical thought. 

And Azriel, who I’d believed to thrive in quiet, was the one who broke the silence. 

“I sent my shadows to find her.” 

Rhys finally tore his gaze away from Nesta, clearly giving up on that argument to look at Azriel again, “What the hell is wrong with you? Do you have any idea the risk-” 

“I know where she is and I know how to get in.” Azriel cut him off, standing up straighter, his voice going even, “And the Cauldron is not an issue.” 

I returned to my mate’s side, slipping my hand in his, “How is that possible?” 

“Does it matter?” Azriel countered, “It’s refusing to answer the King’s commands. We have the perfect window to-” 

Rhys raised a hand, cutting him off, “How do you know all this?” 

Azriel just gave him the most unimpressed, annoyed look I’d ever seen on another person’s face, his voice as dry as a desert, “I don’t know, Rhys. It’s only what I was trained to do. What she was trained to do- in case you forgot.” 

I physically felt the floor drop out from under my mate’s feet. All of a sudden, the pain took over that inferno inside him. And I could hear the hesitancy, the weak, fragile hope buried in his voice when he asked, “You spoke to her?” 

Azriel nodded. 

Rhys let out a breath that felt more like choking than anything else.

“How is she?” I asked, my own voice shaking a bit.

Azriel didn’t answer, but Amren did, “Just about as bad as it can get.” 

My heart started hammering in my chest as I turned to her, “What do you mean?” 

Silver eyes glimmered like shattered glass in smoke, cutting me with every word, “I mean she’s being bled dry in a dungeon with more poison than blood left in her veins. Do you need me to draw a picture?”

“What poison?” Rhys demanded. 

Amren didn’t hesitate. She met his eyes and said one simple word. 

“Morvain.” 

Rhys went still.

My own heart stuttered, my brows furrowing. “What is that?”

“A lethal poison,” Amren said. “Unfathomably rare, and illegal in every Court for a reason. Even a drop in the bloodstream is a death sentence.”

She crossed her arms and added, with no real sympathy in her voice, “There’s no antidote. No healing it. No magical workaround. Once it spreads to the heart…” She clicked her tongue. “Done.”

“How long?” I asked.

Amren looked at Azriel, then back at me.

“Maybe a day. If she’s lucky.”

Rhys moved so fast I didn’t even see it- he was just suddenly across the room, hunched over on the balcony with his fingers gripping the stone railing so hard that it started to crumble. His head bowed, hair falling over his brow like a veil.

Then- his power surged.

The chandelier above us flickered. Shadows rippled like smoke from his back. And when he looked up, when he finally turned back to us- his violet eyes were nearly black.

Even I felt a shiver of fear ripple up my spine. 

But my sister, apparently, couldn’t have cared less. 

She just sat back in her seat, picking up some scrap of parchment in front of her and skimming it. She didn’t even look up when she said, “Still content to mope around and waste time looking at magical ponds in the woods?”

Rhys turned toward her slowly. “Where is she?”

Nesta set her parchment down on the table and wordlessly slid it towards him. And Rhys picked it up, scanned over it and whispered, “What the hell is this?”

“A second palace.” Amren answered, “Where Leur was during the war.”

Rhys’s fingers gripped the paper tighter.

“Draemir,” he murmured. “This is… her handwriting.”

“We need to get in contact with Dawn.” Amren said, “We’ll need an experienced healer if we have any shot at saving her.” 

“Florian’s theory.” Rhys said, inexplicably, still staring at that paper, “You think their magic can counteract morvain?” 

“It’s our only option.” Amren said, leaning back in her chair, “Unless you feel like having another funeral.” 

My mate let out a sigh, looking over at her with exhaustion practically seared into his skin like a brand, “Amren.” 

“Just because you don’t want to hear something doesn’t make it untrue, boy.” She shrugged, toying with her necklace, “At least you’ll save money on the tomb. You can just take the fake body out and shove the new one in.” 

My jaw actually dropped open. 

Even Nesta seemed surprised at that- eyebrows lifted, like she couldn’t decide whether to be impressed or horrified.

Azriel didn’t even blink.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Rhys shook his head, “Do you think this is a joke?” 

“Do you?” She tilted her head, “What was it that your father used to say? Wait long enough for something and there won’t be anything to wait for anymore?” 

“Do not bring him up right now.” Rhys spat. 

“Traitorous, evil murderer- sure.” Amren shrugged, “But a smart man, and one you should have listened to from the beginning.” 

“Enough.” Rhys snapped. 

“No. Not enough.” Amren stood from her chair, “I’m just getting started.” 

Rhys looked like he was about to lose it- magic leaking off his skin in ripples of shadow and something worse- like fire made of darkness.

But Nesta spoke before he could.

“We’re wasting time.” She said, “You can argue later.”

“I still don’t know why you’re even here.” Rhys snapped at her. 

Once again, my sister didn’t miss a beat, “I’d like to ask you the same question. If you aren’t going to do something yourself, the least you could do is let someone braver try. ” 

I jumped in then, taking a step forward, “This isn’t about bravery, Nesta.” 

“Isn’t it?” She cocked her head, “If it’s not cowardice holding you back, what is? You have all the information you could possibly want and you’re still standing there.” 

Rhys’s jaw locked.

Azriel finally moved. Just a step. But the pressure in the room snapped like a bowstring.

“Just let me go.” 

Rhys didn’t move an inch. 

And Azriel’s voice went softer, just the slightest bit warmer. Less threat, more plea. I realized only now, staring straight at him, that he had far less shadows than usual. 

He’d left them with her. 

“I have been loyal to you my entire life. Since the moment your mother took me in, and in every single moment afterwards.” He said, “When we thought Tamlin killed her, I let him go because you asked me to. I tried to move on, because you asked me to. I kept living for no reason, all this time, because you asked me to.” 

Something in me cracked at the same moment Azriel’s voice did. 

“I am begging you , Rhys. I’ll get down on my knees, if that’s what you want. Just please-” He cut himself off, tears welling in his eyes, “ Please don’t make me sit here and feel her die.” 

And Rhys- 

Rhys was a hard wall. All that emotion in him, everything I could feel, it was locked up. Hidden away in some dark, shadowed corner, sobbing while he remained completely still on the outside. 

“It could be an illusion.” He shook his head, “A trap. A lie. Any number of things, really.” 

Amren’s head fell in her hands. 

“I can’t.” Rhys said, “I can’t send you on a suicide mission. We can’t lose you.” 

For once, it didn’t feel like the right call.

When Azriel spoke again, it was barely even audible. 

“If she dies, I do too.” He said, “Where she goes, I go. Even if it’s beyond this life.” 

“Azriel, please-” 

He just took a step forward, pointed a finger, and said, “But this is your decision. Your blame. If her heart stops beating, I will make it my life's fucking mission to make sure yours does too before I follow her.”

Rhys opened his mouth to answer, but it was already too late. 

Azriel had already vanished in a rush of dark, cold magic. 

I just blinked over at my mate, “Did he just threaten to kill you?” 

Rhys slumped down into a chair as if his knees were kicked out. He was still soaking wet from the pool of starlight. Had been the entire time. 

And all he said was, “Twice, actually.” 

✵✵✵✵✵✵✵

Hybern- Draemir, Western Coast

Tamlin

When Leur and I were little, we used to share everything. 

Sometimes, people would treat us as if we were twins. Which was odd, because we couldn’t have looked more different. 

Or been more different. 

Everyone always assumed I was the good one. Blonde and pure and from a world of sunshine and new life. 

And Leur, with her Illyrian traits and shadows twirling behind her, was something else. Not entirely good. Not entirely bad. A mystery wrapped in incomparable beauty. 

But none of it was true.

I was always just the more cowardly one. 

The one who held my tongue for the sake of peacekeeping and was too scared to be who I truly wanted to be. And Leur-

Leur was my opposite- just as they all expected her to be. Just not in the way they expected. 

Braver. Smarter. Stronger. 

And, quite frankly, she was always kinder than I was. A million times more so. 

Leur had an ability to make anyone feel comfortable anywhere. The kind of person who could make you laugh while you were bleeding out. 

What I hadn’t realized, truly, was how badly I needed that. Needed someone to pull me from the brink of spiraling out of control- not until she was dead. And all of a sudden, through no fault but my own, everyone else I loved was too. 

It happened again, when Amarantha came. A long, long spiral of horrific decisions.