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Chapter Text

A mistake. 

It had been a mistake. 

Those were his words, echoing in Elain's mind in the darkness of her bedroom.  It was not the rejection, she knew, that made her feel this uncomfortable burning sensation inside her chest.

When Grayesen had rejected her, it had been as if a chasm had been dug right where her heart was now beating at a different rhythm than she was normally used to. 

 The pain had subsided with time. Was there any wound that did not heal with it? 

However, deep inside, a small part of her still continued to hope, to dream of the life that had been ripped away from her.

 When she was alone in the darkness of her bedroom, she closed her eyes and imagined what could have been.

 She used her powers to try to glimpse a future where what she wished was still possible, but she had never been able to find it. 

From time to time she saw Graysen. Whether in the future, or in the present, she could not say. 

She hadn't spoken to anyone about what her abilities really were since the battle against Hybern, and she preferred it that way. She hid out of shame at the use she made of her power.

Watching Graysen caused her both pleasure and pain, and for months it had consumed her. While her sisters fought in the war, she had isolated herself, silent, without eating, mourning for what she had lost. But then, slowly, something had changed. And she did not care what Feyre said to her. It was not her 'mate' who had slowly begun to fill the black hole inside her chest and the gaps in her mind. 

And now he said it was a mistake. 

She should have expected it. Although her body had never really felt anything so right when his hands had grazed her, caressing her neck and wrapping around her hair. 

She stared at the dark ceiling of her bedroom, sighing. Part of her knew that if it hadn't been for that stupid connection with a male she didn't even know, Azriel wouldn't have hesitated to kiss her. For months now, since they had first met, when she was still human, she had never been able to take her eyes off him. Even when there was only room in her heart and in her future for Greysen, she couldn't help her thoughts from wandering around that winged male who had barged into their home. 

She understood, and would have understood even without Feyre's thousands of explanations, that the bond between mates was something extraordinarily rare and precious, and that if she had given him a chance, perhaps, she would have felt...

She didn't even want to think about it. 

Lucien didn't really know her, and she didn't know him. Although she felt a physical attraction to him, there was nothing else that drove her to approach him. And given the way he had collaborated with Tamlin to betray her family... The revulsion she felt at the mere memory of that day was strong enough to extinguish any kind of attraction that resurfaced from time to time. He didn't deserve her affection, and the fact that he seemed to demand it made her feel even worse. 

When the blood began to boil in her veins, as it often did when she thought of Lucien, she took a deep breath and turned her mind away from those thoughts. 

She could still feel the sensation of Azriel's fingers on her neck.

The glances they were secretly exchanging, the light touch of their fingers, the feeling of his eyes on her, of his shadows watching her when he seemed not to. All of this had rekindled in her sensations that she had only felt with Greysen before, in a body that now no longer belonged to her.

 And this new body was totally different from the previous one. Every sensation was amplified. Every single touch ricocheting through her nerves like a drummer in a church. 

She could not resist the temptation to brush her neck where she still felt the imprint of his fingers.

 She sighed at her own touch, as the usual feeling of tension began to grow inside her, uncontrollable.

 Her sisters had told her about what it felt like in this new body, how intense each sensation was. It only took Azriel the lightest touch for her to feel the excitement rise and flow through her underwear. 

What would happen once she brings someone into her bed, if his fingers alone were capable of making her feel so much?

She had only been with one person in her life. A human, when she herself was still human. Yet, more and more in the last few months, the curiosity of what it felt like in this new body was consuming her. 

Her hands descended from her neck, brushing gently over her collarbones, until they stopped at the level of her breasts. When she caressed them, she had to restrain from panting. In front of her, she imagined Azriel again, his neck bent towards her, their lips only one breath away from touching.

 Her hand slid lower, and when she slipped it under her panties, she was not surprised to find that she was already frighteningly wet. This body was too responsive.

 She grazed the apex of her sex, biting her lip to keep from making a noise, and then slipped two fingers inside herself, curving them to get the pressure she craved. She thought back to those hazel irises, that dark, intense gaze, and  when she closed her eyes she let her power flow freely. 

The images that flashed under her eyelids were one of the things that she was most ashamed of, but could not stop conjuring up.

 She saw Azriel kneeling before her. 

The first time she had had this vision, it had been during a dream. Or at least she thought she was asleep. She had woken up sweating and aroused. It was the first night in which she had not cried thinking about Greysen and the life she had lost, and in which she had discovered how overwhelming orgasms could be in this new body. Since then, it occurred to her that all she had to do was close her eyes and focus for these sorts of visions to appear behind her eyelids.

 She had not mentioned it to anyone, nor had she gone beyond that episode, embarrassed at herself for her use of her own powers. She felt like she was violating Azriel's privacy, yet she couldn't help but recall that scene whenever excitement pulsed between her legs. 

And so she lost herself in the depths of his eyes, in the veiled darkness visible within his pupils, staring down at him as he knelt before her. 

"Lie down on the bed," his voice ordered. 

She obeyed. 

Remaining on her knees, Azriel stroked her leg, up to the hem of her nightgown at the apex of her thighs.

 She never recognized the bedroom they were in, and she was glad for it. If it had been here, in this house, she would have never been able to sleep again.

His lips deposited a series of kisses along her leg,  slowly moving up from her calf to her thigh, caressing and savoring every inch of her exposed skin, until she was panting with impatience. 

"Azriel, please."

Although she had seen this same scene more times than she would ever admit to a living soul, she still felt her cheeks blush.

 But the embarrassment she felt was always short-lived: as soon as those words left her mouth, the gaze of the male at her feet seemed to blaze. The grip of his hands on her flesh tightened, a sight she would never tire of. 

Her own fingers, meanwhile, began to move faster, in and out of her.

Azriel's hands lifted her nightgown, exposing her underwear. 

 Her second hand, the one that was not inside her, began to move with circular movements at the exact moment Azriel's lips came to rest on her sex in her vision. 

Despite the painful grip of her teeth on her lips, a sigh left her mouth before she could control it. Their previous encounter, that slightest physical contact with this new body, had aroused her to the point that she was already so close to coming. 

Her fingers began to move frantically, and she arched her back. 

The orgasm overwhelmed her, and jolts of pleasure raced through her body, causing her to curl her feet against the sheets as her walls contracted on her fingers. 

It took several seconds for those contractions to cease, and several minutes to allow the frantic beating of her heart to slow down. 

As soon as she calmed down, she felt something push inside her chest, like a thread tensing, pulling her towards something, inviting her to get more of this. 

She tried to shut that feeling down. 

She had almost forgotten that Lucien, her mate, no matter how meaningless those words were to her, was under her same roof at this very moment. 

Her heart, which was finally slowing down, started beating again. Could he hear her? Could he know what she had done, smell her? 

The thought made her shiver.

 She curled up on her side, dipping under the covers facing the window. The more she thought about it, the more she couldn't get this mating thing down. Why did magic, or the cauldron, or whoever, have to choose for her who was the right person? Why couldn't she decide that herself? 

She settled her hands under the cushions, ignoring the urge growing again between her legs, knowing damn well that it had risen from somewhere else within her, and fearing what would happen, and who she would think about, if she surrendered to it. 

She focused on the black sky outside her window, counting the stars until her eyelids collapsed, hoping to spot some blue lights up in the sky. 

Lucien hated this place. He could hardly say that he hated the people who lived here, nor that he had not received the best welcome one could wish for, bordering on the disgusting.

 However, he hated being here. Seeing these people, so at ease with each other and in this city, in this court, only reminded him of how he didn't belong anywhere. 

Not in the Autumn court, from which he had fled: the place where his life had been in more danger than ever. Not even in the Spring court: he had made a decision when he had helped Feyre escape. That decision had dragged him here, where perhaps he could have found some peace if only she would at least acknowledge his presence. 

And yet no, he had been forced to flee from this place too to be able to quell the ache in his chest that grew whenever she ignored him, whenever he saw her approach that man, seek his gaze in the room, smile at him. 

What a twist of fate was this? The first woman he ever loved had been brutally murdered by his own family. Then, when he thought the universe had granted him a new opportunity to love and be happy, an opportunity he had never even dared to think about, it fired back in his face in the most humiliating way ever. 

Perhaps it was the punishment he deserved, after all. For not helping a friend when she needed it, and betraying and abandoning another in one of his worst moments. 

He had retreated to his room at the first possible opportunity after the evening spent in her presence. Her scent had filled his nostrils, and his body had ignited. He had not been able to separate his eyes from her the entire evening, hoping that just for once she would meet his gaze for more than a fraction of a second. Yet she persisted in avoiding him. 

He was going to wait. He was a patient man, and it would be much longer before his patience ran out. Yet…

 He knew she needed time to get over her past, her love - just thinking about that word made him clench his teeth - for that human. He hoped that sooner or later it would happen, and in the meantime he would be here, making sure she noticed what united them, what they could be. 

At the mere thought, he could feel the blood turn to fire and sparks in his veins. It hadn't been easy being away from her all evening, seeing how she had purposely sat in the farthest possible place from him, the way she stiffened whenever his feet moved in her direction. How could she not feel what was between them? How could she not realize it? If only she would give him a chance to prove it to her.

He could wait. He swore to himself that he would. There was nothing else he could do. 

There was no female that was remotely comparable to her for him, no smell that came close to hers anymore. And now he couldn't get that smell out of his nostrils: he knew it would linger there as long as they were under the same roof. Perhaps in the same city. 

He looked out the window at the lights of Velaris. One day, he had promised Feyre and Rhys. One day only, to clarify with the latter his dealings with Jurian and Vassa and the situation in the human lands, and then he would return. Feyre must have read the pain in his eyes this time, because she had not insisted any longer. 

He thought again of Rhys. 

He had waited for her. Even though he knew she was his mate, he had been ready to give her up, knowing she was about to become Tamlin's wife. How he had managed to keep his sanity knowing she was sharing another's man bed was beyond his comprehension. 

Just the thought of Elain…

His hands, clenched into fists along his sides, turned red, the flames on the verge of bursting out. He pushed those thoughts away, taking a series of deep breaths. He was stronger than that. Rhys, and even Cassian, had been patient, had fought when necessary and given their mates their space if they needed it. He was going to do the same. 

He wanted to show Elaine what he could be to her, though. He could understand her, venerate her, love her, if she just gave him the smallest change. 

Then maybe he would finally feel part of something. 

He crawled into his bed, hoping that the alcohol in his body and the fact that he had spent the previous night sleepless would succeed in plunging him into a dreamless oblivion, distancing his mind from the thought that she was here, only a few walls away from him. 

What would happen if they were left alone? Part of himself knew he would never hurt her, but another, a deeper one, feared his body's reactions, his own instincts, in her presence. 

He feared he could frighten her. 

Luckily, oblivion overtook him fast, but when he opened his eyes again, he discovered to his dismay that the sky was still dark outside. 

The house was immersed in silence, the celebrations were over.  It didn't take him long to recognize what had woken him up. 

The smell... that smell. 

Without him having any control over it, his body reacted. He sprang to his feet from the bed, throwing open the window. 

 This had happened already, months ago, when he had been under her same roof. 

The walls of distance between them couldn't avoid him the pain of smelling her arousal. 

He leaned out of the window, letting the cold winter air freeze his face and run over his bare skin. The arousal between his legs, however, showed no sign of abating, and his muscles began to tremble. 

A small part of himself, to which he tried not to give voice, knew what she was doing right now in the darkness of her room, and he also knew that it was not him she was thinking of.

 His hands clenched against the edge of the window.

 A gust of cold air tousled his hair.

 Breathing in at the top of his lungs, he pulled on a pair of trousers and a shirt and walked outside, holding his breath until he was in the main room downstairs, where they had been celebrating, and then on the small balcony outside it. 

Once outside, he finally allowed himself to breathe again, leaning back against the railing. 

He let the air cool his blood down, contemplating the city lights below him. 

He watched and breathed, not realising how much time passed. He didn't dare to go back upstairs, to feel that smell again. This feeling inside him... it was a curse and a blessing at the same time. He wanted to scream, cry and smash a wall, or jump off this balcony and crash into the very lights of the city. 

"The longest night of the year"

He turned around. 

Rhysand was behind him, leaning against the french window of the balcony, his hands in his pockets. His violet eyes squared him from top to bottom. 

He did not answer, keeping his body against the railing in a position that hid the unpleasant erection between his trousers. 

"Yet many of us cannot sleep," continued the high lord, joining him. 

"I fail to see how this is any of your business" he blurted, in a more acid tone than he would have liked. It didn't matter; he was good enough at reading people to know that it was no coincidence that Rhys had joined him out here. If he was here, there was something specific he wanted to tell him now that no one could hear them. 

A bitter smile tinged his lips. "What takes your sleep away, Rhysand?"

"My court. My people. The increasingly precarious peace of these lands."

Lucien snorted. "Your lands are safe. As are all your people."

"For now." 

"What do you want?" he continued, sighing. The icy air slipped under his shirt, running against every inch of his skin. The sky was darker than ever, despite the fact that only a few hours now separated them from dawn. 

"I just wanted to know how are you feeling" 

For a moment, for just a moment, he seemed to catch some sincerity in his words. He knew that Rhys had been watching him and Elain all night, and he also knew that he was the only person who could understand his feelings right now. 

"How am I supposed to feel? She won't even deign to look at me. She'll probably reject me and refuse the bond," he turned to him, his mechanical eye squaring Rhys's figure from head to toe, giving him a detailed account of his posture, the look in his eyes, the facial micro-expressions that not even the most powerful high lord could control. "And who knows, if I go mad maybe my father will finally like me."

Rhys lowered his gaze and swallowed. 

"I'm not going to pretend I haven't noticed the way your shadowsinger looks at her," he then added, returning to stare at the city but not losing sight of him out of the corner of his eye. 

Rhys's voice grew lower. "Azriel has nothing to do with this. If she rejects you, it will be solely and exclusively her choice." 

His muscles tensed, but he clutched the thick stone railing to keep from starting to tremble. 

He knew Rhysand was right, and yet...

"Maybe if he wasn't always around her, I could be there to comfort her. To help her heal." 

"Azriel is her friend. As am I." The corners of Rhys's mouth curved downwards. 

"You don't believe that either, Rhysand" 

Rhys took a step towards him. "I know what it feels like, Lucien. I stayed watching, and I had less chances than you have now." 

"Of course." 

"The only thing I cared about was Feyre's happiness."

"And you think I don't want the same for Elain? Why do you think I still tolerate him being so close to her?" 

Rhys stiffened his shoulders. "Azriel lives in this court. And you could, too, if you only wanted to." 

"I-"

"It is your choice, Lucien, whether to fight or not, and also how you do it. But you cannot expect others to stand aside. I wouldn't have expected it from Tamlin." 

Something clicked inside his blood. He turned so that he was looking Rhys in the face. "She should be mine. She is mine." 

Saying those last words made something roar from the very heart of his magic. 

Rhys smiled at his outburst, squaring him from head to toe. "You are a good ally, Lucien. You have helped my mate and this court on several occasions. But if you even remotely try to harm Elain, or just annoy her..."

"What are you going to do, blow me off? As if I haven't noticed his shadows already following my every move."

At that information even Rhys looked surprised. 

"So I have to imagine he's not doing on your order" that instinct churned in his chest, the purest anger he'd ever felt. "He does it for her. To control her." 

"He just wants her to be safe." 

"I want her to be safe. He has no demands."

"Until she accepts the bond, Lucien," Rhys urged him, surprisingly calm despite his outburst, "you don't have either. I don't care if she's your mate. Elain remains a free woman. And as such, as a citizen of Velaris and as a member of my family, we will not hesitate to defend her." 

We 

Those words reverberated in his mind after Rhys left, until the first light of morning began to peep over the mountains, and the cold had now penetrated so deep into his flesh that even the fire in his blood had chilled. 

As if he were the villain. As if he was the one whose hands were stained with blood, whose hands did not even deserve to touch her. He was her mate. The cauldron had chosen him, no one would ever be fairer to her than him. 

And he would prove it to her. 

He had time. 

The next morning, from the smell that wafted through the corridor and then downstairs, he could tell that she had woken up early. She was probably outside, tending her garden. Last year he had given her gloves, which he had never seen her use. This year, however, he had chosen for her seeds of the most distinctive and beautiful flowers he had managed to find at the spring court. He had specially contacted Alis to help him retrieving the seeds from the gardeners who had once worked in Tamlin's palace. 

He stared at the kitchen clock as he served himself a cup of coffee, trying to ignore the looks Nuala and Cerridwen were giving him. To most of the people they would have gone unnoticed, but despite knowing that Rhys and his shadowsinger had eyes and ears constantly on him, he also had his mechanical eye to allow him to see what normal eyes escaped. 

The clock suggested it was still early for his meeting with Rhys, and the whole house was immersed in silence. Everyone was still recovering from the previous evening's drink and would probably sleep until the afternoon. 

But he knew that this would not be the case with Elain. She loved the sunlight and her gardens too much to lose the best part of the day indoors in her bedroom. 

He put on one of his best shirts, leaving his hair down, as his mistresses had always suggested it looked best on him, and walked towards the garden. He promised himself it would only be a walk. If he ever saw her, he would observe her from a distance, and would not approach her unless it was clear that she wanted him to. 

He strolled for a long time, enjoying the fact that the scent of the flowers masked her smell, striving not to look for it among those fragrances. It was only when a slight gust of wind whipped it overwhelmingly against his nostrils that he turned in that direction, to his left, finding her carrying a sack of soil apparently as large and heavy as she was. 

He approached, taking great strides against the instinct that suggested he should run instead. 

She sensed his presence, but lifted her gaze without a word. 

He stretched out his arms towards the large sack she held. "Let me help you."

"I can manage," she replied, her words so cold that he had to lower his gaze from those doe eyes, staring at his shoes. 

Lucien swallowed. "It seems heavy," he went on, his arms rigidly fixed along his sides. 

"This new body of mine is far stronger than the previous one. I can manage, but..."

At her hesitation, he lifted his gaze. Those were more words than she had ever spoken to him. He was ready to kneel at her feet only to beg her to finish the sentence. 

"If you want to save me a trip, could you take that one?" She lifted her shoulders, turning her pink neck towards another of those big soil bags a few feet back. 

It was the first time she had addressed him directly by asking for something, and his instincts ignited. She could very well have asked him to go to the ends of the world and collect the soil with his bare hands, and he would have done it.

"Sure," he merely said, grabbing the sack and following her with it in his arms to the opposite end of the garden. 

When she stopped, depositing it on the ground, he did the same, holding his breath. 

"Thank you," her voice, now, was soft. 

He kept his gaze in her eyes. "It's nothing," he swallowed. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" 

He looked towards the flowerbed she was working on, noticing some of the seeds he had gifted her on the ground. She had accepted his gift at last. 

"No, thank you. I'm good now."

"All right," he said. He recognized that his moment with her was over. Insisting on staying would only make his situation worse. "I'll leave you to your work, Elain."

And without waiting for her reply, he turned and walked towards the entrance. 

If nothing else, she had spoken to him, and seemed to have accepted his gift. 

He just needed to be patient. 

And he would be. 

Chapter Text

Winning the traditional snowball fight this year had been easier than expected. His brothers were obviously drained from the night spent with their mates and had come down that morning happy and satisfied. Not like him, who needed that distraction to give vent to the energy and anger boiling in his veins, mixed with the desire for what little he had allowed himself to feel of her, not even the touch of her lips.

He was still angry at Rhys for the condescension with which he had treated him, for the way he had belittled the nature of his feelings for Elain. He knew his brother wanted to maintain the peace, but the way he had spoken to him, as if defending Lucien, made him furious. Rhys didn't understand: despite what his mother had been through, he still did not. He was blinded by his own happiness, and as happy as he was for him, he couldn't help being frustrated.

Last night he had almost hoped to be caught. Would Lucien be able to see them? Well, let him. He feared neither him, nor the blood duel. Nor even the consequences it might have for the precarious peace Rhys seemed to be clinging to. If the situation between courts ever came to a head, it would not be because of who he kissed - or more.

No, if there was a single reason that prevented him from provoking Lucien to the point of challenging him to a duel once and for all, it was Elain, and only the thought that it might somehow hurt her.

He had spent the night sleepless. After his meeting with Gwyn, and after leaving Elain's necklace with Clotho, he had flown around Velaris until the first light of dawn, letting the cold that caressed his wings clear his mind. He didn't trust himself to stay under her same roof.

Wasn't this need he felt, this instinct to be close to her, to have her, to taste her and hear her moan his name, comparable to what united his brothers to their mates? He had repeatedly heard them talk about their bonds, most often through his shadows, when they thought he was not listening.

There was something deeply wrong with everything that was going on. Three sisters. Three damn sisters. It couldn't have been a coincidence that no less than two of them were his brothers' mates while the third one....

"Calm those shadows, Az, or you'll suck the room into darkness."

Mor's sleepy voice brought him out of his thoughts. He looked around, retracting his shadows enough to be able to see her, standing before him with a cup of coffee in her hand.

"Good morning, by the way," she added.

"It's six o'clock in the evening."

"Whatever," she continued, sitting down at the kitchen table. "What's wrong?"

He didn't even try to hide his mood. "I have to meet up with Rhys."

"And you're in such a bad mood because?"

He did not reply, merely glancing at her. One of their many silent conversations. Mor, he realized, had begun to look him in the eye more often since his feelings for Elain had arisen. As if he didn't know, as if he hadn't always known...

He is here, whispered his shadows

Lucien came down the stairs into the main room. He met his gaze, that metallic eye scanning him from head to toe.

"Let's go," he said, walking towards Rhys's study without directing a further glance in his direction. Behind his back, he could hear Mor snorting.

Rhys was already waiting for them, his violet eyes as rigid and steady as they had been the night before, when he had ordered him to leave to a brothel. His siphons glowed at the memory. Rhys noticed it.

If you are unable to control yourself, I will hold the meeting with him alone

The light from his siphons went out. His brother nodded as Lucien took a seat at the desk opposite him. Azriel remained standing.

"Slept well?" asked Rhys, smiling falsely.

Even Lucien, at that, narrowed his eyes, but he didn't dare turn in his direction. Good. "Let's cut to the chase, Rhysand. What do you want to know?"

"How are things in the human lands?"

"Fine. Jurian and Graysen are helping with the reconstructions, and those who had taken refuge in his fortress seem to see him as a reference point. They hang on his every word."

"Jurian's?" asked Rhys, but Azriel had already guessed the answer.

"Graysen," Lucien said, in his voice the same testy anger that churned within his chest at the mortal who had rejected Elain.

Rhys inhaled. "And he...?"

"He doesn't respect any of us," the redhead continued, "but he oddly seems to be on good terms with Jurian."

"And what about his father?"

"He is old, and I think he is unwell too. Greysen is now running the estate. All the humans who took refuge with them are rebuilding nearby. He encourages them by claiming it is safer, recommending that they do not stray too far in case of a new attack from the north."

Rhys did not look happy. "Keep an eye on the situation. Do you think we can trust him?"

"He's just an idiot."

"Lucien," Rhys called back to him.

The redhead brought his hands to his temples. "Yes. As long as he doesn't proclaim himself king of those lands and declare war on us, I suppose we have nothing to worry about."

Rhys rolled his eyes, but Azriel smirked. If that scenario came to pass, he knew full well that the two of them would compete for the honor of taking the idiot down.

"Fine. Azriel, what do we know about human queens?" this time Rhys turned to him.

You can speak in his presence. He must know, he is closely connected to Vassa.

Not enough, he thought back.

"My spies currently have nothing new to report. Koschei is still with them, and Bryalin's disappearance was no great loss. As for the crown, it seems it was indeed destroyed. If it's still in their possession, then they're hiding it well."

"What about the spring court?"

"Practically no longer exists," Lucien replied dismissively, before Azriel could intervene. His lips curved into a smile the shadowsinger would have gladly wiped off his face with a fist. "But the high lord sends his congratulations."

Rhys ignored the jibe, turning to Azriel. "We need to make sure the other courts don't decide to invade that territory to get close to the human lands."

He nodded, nevertheless piercing his brother with his gaze. "One court," he said, "there is only one court we cannot trust."

"Yes. And it is your duty to keep me informed of what happens within it." Then he turned to Lucien. "I await your next report in a fortnight."

The fae nodded, rising from his chair. As he approached Azriel to reach the threshold, they exchanged a glance that electrified the air in the room. A red flame glowed in his healthy eye, but Azriel was certain that for him what was inside his own eyes was far more frightening.

"Stay here, Az," Rhys said once Lucien was out. "And close the door."

He did as he was ordered.

"You can't behave like this with him."

He did not reply.

"As high lord, I must maintain balance in and out of this court. Do you understand this?"

"It seems to me that the situation is quite stable. And if even that Graysen-" he pronounced that name with disgust, as if it burned his tongue- "was really plotting with the queens against us, do you think Lucien would ever have a clue? That human hates him and believes he took Elain away from him. And about the autumn court... none of them ever cared about Lucien anyway."

Rhys snapped to his feet. The squeal of the chair against the floor and the air shaken by his power stirring caused his shadows to start moving frantically.

Azriel did not waver, despite his shadows kept suggesting that he do so.

Rhys held the position for a few more seconds, then sighed, leaning his palms against the desk. "Even if Elain rejects the bond, he would still be her mate".

"So? He would have, as he has now, no claim on her."

"I know that," he shouted. "But I want you to be sure of the nature of your feelings before you drag her into something like this. If it's just lust, Az, I'm sure you have several mistresses waiting for you."

"Do you really think I could want that for her?" He too, this time, spoke angrily.

"What I believe," Rhys continued, his shoulders hunched as he sought his eyes. "Is that I have seen you running after Mor for five hundred years, Az. And now, just because you believe there is some strange prophecy-"

Azriel interrupted him. "It was different with Mor and you know it too. The cauldron can be wrong, and bonds between mates don't always work. Think of your mother."

Silence fell in the room, filled only by the strained breaths of both of them.

"What if your mate is out there somewhere? What if you are close to finding her? Would it really cost you so much to wait a little longer?"

"I'm not interested in a mate" he replied. "And don't start telling me what it feels like, and how it might be magic."

Rhys gave a resigned laugh, then ran a hand through his hair, tousling it. "If you could just wait."

"Spare me the lecture, Rhys."

Rhysand looked up. "I won't lecture you. As a brother, though, I ask you to make me a promise."

He remained silent, waiting for him to speak.

"Before you drag Elain into this, at least think about it. Please."

"Do you think that just because you and Cassian found a mate within a year of each other, then I'm going to find that too?"

"That's not what I mean," he sighed. "Just promise you'll think about it."

"Goodnight Rhys," he said, starting towards the door.

"Azriel," he called back to him, his voice strained. Not his brother's voice, but that of the High Lord.  "You saw how Elain was after Greysen rejected her."

"I would never hurt her."

"But if she refuses the bond, and something happens to Lucien..."

When he did not answer, starting towards the door again, Rhys spoke again. "My order remains unchanged, Az. You are to stay away from her. And close the door on your way out."

He complied with the last part, slamming the door as anger grew in his chest.

He winnowed away, breaking through the night sky, which now appeared a little darker than usual. His shadows stirred, whispering to him like his rage was taking its form through them. He was glad there were fewer stars than usual outside that night.

He let the cold and the darkness envelope him, that abyss the only place where he could finally find his peace.

Her hands were completely submerged in the dough, her arms aching from the effort as the smell of the biscuits in the oven, now baked to the point of burning, filled the room. She grabbed the handle, pulling out the boiling baking tray with her bare hands.

She placed it on the table, blowing on her burned skin as the wound began to heal.

Mor appeared in the doorway, grabbing one of the still-smoking biscuits.

"Hmm."

"How come you always appear when I've just baked?"

Mor shrugged, grabbing some milk from the fridge, two cups, and a saucepan to warm it up.

"Sweet dinner?" Elain asked, cleaning her hands on a towel.

Mor nodded. "You're the only one who understands me."

They sat down at the table together, dipping the hot biscuits into the warm milk, the dough she was working on abandoned beside her.

"So," Elaine began, scanning the eyes of the girl in front of her, the only fae she had known to have brown eyes like hers.  "How did it go?"

"Are you pretending not to know?"

"I don't use my power to spy on you, I hope you know that."

Mor grabbed another biscuit from the pan."I'm not completely convinced yet".

Elain opened her mouth, feigning indignation, but the corners of her lips bent into a smile anyway.

"How come you're alone today?" The blonde then asked her. "Where are Nuala and Cerridwen?"

She shrugged. "Maybe busy with some mission. They work for him, they don't tell me about their business."

"Why do I detect resentment in your words?"

Elain snapped on her feet. "Don't try to change the subject. We were talking about you."

"I'll grant you that," Mor raised her hands. "But don't think you'll be able to escape me for long". She then looked around "why don't we put all these biscuits on a plate and move the conversation to the couch?"

Elain smiled, doing as Mor suggested. Before finally moving to the more comfortable place, however, she replaced their cups of milk with hot chocolate.

"Have you managed to make her change her mind?" Elain then began once they had taken their places on the sofa in front of the fireplace.

"No. She still hopes to find a way to break her curse, but if she doesn't succeed her only option might be to go to Koshei."

"He would kill her. Or give her to the queens, and they would find even worse ways to torment her."

"That's what I'm trying to make her understand."

"Why didn't you stay there this evening?"

"They had business to attend to," Mor said, looking slightly unconvinced. "Jurian is trying to contain the situation in the humans' land."

Elain winced at those words. She knew with whom Jurian was interfacing. Mor read her expression.

"Elain," she said, grabbing her hand. "You read into me a secret I have kept for centuries, and you didn't even know me. Yet you are terrible when it comes to hiding your own reactions."

"I know," she sighed. Then she took a sip of her hot chocolate, the sweetness running down her throat was like a caress on her still wounded heart. "Is Jurian working with him, with Graysen?"

"That's what I think, yes. But I don't know much about it. He only trusts Jurian and refuses to interact with Vassa and Lucien".

"Of course," she said, grabbing another biscuit, now lukewarm.

"Did you see him?"

She crossed Mor's eyes. Just as she had discovered, without her telling anything, the truth about the nature of her feelings, Mor seemed able to read her too.

And unlike everyone else, she felt that Mor understood her. She loved her sisters, more than anything else in the world, but she could not explain to them how she felt about that bond she had never chosen or asked for. It had been imposed on her by a world to which she had never belonged before. And even now, however, she felt that she did not fully belong.

"He was here. He gave me some seeds for my garden."

"How did you feel?"

She shook her head. "I don't feel it. I don't feel what my sisters describe."

"For Nesta and Cass it took a while, though."

"But Cassian had known all along, hadn't he?" she asked, voicing for the first time a suspicion she had always had, and yet had never given weight to. "But unlike Lucien, he never said it out loud. He never said it to her"

She wondered how it would have been if she had never known. If everyone but Lucien had known.

"And what about Azriel?"

Mor's voice was far too casual. Elain tried to hide the shiver that ran along her skin at the mere thought of his face, at how close she had been to his lips last night.

She shrugged. "The cauldron has decided that I belong to someone else, and no one seems to care about what I want. Especially him."

"I hate these things," whispered Mor, licking some of the chocolate off her lips.

"Others seem to have done well though."

"That's not always the case," Mor assured her. "They were lucky. But hey," she squeezed her hand. "Don't let anyone tell you where you belong. You are a free woman, Elain, never forget that."

"I won't."

"This thing is stupid, you know," Mor spoke without looking at her, staring at her cup, "because it is believed that this magic only works for reproductive purposes, and selects people who can give birth to the strongest offspring. Yet look how it ended up for Feyre and Rhys."

The blood froze in Elain's veins at the memory of that day.

"If it hadn't been for Nesta," she whispered, so softly that Mor probably didn't hear. She had told no one that, in those days, she had not been able to see her sister's future, nor Rhys' or the child's. There was nothing as she closed her eyes and concentrated, straining to find a scenario in which they could be saved.

"Yet think of me," Mor resumed, speaking louder. "I will never have a mate either. Or maybe my mate is out there. But I doubt that if I met him, I would feel anything more intense than what I felt with her. I feel how others describe it, this feeling, this urgency. I have felt it, Elain, but without any connection decided by cauldron or anyone else".

Those words caused her comfort and despondency at the same time. She did not want to think about that bond, about the consequences of accepting, or worse, rejecting it. Feyre had told her how, despite her rejection, he would always remain her mate. And no one seemed to want to tell her clearly what might happen if she refused. It was as if the subject was taboo.

So, for the time being, it went on like that. Ignoring the connection, ignoring him, as much as possible, in the hope that maybe, sooner or later, he would forget about her.

While she was lost in thought, Mor remained silent, also apparently immersed in her own businesses.

After a while, they shifted the conversation to more frivolous topics and continued to chat late into the night, until only crumbs remained of the baked biscuits and their hot chocolates turned cold.

She didn't realize how much time had passed when her eyelids began to grow heavy, and lulled by the warmth of the fireplace and her full belly, she fell asleep, half lying between Mor and the barrier of the sofa.

It was only a cold breeze along her legs, and the absence of the sound of crackling wood, that woke her long afterwards.

It must have been the middle of the night. The fire in the fireplace had gone out and Mor was no longer at her side. It took a few seconds for her pupils to focus on who was standing in front of her.

Azriel.

Although the room was bathed in darkness, his shadows had vanished.

She sat up hastily, mortified to notice the biscuit crumbs on her dress and on the sofa where Mor sat before she fell asleep. As her mind slowly drifted away from the fog of sleep, she couldn't help but ask, "Where is Mor?"

She saw the two cups resting against the small table and brought a hand to her face, embarrassed by the chocolate residue that was probably around her lips.

Azriel didn't move, those hazel eyes not parting from hers.

"I don't know. You were alone when I came in."

She took a deep breath. She had thought there was only her and Mor in the house that night. Given the way he had run away without returning the night before, she didn't think she would see him again so soon.

"I haven't prepared anything for dinner," she said, feeling stupid as those words left her mouth.

She felt nervous, and running to the kitchen right now seemed like the right course of action, at least long enough to clean herself of the remnants of the glycaemic coma she had for dinner.

"There are still some biscuits, though. Or I could make something if you're hungry. I haven't really had dinner either".

Azriel inhaled, and she saw something stir within his gaze. "You don't have to prepare anything for me."

Elain took a few seconds to fully grasp the meaning behind his words, which only annoyed her.

"Is that why you ran away last night?" she asked before she could reconsider, although a part of herself already felt she knew the answer to that question.

Azriel lowered his gaze from her eyes, as if just maintaining eye contact was too great of an effort. Because she belonged to someone else, according to all of them. They didn't miss the chance to remember her about that.

"I'm so tired of this," she stated, picking up the dirty cups from the table and walking towards the kitchen. Behind her, she could hear Azriel follow.

Not to think about the feeling of his eyes against her back, she started to wash the cups. She had to keep herself busy. What had happened the other night, or rather what had not happened, had changed something between them. A point of no return, beyond which they would have to face the unspoken truth between them. She was starting to fear that they had different opinions about it.

Azriel leaned against the door, apparently in no hurry or desire to converse.

But for her that silence was unnerving.

"When did you get back?"

"Not long before you woke up."

She looked towards the clock on the kitchen wall. It was past midnight. Could it be that Mor had gone to sleep without waking her? Or maybe something had happened and she had had to run away.

As if sensing her nervousness, Azriel moved closer, close enough so that she could see him out of the corner of her eye, though she did not look up from the cup that was now more than clean.

"You shouldn't spend the night outside your room alone," he said, his voice a whisper, but she could hear the seriousness of his words. "Not these days."

She continued to rub the bottom of the cup as the beats quickened in her chest. She found enough breath to whisper, "he would never hurt me."

"We cannot know that," growled Azriel through gritted teeth. His siphons glowed a deep blue.

"Rhys wouldn't allow him to be in this house if he thought for one second that I was in danger. Feyre wouldn't allow it."

"Magic can be unpredictable," he merely said, forcing her to drop her cup in the sink and look up at him.

She turned off the water, staring into his eyes. "Magic sucks".

Azriel took another step towards her. "Everyone thinks you should give magic a chance."

She tilted her neck. He was almost as close to her as he had been last night. "And what do you think?"

His eyes suddenly became darker, as if the shadows swirling around his feet were gathered within his eyelids. It seemed to her that he was leaning forward. She closed her eyes, as her heart hammered through her ribcage, expecting to finally feel the warmth of his lips against hers.

However, Azriel took a step back. The depth in his eyes was gone.

"I think you shouldn't fall asleep in the main hall when he is in town." It sounded as if he was scolding her. His expression glowered in anger, and the fact that it seemed directed at her stirred and unpleasant feeling deep in her stomach.

"He left this morning". A part of her, the one which had taken control, quivered with anguish for him to know it.

"Rhys offered him to stay in this court, in this house," he said, spitting out the words like they were poison. "He can come and go whenever he wants."

She paused. She knew that this was not her home and she only occupied one room of it. But unlike her sister, and all the others who were practically just passing through, she had never felt the need to move out. She loved her room, small and cozy, and this kitchen, and living with Nuala and Cerridwen, tending the garden during the day and cooking with them in the evening.

But… It wasn't her house. It belonged to Rhys, so Rhys was free to invite whoever he wanted here. She should have found her own place long ago.

"It's Rhys's place, he can do what he wants."

"So you're ok with it?" Az took another step back.

"I-" she gasped. " I'm not going to tell Rhys who to invite into his house" she lowered her gaze. "Maybe I should find my own place."

The siphons, which had continued to glow blue until that moment, went out. The tension in Azriel's shoulders lightened, and at that she felt a weight lift from her chest too. Nevertheless, he took another step towards the door.

"Goodnight Elain," he said, walking out of the kitchen.

She followed him into the hall, to the front door. "You're not sleeping here tonight?"

He didn't turn to look at her. "No."

"And Nuala and Cerridwen?" she asked again, when he had now spread his wings and was about to take flight.

"They'll be busy for a while." At last, he finally turned, locking his eyes into hers. "Lock the door, and the door to your room as well."

The words barely registered in Elain's brain as she stood on the threshold and watched him rise up in the sky, the cold evening air on her face.

When the outline of his wings was no longer visible in the moonless night, she closed the door behind her. She didn't lock it.

She knew there was nothing a lock could do against the power of fire, if he ever decided to claim her.

Yet she felt, she knew, in some irrational corner within herself, that she was safe.

Chapter Text

A week passed, in which she no longer saw Azriel, nor Nuala and Cerridwen.

No one came to the house except Mor, who used to appear out of nowhere when she least expected and always left without saying goodbye. 

Her conversation with Azriel kept repeating inside her mind, and the more she weighed those words, the more she realized that the moment had come. 

As much as she adored Rhys and Feyre, she needed a place for herself. A small flat, no bigger than a bedroom, a bathroom, and a small kitchen that would house an oven and a few cookers. Rhys had opened her an account of her own, into which he continued to put a portion of his fortune every month for her work on his garden. It was more money than she could ever spend, but he had insisted that it was still less than what he would pay a team of gardeners.  Probably the small fortune she must have accumulated by now would have been enough for a small flat. She would love to live in the city center, perhaps near a park, not far from Rhys and Feyre house, so that she could have her privacy without being too far away from them and little Nyx. 

She decided, as she got ready for bed and set the alarm clock on her bedside table to go off a few minutes before dawn, that she would talk it over with Feyre and as early as tomorrow she would go to see some flats. 

With that idea in mind, she slipped under the covers, watching the night sky, the stars shining on that dark canvas. Lulled by the darkness, she counted the stars until her eyelids grew heavy. 

That night too, she didn't lock the door. 

When the alarm clock rang on the bedside table, Elain came downstairs wrapped in a warm dressing gown. With a steaming cup of coffee in her hand she looked out of the window, watching the sun rise over the garden. 

Today she was supposed to check some of the medical plants she was growing. No one seemed to have paid any attention to it, but during Feyre's pregnancy and Madja's constant visits she had started going through some healing books she had found in the library, and had retrieved some of the seeds.

She waited for the sun to make its appearance over the mountains before changing and going down to the garden. 

To her surprise, her plants seemed to be growing well. She could contact Madja and offer them to her, or perhaps ask her if she needed any other ingredients in particular. It was the only way she could feel somewhat useful to others. 

She did not like the idea of sitting here doing nothing while her sisters were dealing with far more important issues.Yet, she felt powerless, like there was not much she could do. She didn't want to admit that she felt like a burden, and she knew that if she ever mentioned it to others, she would soon be corrected or even reprimanded for having these thoughts. And then they would be out to console and be concerned about her. 

It couldn't happen again. She had allowed herself enough self-pity for what she had lost. 

 She could no longer bear to feel that helpless. 

She remained in the garden as the sun slowly rose in the sky, enjoying the silence of the still sleeping city. 

Before going upstairs to change and go talk to Feyre, she stopped to check the seeds Lucien had given her. She was surprised by his gift, and if those seeds came from the spring court, she could only imagine the wonders they would bring once they blossomed. However, much to her disappointment, the soil showed no signs of life. 

When she knocked on Feyre's doorstep an hour later, she could hear the sound of plastic objects banging against the floor, followed by an exasperated sigh from her sister.  

She smiled, waiting patiently for her to open the door. 

To her surprise, however, it was Cassian who opened it for her.  "Oh, good morning to you Elain." 

"Hey," she said, entering. 

"I was here to meet up with Rhys. I'm leaving now," he continued, squaring her with a seemingly worried air. 

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

Cassian took a step back, frowning, as if surprised that she had read the concern on his face. He smiled, but in such a fake way that it only aggravated the situation.  "Nothing to worry about". 

Elain pretended to believe him, heading towards the kitchen from which Feyre's commotion and despair seemed to emanate. 

"I'll see you," Cassian said behind her as he stepped out and closed the door without much delicacy. 

She found Feyre with Nyx in her arms, a spoon in her hands and what looked like baby food in her hair. 

"Let me help you," she said, reaching over and taking the little one, his wings rubbing against her arms. 

Feyre sighed with relief, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Thank you." 

She began pacing back and forth across the kitchen, slowly cradling her nephew. The movement, she had discovered, calmed him. It calmed all children apparently, human or otherwise. 

"He adores you," her sister said, watching her. Then she let go, slumping against the backrest. "You're always welcome here, Elain. You might even move in." 

She laughed. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about." 

"About what?"

"I was thinking of getting a place of my own," she explained, not looking at her sister's face. 

"Are you not getting on well in the house?" 

"No. It's not that," she hastened to answer. "On the contrary. I love my room, and the garden, and Nuala and Cerridwen, but... I think I would like a place of my own. I would still visit the house and tend the garden, the kitchen and everything else, of course."

"You don't have to do that". 

"I know, but I want to. I just think I should have my own place to sleep." 

"Alright," her sister nodded. "Yes, you're right. I can talk to Rhys about it, I'm sure he'll find a place to buy." 

"Use the money in my account," she hastened to say. "Or, I mean, just advise me who to talk to. I will find a place with the money I have. Rhys pours in my account more than I could ever spend just to tend the garden." 

"You do a good job" Feyre merely replied, but from the look in her eyes she knew they had the same problem, the same difficulty in getting used to having all that money at their disposal after a lifetime of begging for every penny. 

She spent the rest of the morning at her sister's, continuing to cradle a sleepy Nyx in her arms until he woke up. Heaven only knew how much Rhys and Feyre needed a break. 

When Nesta joined them in the afternoon, the two sisters took the little one into the garden until sunset, giving Rhys and Feyre some time alone. 

The orange light of the sun setting behind the mountains had just begun to illuminate the horizon when four pairs of wings flew over the property and landed a few meters from them. She suddenly stiffened, earning an intrigued look from her sister. An eyebrow raised questioningly on her white face.

After only that brief moment of hesitation, however, Nesta put aside her curiosity, sprinting to her feet and heading towards Cassian.

 She remained there, with Nyx in her arms playing with her hair. Azriel did not approach, merely observing from behind Cassian's back. The only greeting he gave her was a small nod of his head. 

"We just need to leave a message for Rhys," Cassian said, addressing Nesta, wrapping his hands around her waist and placing a kiss on her forehead. He leaned close to her ear. "Then we'll go home," he whispered in a lower tone of voice, which nevertheless didn't stop his words from reaching Elain's ears. 

Azriel followed him inside without looking in their direction. 

When she and her sister were alone again, Nesta sought her eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

"There is not much to tell," she said, tightening her grip around the little one who had begun to flap his wings. 

"I won't repeat Feyre's words to you," Nesta's gaze pierced through her. "I'm still unsure how these things work, but if you like a male who isn't your fated mate, then who cares." 

"It seems to matter to anyone but me." 

"Exactly," Nesta said, reaching out to pick up Nyx. As soon as she lifted him, the little one began to kick more vigorously, and Nesta put him down. "He really is his father's son," she huffed under her breath, making Elain laugh.  "It's just that-" she struggled for words, then shook her head, deciding to change the subject. "I'm looking for my own place." 

Nesta blinked. "Is there something wrong with the house?"

"No, not at all. I'd just like a little place all to myself." 

Her sister seemed to assess that information,  then lifted her shoulders. "As long as you don't go and stay in a cold, moldy place like the one I was in, that's good" 

She was about to reply that she definitely wouldn't when the front door swung open, and Rhys, Feyre, Cassian and Azriel were in the courtyard.

Rhys approached, taking his son from Elain's arms. 

Cassian reached Nesta. Before he took her in his arms, he gave each of them a goodbye kiss, then the two took flight into the now dark sky. 

She stood waiting for a few seconds, feeling Rhys and Az's eyes on her. She had expected him to offer to fly her home, but when it became clear that he wouldn't, she felt even stupid for thinking that. 

Feyre seemed surprised by the sudden silence in the group, and the way her blue eyes flashed between herself and Rhys, Elain knew that she had become the subject of one of their silent conversations. 

Az, next to Rhys, remained as rigid as a stone. She had the impression that he was doing his best to avoid her gaze. 

"Well, goodnight," she said, unable to take any more of that awkward silence. She snatched one last kiss from her nephew's cheek and then wrapped the cloak around her shoulders, walking towards the outer gate. 

The gate closed behind her, and the spell that protected the garden, making it warm, vanished. Velaris' coldness penetrated beyond the layers of fabric that enveloped her body. 

As she walked home she had the constant sensation of hearing the sound of wings beating above her head. That sound mingled with her own footsteps on the path, and then with the sounds of the city as she walked through it. But every time she lifted her gaze to the sky she saw nothing: neither the outline of his wings, nor the blue light of his siphons.

***

Another week passed when, despite Rhys and Feyre's insistence that she take a bigger place, she chose a small flat not far from the city center. One bedroom and a small kitchen was more than enough, contrary to what Feyre claimed, and was well within the budget she had accumulated. 

Moving was easier than expected. She had less stuff of her own than she thought.

For the first time since that fateful day, she had finally accepted that this was no longer a temporary situation. This body, these people, this city… All of this was her life now. She would not go back to what she had lost. 

She left some of her clothes, and most of her work tools, at the house where she had lived before, and to which she would go daily to work on the plants. 

Nuala and Cerridwen hadn't returned yet, and she had not seen Azriel since last week. Something must have happened, because the expression on his face that day had seemed... troubled. 

Besides keeping herself busy with the moving, she had also managed to tell Feyre about her wish to meet Madja to offer her the medical plants she had grown. After pointing out to her sister her willingness to look into this matter, Feyre suggested she do some research in the city's library. 

She had something planned in every single moment of her days, from when she woke up in the morning until she collapsed, exhausted, into bed at night. Only this way was she able to keep her mind occupied enough not to think about Azriel, their missed kiss, and the way he had run away and ignored her ever since. 

She knew what that meant. He wanted to get away from her, and the more she thought about it, the more it hurt. So she did everything in her power to distract herself. 

On the morning of the meeting with Madja, she woke up a little before dawn. Her flat was a little bare but already cozy, and she enjoyed the spectacle of the rising sun as she walked towards the river house. 

She spent a few hours arranging the collected plants, stopping then, when the work was done and it was still an hour before her appointment, to check the seeds Lucien had given her. She discovered, without much surprise, that the growth was not proceeding as it should.

She placed the basket of plants she had arranged for Madja on the ground, dirtying her hands and skirt with soil as she examined her work. 

She deduced after a while that it was probably because of the weather. Winter in the night court was freezing, she would have bet at the spring court the seasons alternated differently. Or maybe winter didn't exist at all down there.

"Is something wrong?"

She turned around a little too fast. Given her precarious position, bent over in front of her work, she ended up with her bottom on the ground. More dirt landed on her dress. 

Her heart began to beat rapidly as Lucien held out his hand to help her up. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he told her. 

She grabbed his hand, surprised by how warm it was and by the strength with which he pulled her up. As soon as she was on her feet she took a step back, putting a few centimeters of distance between their bodies. Not fast enough, however, before his scent penetrated deep into her nostrils. She tried to ignore the sensation it caused her.

He stood still, shifting his gaze to the flowerbed she was working on. 

"Oh," he said, leaning towards it. "Are they not growing as they should?"

His eyes, particularly the golden one, checked the earth as if there was a problem to be solved within it, a mystery to be unraveled. Elain observed him curiously.

"This is the night court, after all," he sighed "they aren't getting enough sunlight." 

He stretched out a hand towards a small spot of earth from which not even the slimmest of branches had sprouted. Before Elain could ask him what he was doing, or if he had noticed anything wrong with her work, small rays of light came out of his fingers. 

Sunlight.

She held her breath, watching his power flow until a small green sprig emerged from the earth. When he stood up again, apparently satisfied with that result, his eyes scanned her intently.  

Elain realized that her mouth was open. She closed her lips, feeling at a loss of words. "How do you do that?"

Lucien stared at his own hand, keeping the distance between them that she had established. "I'm the last of seven children. My parents' powers rearranged a little differently with me. It's a little trick I discovered in the spring court." 

"T-thanks," she stammered, returning her gaze to her flowerbed. 

"Its nothing".

She looked toward the silent house. Only a week had passed since he had last been here. Something must have happened.  "Why are you here so soon?" 

His expression changed. She suddenly regretted the too cold tone which she had addressed him. However, his reply was as sweet and polite as always. "I'm meeting Rhys"

Rhys. They all had to meet up with Rhys. 

"But I wanted to say hello," he added.  "The house was empty but I knew I'd find you here." 

Elain did not reply. Her gaze turned towards the main gate, where a young fae wearing the typical healer's white uniform was approaching.  "I must go now."

Lucien bent down fast, lifting her basket from the ground and handing it to her.

 Their fingers brushed as she took it from his hands. 

"Thank you. And for that too," she said, with a nod towards the flowerbed. 

Without allowing herself to hear his reply, she started running towards the healer. 

She clenched her fingers as she went, feeling against them the tingling and warm sensation of the light he had emanated. 

Chapter Text

The residence in which Tamlin had placed Feyre's family was decadent to say the least.

Decadent seemed an all too humble term to describe the huge manor house surrounded by a large garden, the perfectly cut grass, the greenery shining against the blue sky and, despite the winter season, the bright colors of the flowers that adorned the flower beds. 

Rhys had briefly described the details of that mission to him, and he had heard enough stories about Feyre's family, about her inept father and older sisters who had let her venture alone into the forest, to wish that unpleasant encounter would end as soon as possible. 

He hid in his shadows not far from the front door, while Rhys and Cassian checked the perimeter flying around the estate. They had to make sure that no one in the huge array of servants that Tamlin had taken great care to maintain and finance noticed their presence, nor the unusual appearance of the youngest of the Archeron sisters. 

A young, light voice soon reached the maid, Mrs Laurent, at the front door. He heard Feyre greet her sister.

"Elain." 

There was surprise and pain in her tone of voice as she uttered the name. A gust of wind pushed a mix of smells into his nostrils. The smell of the woman, Mrs Laurent, betrayed a hint of fear in her stern demeanor. After an initial moment of surprise, a similar smell came from the younger human. Despite that, her scent was one of the sweetest he had ever felt.

She smelled of cherry, roses and freshly baked cake. She must be the one who loves flowers, according to Feyre's stories. He had never bothered to remember her name, yet now he couldn't imagine another combination of letters associated with that scent. Even his shadows whispered it to him, and he felt an urge to taste the word on his tongue.

 Elain

Her scent was so different from Feyre's. Even her voice betrayed a youthfulness that her younger sister seemed to have lost. 

He smelled fresh tears running down her face.

"Please Laurent, prepare some tea and bring it to the living room."

Those words were followed by the sound of footsteps moving away. He let his shadows report to him the conversation between the two sisters, who now spoke so softly to each other that his fae ears struggled to hear. 

Another person had now joined them. The third sister, the eldest. 

"Where is our father?" asked Feyre. 

"In Neva." 

The eldest's tone of voice was so icy that it made the blood freeze in his veins.

The front door closed behind them, and his wings led him outside the nearest window, his shadows always making sure the situation was under control. 

They needed the servants to leave the manor so that they could finally talk and discuss what to do. Given the number of people currently working here, that would not be quick. 

Cassian and Rhys joined him on the roof while the three sisters were having tea. Feyre had just finished telling them about Tamlin when Cassian confirmed that the perimeter was secure. 

"How's it going?" asked Rhys.

 Azriel could see the worry behind those violet eyes, the fear that Feyre would suffer at the hands of her sisters. 

He lifted his shoulders. "The eldest is giving her a hard time. But-"

He froze, concentrating on the words his shadows brought back. He could hear through them the echo of that voice as velvety as melted chocolate, contrasting with her older sister's sharp one.

 "We will keep it a secret, and send the servants away. With spring approaching they'll be happy to go home." 

"She might have convinced them," he concluded. 

Rhys's shoulders tensed as Cassian continued pacing back and forth on the ledge. 

"Feyre has given... she's been giving for years. Now it's our turn to help her, and others..." the softer voice continued. Elain.

The older seemed to agree, "Tomorrow we will send the servants away." 

"Today," Feyre insisted. 

He heard the sound of a cup banging on a ceramic saucer, then footsteps as Elain spoke again. 

 "I'll take care of it." 

The conversation continued between the two remaining sisters. They were discussing the human male Elain was to marry. 

His shadows followed her, without his command, from room to room in the large house. Her voice became even more soft and melodious as she asked each of the servants to leave the house. She started with the gardeners, then the maids and finally went to the kitchens.  Every word that left her mouth was a lie so well formulated and sweetly uttered that even he, despite knowing it to be lies, was for a moment tempted to believe what she was saying. 

There was no man, he realized, who would not bend to such a sweet formulated request, whatever it was. And though he had not yet seen her face, if she looked even a little like her sister Feyre, Azriel was certain that Elain Archeron could bend the whole world with a simple smile and a moine. 

The sun began to set as the first servants started to leave the house. Despite the nerve-wracking wait, he had found the way to entertain himself: after hours listening to her through his shadows, he had now memorized almost every detail of her persuasive techniques. 

He even found himself restraining the instinct to smile when, with some of the more insistent ones, Elain went so far as to offer a bag full of money provided they left, tinging it all with enough pleasantries and smiles to wipe every last trace of doubt from her interlocutors' minds. 

When the time finally came to enter, night had fallen outside. 

As soon as they crossed the threshold of the main entrance, the smell of fear of the two humans filled his nostrils to the very depths, mingling faintly with that of the food laid out on the large dining table in the room. 

When she turned from her spot in front of the fireplace, for a single, very brief moment, Azriel felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach, knocking the air out of his lungs. 

Now he was certain: Elain Archeron, with her gentle manner, her sweet smell and that face, could have the world at her feet simply by asking for it.

How she was promised to the son of a fanatical fae hunter, and not to a prince or even a king, was beyond his comprehension. Even her bearing, despite her current fear and the years spent in poverty, was regal. 

His eyes scanned the other girl at her side, who wore an amethyst-coloured dress. Unlike Elain, she possessed the same blue irises as Feyre, although her gaze was much sharper. Cassian beside him was as alert as if he were facing a mortal enemy and not two mere human females. 

"Nice to meet you," she spoke, her voice shrill with fear, different from the affable tone he had heard her speak in for the entire afternoon. 

After a simple nod, he followed Feyre and his brothers to the long table set for dinner, which nevertheless had all the impression of being a battlefield. 

Cassian was tense as if about to attack, in his gaze the same twinkle that lit up his eyes when he was facing an opponent. Feyre, despite her apparent calm, was scrutinizing her older sister with equal parts tension and nervousness, and Rhys... 

Rhys was ready to burn the whole world down just to avoid Feyre even the slightest discomfort. The biggest battle, at the moment, he was fighting against himself in the effort to keep his mouth shut. 

Despite all his initial doubts, he found himself being almost entertained by the whole situation. Feyre's sister bickering with Cassian was not what he had expected for this evening. The older one didn't seem to be scared of them anymore, she looked mostly… annoyed. 

As if having the high lord of the night court for dinner was nothing more than an unpleasant unplanned visit. 

In that tense confusion, his eyes sought her again. He smiled when he saw the way her slender fingers had clasped tightly around the knife as Cassian sat beside her. As if that simple piece of cutlery could have done anything against an Illyrian, let alone him. 

Humans were so... fragile.

"And so you can really fly, with those wings?"

He swallowed. He had not realized that he had stared at her so hard that she had decided to speak to him. There was no fear in her tone of voice now, and even the smell of it was gone. 

"Yes," he smiled at her, keeping his voice calm, addressing her in the same affable tone she had used with the servants. It put people at ease. "Cassian and I belong to a race of fae called Illyrian. We are born hearing the call of the wind."

He felt Feyre and Rhys's shoulders relax at that change of topic in conversation. Yet, he realised, he was not doing it to improve the mood of the table. No, he really wanted to talk to her, to assess the curiosity with which she scrutinized his wings, his chest, his hands... 

He dragged his hand, the scarred one, under the table. It was an instinctive response. As if his scars were unworthy of such a pure and gentle gaze. His were hands that had done terrible things: at this moment that thought weighed more heavily than usual. 

"It's beautiful," she continued. "Isn't it scary, though, to fly so high?"

"Sometimes it is," he replied, before Cassian interrupted the staring contest he seemed to have engaged in with Nesta and interjected himself into the conversation.

There was something in the way she had spoken... 

He was a spymaster. He had lied, killed and manipulated more people than he could count. That made him an expert at knowing when a person was lying in front of him. Yet, with her... 

Her curiosity seemed so genuine. Was it still a mask, perfected so well despite her young age? 

Part of him didn't want to believe that this was her true essence, that such a pure and gentle being really existed in this world full of horrors. 

He hoped within himself that this was not a mistake. That they were not dragging her into the horrors of their world by doing this. 

Driven by that thought, he ordered his shadows to move away, to retreat and search the environment outside the dining room. Strangely enough, this time they obeyed. As if even they could not bear the thought of so much darkness next to the light that seemed to emanate from her every pore. 

***

"Higher the elbow," Gwyn said to the three priestesses training in the courtyard of the House of Wind, now the official residence of Cassian and Nesta. 

Watching her from afar, Azriel nodded. Just as Gwyn's eyes did not part from the girls she was training, his were focused on her every movement. Her equilibrium had kept improving after the rite and the other priestess saw her as guide and inspiration. It was a good plan to let them train with her, especially the ones who seemed too scared to let an unknown man get  close. 

From time to time, he seemed to catch a glimpse of the light reflected by the necklace under the collar of her Illyrian uniform. 

She was the only one of the priestesses who had agreed to train in different clothes than their tunic. But that was not important. What really mattered was that they knew how to defend themselves, hoping that it would never be necessary. 

He didn't realize that the morning was already over until he saw Cassian flying high in the sky with Nesta in his arms. They landed next to him. He noticed that Nesta's cheeks were flushed and would have bet it was not because of the cold wind.

"The girls at the Illyrians' camp are improving at an impressive rate," Nesta said, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. 

Cassian looked up at him and nodded. "And the boys are terrified of the stories about her," he said, referring to his mate, "so they don't interfere with the training." 

"Good," he replied, his shadows stirring behind him. 

Gwyn approached Nesta. The training was over and the priestesses were preparing for the Valkyries' meditation exercises. 

He nodded before following Cassian inside. As soon as the door closed behind his back, his shadows calmed down. However, it was not the kind of calm that indicated they were about to disappear, but the tense anticipation that suggested they were going to warn him of something. 

Cassian sensed it in his tense posture.  "What's going on?"  

He is in town 

"I need to talk to Rhys about it too, but I wanted to tell you first," he whispered. "Koschei is looking for the cauldron. I don't know how, but he seems to be aware that the cauldron is back at its full power." 

Cassian's siphons lit up. He didn't even need to mention his mate's name for the instinct to kill anyone who might even remotely threaten her to resurface within him.

"Nesta no longer has the power they want" he said. "That is why they're looking for the cauldron and not her." 

"They?"

"I am not sure. But some of my sources believe Bryaxis is also searching for the cauldron. Whether with Koschei or not, we don't know yet." 

Cassian's face paled. 

"Why are you telling me this before reporting it to Rhys?"

Az lowered his gaze, gritting his teeth. 

Cassian continued. "What happened between you two?" When he continued to not answer, Cassian seemed to understand. "It's for -"

He did not finish speaking, for the door swung open and Nesta and Gwyn entered the house, heading for the kitchen. His shadows began to stir again. 

He left Cassian with a glance, without waiting for them to be alone again. He had said what he needed to say to him. He let his shadows envelop him, winnowing all the way to Rhys's house. 

Lucien and Rhys were already in the studio when he arrived. He only had to put his foot over the threshold to smell it: Elain's scent, on him. They had been together. His siphons lit up. 

As if he sensed it, Lucien turned towards him, moving his hair so that even more of her smell, their smell, invaded the air in the room. 

His shadows whispered in his ears to perform acts for which he would be banished from this court. And for a moment he was almost tempted. 

 Calm down, Az

Rhys's voice overpowered the whispers of his shadows. "Lucien has news for us." 

"Is that why he's back so soon?" he said through clenched teeth, before he could contain himself. 

"Mor gave me a lift," the fox replied with a smirk that Azriel wished to tear from his face with his bare hands. 

Rhys interjected. "What's your information, Az?"

He stopped glaring at the redhead long enough to answer him. "Koschei wants the cauldron, and he knows it's back to its full power." He gave Rhys time to process the information. 

After a few more seconds, he added, "My sources are not one hundred percent certain, but Bryaxis might be looking for it too" 

Rhys's eyes turned dark. Then he turned to the fae, "Lucien." 

"They're not after the cauldron. Or at least, not just that" there was no longer any sign of rancor in his voice, but a far more pure and primal anger. Only one thing would set it off. 

"Elain," he whispered. 

His metallic eye squared him from head to toe, then nodded. "There is something strange. She is the last fae to possess the power of the cauldron. And unlike Nesta, it was given to her," his fingers tightened around the arms of the chair. "They believe something in the cauldron's energy has changed. As if it wants her."

"And how do you know this?" he asked. The shadows whispered in his ears that Lucien was telling the truth. 

Rhys frowned. Even he didn't know how Lucien had gotten that information. 

"Greysen, that bastard, wants to ally with the human queens. I followed him and heard them talking about Koschei's plans with the cauldron." 

"I thought we could trust him," Rhys said.  "What about Jurian?"

 Azriel interjected. "Did you manage to eavesdrop on their conversation without them seeing you? How do you know it wasn't a trap?"

"I have my ways," the redhead replied, holding his gaze. Then he turned to Rhys. "Jurian is trying to find a way to end Vassa's curse, he's been gone for two weeks now. She gave him six months before..."

"Before what?"

"Before handing herself over to Koshei and begging him to release her." 

"That would be suicide," Azriel intervened. 

"Vassa is convinced she can offer him something to which Koshei will not say no. But don't ask me what, she won't discuss it with me." 

The two winged male looked thoughtful. 

"I came straight here to make sure she is safe." 

Rhys looked him in the eye, deliberately ignoring Azriel. "She always will be in this court. If anything happened to her, you would know it" 

His shadows stirred at his feet. At that moment, he would have gladly thrown a punch at his brother's handsome face. He... he would have known if Elain was in danger.  His shadows would hear about it and warn him. 

Rhys spoke again. "We need to understand how her power works, what's left of it and whether using it would reveal the location of the cauldron. We don't know if they are looking for her or the cauldron at the moment. These are just theories. It is likely that they do not want anything from her, they cannot know for sure about her gift. Let's keep things this way".

At that point, Mor entered the room. 

"I thought you weren't coming anymore," sighed Rhys as the girl took a seat next to Az. When she sat down, she let her long blonde hair sway. 

"I was just dropping by to say hello to my nephew." 

From the smell emanating from her body, however, Az realized she was lying. His shadows confirmed this a moment later. 

Lucien's golden eye seemed to light up, and he deduced that he too had smelled Elain's scent on Mor. 

Lucien and Mor exchanged a glance. Then, the blonde turned to Rhys. "I can't understand exactly how her powers work. But unlike Nesta and Amren, she still has some. She's the only fae alive whose power is directly tied to the cauldron now." 

"You sent her to spy on Elain?" grumbled Azriel through clenched teeth. 

"Elain is my friend," protested the girl at his side indignantly. "If she wants to talk about her power with me I can do nothing about it." 

Az struggled not to answer.

"We need to understand how her power operates," said Rhys. "And after all that has happened this court needs some peace. Elain needs it too". Rhys knew he would not contradict him about this point. "So we will not force her. It will be her decision whether to deepen the nature of her powers or not." 

"She should be warned of the danger she is in," he said, in a low voice. 

"And how would that help her?"

He did not elaborate on the question, but something in that conversation, in the whole situation that was unfolding, had stirred his shadows. And as much as he didn't like it, the only person he was certain was telling the truth was Lucien. 

"We're done," Rhys said, standing up. They all followed him. "Az, try to find out where Bryaxis is and what exactly he's after. And let's hope he's not really allied with Koshei." 

Lucien turned to Mor. 

The blonde nodded. "We will winnow tonight." 

Addressing only a nod of greeting to the High Lord, Lucien walked towards the door. 

When he was finally away, Azriel felt as if he could finally breathe freely. His shadows, however, did not subside. 

"What story is this?" he said, flicking his gaze between Mor and Rhys. 

It wasn't his brother who replied, but his High Lord. "There is no story".

"Why can't we just ask Elain about it? And why didn't either of you seem surprised by the news we shared with you?"

His gaze darted between them both. He knew that Rhys did not tell him everything, and that he ran several missions in different territories. He had never been told everything and never cared, yet this time... this time it was personal. 

Rhys sighed. "You, Lucien and Mor, are monitoring the same situation from different positions."

"And what is her position?" he asked, pointing at Mor. 

"Vassa," Mor replied, looking him in the eye. 

There were a few times when she addressed him directly with that look. When she did, it was because she wanted something from him. Although he had always known it, he had never opposed to it. 

 "She trusts me, and she is desperate. We don't know what she might resort to in order to break her curse."

"What could she possibly sell to Koschei?" asked Rhys. "Does she has something Koschei is currently looking for?" 

"She cant find the cauldron. Even if she tells him who has it, they won't be able to find them" said Azriel, most to himself. "And Elain is safe as long as she remains in this city." 

"Vassa would never sell Elain to Koschei, and she knows almost nothing of her power anyway" Mor added the last sentence a second too late. "I will hear from Myriam and Drakon to warn them of the danger." 

"We'll go and see them," Rhys said. "We need to figure out what's going on with the cauldron and see if there's anything strange." 

"I'll come too," Azriel intervened. 

Rhys did not resist. "Good. We're done for the day." 

Azriel didn't bother to say goodbye as he headed out. 

The sun set over the city a few hours after their meeting. He watched it from the window of the house where, only a few days before, Elain had been staying. Ever since she had moved to her own flat, he had felt a sense of satisfaction at the fact that Lucien did not have her under his roof every time he passed by Velaris. Luckily for him, the redhead's stays were increasingly limited. 

Despite not staying the night this time, Azriel had still followed him after the meeting. From the direction his feet had taken along the road, he already knew he was heading for the river's house. He passed by the street where Elain's new flat was located, and the fact that he had not stopped suggested to him that he had no idea where she lived. 

Good. At least Rhys hadn't told him, as he seemed to be doing everything he could to throw Elain into his arms. 

He continued to follow him, flying high into the dark clouds and icy air. He had no spell to protect him from the cold. He knew that his metallic eye would reveal it, betraying his presence. 

He saw him pass through the gates, lingering in the garden that Elain worked on every morning. He walked for a few minutes, until he knelt in front of a small flower bed. 

He did not see well what he did on the ground, his vision obscured by the night and the distance. He only saw his hand reach out across the bare earth. A moment later, a golden light sprang from his fingers, and a large white flower, with wide heart-shaped petals, blossomed. 

What kind of power was that? 

He watched him repeat the gesture, until the flower-bed was full of flowers of every colour, and the light emanating from his fingers was so intense that it lit up the whole corner of the garden as if it were daylight. 

At that point, he let his shadows engulf him, winnowing him into his dungeon. 

Light. This was him, her mate, exactly like her. Now it made sense.

 He, on the other hand, was made of darkness, a darkness that would only contaminate her. Some part of him knew that she would be right for him. She would help him suppress his darkest and most violent instincts, mitigating that part of his soul that made the shadows follow him and be his friend. Her mere presence drove them away, and if she was his...

But there was another, deeper, part of him, the one he rarely allowed to resurface, that wanted to corrupt her, take a little bit of her purity and make it his own, make her feel pleasure to the point where there could be no one else for her but him. 

He wanted to make her scream his name until the air ran out of her lungs, take her in all sorts of ways, make her need him, desire him, beg for him. He wanted to hold her pleasure in his hands, to hear her moan as he played with it, taking her to the edge. Oh, the sounds that would leave her lips, he already knew, would be his undoing. He would never get tired of it. 

What he did with his lovers... It would have been forbidden, and a thousand times more exciting, with her. 

She was a delicate little flower he would venerate and nourish, for most of the time. But when his darkest instinct rose up, he would have her at his mercy, screaming and moaning and begging. 

He trashed against the dark wall of the dungeon. 

He could never have her. He was a monster, and his dirty hands didn't even deserve to touch her. 

It was bad enough that he allowed himself these thoughts about her, surrounded by his own darkness, his hand coming down to the hem of his pants.

Chapter Text

When he returned to the palace, Vassa was back in her human form. She was sitting pensively in front of the fireplace, her eyes watching the amber liquid in her glass. 

Jurian had left two weeks ago, without giving Lucien any information about how he was going to find a way to free Vassa from her curse in just six months, before she gave herself up to Koshei.

 If he had to place bets, he would have said Jurian was directed to the cauldron. 

He had set out for on an impossible mission: even if he ever managed to find Myriam and Drakon, the odds of them allowing him to set foot on their land and agreeing to show him the cauldron... he would have had a better chance if he had asked Rhys to act as a conduit for that request. 

However, he knew that, as things stood now, even Rhysand would never want anyone to get their hands on the cauldron and arousing its power, no matter how noble the cause. 

Awakening the cauldron would only risk revealing its location. And the last thing they needed was to deliver that power into the hands of Bryaxis or Koshei. The power of death, which Nesta had wrested from the cauldron and then returned. The things they had told him about what she had done, what she had been capable of.... 

He poured himself a glass of liquor, sitting in the armchair next to the fallen queen. She merely greeted him with a nod of her head. The shadow of something darker than usual furrowed her face, but he knew she would not tell him about it, so he did not bother to ask. 

"Any news from him?" he asked instead. 

"No," she said, turning her gaze towards him. "I don't expect to get any. He won't find anything, especially not the cauldron." 

"Even if he did find it, it would be stupid to use it now," he said, earning himself a fiery stare. He continued. "Koshei is looking for it, and Bryaxis may have allied with him." 

"And Rhysand told you that?"

He nodded, taking a sip from his glass. The liquid burned his throat. 

"Where is she?" 

"She left me here and winnowed. I don't know where, she doesn't inform me of her affairs." 

"Yeah," she sighed, her fingers twirling a lock of her fiery red hair, darker than his own. 

"How are things, between you?"

"None of your business," she blurted fiercely, catching him by surprise. Flames shone in her eyes again. 

Lucien raised his arms. "I thought we were...nothing, never mind. Sorry for asking." 

Then, after a few seconds of silence, he resumed, speaking more to himself than to her. 

"Do you know why I like you and Jurian?" he said, a bitter smile on his lips. "Because like me, you belong nowhere. We are the band of exiles. I thought we could at least talk to each other." 

"Yes, we are," she nodded. 

"Why do you want to give yourself up to Koshei?" 

"Do you think it's easy to live like this?"

"No," Lucien snorted. "Of course not. But he would kill you. Whatever you think you can offer him, he will kill you. Or maybe he will hand you over to the queens for them to enjoy torturing you first." 

"I know what he wants." 

"If you are so sure, then why haven't you done it already?"

Vassa looked into his eyes so intensely that for a moment he shuddered. It seemed to him that the whole room had descended into frost, despite the warmth of the fireplace and the fire magic that ran through his own veins. 

"Because Jurian begged me not to compromise myself like this," she replied. "And I know he is right. But if I'm still in this prison six months from now... "

Try as he might, Lucien could not understand what Vassa was referring to, nor why Jurian knew about it and he did not. And the seriousness with which she spoke of it, the frost in her words… His sixth sense screamed that there was something wrong and deeply dark behind it all. 

"But tell me about yourself," the woman resumed a second later with a smile on her lips, as if the conversation of the last five minutes had never happened. The room, it seemed to him, returned to its original warmth. "How did it go with Elain, did you see her?"

Even his infallible instincts could not interpret the tone of her words now. 

"Y-yes," he stammered, caught oddly off guard. 

"Good," she said. "And how did it go?" 

"I... I think fine." 

Vassa turned to him apprehensively. "You think?"

At his silence she leaned forward, extending a hand towards him. "I don't want to hurt you, Lucien. But if there is a chance she will refuse the bond... There are spells hidden in the library of the Day Court. With the power of the cauldron, you could free yourself from this."

He retracted his arm. "Are you telling me that I should find a way to break the bond?" 

"It's already been two years and she hasn't accepted it. If she rejects you, you will no longer be yourself." 

Anger boiled up like fire in his veins. "That is not said. And with many bonds it takes years, decades, before-"

Vassa snapped to her feet. At that moment, he realized he was also standing. He was not sure at what point in the conversation he had stood up, however. 

"Your bond manifested itself immediately. It's strong enough to drive you crazy if she refuses it. Maybe even worse than that". 

"You know nothing, neither of me nor of this bond," he roared, his heart beating rapidly in his chest, flames pawing at the surface of his fingers. 

"Think for a moment, Lucien. It took years for Kalias and his wife-"

"Every bond is different," his voice was dangerously serious, his magic stirring in his blood. "For Rhysand and Feyre, the bond was triggered immediately, as soon as she was changed." 

Vassa's lips, perfectly dyed a bright red that reflected the colour of her hair, curved into a smirk that did not reach her eyes. "The mighty High Lord. It is said that the strength of a bond is proportional to the power of the mates. I wonder what you are hiding from us, Lucien..."

He swallowed. 

"Or maybe your beautiful mate is the one full of surprises? What kind of powers are hiding behind that pretty face?"

"Don't talk about her."

The predatory expression on Vassa's face vanished. "We're just worried about you." 

"We?"

"Me and Jurian. You should find a way, before-" she froze. Her lips suddenly sealed, as if she had spoken more than she wanted to. 

Lucien narrowed his eyes. "Before what, Vassa?"

The woman stepped back. "Nothing. Never mind" 

"Oh no, finish it." 

She ignored him, walking towards the stairs which led to her wing of the manor. "Good night Lucien. Think about it." 

***

Every time he set foot in the Spring Court territory a mix of shame and guilt gripped his stomach for the way he had betrayed this place and his friend. Another mistake to add to the endless list of all the ones he had made. 

He knew Tamlin had his faults, but he had also been the only one to give him a chance, to take him into his court after he had been banished from his own home. He felt like an ungrateful, dirty traitor when it came to him. 

His hand knocked against the worn door of the manor that once shone in every corner. Ivy and wild plants lined it from the outside. 

The garden, that once housed some of the most beautiful flowers, was now unrecognizable.

"It's me," he said when he heard heavy footsteps behind the door. "Lucien." 

After a few seconds, Tamlin opened it.

 He wasn't surprised by the High Lord conditions. His beard was long and untidy, a golden mass around his defined jaw. His hair, long again, was devoid of its shining golden and seemed to have taken on a shade of gray. Even his eyes, once as bright as the waters of a lake, now seemed as dark as the sky before the storm. 

His appearance was bad, and Lucien knew his mood was even worse. 

Tamlin gave him a nod and did not wait for him to follow as he walked into what had once been their dining room. He had gone hunting: on the long table lay the carcass of a deer. Blood still gushed fresh from the wound on its neck. 

He swallowed as his friend went back to work to skin the animal. "Why don't you at least come and stay with us in the humans land?"  

Tamlin didn't even lift his eyes from the table. "Why should I?"

"So you won't be here, alone. So we all can help with the rebuilding. Your people are guests in the Summer Court but they want to come back home." 

"There's no home to come back to." 

"They were rebuilding it, Tamlin. They could continue to do so, if you would just allow them." 

Tamlin's lips curved into a grin beneath the shaggy mass of his beard. "They have no respect for me anymore, after what she did."

"You can win that back." 

Tamlin forcefully ripped away the doe's skin. "What makes you think I want to?"

Lucien held his gaze. He knew that this attitude of his hid, in fact, a cry for help. He wasn't going to abandon him this time. 

"What do you want, then, Tam?" Lucien took a step towards him. "To keep living like this? In a deserted court while your palace falls apart?"

Tamlin roared. Claws sprang from his knuckles clenched against the knife. "What do you care about? It's none of your business what I do"

"You are my friend." 

He laughed. "Friend," finally, however, he met his gaze. "It seems to me that your loyalty has changed. Let's not fool ourselves any more." 

"Rhysand defeated Hybern, we would never have won the war without his court. Prythian would have been destroyed." 

Tamlin placed the knife on the table, abandoning his work. He took a series of deep breaths, his claws retracting. "How is she?"

"Fine," he replied, cautious. "She's a mother now Tam, as well as his mate." 

"Avoid reminding me that" he said through gritted teeth. 

"You need to move on." 

Tamlin did not answer, so he continued. 

"Rhysand, Helion and Tarquin are willing to fund the rebuilding and offer whatever help they can so that your people can return home. Let them help you." 

"Because Rhysand's help is working so well for you, isn't it?"

At that moment Lucien knew, from the icy look his friend gave him, that poison was about to pour out of his mouth in the form of words.

 He would not be swayed: Tamlin was suffering, he kept repeating that to himself.

"Tam-"

"The only reason he tolerates your presence is because the cauldron has decided that Feyre's sister is your mate," he spat with disdain. 

Lucien didn't reply. He had a mate, Tamlin did not... he couldn't understand. Feyre had been taken away from him and he was still jealous, still grieving. 

 "If you gave yourself the chance to move on you might find that you have someone out there too." 

This time, the laugh that escaped Tamlin's lips made the blood chill in his veins. 

"I heard Feyre's other sister, Nesta, found her mate too," the blond continued. "What a strange coincidence that he is Rhys's high general." 

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"He took Feyre," Tamlin continued. "And now her sister" his eyes squared him from head to toe. "How long do you think it would take for his shadowsinger to take your pretty mate too?"

"She's mine," he roared. His instincts spoke for him and he was mad for that. He didn't like letting this part of him out. Luckily, no one else was here to witness it. 

"I wouldn't be so sure. I was there, you know, when Hybern kidnapped her and he rushed to the rescue. I saw the way his hands gripped her, the blind fury in his gaze, his urgency to bring her to safety."

Every fiber in Lucien's body vibrated with rage, but he forced himself to remain still as Tamlin kept going. 

"I saw the way she clasped her hands around his neck, huddled between his chest and his arms. And the way her eyes looked at him..."

Here he finally stopped. He must have noticed the small sparks that had started to come out of his fingertips. Since the bond had snapped, his power was stronger than ever. He often lost control of it. 

Tamlin sat up. 

"It's the same way Feyre looks at Rhys" he said simply. There were no trace of anger, or provocation, in his words now. Only a quiet resignation. 

Lucien relaxed his muscles, straining to banish those words from his mind. It was just a delirious, angry male speaking. 

"Think about what I just told you," Lucien said, heading for the door after yet another futile encounter. "And let them help your court, your people deserve it." 

Before he left the dining room, however, Tamlin called him back. 

"Find a way to break the bond," he told him. "Before she rejects you." 

"Why are you telling me this?" 

Tamlin replied without looking him in the eye. 

His gaze dulled to the floor and his shoulders sagged.

 "Because you are the only friend I have left." 

Chapter Text

The only disadvantage of living alone, in the centre of Velaris, was that she had to wake up before dawn every morning to tend to her garden. Not that she minded the world at dawn, when nature still seemed to be sleeping and the sky was tinged with golden light. It was one of her favorite times. However, it was the middle of winter. The night court air was freezing as she walked towards the house, hugging herself as tightly as she could in her cloak. 

At that moment, she regretted promising the healers that she would immediately start studying the various plants they had commissioned her. This would require her to spend at least a few days in the city library. And as much as she did not mind the idea, she already missed the feeling of the afternoon sun against her skin, warming her despite the cold days. 

When she reached the gate, the birds had begun to chirp and the first orange rays tinged the sky. She shed her cloak, taking in the cold that reached her skin beyond the thick jumper she was wearing, and prepared to work. 

One flower bed after another, plant after plant, she took note of the progress of each one. Gardening, in this new life of hers, had been a pleasant surprise. Every sensation was amplified in this new body. So were her senses: her eyes could see great distances and her ears could hear the faintest sound. This principle somehow also seemed to have applied to her passion for gardening. 

There were only some seeds that seemed to give her resistance. The climate of the city was not warm and sunny enough for the typical plants of the spring court, especially at this time of the year. 

Once she finished tending the newest seeds, she walked to the corner of the garden where she grew the most beautiful flowers, right where everyone could see them.

She was amazed to find that they had all bloomed. Purple, pink, yellow and even blue. These were the colors that filled the small flowerbed. The petals were large and bright. She knelt down, looking at them one by one, losing herself in their intoxicating scent. On the ground, there was a small piece of paper. She opened it, already sure, however, of who had left it.

Hope this makes you smile

-Lucien

The library in which Nesta worked was enormous, and she scolded herself for never having set foot in it since her arrival in Velaris. 

"Oh, and this is just the entrance," Nesta told her, as she grabbed a trolley of books to put away. 

"Are you sure it's okay for me to stay here?"

"Of course," said Nesta. "I asked Clotho. The priestesses are fine with visitors. They will adore you." 

She walked beside her sister as they went through the shelves of the first level. 

"The section that might interest you should be on level three," Nesta told her as they descended. "At least I think so. What is it you're looking for specifically?"

"I spoke with Benjamin, one of Madja's healers. He left me a list of plants they might need, but they are difficult to grow. However, he claims that given our resources..."

"The resources of the High Lord and Lady" Nesta chimed. 

"Exactly". She exchanged a glance with her sister and they both smiled, straining not to let the sound of their laughter echo too much in the silence of the library. 

"That's a good thing, Elain" Nesta then said. 

As they descended to the third level, one of the priestesses approached them. Elain recognised her by her shining red hair and bright blue eyes. Nesta had told her about her, but her descriptions did not do justice to her beauty.

She was wrapped in the typical priestess cloak, but unlike the others she wore no hood, leaving her face uncovered. From the neck down, however, she was hiding. Elain knew that if she was here, something terrible must have happened to her. 

"You must be Elain," she said, turning to her. She held out her hand to her in a friendly manner. "Nice to meet you. I'm Gwyn." 

Elaine squeezed it, noticing how cold she was. "The pleasure is mine. Thank you for welcoming me into your library." 

"Of course," she said, then turned to Nesta. Her eyes seemed to shine even brighter as he looked at her. "Need a hand with anything?" 

 "I'm escorting Elain to the herbology section, then I'll sort these out". 

"I'll take her," Gwyn turned to her.  "I'm going over there. Is that ok with you?"

"Yes of course," Elain hastened to answer, surprised by her kindness and helpfulness. 

She expected that after what she had been through she would be reluctant to trust anyone she did not know, like Clotho, who didn't let anyone see her face. 

Elain had kept her distance when they had let her into the library, not wanting to frighten any of them. Whenever she passed the other priestesses, she lowered her gaze. She did not want to be intrusive: not even with her eyes, not even by accident. 

"Come with me," Gwyn told her, walking towards the east wing of the library. She was clutching two large volumes against her chest, which looked very heavy. 

"Can I help you with those?" She said as she followed her with empty hands. 

The girl shook her head. "We're almost there." They turned left behind a large shelf. "What were you looking for specifically?"

Elain pulled out the note Benjamin had left her. She listed some of the names to Gwyn. 

The girl turned her big blue eyes on her, blinking. "Can you really grow these plants?"

The sincere astonishment in her words made Elain smile. "I have only collected the Lilium Martagon and some Lunaria, the healers working with Madja asked me to continue with those and then gave me this list"

"It's not easy," Gwyn said, pausing in a section of the library near a small window. "I mean, those don't grow easily' you must be really good at it" .

Elain lowered her gaze. She had always received the most disparate compliments on her beauty, but no one had ever complimented her on something she could do. 

"I've always had a natural talent for gardening."

Gwyn placed the manuals on a table near the section Elain was interested in, then sat down. "Go ahead and examine those shelves. Take the texts you want. I'll take a break." 

"I think I should start with the basics," she said, glancing quickly at her list and then shifting her gaze to the first shelf in front of her. She examined the titles, stroking the spines of the books with her fingers. After a quick examination, she grabbed two manuals. Both were about cultivation techniques, but they looked very different. 

"That one there," intervened Gwyn, pointing to the book in her left hand. "It's from the spring court"

Elain looked at it. It was heavier than the other, and looked much newer. However, her curiosity prompted her to let it go, stroking the other's cover instead. Although the pages inside were worn and yellowed, the golden cover looked brand new. 

"It's a magic from the Day Court" Gwyn explained. "The book comes from there." 

Elain took both volumes, depositing them on the table where the priestess sat. Her eyes did not part from the golden cover. "It's as if..."

"It shines?" 

Elain smiled, nodding her head.

 "Well, my break lasted even too long. I'd better go now," sighed the redhead.  She stood up, then bent over the table to pick up the large tomes she had to carry who knows where. At the exact moment she lowered herself, the light coming in through the small window was reflected on a pendant she wore on her neck. 

Elain thought she recognised that colour, that precise light. She swallowed. 

"I will leave you to your work, Elain." 

Over the next few days, Elain threw herself deep into her work. She got up at dawn, spending her days in the garden and afternoons in the library, so that when she returned to her small flat in the evening, the oblivion of sleep would reach her before her own thoughts. 

She didn't see Lucien again. After his gift, she did not know how to feel about him. That feeling in her chest, that golden thread she felt against her ribs, was a little more tense whenever she thought of him now. Yet she didn't want to linger into it: she felt as if she was losing control of herself in the worst way. But more than anything, she didn't want to think about Azriel.

 The more time she spent in the library, the more she discovered what a lovely person Gwyn was. Still, it was as if a fist was thrown against her stomach every time she saw the light of that necklace around her neck. 

She had refused that gift because Az had refused her that night. 

Twice now they had been so close that they could feel each other's breath against their lips. And both times he had stood away.

 She didn't have a problem admitting to herself that she was hurt. She had wanted him to kiss her, ignoring what everyone thought: that she belonged to someone else. As if she were an object whose fate was already decided. 

Yet now, she was beginning to doubt that that was the real reason Az had rejected her. Perhaps it was not because of Lucien that he had done so, but because there was someone else for him. 

The mere thought made something rise inside his chest. She felt jealousy bubbling up and twisting, mingling with her own power through her veins. And in these moments, when she lost control of her emotions, visions she could not comprehend passed under her eyelids. The more the thoughts she felt were tinged with anger, the more her visions were tinged with violence. 

She thought again of Azriel and the priestess, and when she blinked she saw the dark waters of the cauldron before her eyes. A foot, human, plunging into it, and…

"There you are"

Elain turned abruptly, leaving the roots in her hand, just to find Mor  facing her.

She was so absorbed in her work that she hadn't realized that the sun was now high in the sky, warming that frosty morning. The basket of plants she had to deliver to Benjamin was almost complete. 

She stood up, making to embrace Mor. The fae took a step back, and only then did she notice her own dirt-stained hands. 

"Sorry," she said, "I'm a little distracted today." 

"I can see that," replied the blonde, scrutinising her from head to toe. "Were you having one of your visions?"

"N-no," she hastened to reply. "I'm just working a lot these days." 

"I disappear for a few weeks and you move out? What happened?"

Elain lowered her gaze. "I thought it was time to find a place of my own."

"And where is that?" asked Mor. Her gaze continued to dart between the plants she had gathered and the ones she was working on. 

"A little north of where Feyre and Rhys live. Not far from here, though." 

"Well, you must show me."

"Sure," said Elain. "You can come and see me anytime."

"Tonight?"

She didn't have time to nod as she spotted Benjamin's white robe at the entrance, beyond the main gate. 

She glanced at Mor as she lifted the basket and walked towards him. "I'll be right back, it will only take a moment,".

Against all her expectations, however, Mor followed her. 

Benjamin squinted as she handed him what she had gathered. "Did you manage to grow the mandrake?" 

"It was not easy," she smiled. "But I found volumes in the library that explain all the secrets." 

Benjamin smiled back, although there remained a certain puzzled air in his gaze as he continued to examine the basket. Elain wondered if something hadn't actually grown as it should have.  

"Madja will be delighted," he finally said, "thank you, Elaine." 

Mor was still at her side when she replied, "you're welcome".

Without adding anything more, Benjamin left.  Mor's eyes kept staring at his back until he was beyond the gates. "What is-" she hesitated, not finding the words. "Do you work for the healers?"

Elain shrugged. "I grew some plants for them in the past weeks. They seemed very enthusiastic, and if nothing else I give meaning to the money Rhys funds for my gardens." 

"Beauty has meaning too, El," Mor told her. 

Elain wiped her dirt-stained hands on her work trousers. "Yes, I suppose it does. Will you stay in town for a while now?"

Mor tightened her arms on her chest. "Yes, at least for this week." 

"Do you know when Nuala and Cerridwen will be back?" it had been weeks since they had left. She was beginning to miss them. 

"No, I'm sorry. They don't work for me," her voice grew harder. 

Elain decided to ignore Mor's apparent strange attitude. Something had probably happened with the humans, and she knew she wouldn't talk about it with her, so she didn't bother to ask. When she prepared to resume her work, Mor followed her. 

"So I'll see you tonight?"

She smiled. "I haven't given you the address yet." 

"I'll find it myself," Mor smiled, the air beginning to move around her as she prepared to winnow. "Will you cook something good?"

"Would you come if I don't?"

Mor made a mock indignant face, then her expression suddenly became serious. "We need to talk. There's something important I need your help for, El. See you tonight." 

Mor disappeared in a gust of wind. 

She went back to work, smiling towards her flowerbed. Then she almost jumped up in fright. Mor was next to her. On the opposite side, this time. 

Elain brought a hand to her chest. "Oh my god-are you crazy?"

The blonde laughed, showing off her perfectly white teeth. She handed her a bottle of wine. "For this evening." 

"But I don't drink,"

"I know, it's for me" she disappeared again. 

This time, Elain turned around to make sure she was really gone, still smiling. 

Back home after her usual study session in the library, Elain turned to the kitchen to take her mind off things. 

She couldn't stop herself from thinking about Azriel. She hadn't seen him since he had shown up at Feyre's house without even sparing her a glance. 

He had been so distant on that occasion. She knew she had no right to feel angry, or jealous, for whatever there was between him and the priestess, if something was going on in the first place… He seemed to be nowhere to be found these days. If he visited her in the library, she would have seen him by now, although she didn't really want to find out. 

She continued to occupy every spare moment of her days, until her eyelids closed of their own accord from exhaustion at night. That evening she spent several hours preparing Mor's favorite biscuits and one of her favorite dishes for dinner. Cooking, like gardening, took her body and mind into work. She loved the discipline it took, the patience, the attention to the details. And, most of all, the moment all of her work paid off: when the flowers bloomed, when their sweet scent permeated the air, when someone's eyes went wide with pleasure as they tested something she had cooked.

While waiting for Mor to arrive, she opened the wine and filled the glasses on the small, elegantly set table. To her surprise, she discovered that the smell of the drink was more pleasant than those she was used to. She put her lips to the glass and took a sip. 

The liquid was surprisingly sweet. She sipped it slowly, wondering when Mor would arrive and, after a while, if maybe she had failed to find out her address. 

When half an hour had passed, she put the dinner back in the oven so that it would not cool further and poured herself a second glass of wine. It was probably not a wise idea, and yet.... 

An hour passed. 

She was on her third glass when her hunger became uncontrollable and she grabbed the dinner from the oven. 

She placed a portion on her plate, putting the rest back in the oven for when Mor would arrive. She would surely not be offended. 

Once she finished eating, she poured herself another glass, discovering that the bottle was now empty. 

She laughed, alone, in the silence of her house. She no longer knew what time it was, but it seemed clear to her now that Mor would not show up. The stars shone bright in the dark sky outside her window. 

She took out the biscuits she had prepared for dessert, nibbling on a few as the room began to spin. 

With a plate in her hand, she slumped down on the couch, hoping the spinning would stop. The biscuits were sweet in her mouth, a caress on her already full stomach. She let her back go against the sofa, and her neck along with it, sighing and closing her eyes. She had the feeling that the couch had started to turn on itself even faster as she sat like this.

 Different images began to follow one after the other behind her eyelids. The thoughts that she had done nothing but repel in the last few days resurfaced with an entirely new power. 

She was jealous. She was jealous of Az. She wanted to kiss him. Her body quivered with desire, her mind with curiosity…

The usual images were the first to materialize in front of her. She surrendered to them, her head spinning too much for her to touch herself, although her body seemed to be on the verge of catching fire from the desire that devoured her. 

The images suddenly became increasingly blurred. Her head was spinning too much for her to concentrate on just a single one of them. 

The heat in her chest grew even more, blazing along every inch of her skin. She felt warm, almost to the point of uncomfortable. It reminded her of… 

She saw Lucien's tanned, muscular body. His chest was naked as he laid against a tree trunk, his eyes closed as the sun hit his skin, making it glow like liquid gold. When he slowly, deliberately, opened his eyes, she had the distinct feeling that he was looking straight at her. Not at a future version of her, but at her right now, in this exact moment. 

She suddenly opened her eyes.

The room had momentarily stopped spinning, but something else now clouded her mind. She swore to herself that she would never drink again. What she had seen, Lucien…

The street outside was quiet, which suggested it was the middle of the night. The fireplace was off, but it was for the best. It was already too hot. 

In that almost devastating silence, she heard someone knocking at her door. 

Her feet brought her, shakily, to open it, before her mind could even wonder who it could be at this hour. Her eyes darted to the still-set table. Could it be that Mor had shown up this late to dine? 

Something squirmed inside her when she saw that it was Lucien. 

His back was stiff, the muscles of his arms tensed along his sides as he entered. As he passed next to her, his scent wafted into her nostrils, making her knees tremble. 

She stood at the door, closing it slowly while blaming the wine for her sloppiness. She would never drink again, really. But where was Mor? 

Lucien kept his distance from her, reaching for the opposite wall. It was a good thing, actually, because when he had been near his smell... Her body needed no further stimulation. And this apartment suddenly seemed too small. 

That vision flashed again in her mind as she brought her eyes to him.  His hair was loose, flowing down his shoulders. She wondered how they would feel under her fingertips. 

Before she could realize it, her feet brought her close to him, so close that she had to tilt her neck to look into his eyes. 

Whatever she was thinking as she approached, it vanished once she was within reach of him.  Her eyes darted from his broad chest to his face, then to his lips. How much had she longed to be kissed, to know what it felt like?

 She rose on her tiptoe.

His jerk was so quick that, had she not been terribly drunk and aroused, she would almost have been frightened. One of his hands immediately encircled her waist, while the other wrapped around her hair.  

Elain took a deep breath, preparing to taste him, to feel the softness of his lips against her own, finally giving her body what it had become impatient to feel. 

Contrary to what she would have expected, however, his head sank between her neck and her shoulder, and she felt him inhale deeply. She thought she felt him tremble, even. 

"Elain," he whispered against her ear. His hand, the one that was wrapped around her hair, slid forward, cupping her chin and forcing her to look into his eyes. 

He inhaled again, and Elain saw his pupils dilate.

"What's going on?" he asked, not letting go of his grip around her waist. 

Elain's skin was burning under his touch. She wished she could shed all of her clothes at that very instant. 

"Kiss me," she said. 

He looked so surprised that his muscles froze. "You want me to kiss you?"

"Yes" she sighed, closing her eyes and rising on her toes again.  

"This can't be true," he whispered to himself, still bending his neck towards her. Her whole body burned, mingling with the heat of his. 

When their breaths intertwined, he stopped.

  "Are you-" he swallowed, backing away. His gaze changed. "Are you drunk?" 

He looked around the flat, taking a step back from her. His gaze looked hurt, but Elain could think of nothing but how much she missed the feel of his hand on her waist. 

"I thought you didn't drink," he said, pointing to the empty wine bottle on the set table. 

Elain felt her mouth dry from the missed kiss, her frustration growing. 

She didn't have enough words in her mind to formulate a coherent answer. 

Her eyes ran up and down his body. He was wearing a partially open linen shirt, too loose for him. Nevertheless, she could see the outline of his defined muscles beyond the light fabric. 

"Elain," he said, taking another step back until he was leaning against the wall. "Why are you drunk, what's going on?"

"Why are you here?" 

He ran a hand through his loose hair, and that gesture pushed more of his scent towards her nostrils. She felt a wave of need crash violently trough her. 

"I,-" he swallowed, bringing a hand towards his chest. His fingers seemed to hesitate on the button of his shirt. He was hot, too. "I thought you needed me, that you were calling me. But you're drunk. Why are you drunk and alone, Elain?"

Her eyes turned to the kitchen. "Mor should have been here, I made dinner.  I tasted the wine, just a little, and then," she froze, bringing a hand to her sweaty neck. Lucien's eyes followed that movement. "Why didn't you kiss me? Isn't that what you want?"

He was in front of her so fast that she didn't even see him move. Or maybe her senses were too slow, she couldn't tell.

 "It is indeed. And not doing it, not taking you here and now" he leaned close to her ear, his voice a whisper "while I can smell your arousal" he inhaled, as to mark his word. "Is one of the hardest things I've ever done". 

Elain was out of breath. A few centimeters separated her lips from the golden skin of his neck. She wanted so badly to find out what he tasted like. 

"Cauldron save me," the male cursed, "you are drunk, so I will not kiss you. Ask me when sober, Elain, you will never receive no as an answer." 

She registered his word, as well as the movement of his plump lips. She was indeed drunk, or she had been, but now… What she felt now was different. 

"You should go to sleep," he said, sustaining her gaze as he pulled away from her again. 

Elain made an effort to nod, but when she moved a single foot to take a step towards the bedroom, the whole room began to spin again. 

Lucien held out his arm to her for support. He pointed to the small door at the back. "Is that your bedroom?"

She nodded. 

He bent down, and before she knew it she was in his arms. "I'll take you to bed." 

The next morning she was awoken by a commotion that seemed to come from her living room. Her head pounded as she struggled to open her eyes. The room was fully lit, which meant it was late in the morning and the sun had fully risen. 

She was supposed to be up at dawn. 

She sat up in bed, finding that she was still wearing her clothes from the previous evening. 

The recollection of what had happened suddenly leapt to her memory, at the same instant as someone knocked on her bedroom door. 

"Elain, are you in there?"

She ran to open it, "Rhys?"

The high lord breathed a sigh of relief, peering into the room.

 Elain walked past him and into the small living room. The first thing she saw was the blue light of Azriel's siphons. 

He was pinning Lucien against the wall, one arm held him at neck level, while the other, with his hand clenched into a fist, was so close to his face that the blue light from his siphon reflected off the male's metallic eye. His grip didn't loosen as she entered the room. 

"You know I didn't touch her. I would never have done that." 

"Are you all right, Elain?" asked Rhys, ignoring Lucien's words. 

"You've already read my mind, Rhysand, we both know it," growled Lucien again.

"Yes, I'm fine," stammered Elain. She brought her hands to her hair, as memories of the previous evening surfaced even more in her mind. What had she done…

"What happened?" continued Rhys. 

"I-'' she swallowed. She couldn't take her eyes off Azriel and Lucien. She felt something burn in discomfort inside her chest. 

"Let him go" Rhys ordered. 

Azriel did not respond. 

"Az." 

With a snap, he finally let go of Lucien, so quickly that he fell to the ground. 

Rhys opened his mouth to say something, but stopped as someone knocked at the door. 

"Who is it now?" he blurted, as Az opened it wide with an abrupt movement. 

"Madja?" all three asked at the same time, noticing the healer on the threshold with her assistant Benjamin. 

"Excuse me," said the woman. "I wanted to speak to you, Elain. Benjamin gave me your new address."

"Maybe this is not a good time?" said the boy beside the healer, earning a cautionary look from her. 

"No, it's perfectly fine," said Rhys, his eyes darting on everyone in the room, that now felt claustrophobic. "We were just leaving for the river house".

"Oh" the healer brightened. "We really wanted to see her work. We went there before we came here" her eyes darted to her. "We thought we would find you there, Elain". 

She didn't think she could feel more embarrassed that this. 

Rhys brought a hand to his temples. "All right. We'll all go there, then. Elain, get ready. And you two," he turned to Azriel and Lucien, "come with me. We need to talk." 

***

That night the air had been cold and the city deadly silent as he flew over it. The stars were beginning to lose their light as the sky slowly faded to lighter shades of blue. His senses were alert as usual, despite the apparent stillness, and the rhythm of his wings slowed as he flew over Elain's new home. 

It was stronger than him. Rhys could stop him from being close to her, from talking to her, from giving into the instinct that screamed to touch her, smell her, kiss her... 

But not this. Making sure she was safe, that nothing had happened to her, had now become like a reflex, something he did without realizing it, for most of the time.  It had been this way ever since the cauldron had taken her, snatching her from her own bed in the middle of the war against Hybern. And that it all had happened a few steps from him, right under his eyes, only made things worse. 

And it was while he was watching the small flat from above, hidden in the night, that the smell had hit him like a knife.

Elain's arousal, the sweetest and most intoxicating scent he had ever smelt, stung his nostrils as a gust of cold wind carried it in his direction. 

However, another smell mingled with hers. Every muscle in his body became rigid and tense. His shadows did not wait for instructions. Against the rational part of himself, which screamed that he should leave, that Elain deserved her privacy since he had done nothing but distance himself from her, they descended towards the flat. 

Lucien was sleeping, alone, on an armchair in the living room, they reported back. Elain, though, was safe in her own bed. What was he doing here? How had he arrived? Was it… Had Elaine been in danger, was this what brought him to Velaris? How had he not noticed anything? He mustered all the self-control he was capable of and left, flying in the direction of Rhysand's house. 

 The smell of Elain's arousal permeated everything inside the small flat, and it hit him more than he would have expected. It was hard not to think of her heated body, her dilated pupils, her soft, moist lips slightly parted and her cheeks flushed. It all mingled with the smell of wine and what looked like a delicious dinner.  It was a heaven of a vision. 

He was pleased to find out that her smell was not on Lucien. Not directly. This, at least, soothed the burning feeling in his chest a little. 

He didn't allow himself to look at Elain when she entered the room.   

He headed for the kitchen instead, once he had let Lucien go, while Rhys was intent on talking to the healers. An empty bottle of wine lay on the still set table. 

"What exactly do you need to do?" asked Rhys to Madja, straining to maintain a casual air in his question. 

He heard her answer beyond the door. "I just wanted to see how Elain works, it might be useful for our healers at work in the greenhouses."  

His shadows suggested to him that she was lying, or, if nothing else, she wasn't telling the whole truth. He would think later about what that might mean. Now, however, something else caught his attention. He lifted the glass from which Elain had been drinking, sniffing it. Then he picked up the bottle. A drop of the drink fell onto his hands. He licked it, tasting the flavor.

Let's go, ordered Rhys's voice in his mind. 

He turned just in time to see Rhysand's hand wrap around Elain's arm as they winnowed. 

He followed. 

When his feet landed in front of the river house, Cassian was already there waiting for him.   

"Rhys called you to keep me at bay?" he said quietly, so that only he could hear.

"You're not really going to kill our emissary, are you?"

He snorted as an answer, looking at his brother. 

Cassian returned his gaze. Unlike Rhys, he knew Cassian would support him til the end if he ever decided to give into his feelings. But Cassian, after all, didn't carry the burden of being High Lord. Azriel tried not to forget that.

Rhys led them into the main room on the first floor. Through the large windows he could see Elain with the two healers down in the garden. 

They all settled in a circle around Lucien, though Cassian did not leave his side, his muscles tense as if the wrong word from the redhead could set him off. 

"First question, how did you get to Velaris and what were you doing at Elain's house?" Rhys began.

"I winnowed" . 

"I thought you couldn't winnow this far."

"I thought so too," the redhead muttered. 

Rhys's tone was serious. "So what happened?"

 "I don't know," blurted Lucien. "I felt that she was calling me, through the bond, and I was able to winnow to reach her."

Azriel's siphons lit up and Lucien's mechanical eye squared him. His voice took on a different slant as he spoke next. Those words weren't directed to the High Lord, but to him only. 

"When I arrived she threw herself at me, she was completely drunk."

Cassian stepped forward, putting himself between him and Azriel. 

At that very moment, Mor made her entrance into the crowded room. 

Cassian seemed confused by her presence.

Rhys, however, sighed as if she hadn't come soon enough. "What have you done?"

Lucien turned to her, his eyes tinted with rage. "Elain said she was supposed to meet with you."

"I've been busy," Mor replied.

"I can't believe it," said Rhys, referring solely to her.

"Since I'm here too," Cassian said, raising his hand. "Could someone give me some context?"

Four pairs of eyes glowered at him at the same instant.

"Explain, Rhys," Azriel ordered under his breath, his shadows flitting at his feet as they watched Elain through the window.

"Until we know what the link is between Elain's power and the cauldron, we can't take the risk of her using it," Rhys stared at Mor, ignoring everyone else. "It could lead Koschei and Bryaxis directly to the cauldron. Or worse, to us". 

Mor's face turned red with anger. "She is desperate, Rhys. She wants to give herself up to Koschei."

"Vassa?" asked Lucien. "You wanted to use Elain's power to help Vassa? How?"

"It doesn't matter, because Rhys has forbidden me to see her."

"I forbade you to encourage her to use her power. For now," Rhys's violet eyes turned momentarily toward the garden, where Elain was working. "I did not order you to stand her up."

"Elain's power can do nothing for her." Lucien continued, talking to Mor.

"She might find a solution. She might see a future other than the one in which she surrenders to Koschei," Mor brought her hands to her hair. "And Vassa believes there might be more to Elain too. Her seer abilities could be just a scrape on the surface of her power"

This time, Azriel stepped forward from the corner of the room in which he had been holed up, almost completely hidden by his shadows.

"Like what?" he asked, his voice icy.

Cassian followed his movement, like an extension of his shadows.

"I don't know. But the cauldron gave her a gift. This has never happened before."

"It's not good that this story is spreading," Rhys said. "And Vassa is our ally, but Elain is part of my family-"

"Shouldn't she be in this conversation, too?" blurted Mor. "Why don't we let her decide?"

"It's not safe until we know what's going on with the cauldron." Rhys repeated again, his words definitive. 

As he said so, he approached Azriel, looking out the window.

Are you checking what's going on?

Az nodded.

"Good. We're done here".

Mor protested.

Rhys walked toward the center of the room. "First we will talk to Myryam and Drakon to check whether the cauldron seem stable. Then will we evaluate Elain's power and whether she can be any help to Vassa."

"She is already using her power."

All heads turned towards the blond, but it was Azriel who asked: "And how do you know that? Did she tell you?"

Mor smirked. "You should be on my side," she told him in a low voice.

"Not until we know what's going on."

Mor added nothing, turning her back on him. "I will personally get a message to Myryam."

"Good luck," Lucien told her, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. "Jurian is looking for her for the same reason."

"I think she will listen to me more than to him."

"I hope so," the redhead merely replied with a shrug.

"That's enough now," once again, Rhys tried to put an end to the conversation. "Lucien, are you going to stay?"

His gaze  headed out the window. Azriel held his breath, letting it go only when Lucien answered.

"No."

"Have it your way. Your room is always ready." He turned to him. "Az, Cassian, come with me."

"What should we do?" asked Cassian as Rhys led them downstairs and then outside.

They found themselves facing Feyre and Nesta. Rhys had arranged for them to winnow here. Nyx was also with them.

"You called me too quickly, the nurse had not yet arrived," Feyre protested.

"That's okay," Rhys continued, "Elain is in the garden with Madja."

"Okay, so what?" intervened Nesta.

"You should talk to her," Rhys merely said, as he walked toward the two healers who had just left Elain.

"To tell her what?" asked Nesta again.

"Feyre already knows everything,".

Nesta looked at her sister, then at her mate. 

Cassian shrugged. "I'm more confused than you."

"Oh, I believe that."

The conversation ceased as Elain, after saying goodbye to Madja and her assistant, headed toward them directed to the house.  Rhys set off in the direction of the two healers, and he and Cassian followed.

As Azriel passed her, he felt her eyes on him. He tried to ignore them, not turning in her direction, holding his breath to prevent her scent, that of her arousal mixed with the wine he still felt on her skin, from clouding his mind even more.

He would wait for the darkest, quietest hours of the night to think back to that mix, to Elain aroused, heated, the wine running down their throats, drops of it sliding down her lips...

Cassian put a hand on his shoulder, admonishing him with his gaze before Rhys could. He definitely preferred it that way.

"Madja," Rhys said, "I want to apologize for what happened this morning."

"Oh no, I'm the one who should apologize. I didn't think it might be a bad time, and I came unannounced, so-"

"What brought you to us early in the morning? I hope nothing bad happened?"

To untrained eyes, Rhys was just playing the role of the hospitable host. However, he knew he was giving his shadows a chance to find out if any of them were lying.

"No, not at all. We were pleasantly surprised by Elain's work, and by how quickly she grew some of the most difficult plants," this time Madja was not lying. Still, there was not just genuine surprise in her demeanor.

"She is studying a lot," Rhysand explained, staring at the two. "At our library."

"Good," said Madja. "Imagine what she could do with her talents and an even bigger library."

"What is that supposed to mean?" intervened Rhys.

"Given her talent, there are even rarer and more sought-after plants she could try to grow for us. The texts, however, are ancient, and could be found in medical manuals that are kept only in Helion's court."

"I'm sure it won't be a problem to find them," Azriel could tell from the expression on Rhys's face that he, too, seemed quite confused by the conversation. 

"Thank you, Rhys. Elain has already agreed to visit us in the next few days, I suppose there is no problem, is there?"

"Of course not," Rhys said. "Elain is free to devote herself to whatever activity she likes."

With that said, the two healers took their leave.

Follow them ordered Rhys, although he had already decided to do so ten minutes ago.

He released himself into the air above their heads as they crossed the gates. His shadows followed the two to the ground and reported their conversation to him.

"She is under the protection of the High Lord, does that complicate things?" whispered the young healer. He kept looking around, as if to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

"We're still not sure the girl has the power she needs. It's just a theory."

"But what if it's true?"

Madja swallowed. From above, Azriel could see her hands clenched into fists along her sides. "Then I might finally have found a solution. But for now we should keep a low profile and be discrete with our question". 

"Why? They can't know, and she seems to only care about her plants".

"Yes, but apparently the High Lord and his shadowsinger have eyes on her more closely than I would have expected".

Benjamin opened his mouth to retort, but Madja shushed him. "Say no more.Someone is listening."

Azriel flew higher into the clouds, withdrawing his shadows just in time to avoid being seen. 

When he returned to the house, Rhys was busy discussing with Lucien the business surrounding the spring court and Elain was with her sisters in the garden. Mor, however, sat alone in the main hall with a glass of wine in her hand.

"It's a little early for that, isn't it?" He refused the glass she handed him when he sat down across from her at the table. "Why didn't you show up last night?"

"Rhys forbade me to ask her help for Vassa."

"Is that the only reason you have been approaching her lately? She believes you are her friend."

Mor laughed, letting her long blond hair sway,  showing off all her beauty, an ethereal, unattainable beauty he had loved not so long ago. Yet now, however, he found the golden of her hair too bright, her features so perfect they looked unnatural, her whole complexion too loud. She was shining, glowing whenever she went. But too much light, maybe, had made him blind.

"What was in the wine?"

"Huh?" asked Mor.

"You heard me"

She smiled. "She says she doesn't drink because she doesn't like the taste. I just made it sweeter."

Az got up from the table abruptly, his chair crawling against the floor.

"Az" Mor called him, following his movement. "What is this, another one of your lost causes? Are you going to keep this up for the next 500 years or just until she accepts the bond?" 

His eyes darted to the door behind which Rhys and Lucien were discussing. "She might as well reject it."

"For you?" Mor moved toward him with slow, deadly steps. "Wait until she finds out you've been following her, spying," she said in his ear. "Because we know that's how you do it, Az. That's how you found out she was with him tonight."

His siphons lit up, his shadows flitting at her feet.

"It's not healthy for you" she said then, changing her tone of voice. She turned away from him, sitting back down at the table.

"It's none of your business," he said, heading for the door. He needed some fresh air. He would talk to Rhys later about what he had overheard from the healers.

"It used to be" he heard Mor whisper against her glass.

Chapter Text

"We are the ones that need," Azriel's voice run through the room. "A seer."

That word resounded in her mind, and suddenly she felt as if she had resurfaced after being underwater for a long time.

 A seer...

Her eyes finally focused on what was all around her. For a single instant, she met Azriel's hazel eyes. It was he who had spoken, he…he had understood.

She turned to Mor, who sat beside her. "Is that what is happening to me?"

Her dark eyes darted to Elain's face, her brows furrowed as if now, finally, she too was understanding. Yet she did not speak, not answering her question.

 She was supposed to know everything, wasn't she?

Just as the weight of her own thoughts threatened to crush her again, he spoke. "Is there another queen?"

His voice was gentle, like a caress on her mind. She squinted her eyes, straining to distinguish what was real, tangible and present, from what was not. "Yes."

"They sold her to a dark force," she kept explaining. The more she spoke, the more the fog in her mind dissolved, making everything clearer. "To some kind of sorcerer-I can never see him, see what he's like. He keeps a box of onyx with him, more important than anything else... except for the girls. They are similar to her, but she ... has a form during the day and becomes human again at night."

Now she was finally able to focus on the faces of everyone present. Her eyes searched those of her sisters. She felt like she hadn't seen them in so long… as if she had been observing the world through a fogged glass, and only now, finally, the fog had dissolved. She had forgotten the precise shade of blue of their irises.

When everyone left the room, she was left alone with the red-haired fae. He had volunteered to leave, to search for the cursed queen imprisoned by the lake's sorcerer. His metal eye kept buzzing, peering at her. That noise filled the silence of the room, along with the beating of his heart.

 If he...If he left, she wouldn't hear it anymore. She felt suddenly scared at the thought of it, at feeling of silence and emptiness.

 He cleared his throat, as if uncomfortable under her gaze, yet she couldn't part her eyes from his chest, trying to memorize the precise rhythm of his beats.

"You-you are going to find the queen?" she asked.

He nodded, "I want to help. I haven't been able to do much here."

There was sadness in his gaze as his eyes darted to her. Elain couldn't find the words to comment on his pain. They were all hurting, after all. They were preparing for a war. War was coming.

A rustle and a gust of air made them both turn in the direction of the door from which everyone recently left.

Azriel was there. He said nothing, but Lucien's gaze became darker as his eyes focused on him. 

"I'd better go, Elain," he merely said, walking out of the room with his gaze on his shoes. His feet moved quickly, as if he was in a hurry to leave.

Elain suddenly realized that she was able to notice this and other details all around her, such as the fact that the shadowsinger waited on the threshold of the room holding his breath, waiting for her signal to approach.

She met his eyes and nodded.

Azriel moved two steps closer, his posture still tense. Elain realized she wanted to talk to him, she needed to. The more she did so, the more the fog in her mind dissolved.

"How..." she swallowed, "How did you know?"

Azriel seemed surprised and partly relieved by her question, she deduced as she saw his shoulders relax. "I don't know."

His tone was sincere. Elain's eyes dropped downward, scanning his legs. The shadows were not at his feet, yet she felt they should have been there. Part of her felt drawn to them, as if they were calling to her, as if they were whispering to that part of her mind...

"Are you okay?"

She looked up at him, noticing that he had moved closer still. His arm was outstretched toward her, as if to catch her if she fell. In fact, she did not feel very stable on her legs. She was so tired.

She nodded, "T-thank you," she managed to say.

"I didn't do anything."

"Yes, you did," she searched his eyes. Her new fae vision allowed her to catch every single shade of hazel, amber, and brown within his irises. She lost herself in them. "You understood."

His throat rose and fell as he swallowed. Elain followed that movement with her eyes.

"You see me."

When she met his eyes again, Elain really felt those words. He was here, and he really saw her. And he understood…

***

She was laughing now, grateful that her sisters had come to the rescue and lightened her mood.

However, as she sipped her tea with them in the kitchen she couldn't completely shake off the feeling of shame and guilt from her chest. 

 She couldn't stop thinking of Azriel, of his disgusted expression, how he hadn't even dared to look her in the face the whole morning. As these thoughts arose, she tried to remember that twice now they had been on the verge of kissing and he had pulled back.

 She owed him nothing. What had happened had been a strange, unfortunate accident. She had made a fool of herself, but… nothing more than that. 

She had almost come to peace with herself when there was a knock at the kitchen door. 

 When Nesta reached for it, she found Lucien standing in the doorway. He was wearing his shirt from the night before, which now was a bit wrinkled since he had slept on it.

Elain knew she owed him an apology. And maybe she should also thank him for what he hadn't done when she had specifically asked him to, when she had literally thrown herself at him. She felt blood rush to her cheeks at the memory.

 Her sisters had fallen silent, but hadn't hinted at moving. She knew they would not leave her alone with him unless she specifically requested it.

She took a deep breath, gathering all the courage she was capable of. She sought their gazes, lingering on Nesta.

"Can you leave us alone?"  

Lucien seemed to relax his shoulders as those words left her mouth. His face brightened.

Very slowly, and not failing to give him a look that would have chilled the fire itself, Nesta followed Feyre out of the kitchen, leaving the door open.

Lucien stood a few feet from her, staring at her with a look that she could not fully interpret, but which betrayed that he too was thinking about how close they had been the night before. 

Elain took a few seconds to remember what she wanted to say. When she finally opened her mouth to speak, however, he did the same.

They both tightened their lips, smiling.

 "I wanted to apologize," she said. " I don't know what happened last night, and why I called you, and-" her cheeks were on fire and she was sure he had noticed. His smile had done nothing but expand since she started talking.

"I wanted to be the one to apologize to you," in contrast to her nervousness, his voice was calm and reassuring. His tone relieved her. 

She waited for him to continue speaking, his voice further calming her nerves. 

"I never really did. I owe you an apology for being a pawn in what dragged you and your sister into this," he swallowed. "And for how I behaved as soon as I found out about us," his eyes sought hers. "I never had any claim on you, I hope you know that. It's just that it all happened so suddenly, and I still don't know how to handle this sort of magic. Last night was…"

"I wish we could forget last night."

"If that's what you want, I will never mention it again."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"There is nothing for you to be sorry about. Please."

"Okay," said Elain, taking a deep breath.

 At the smell of him, she remembered the thoughts that had been going through her mind last night.  "I'm not used to drinking," she felt the need to explain, just to keep her mind occupied. "I usually don't even like the taste of wine. Anyway, thank you for… for not kissing me."

"I would never have taken advantage of you."

"I know," she added promptly. 

At that point, Lucien took a step toward her, and Elain had the feeling that the temperature in the room had suddenly risen a few degrees. She didn't dare to move. 

"But if you still happen to want a kiss," his eyes, which looked down on her, lingered on her lips. "You just need to ask."

Before she even dared to think about a response, her eyes lingering too dangerously on his chest, he took a step back. 

He inhaled then, on his mouth the hint of a smirk. 

"Goodbye, Elain" he said as he walked out of the kitchen. 

As she watched him leave, she felt the air all around return to its normal temperature.

***

Days later, when the drama of that episode seemed to have finally worn off, she had lunch with her sisters and their respective mates.

"Elain, this pie is fantastic," Cassian said with his mouth full, serving himself a second plate.

Nyx was asleep in his carriage beside the table, but Feyre kept staring at him with every mouthful, afraid he might wake up any moment. 

She hadn't missed Azriel's absence, nor the fact that everyone seemed to be going out of their way not to mention his name, so she decided to address the issue herself. She would understand enough from their reaction. 

"Rhys," she called, waiting for the High Lord to bring his purple eyes on her. "Azriel couldn't make it?"

Rhysand's eyes narrowed into two thin slits for only a fraction of a second, before his expression returned to normal. Cassian, on the other hand, kept his gaze to his plate. 

"He's working".

"Oh," she said, "that's too bad."

"Yes, I guess it is, " Rhysand confirmed. After the question, he didn't resume eating.

After lunch, while Cassian was out in the garden showing Rhys the moves Nesta had learned, Feyre picked Nyx, now awake, and they sat down on the couch.

"How is work going?" Feyre asked.

Elain lifted her shoulders, taking her gaze away from what was going on in the garden and bringing it to little Nyx. He had the same blue eyes as her sisters, the ones that had belonged to their mother. She had always been a little jealous of them.

"Madja hasn't been in touch since. I'm still growing the plants they asked for."

"About that," Feyre said, adjusting the little one in her arms.

Elain turned her eyes toward her sister. Her face shone during the winter, her skin glowed. "Is something wrong?"

Feyre grimaced. "I don't want to repeat the same mistake I made with Nesta, which is why I'm talking to you about it. Rhys and the others think it would be better if you avoid using your power for the time being, and maybe you should talk about it as little as possible with anyone."

"Madja doesn't care about my power, only my plants, and your resources too, I think," she said. "But why?"

"We don't know how it is connected to the cauldron. And Koshei, maybe even Bryaxis, may be on its trail."

"And my power could reveal its location?"

"We don't know," Feyre said. "That's what they believe."

"Who believes that?"

"Rhys. And the others."

"Why didn't they talk to me about it? Do they think I wouldn't have agreed to any of their demands?" she felt annoyed, and a little hurt too.

"It's not that. They didn't want to alarm you, to make you worry unnecessarily."

She lowered her gaze. "Because I am so fragile that I can't handle this simple information?"

Feyre looked at her with a troubled expression, but Elain understood.

 Hadn't she made a mess of herself right after they've been transformed? Hadn't she starved herself, spending days and nights crying while her sisters fought a war? She was nothing like them. She was the small and fragile Elain, whom everyone had to handle with gloves, otherwise she would break.

"El," said Feyre.

She could feel her throat tightening, and she hated herself even more for that. "No. It's okay, Feyre. Thank you for telling me. I'll try not to use my power. Was that all?"

"Try?"

"Sometimes the visions come without my control, depending on my mood. But I will make an effort."

"El, I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. Thank you for telling me," she took a deep breath, pushing away the unpleasant feeling that tightened her throat. "Can I ask you a question?"

Feyre nodded.

"Who talked about it, besides Rhys?"

Feyre looked conflicted.

"I'm not going to make a scene," she said. "I just want to know."

"Rhys, Cassian" she swallowed "and Azriel for sure. Lucien too, I think."

Elain's eyes turned toward the garden. 

 "Nesta doesn't know. She doesn't attend meetings and is far too busy with the Valkyries and her work in the library. Otherwise she would have been the first to tell you," Feyre followed her gaze, looking at Nesta, who was fighting Rhysand with a training sword. "After breaking a few ribs, probably."

Madja and Benjamin didn't show up in the days following the incident. Elain kept working and studying their plants, however, all while taking her of the garden. 

 She was going to respect the High Lord's wishes; she wouldn't use her powers, straining not to summon accidental vision. After all, given what had happened, it was for the better. If they needed her, and her gift, she trusted that Feyre would let her know.

Yet, she wasn't going to let the one thing that had made her feel less useless be taken away from her. If the healers didn't show up until the end of the week, she would go find them herself.

 Meanwhile, as she wandered through the library shelves, she decided that she would take an afternoon off from studying herbology to try to understand more about her gift. If the others thought she shouldn't use it, she would comply.

 If they had bothered to talk to her about it, she would have told them she was unable to control it. Yet now she didn't feel like being the one to start that conversion. She preferred to take care of it herself. 

She had been looking for ten minutes for the section of the library that might help her when Gwyn appeared before her, carrying the usual large volumes in her arms.

"Elain," she called to her, smiling. She was always smiling.

"Let me help you," Elain told her, offering her own arms for her to lighten the weight she was carrying.

"I can manage," she said. "What are you doing, looking for something specific?"

"I wouldn't know where to start, actually"

"Tell me, I know every corner of this place."

She tried to find the right words. "I was looking for information about the seers. I mean, about this power and how to control it. Something like that."

"Oh" whether she was surprised, or unconvinced by her request, her eyes did not give it away for more than a split second. "You should check downstairs, there's a dedicated section. But-" she bit her lip, clearly pondering whether or not to tell her what she was thinking about.

Elain waited.

"Do you know the Valkyrie concentration technique? I think it could be very useful for this."

"Where can I find more information on that?"

Gwyn, balancing the stack of manuals on one forearm, slipped one out, handing it to her. "Take this one. I was putting it back. Anyway, why don't you come practice with us sometime?"

Elain lowered her gaze. She didn't think she would ever be capable of it.

Gwyn caught her hesitation. "At the end of each training session we practice these concentration exercises. Talk to Nesta about them, I think they could really help you."

"Thank you," said Elain, crossing her blue-green eyes.

Gwyn smiled at her again. "It's a pleasure, sister of Nesta."

Mixed emotions furrowed Nesta's ethereal, rigid face. On the one hand, Elain knew that she was happy that she wanted to train with them, at least for the part that involved the meditation exercises. On the other hand, however, she could feel anger bubbling in her sister's chest even from the other end of the room.

Nesta didn't need the power of death to be terrifying, and Elain hoped to never be the person toward whom her sister's anger was directed.

"You shouldn't let Rhys tell you what to do," Nesta insisted.

"It wasn't Rhys who asked me. I didn't talk to him at all."

"It's even worse this way," Nesta continued, her arms crossed against her chest. Her long hair was always up, in a hairstyle that only she was able to wear with such grace and elegance.

"I'm the one who wants to do it. These visions I'm unable to control are only going to bring up problems."

Her sister raised an eyebrow. "What kind of vision was behind last week's incident?"

"I'd rather not talk about it,".

"What did you see, Elain?" 

She ignored her, pretending to be very engrossed in her reading.

"Come on," Nesta insisted.

Elain rolled her eyes. Just thinking about it made her blush. She hadn't allowed herself to recall those images after that night. Before Nesta could counter, however, Gwyn walked past them with the cart full of manuals.

She coughed, looking at Nesta, "don't you have work to do?"

Although annoyed, Nesta stood up. "Don't think I will forget this conversation," she said to Elain before walking away with the priestess.

Elain met the nymph's eyes, which winked at her.

She mouthed "Thank you" in reply. 

She wasn't surprised to find that Cassian had come for her. 

Azriel seemed intent on doing everything in his power to avoid her. So, instead of winnowing like all the priestesses who trained at the House of Wind did, she flew through Velaris in the arms of her sister's mate.

 She had stupidly hoped that he would be the one taking her. Then, for just a moment, their hands would have touched again, and their eyes would have met as the shadows wrapped around them, hiding them in the darkness as they winnowed. There, hidden, what happened would have been theirs alone.

But her mind, as usual, was wandering. 

Now she had no idea what Cassian had asked her as he waited for an answer. When she said she hadn't understood, however, he didn't repeat the question as his wings descended downward.

She was not surprised to find that Azriel was there with them, with her. She had thought that seeing them near each other would have no effect on her. Yet now, just seeing his eyes on her, an anger she didn't think herself capable of feeling dwelled up in her chest. 

 It was different from other times when she had been furious. Back then, she knew that the people toward whom her anger was directed deserved it. Now, however, she was ashamed of what she felt. Azriel had never been hers; whatever she believed there was between them had probably only been a figment of her imagination.

"The girls just finished their muscle cooling," Cassian said, guiding her to the spot in the training ground where Nesta and Emerie lay, visibly exhausted.

Gwyn called her name from the opposite side of the camp, waving to greet her. She responded to the gesture with a meager wave of her hand. 

 She just wanted this unpleasant feeling in her chest to leave her instead of making her teeth clench against her cheeks.

Nesta and Emerie greeted her, yet she found herself unable to take her eyes off the spot where Azriel was explaining some final moves to Gwyn.

"We'll begin in a moment," Nesta said, obscuring her view. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Cassian doing the same a little further away. "In the meantime, let's walk you through some theory."

Not a word of what left her sister's mouth was registered by her mind. 

The exercises, too, were a total failure. Rather than controlling her power, they had the opposite effect. 

She felt so nervous that every time she closed her eyes, disconnected and senseless images followed one another behind her eyelid. When she opened them, however, her feelings didn't improve. 

Her eyes looked at Gwyn, then at Emerie and Nesta. Their faces were serene.  

They were Valkyrie: strong, beautiful, powerful.  

The more she looked at them, the more she felt crushed under the unpleasant feeling of impotence and uselessness that was knocking her mind more often than she could ignore as of late. She hated herself and all the irrational emotions that gripped her stomach and prevented her from being like them. She hated her own shallowness, and the fact that the only thing she seemed to be good at was tending her stupid garden, which was of no use to anyone anyway. It was just a task they had given her to keep her busy, so that she would not self-harm if she was left without someone to babysit her for too long.

At this moment, looking at these three women, thinking back to what they had faced, what they were capable of doing, she just felt pathetic.

She snapped to her feet, and Nesta opened her eyes, keeping her back stiff. "Is everything all right?"

"Just fine," she said.

"It's normal that it won't come easy at first," Gwyn smiled at her.

"I know," she said, biting her lip to contain the thing, which she was now unable to define by a single name, churning inside her chest. "I just need to freshen up for a moment. Can I use the bathroom?"

"Sure," nodded Nesta.

Without another word, she stormed inside. 

She caught sight of Azriel winnowing the priestess back home and, luckily, Cassian seemed nowhere to be found.

She breathed a sigh of relief as soon as she stepped inside. Despite the cold of winter, the sun was high in a cloudless sky today, and it was beginning to burn on her skin.

She looked around the empty hallway, taking a series of breaths, noting that her face was hot. Maybe a refreshment was what she really needed, after all.

 Coming here had been a bad idea in the first place, and not just because of what the sight of Azriel and Gwyn caused her. What did she think she was going to accomplish? She was not a Valkyrie, she would never be one.

She reached the nearest bathroom, needing to feel the cool water on her face, shaking off the feeling of the sun burning her skin. She had always loved the sun, but in the early morning hours, when its soft orange rays cast light on the dark cloak of night and the stars slowly faded.

She brought the cold water to her face, looking at her own reflection in the mirror. Her eyes seemed darker now. The anger she felt, those terrible thoughts she wanted to hide from, were reflected in her gaze.

She took a few seconds to breathe deeply, in a vain attempt to slow the accelerated beating of her heart. If nothing else, at least, her hands had stopped shaking, and she felt more stable on her knees.

She exited the bathroom, intent on finishing the morning as quietly as possible, taking advantage of the remaining exercise time to find a plausible excuse for not participating the next time. And every time after that.

The air in the hallway seemed suddenly cooler. 

Before she knew it the light coming in through the windows was obscured by a pair of wings. The corridor fell almost completely into darkness.

Azriel stood before her, as close as he hadn't been in weeks now. She could smell the sweat on his body, and she could see it in the outline of his muscles beyond his tight uniform.

He spoke, and she strained to look away from his body and back to his eyes.

"I said, what are you doing here?"

Why was he addressing her like that?

She swallowed. "The girls proposed that I train with them, to learn how to control my power, but-"

Azriel tightened his lips. "Cassian and Nesta didn't tell me"

She didn't know why she felt the need to justify her presence to him, but his gaze made her feel like she had intruded something. "It wasn't important".

"Everything about you is."

Her breath caught inside her throat. "Why didn't you tell me about Koshei and the cauldron?"

Azriel didn't seem surprised that she was aware of this. He spoke softly, and she could tell from the rigidity of his stance that he was holding his breath. "We don't know if that's true."

"I wish you would have told me anyway," she whispered.

Azriel stepped into the narrow hallway. "I would have preferred that, too."

 He towered over her, and she saw his expression harden.

"Do it," she said, the words leaving her mouth in a choked way. She inhaled, and his closeness only pushed his scent deeper into her nostrils. "Next time."

"There won't be a next time," Azriel replied, backing away.

As he turned away from her, Elain felt clarity return into her clouded mind.

"Why?" she asked. "Why are you avoiding me?"

His hands clenched into fists along his sides. He did not answer, but he looked back at her from over his shoulder, and an expression she would have dared to call hurt furrowed his face. 

"Did I do something?" asked Elain. The doubts that had plagued her for weeks resurfaced from her mouth without her being able to control it. "Is it about the necklace?"

Azriel relaxed his fists and inhaled. "You didn't do anything."

"Then what is it?"

For a moment, she swore she saw indecision on his face. Then, slowly, his expression became resolute. He turned and took a step in her direction. Elain held her breath, waiting impatiently for his next move.

"Azriel".

They both turned, backing away until they were on opposite sides of the corridor.

Cassian had a serious expression on his face, once she had seen on rare occasions before today.

 "Come," he said, not directed at her. 

Without sparing her a glance, Azriel left, dragging his shadows with him.

The light, obscured earlier by his wings, came crashing back into her face, burning her eyes.

Chapter Text

Despite the cold night air, both he and Cassian had ended up training shirtless. The adrenaline running through his veins seemed inexhaustible. Fist by fist, as he gave vent to the excess energy that seemed to accompany him everywhere lately, the thoughts that plagued him started to lose some of their crushing weight. 

He thought of the time when, flying over Elain's house, he had smelled Lucien inside, his scent mixed with that of her arousal. He dodged a move by Cassian, then spun on himself to deliver a blow. Cassian parried it.

It had taken all the self-control he was capable of not to burst through the door and pounce on Lucien at that same instant. But it was for Elain that he had held back instead and gone to call Rhys, the only person he knew could contain him.

Cassian slowed his movements. Azriel knew this technique; he wanted to set a trap for him. He was not going to fall into it.

Or maybe he was.

Cassian tripped him, causing him to end up with his back on the ground. He imprecated. A mocking smile filled his brother's face. "Are we a little distracted?"

He did not answer, getting to his feet in a quick move and regaining his footing.

"Let's go," Cassian said, inviting him to strike first.

He stepped forward, but once again was immobilized by his grip.

Yes, he was distracted. He could not concentrate on strategies, he just needed to strike and lash out until his muscles gave out from exhaustion and all the adrenaline in his veins wore off.

"I don't fully understand Rhys this time either," Cassian said, letting him go.

Azriel ran a hand through his hair, taking a deep breath and tensing his muscles. He took a step forward, onto his left foot, right arm to strike.

Cassian narrowly dodged it, but not before it hit him in the ribs.

"Nice move," he replied, backing away. "I take it you're more than a little upset with Rhysand".

He repeated the previous move, but this time Cassian was more ready and did not let it hit him.

"You know, I don't care if you want to go after Elain".

"But?" Azriel blurted. Now that he had started, he also had to finish, since he was having the feeling that Cassian still had something to say. 

"Nothing," Cassian perked up to catch his breath. "I think she will reject the bond."

Those words made him think things...

"But we don't really know what effect it may have for the female. And even if she didn't suffer, he-" Cassian's gaze was distant now. 

Azriel saw a chill run along his skin. As if he was imagining what it felt like, what he would feel if it happened to him.

"I don't care about Lucien Vanserra. Why does it seem to matter to you?"

Cassian hesitated. "I don't care about him, Az. You are my brother. And Elain...is like a sister to me."

"So what?" he said. "Do you believe I would ever hurt her?"

He didn't know if it was that idea that bothered him most, or the fact that he too, like Rhys, seemed to put himself in Lucien's shoes.

"I-"

"The conversation is over," Azriel said, grabbing his T-shirt back from the floor. He wiped the sweat on his forehead with it.

Cassian, unperturbed by his hostility, approached, handing him the water bottle.

He took a sip, along with a deep breath that calmed his nerves.

"Hey, I was on the verge of killing a Vanserra too".

He smiled. Oh, he had been close that night, dangerously close to killing him. 

Cassian inhaled, his broad chest expanding, stretching his tattoos. "Did you see Eris?"

"Yes, at the spring court. The situation seems tense, but you already know that. Nuala and Cerridwen will be back from the autumn court soon. I sent them specifically to understand what's really going on."

"Is that why you haven't left Velaris these days? Because if you did you would not have eyes on Elain?" asked Cassian, not too amazed, however.

 Az knew that he had understood this for some time now.

He did not answer, whereupon Cassian continued. "You know she is safe. Me, Rhys and her sisters will never let anyone come near her. Not Koschei, not the cauldron. No one."

"It has already happened once."

"And it won't happen again," said Cassian, resolute. Then he looked toward the house, his gaze grim.

 As much as Azriel knew that his brother would give his life to protect any of them in case of danger, he also knew that his first priority would always be Nesta, it was inevitable.

"Do you think we can still trust Eris?" asked Cassian then, anger at the memory of what had happened still etched within him.

"As long as he needs our support to get rid of Beron, yes," he sighed. "We just have to hope that Beron doesn't suspect any of this."

 Cassian swallowed, "Yeah."

***

The door creaked as the two spies entered the darkness of the dungeon. Their shadows, triggered by the small burning flashlights, were reflected in distorted shapes on the stone walls.

He waited for them to reach him, turning truthteller in his hands.

Cerridwen spoke first, stepping forward. Her voice was like a thin blade running along the stone walls.

"Beron wants to attack the spring court."

His fingers, intent on stroking the blade of his knife, paused. This was not what he had expected.

Nuala spoke then. It was something they often did, completing each other's sentences, one piece of information each.

"He knows the territory is exposed and Tamlin is weak. He wants to take possession of it quickly so that the other courts cannot intervene."

Truthteller's blade reflected the faint glow of the oil lamp on the wall opposite him.

"Does it have anything to do with his interest in approaching the human lands?" asked Azriel.

The twins nodded. "As long as Jurian and Vassa are in their lands, though, he will not attack."

"What about the human queens?"

"They are not in his plans for now."

"Good. Thank you for the report. You may return to Velaris."

They both exchanged a glance. "Ms. Archeron?"

"Continue to make sure nothing dark lurks around her," he said.

They nodded, without another word, and left the dungeon.

***

"Only Drakon will come," said Rhys, as he and Cassian followed him to the Illiryan camp. "To talk. He wants to know our reasons before he leads us to the cauldron."

He was beginning to dislike the situation.

"Are you afraid he might not agree?" asked Cassian, voicing his own concern.

"They did us a favor by agreeing to guard and hide the cauldron. I think he just wants to make sure his people are in no danger."

The camp was deserted on the occasion of their meeting. It would be short-lived, Rhys had said. For some reason, he hadn't want it to be held in Velaris.

Drakon appeared moments later, winnowed by Mor. Where the two of them had met, however, had remained a secret even to them.

Azriel remained tense as the two approached. Drakon's expression didn't hide his displeasure  as they addressed each other with the usual greetings.

Rhysand, despite everything, bent his lips into his casual smile that put people at ease.

"I'm sorry to have summoned you," he said. "We would not have done so unless we thought it strictly necessary."

"Should we be worried?" the man asked. "Are my people in danger from the cauldron?" 

His tone was less friendly than he would have expected.

"We're not sure, but-"

Rhys was interrupted. "Who's looking for it, who's on its trail?"

"Koschei," replied the High Lord, avoiding unnecessary pleasantries. "And maybe Bryaxis."

Drakon lowered his gaze, his lips stretched into a thin line.

"Have you noticed anything strange recently in the cauldron's activity?"

"You mean since she returned what she had taken?"

Cassian stiffened. Drakon noticed it, speaking directly to him. "She shouldn't have done that."

"Why?" Rhys intervened, drawing Drakon's attention back to himself. "What has changed?"

Drakon seemed to hesitate, but finally spoke. "We had to move it. As far away from the city as possible. It's like he's rebelling, like he's calling someone, summoning them".

"Summoning someone?" asked Cassian, his gaze cold.

"Yes. We can never get very close. We've had to strengthen the protections and isolation spells. But its sound gets louder and louder."

"What kind of sound?"

"It's like it's singing, sometimes shrieking. We can't stand close for too long".

Rhysand and Cassian looked at each other. Azriel knew what they were thinking: did the cauldron want Nesta? Did it want revenge now that it had recovered its full power?

Azriel was not entirely convinced. The unpleasant feeling that gripped his stomach, that vague bad sensation that had never completely left him since the war, solidified in his chest all of a sudden.

His shadows confirmed to him that Drakon wasn't just afraid of what was happening. He was genuinely terrified.

"We need to see it," Rhys said, "We need to see the cauldron."

"It could drag Koschei to us," retorted Drakon. "It's out of the question."

"If what you said is true, it will end up luring him there anyway".

He remained silent, but eventually recognized that Rhys was right. "I will discuss this with Myryam. But the meeting must take place on our terms."

"I would not expect otherwise," nodded Rhys.

"Just the four of you," Drakon continued, looking around between the Illyrians and Mor.

Rhys hesitated. "We'll have to bring a fifth person."

Drakon looked toward Cassian, fear and curiosity in his gaze at the thought of Nesta, the one who had wielded the power of death. "That's out of the question."

"It's not her."

Azriel searched Rhysand's eyes, trying to communicate all his disappointment with his eyes. Elain shouldn't leave Velaris, and exposing her to the cauldron would be too risky. What on earth was he thinking? 

"Who?" asked Drakon.

"The only person whose power is still related to the cauldron."

Those words brought dread into his stomach. 

Drakon smirked, "I'm afraid I haven't had the pleasure of meeting her."

Internally, Azriel roared. Cassian shifted, placing himself beside him.

It is not as it seems, said Rhys in his mind. We are not taking Elain to the cauldron.

"You'll have it soon," Rhys replied, smiling.

 ***

"The decision is made, Az".

Cassian ran a hand through his hair. "That doesn't sound like a good idea at all."

Feyre, with Nyx in his arms, shook his head. "It's the last time we're going to do something like this."

Cassia cursed.

"Nesta will not be in danger," the High Lord reassured him. "We will all be there. And the decision will be up to her."

"You know very well that she will accept the moment you pull in Elain's safety," roared Cassian.

Feyre, with the little one still in her arms, approached, interposing herself between the two.

Rhysand took the baby from her.

Azriel had been silent the whole time, trying to assess the plan. It was unwise to bring Elain to the cauldron, on that he agreed. However, he didn't believe that letting Nesta approach it was a good idea after their troubled history. Yet Rhys seemed really fond of his plan. So sure that even Feyre hadn't hesitated to approve it as High Lady.  

Rhys, approaching and taking him totally by surprise, handed him Nyx.

"I will speak with Lucien about what your spies have reported. He will mediate the situation in the spring court," he said in a low voice. "The games are over. Tamlin will accept our help, whether he wants to or not."

His scarred hands tightened around Nyx's small body. The image of the other day, which he had tried to push away, made its way powerfully into his thoughts.

Elain, with a tiny winged baby in her arms. Her expression so pure, her gaze full of unconditional love.

He had been paralyzed that day in the garden of this very house. He had not been able to utter a word. That image had unlocked an instinct, a desire, that he did not think he possessed. He had never felt it before.

 And he could not allow himself to feel it.

Nesta joined him outside later as the sun set over the city. She stood beside him, and his shadows calmed in her presence. They always calmed, since she no longer had that power.

Whatever it was that she had possessed before, it was powerful and dark. So much so that his own shadows could not describe it to him.

 They used to get tense and motionless when she was around, suggesting him to run away. But he had never done so. He respected Nesta, and unlike almost everyone else, he felt he understood her. And he knew that she understood him. They were both a bit of outcasts. They had that in common.

"How do you think the training is going?" she asked him. A safe question.

"The new priestesses still have work to do. But they are quite capable of defending themselves."

Nesta sighed, straightening her shoulders.

"Do you think we're in for another war?"

"If Koschei finds the cauldron..."

"But he can't do that, can he?"

"Myriam and Drakon have been hidden for centuries. They should be able to keep the cauldron hidden."

"Do we really fear that Elain's power will reveal its location?"

"Have you decided to do that?" he asked her. 

Nesta curved her mouth into a grimace. "I don't want to do it, but it would seem that we have no other choice, according to Rhys. Feyre agrees with him, but I find it unfair to say nothing to Elain, to discuss about her without allowing her to be in the conversation".

"So do I. I tried to insist that she be made aware." Nesta curved her lips even more, and despite the resentment he felt toward the High Lord,  he felt compelled to defend him. "Rhys is just doing what he think it's safest for her."

"I know, but this may not be the best way."

He observed her. Her rigid bearing looked like that of a queen. With the power she had in her hands, she could easily have been one, reigning over the whole world. Yet if it were not for her, Feyre, Rhysand and Nyx wouldn't be here. And what would have happened upon their deaths, the havoc this would have wreaked on Prythyan's already so precarious balance… That was something that could have altered the precarious peace of these lands, not him and Elain kissing once on a solstice night.

Fuck it

He hated himself for these thoughts, but he couldn't stop them from coming. 

"You seem angrier than usual, lately," Nesta added.

He noticed that his siphons glowed. He took a breath to calm himself.

"Do you think she is really in danger?" at the end, Nesta's voice trembled slightly.

"She won't be," he said, "whatever happens, whoever may be looking for her, she will not be in danger."

Nesta sighed. "She doesn't want to accept the bond".

Azriel turned sharply to search her eyes. She had said the same words Cassian had spoken to him. 

"Oh, it's quite obvious. And you think I don't talk to her?"

"You should understand now," he said through gritted teeth.

"My bond doesn't change anything. Elain is her own person, and she has always been different from Feyre and me."

"How?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she said.

Yes, in a sense. But on the other hand, he couldn't help but long to hear Nesta's words. If he couldn't get close to her physically, he would accept whatever crumbs allowed him to know her more, to feel closer to her.

"Elain has always been a buffer between Feyre and me, our characters would have led us to kill each other if she had not been in the middle, always mediating. I'm afraid we crushed her sometimes. That's why she was happy to marry Greysen, I think."

"She loved him," he said, although just uttering those words hurt him. It was the truth. Elain had loved that human, perhaps she still did.

"Yes. But I also believe that he had been the first to understand her, to listen to her. I myself was always concerned about protecting her, but never stopping to listen to her. She was constantly the one listening to Feyre and me, always silent."

This, he understood. He understood what it meant to be the silent one between two brothers.

"She just wanted a quiet life," Nesta added, her gaze drifting to the light of the city, a sorrowness in it, probably thinking that nothing about their life was quiet now. 

And that too, he feared it was something he could never offer her. 

Chapter Text

The rounds of winnowing that Drakon was making them do, before leading them to the secret place where they hid, were exhausting.

The spell protecting them was so strong that even the most powerful of the High Lords could not winnow directly. Azriel had lost count of how many times they had moved already.

Nesta, the only one of them who was not so accustomed to this kind of traveling, was beginning to look pale in the face.

"Is it much further still?" Cassian asked as their feet landed in the middle of what appeared to be a rocky desert. The sky above their heads was gray, the clouds so dense that not a single ray of sunshine leaked through.

Nesta leaned on her mate to keep her balance.

Elain had winnowed even less than she had. Would she have resisted, or would she have already thrown up in case they had dragged her into this mission?

"Not much longer, this is the last step. The most difficult one."

"Thanks the gods," muttered Cassian to himself, while Mor seemed to hold back a laugh, hidden by her long blond hair that the wind swept across her face.

Finally, Myryam herself appeared behind them. Her appearance was sudden, almost as if she had winnowed. Yet Azriel noticed the footprints of her shoes on the gravel surrounding them; they looked as if she had been walking for a while.

Drakon was at her side. She wasted no time with greetings to the group, addressing only a nod to her partner.

"Come with me," she said.

Rhys was the first to follow, all of them behind him.

They led them to a small cave. The entrance was so narrow that he wondered if Cassian would be able to get through. That could not really be the enchanted passageway that led to their city.

Myriam turned toward them.

"Don't worry," she said, seeing their puzzled expressions. "We will not be crushed."

Then she murmured something, which to his ears sounded like the ancient language. The small passage widened, with the delicacy and lightness of a curtain, although in appearance it seemed to be made of pure, solid stone.

An illusion.

In front of their eyes opened the outline of a city that, unlike the place they had occupied a second before, shone with the light of the sun beating down on it. The sky was blue and the sun almost as bright as that of the day court. 

The city was no larger than he had imagined. Yet he was still surprised that their people had lived in secret, hidden, for centuries. A bit like Velaris. He wondered how many other cities there were in the world that lived hidden and in peace.

Every house, and even the wide palace that stood not far from where they were now and to which they were being led, seemed to be built simply. No marble or pageantry, gold or silver. Wood, earth: just materials that could be found easily. Yet, it was of an elegance that even some courts could not boast of possessing.

They led them to the gates of that great palace. His friends kept looking around, curious and surprised, admiring the people and their city. His shadows, meanwhile, informed him of every detail, like Drakon's quickened beats as he walked behind Myryam. She, chin high and stride determined, kept avoiding his gaze, and she had not yet addressed them.

He quickly looked for Rhys, who confirmed with a nod that he was thinking the same things.

They climbed the steps that led them into a large hall. A single table in the center of the room, devoid of chairs. His shadows informed him that the building was deserted. There were no other citizens or servants inside.

Reaching the room at last, Myriam finally spoke. Her attention was directed to Mor and Rhys.

"Excuse me," she said, after loosening from the blonde's embrace. "But I do not like to leave the city, even more so after what Drakon told me about."

Rhys swallowed. "We will make sure you are safe," he said. "And if the danger is too much, we will arrange to have the cauldron moved."

Drakon lowered his gaze and Myryam tightened her lips at those words. Then, her eyes darted toward Nesta.

"And you must be the High Lady's sister". 

Nesta shifted a step, moving away from Cassian. Then she nodded.

"So what's the story about you, Elain?"

Nesta didn't show a second's hesitation, keeping her back rigid and squaring Myryam from top to bottom.

At her side, Rhys held his breath.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she replied.

Not quite what Elain would have said, Az thought. Luckily, Myriam and Drakon hadn't heard much about her character. 

"Well," Myriam folded her lips into a smile. "Your little sister, Feyre cursebreaker, High Lady of the night court, boasts quite a reputation. Not to mention the other one. We've heard so much about her. The king slayer, the one who wielded the power of death."

They didn't even know it had actually been Elain the one to strike the mortal blow to the king of Hybern. It was a good thing that the word hadn't spread about her around Prythian, yet he felt as if he ought to defend her. 

Myriam took one more step forward until she was face to face with Nesta. Her eyes scanned her closely. "There seems to be something extraordinary about you Archeron sisters. I wonder what your story will turn out to be, Elain."

Nesta dared not blink, but it was Mor who stepped forward and intervened.

"She was a seer."

"Was?" asked Drakon, curious, now staring at Nesta with a far more intrigued air.

His shadows stirred. Mor should not have said that.

"It is extraordinary," Myriam said, reaching out a hand toward Nesta's arm, which nevertheless withdrew it before she could touch her. "Such power has not been seen for centuries. Maybe millennia."

Rhys coughed, drawing the attention of the two to himself. "We wouldn't want to prolong our stay any longer than we have to," he said. "Can you show us the cauldron?"

"Of course" asserted Myriam, turning one last ravenous glance at Nesta. "Let's not waste time."

They led them through a series of rooms and corridors. Several minutes passed as they walked. The building was totally deserted.

Rhys led the road with the two hosts.

Azriel went to Nesta's side, letting Mor follow them farther with Cassian.

"You can't be too close to him," he told her, whispering softly enough so that only she could hear.

 "She has given them something else to think about," Nesta made an almost imperceptible nod in Mor's direction.

Behind their back, he could hear that Mor and Cassian were talking about something, but they were whispering softly enough that his ears could not hear them.

He let his shadows report to him their conversation.

"They wouldn't have found out" Cassian was whispering.

"Please. You were too close, Myriam was about to smell the bond. I had to offer her something to catch her attention."

"You could have distracted her in another way."

"I didn't do anything. The rumor about Elain's power may have already spread among the courts."

"Maybe not. Only we know."

"Lucien knows, and he travels often."

"And you think he would spread the news and endanger her?"

"It's no secret, Cass-" she made to raise her voice, but the general interrupted her.

"We'll talk about it later," he whispered.

  They arrived in front of a small wooden door, which opened onto a narrow, cramped staircase.

"This way".

They descended several steps in silence, each concentrating on keeping their balance and not tripping over the one in front of them.

They finally reached, after a few minutes of descent that nevertheless seemed interminable, a small door, even smaller than the previous one. Drakon opened it, ushering them into a long room. Longer than wide, so much so that it looked like a hallway.

His shadows began to whisper in his ears uncontrollably, bringing back garbled voices, wails, cries of souls who were not really there. He looked around, trying to figure out where they were in the darkness of the place.

"Is it a cemetery?" asked Nesta behind them.

Myriam brought her gaze back to her. "It's the catacombs. The cauldron is at the back, hidden under the altar."

"That certainly contributes to the atmosphere," Mor commented.

Drakon and Myriam exchanged a look, as if they were having a silent conversation. There was concern, and astonishment, in their features.

"What's going on?" asked Rhys.

Myriam spoke up. "We had to move it down here, putting as much distance and walls as possible between the cauldron and the city, because the sounds it was making were terrifying the population."

"Is that why the building is uninhabited?"  he asked.

Drakon nodded. Myriam ignored the question, staring at Nesta. "Yet its silent now, I assume it's your presence," 

"What kind of sounds?" intervened Rhys.

"Like a wailing. Or a cry," Drakon replied. There seemed to be anguish, suffering, in his gaze. Myriam, on the other hand, was growing tense.

"We usually never managed to get closer than the stairs," the latter added. "Those who did ended up with… damage".

Rhys looked toward Nesta, who was standing still at his side. "Do you hear something?"

Nesta shook her head, but Azriel would have bet that Rhys was communicating something to her. Something he didn't want Myriam and Drakon to hear.

 The High Lord cleared his throat. "Could we get closer?"

"Reach the end of the room. Then, under the altar, you will find a trapdoor. Go down and you will be at the cauldron."

As they set off to go, he noticed that Mor did not move, remaining at Myriam and Drakon's side.

Rhys gave Azriel a simple nod, assuring him that it was part of the plan, but that didn't ease his bad feeling.

They must discuss the treaty  Rhys communicated to him telepathically. He was still not completely convinced. Therefore, as they advanced with slow steps throughout the dungeon, he let his shadows inform him of what was happening behind them.

"-she needs all the help she can get right now, Myriam," implored Mor. She spoke softly, and her voice seemed to lack the confidence that usually belonged to her.

"Just welcoming you here, Mor, has already cost us. Our people don't want to be involved in any war"

"This has nothing to do with Rhys," the blonde explained again.

"It's too risky."

"Please," Mor's voice seemed to break. "She is desperate. If she doesn't get a chance, she will give herself up to Koschei."

"We have all suffered," Drakon intervened.

"But she still suffers. She saved us all, in the battle against Hybern, and we are now turning our backs on her."

"We can't risk it just now that Bryaxis and Koschei might be on the trail of the cauldron. If she wants us to consider the idea, she will have to wait," Myryam intervened.

"You talk as if the cauldron belongs to you. She cannot wait any longer."

He could hear someone inhale, as if holding back anger. He slowed his pace.

"The cauldron is in our land. Therefore, unless you bring it into your court, yes, the last word is up to us. We will not put our people at risk because Vassa is not willing to wait."

In front of him, Nesta suddenly stopped walking. Cassian and Rhys did the same a second later.

"I hope you aren't doing this just because she is Jurian's ally," Mor continued. Her tone was sharp now, and he could feel the change in the air due to her growing power. They had angered her.

"We wouldn't, Mor. But if Jurian dared to seek us out-"

"I feel something," Nesta said.

He turned his attention away from the conversation that was taking place behind them, focusing on what Nesta had said.

He felt nothing.

"I don't hear anything," Cassian added.

Nesta advanced further, reaching the stone altar at the far end of the room. Remnants of bones lay all around, crunching under their feet as they approached.

"It's like a wail," she said, bending toward the dusty hatch in the center of the stone floor.

He held his breath, making an effort to pull up the heavy trapdoor. Cassian ran to his aid.

When they lifted it, it seemed to him that he, too, could feel it.

It was...

"It sounds like..." swallowed Nesta. He couldn't hear her finishing the sentence. 

The volume increased until his ears hurt.

It felt like an acute ringing in his ear, like that after an explosion, but far more powerful. He could feel it dig into his skull, slicing at his brain like a knife. His shadows tried to shield him, but the headache was already one of the worst he had ever felt. 

Myriam and Drakon were screaming. He didn't hear their words, but he understood them from their lips.

 "Close it."

Cassian stepped forward, shrugging off Nesta, who seemed paralyzed. An expression of terror furrowed her rigid, elegant features, one he had never seen on her.

He snapped out of his stupor. The pain felt less heavy: Rhys had cast a spell over them. 

The trapdoor closed, but he could still feel the weight of that force on his chest, ricocheting through his bones. In all these years, he hadn't felt anything like that. 

Nesta's face was lost in shock, and Cassian had to carry her in his arms all the way back. 

As they left the town and winnowed back at the night court, none of them spoke a word. Even his shadows were unusually still, paralyzed by the fear of what they had just witnessed. 

The Cauldron was alive, but in a different way than usual. He had heard enough stories, in all his centuries of spying, to know something about it: what he had just heard had no precedent. It didn't matter how far enough into his memory he dug, he knew nothing like this ever happened. He tried to think about that fateful day when Nesta and Elain were turned. What had happened as soon as they had come out of the cauldron? 

Elain… she had been the first to enter. Had something like this ever happened before? There has ever been a history of humans being dragged into it and coming out not only alive, but with one of the rarest gifts?

Something had switched that day. The cauldron had changed Elain, but was it possible that she, too, had some effect on it? 

They ran to Rhysand and Feyre's house as soon as they were back, and though they all seemed to be fighting with terrible headaches, they needed to speak about what they had just witnessed.

Myryam and Drakon had explained that the cauldron had always been this way since they had moved it to their lands. At first it had started softly, almost audible. Then its intensity increased and, since Nesta had returned its power, saving Feyre's life, they had to evacuate the palace. 

Nesta had not yet uttered a word since they had returned, still pale in the face. Her gaze looked pensive, her brows furrowed in concentration. 

Suddenly, she stood up from the couch in which she had curled up, her head in her hands, her feet tapping against the floor. Whatever she was thinking about, she seemed to have come to a conclusion. Everyone watched her in silence, almost holding their breath, as if afraid that she would retreat again. 

"As soon as we arrived, the cauldron had stopped. We didn't hear any cry on the way down" she said.

"No," whispered Cassian, encouraging her to continue.

"Because the cauldron was confused by my presence."

"I don't understand," Feyre said. Rhys put a hand on her shoulder.

"The cauldron was silent as we descended. And it only resumed after we got close enough".

"Close enough for what?" he asked her.

Nesta crossed her arms over her chest. "Close enough that it recognized me, and then realized that I'm not the one it was looking for."

"You mean that-" swallowed Feyre, "the cauldron was not looking for you, because of the power you took from it?"

"No," replied Nesta. "It doesn't seek me anymore. Perhaps it never really did." Then she flicked her gaze between Cassian, Az, and Rhys. "During the war, when I tried to locate the cauldron," she said, "I revealed our location. The cauldron could have gone after me and instead it didn't. It took Elain" there was a moment of silence.

Azriel held his breath.

"The cauldron..." resumed Nesta.

"It wants Elain," he concluded.

"We already suspected that, didn't we?" said Rhysand. "Maybe he wants to take back her power as well?"

"That wouldn't make sense," said Feyre, her gaze toward the floor. There was a strange expression in her eyes. Almost one of shock as she, too, seemed to realize something. "It was given to her."

"May it have changed its mind, missing its full power?" Cassian interjected.

 Feyre shook her head, looking for her sister. Azriel noticed a veil of wetness covering her eyes. "Before all of this, when I first came to you for help, you told me that..."

She did not finish the sentence. Nesta raised her eyebrows. "What?"

Feyre swallowed, turning away from Rhysand and speaking softly, although everyone could still hear. "That Elain had been with Greysen."

There were a few seconds of tense silence, in which the two sisters looked intensely into each other's eyes. Then, Nesta sank back onto the sofa, her hands on her face.

"You don't really believe..." began Rhysand.

"It's just a guess. But it could be true."

"Please explain" begged Azriel, his voice a prayer. He needed to understand, to know, to grab into something to ease the pain he could feel through his bones, the unpleasant feeling scratching and burning down its every fiber.

"Elain" Nesta's eyes were wet too. "Elain could have been pregnant when she was dragged into the cauldron."

Chapter Text

She hadn't returned to train with the Valkyries, despite Gwyn and Emerie's insistence. Strangely enough, Nesta hadn't insisted at all. Maybe she had seen how uncomfortable it had been for her that day, even though she hadn't said a word to her yet. It was unusual of Nesta not to confront her about it. 

To be honest, she and her sister hadn't talked much in recent days. Although they met daily in the library, Nesta seemed to keep to herself.

She could have used her power to find out what was going on, and whether there was anything to worry about, but she didn't. After all, the only thing Feyre and Rhys had asked from her was that she not do so, saying it would be wiser this way for the time being. If learning to control her gift, and using it as little as possible, was the only thing she could do to make herself useful, then she would do it.

She had kept her routine of working on the garden during the morning and studying in the library in the afternoon. The herbology section wasn't one of the most extensive that this library could boast, she realized. After a few weeks, she had at least slipped through every book that could be useful to her. 

Madja and Benjamin had no longer come by to pick up the plants she continued to collect for them, nor had they delivered any other requests. Maybe they had been busy, she thought. This was why she had woken up at dawn that morning, intent on collecting the plants that were now overflowing the garden and delivering them herself to the healers before they withered.

 The river's house was immersed in silence and she enjoyed the golden rays of dawn as, one after another, she admired the fruits of her own labor. She was filled with a wave of pride when she noticed that even some of the plants on which Benjamin had placed little hope on had grown.

She had almost finished arranging them in the basket when she caught sight, out of the corner of her eye, of a familiar shadow moving behind the hedges to her left. She turned slowly, getting up and carrying the basket with her.

There was the hint of a smile on her lips when she spoke. "I saw you."

Nuala and Cerridwen were immediately on her, their slender arms holding her in an embrace on either side. She surrendered to what little warmth emanated from their bodies for a few seconds. The morning was frosty, and the simple cloak over her shoulders wasn't enough to stave off the chills that kept shaking her.

"When did you come back?" She asked as she melted out of their embrace. "I missed you."

"Recently, really." Nuala looked at the basket in her hands, and then at the flower beds on which she was working.

As if they were one brain, it was Cerridwen who asked, "and what is this?"

Elain lifted her shoulders. "I thought I'd try something different. These are medical plants."

"Unbelievable," they said simultaneously, almost under their breath.

"It's quite boring, actually. I spent my days in the library without you."

"Well, we're here now. We plan to stay here for a while. Cookies and hot chocolate?"

As a gust of wind made her squeeze even tighter into her cloak, Elain was really tempted to accept the offer and give up on the mission she had set for the morning.

But then she sighed, remembering the plants that would soon wither. "I would like to, but I have to deliver these to the healers."

Nuala and Cerridwen exchanged a look, too much similar to the one of the silent conversations between Feyre and Rhys that she knew all too well by now. And that made her feel like the third wheel.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. And although she had to repeat several times where she was headed, and to do what, eventually the twins agreed that she would not spend the morning in their company.

Elain set out on foot along the road that connected the healers' camp to the city. She hadn't wanted to ask anyone for a "ride" for this task, despite the fact that it would be a really long walk. It would be good for her to walk a little anyway, since she seemed to be the only woman in Velaris who didn't climb mountains in her free time.

God, she was pathetic. These thoughts… she had to stop. It wasn't like her.

She reached the healers' camp, surprised at what she found before her. "Camp" was a somewhat reductive term for the vast expanse of land in front of her, along which stood large white sheds. Some had transparent walls, and inside them, and even from one tent to another in the large grounds, she could see a constant bustle of people wrapped in white robes. 

She even swore she heard the cry of a child beyond the different voices that overlapped in this place full of life.

It was far enough away from the city that it had gone unnoticed by her eyes all this time. Not that she had ever really explored Velaris to begin with, since she had always believed her stay here to be temporary. 

She slowly advanced through the hustle and bustle, clutching the basket in front of her. Several healers passed her by, mostly without directing a glance at her.

 However, the further she went, the more people acknowledged her presence, or rather the basket in her arms, the colors and scents coming from within. She kept walking, wondering how she would find Madja and Benjamin in this chaos. She had not expected to find such a big place and so many people. Perhaps it had been stupid of her to show up here.

She was beginning to get the feeling that this trip was a washout when a young healer walked up to her. She looked just a little younger than she was, in appearance. But fae never aged, so she could be hundreds of years old and Elain wouldn't be able to tell. She was still having a hard time getting used to this, to the idea that Rhys, Cassian and everyone else had centuries of life behind them.

She felt so small in comparison. So poor in experience, courage, wisdom even.

The girl shifted her gaze to the basket Elain was carrying, bending down to observe it better and inhaling its scent. Her fingers brushed a small bunch of twigs sprinkled with tiny purple and white leaves.

"But this is-"

"Hey, is that amantine?" said another healer, looking just as young, who appeared out of nowhere from the girl's back. He took to examining Elain's basket as well.

The girl didn't answer him, but he didn't seem to expect her to. Neither of them acknowledged Elain.

"The things I could do with this-" said the boy. He had ash-blond hair and blue eyes, which reminded her so much of Greysen's. His face looked like that of a child. If he had been human, she would not have given him more than eighteen years.

The girl, dark-skinned and with thick curly hair that was pulled back, tapped him on the shoulder. "Don't even think about it, I saw it first."

"What have you seen first, Anne?"

The two ducked, and when Benjamin appeared behind them, Elain breathed a sigh of relief. The healer, however, didn't appear so happy to see her.

"Didn't I give you work to do?" said Benjamin, addressing the two. So they were ... students? Apprentices?

"We finished everything," said the male.

"As many as two hours ago," added the female, whose name, she understood, was Anne.

Benjamin brought a hand to his forehead. "Okay, then you won," he sighed. "Tent number 22, you can assist the birth"

Elain shuddered at the mere mention of that word while the two exchanged an enthusiastic look. Before they went, they brought their gazes back to Elain, or rather, to the basket she kept holding. "Are those for us?"

Benjamin sighed. "Absolutely not, Remi."

The boy shrugged, as if he had not really expected a positive answer, then he took his companion's hand and they ran toward the eastern part of the large field.

Elain hurried to speak. "Sorry for showing up unannounced. I didn't expect the camp to be so large. I understand that you are very busy. You didn't come by anymore so I thought I would bring them to you before they wilted."

She handed him the basket, which he grabbed, scrutinizing its contents.

"T-thanks," stammered Benjamin. "But you should go now."

Elain squinted. The disappointment at his words took away only a second of her expression. She folded her lips into a smile. "Of course, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have shown up here out of the blue."

"It's not that, but-"

"Elain."

Unlike Benjamin, Madja seemed excited to see her. She came up behind her and snatched the basket from her assistant's hands, staring at the plants she had gathered.

"Extraordinary," she whispered, before returning her eyes to her.  "Come, I'll show you around"

Elain looked toward Benjamin, who had just suggested she left. "Maybe I'd better go."

"Nonsense," said the healer, grabbing her by the arm. "You came all this way to get here."

"It was just a walk," she said, as Madja led her down a passage between white tendons to their left. The numbers ranged from 50 to 60, she noted as they walked.

"In any case, we're glad you're here. We're sorry we didn't come by anymore. There has been a lot of work to do."

"Oh I understand that," she hastened to reply. "You don't have to apologize at all. I should be the one to do it. I shouldn't have shown up here so suddenly."

"Where are we going?" asked Benjamin, as Madja led Elain toward a less-crowded part of the camp. The boy walked behind them and kept looking around with a strange look on his face. He seemed to get more nervous as they walked through the tents.

Madja smiled, ignoring his nervousness. "I want to show Elain our greenhouses."

Benjamin barely composed himself, as if that answer eased some of his anxiety. "How are the High Lord and Lady?"

Elain was momentarily displaced by that question. "We-well."

"Do they know about your visit here?"

"What?"

"Oh, here we are," Madja affirmed aloud, dragging Elain toward a glass structure inside which she recognized many of the flowers and plants she had studied.

"Maybe we'd better postpone it, Mad-" began Benjamin, standing between them and the greenhouse.

He didn't finish the sentence. His lips closed and his gaze appeared almost terrified as he stared at something behind them.

Madja was the first to turn around, and as Elain followed her, she froze in place.

Azriel.

He was wearing his training attire: every inch of his body was covered in black leather, which wrapped and trimmed the outline of his muscles. She swallowed. What was he doing here? It had to be a coincidence. 

"Sorry for the abrupt visit," he said, thundering his hazel eyes between the two. Then he lingered them on her, piercing her with his gaze. "Elain."

"What-" she began, but Azriel blocked her again.

"You weren't at home nor at the river house. Your sisters were looking for you."

"My sisters?" she was more confused than ever. Why on earth were Nesta and Feyre looking for her at this time in the morning, after they had barely spoken to her all week? What had happened?

"Excuse us," said the shadowsinger to the two healers, approaching and taking Elain by the arm, "but we really have to go."

Elain barely glanced at the two as Azriel dragged her away so quickly that she didn't even have time to think. How did they know where she was, and why on earth were her sisters looking for her, and why was she now being dragged away from the camp like a child?

She broke free from his grip once they were far enough away from Madja and Benjamin.

"What's going on?" she said irritably, in a higher tone of voice than she would have liked.

Azriel squinted, as if that reaction of hers was a surprise to him as well.

"Rhys wants to talk to you."

"Now?" she asked, stepping back as he advanced to grab her wrist again.

He noticed the way she withdrew from his grasp and a hurt expression momentarily furrowed his face, before his lips tightened into a thin line. "Yes."

"What's so urgent? How did you know where I was?"

"We'll fly there," Az said. He took a step forward, but without coming close enough to touch her.

"Tell me what's going on."

He remained silent, arms stretched toward her, waiting for her to step into them.

She swallowed. She had flown with him before, and every single time the sensation of his hands stayed on her body like a mark. She could still feel them hours after they separated, and sometimes she needed to be alone, and close her eyes, and....

"Is anyone in danger? Nyx, Feyre, Nesta?"

"None of them," he answered.

"What's going on then?"

Azriel shook his head. An almost imperceptible gesture, but one that did not escape her gaze.

Holding her breath, Elain moved closer.  It seemed to her that he too was breathing shallowly as she wrapped an arm around his neck and he lifted her up.

As his wings spread and took flight, she asked him again what was going on, still getting no real answer. His eyes were fixed on the city that grew smaller and smaller beneath them, not looking her in the face. 

"How did you know where I was?" She tried to ask then.

He didn't even turn to look at her. His face remained inscrutable, his features rigid, like he was actually putting effort into avoiding her gaze. He had come to pick her up like this, like a package to be delivered, and he wouldn't even speak to her.

She was growing nervous by the second. 

A gust of cold wind swept over them and a chill ran down her skin. Despite herself, she clutched more tightly to his chest. 

At the same instant his siphons lit up, creating a shield that protected them from the cold. She eased her grip, readjusting herself. Maybe that much closeness had been uncomfortable to him. 

She was trying hard to convince herself that he didn't hate her, given his recent attitude.  But no, Azriel couldn' hate her. He couldn't. Just the thought of it made her sick.

She stared at the immaculate features of his face as he persisted in not looking at her.

"Why didn't we winnow?" she was desperate to break that silence, to do anything as long as he just looked at her.

Finally, if only for a split second, his hazel eyes rested on her. His adam's apple rose and fell as he swallowed.

"I wanted to spent a few more seconds with you," he said softly, words carried away by the wind.

A chill ran through her. It wasn't from the cold.

"How did you knew where I was?"

Azriel began to descend, and Elain realized that they had reached the river house. Her pulse quickened, while her chest ached at the thought that her brief moment with him had already ended. What he had said… His words didn't make sense compared with his actions. 

"What are we doing here?"

"Rhys wants to talk to you," he said as his feet touched the ground and he gently set her down.

She immediately missed the warmth of his arms, of his body. 

Azriel's arms were stiff along his sides, the hands that had previously enveloped her were now clenched into fists.

As he walked past her, heading toward the entrance, she couldn't stop herself from speaking. "Do you hate me, Azriel?"

Finally she felt she had his attention.

 He tightened his lips, then opened them again in a strained smile. "Hate you? Is that what you think?"

She wrapped her arms over her body, trying to shield herself from the cold. "I don't know what else to think."

  "I could never hate you," he whispered a few inches from her face.

"Elain" Rhys called from behind them.

Azriel stepped away from her and walked toward the entrance, bumping into Rhys's shoulder as he passed him. 

"Did you want to talk to me?" she asked Rhysand as she walked in, noticing the look in his violet eyes softening.

"Yes," he said. He accompanied her to his study, then closed the door behind him. "I know Feyre has already mentioned something to you."

She settled into an armchair. Rhys sat down next to her.

"If it's about my powers, I'll try hard not to use them. Sometimes the visions come without my being able to control them, but I will strive to do so as best I can."

Rhys stroked his chin with one hand, a gesture he usually made when he was trying to find the right words. So, that was not why he had summoned her: there was something else. 

She braced herself for another bad news.

"Is it something serious? Is it about the cauldron? I didn't wake him up with some accidental vision, did I?"

"No," Rhys hastened to answer, "it's not about that."

"Then what is it?" She asked, struggling to hold back her nervousness. 

 He straightened his back in the chair and stopped stroking his chin.

 "As I've already told Feyre, I don't want to be treated like a child. Tell me what's going on, please."

"You should stay away from the healers for the time being," he spoke quickly, so that she had to take a few seconds to fully grasp the meaning of his sentence.

Not what she had expected. "What do they have to do with this? I just grew some plants for them, I thought I was making myself useful."

"I know that, Elain-"

"And Madja was enthusiastic about it. Everyone in the camp was. They did nothing but praise me, finally, for something I did."

"Elain" , Rhys clasped her hand in his own. "I know."

"What's the problem? Why can't I grow for them anymore?"

"You should stay away from them."

"Why?"

Rhys looked away from her, pointing at the floor, then clenched his jaw. "As few people as possible need to know about your power." 

"They don't know about my power. And if they do, then they don't care about it."

"It's not about that power."

"Wh-what?"

"Madja tested you," he said. "The list of plants she gave you… There were species there that haven't been found for decades. Centuries, even. And you grew them too fast."

She lowered her gaze. Well, that explained their astonishment, but...

"There's more to your power. The fact that we didn't notice..."

Rhysand's  knuckles had turned white from the force with which he gripped them around the armrests.

"What is that supposed to mean, that I have the power of gardening?" she laughed at the absurdity of the situation. "So what?"

"Your power is more than that, Elain, or it could be."

"That makes no sense. I just grew a plant, to hell with it."

She knew, from his too careful use of words, there was something they were hiding from her. Something they really didn't want her to know.

"Tell the whole truth, Rhysand. Please. What else should I know? What is happening to me?"

"Nothing," he replied, with all too much haste. "Nesta's power was death. Yours… Yours may be life. We can't know, and we can't risk finding out until the situation with Koschei is clearer."

"Oh- oh, ok". 

She took a moment to ponder what he had just said, straining to fight that annoying knot in her throat that she had no point in feeling, not now.

Rhys looked as shocked as she was, and he turned his head toward her. There was sadness in his violet eyes. The feeling was clear in his expression, along with something else: pain, guilt. 

She couldn't really explain how she was so sure, but she knew. Just as she knew that insisting to know more would not help… and she trusted him. 

Rhysand was her family now, and Rhysand just wanted her well being. If there was something he had not told her, that meant she had to trust him, right? After all, what could she possibly know? The naive, fragile, stupid Elain. It was not her place to make important decisions.

Her nervousness wore off completely then, succumbed under the weight of the knot in her stomach, turning into something quieter, sadder 

"That's okay, Rhys. Just talk to me about it and I'll do as you say. There's no reason for all this secrecy."

His gaze seemed to darken even more, yet nothing suggested that he had changed his mind: whatever truth he was hiding, he seemed determined not to reveal it to her. 

Perhaps it was for the best, perhaps it was something that didn't concern her at all. 

Elain knew that if she used her powers, she might even find out. But that would be a violation of their privacy, and she would not do that to them, to her family. 

When it was clear that the conversation was over, and that she would get nothing more from it, she got up and left the room. 

She was surprised to find her sisters just outside the door, along with Azriel, Lucien and Cassian.

"Did Rhys tell you about Beron and the court of spring?" was whispering the shadowsinger to Lucien the moment she stepped into the room.

Everyone fell silent as they saw her, looking at her in a strange way. Too strange. Azriel, Cassian, and even her sisters stared at her apprehensively. 

The only one who greeted her as he had always done was Lucien, and that gave her a little comfort. Whatever had happened, Lucien was as much in the dark as she was, while everyone else seemed to know.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the feeling of anger and discomfort that grew in her stomach and rose up to her throat, making her feel as if a noose had tightened around it, threatening to explode in the form of tears. 

She wouldn't. There wasn't really a reason to feel that way. She was exaggerating, seeing things where there was really nothing, and she promised long ago that she would no longer cry like a child, gathering everyone's sympathy.

Nesta and Feyre walked toward her as the males disappeared past Rhys's office door.

"You all keep telling me that nothing happened," she said, looking first into the eyes of one and then the other, the exact same shade of blue. "Yet I can see the worry in your faces."

Feyre lowered her gaze.

"Rhys told me it's best for the time being that I don't see the healers," she said, "and that's fine. Did you think I would object? That I would not do what you ask?"

Nesta stopped looking into her eyes.

"Nes," she called to her, "Feyre. What the hell is going on?"

Nesta opened her mouth to speak, but Feyre stepped forward, preceding her. "It's about the cauldron."

"You already told me this. What's wrong? Did something else happen?"

Once again, Feyre overrode Nesta's voice. There was pain in her older sister's gaze. "N-no. Not really."

"We went to see it" Nesta suddenly said from over her sister's shoulder. "Without you."

"Okay. That's fine. It's not important. Why all the secrecy?"

"I pretended to be you," Nesta continued. Her slender fingers were clenched into fists, stretched beyond the sleeves of her dress.

"Why would you do that?" she said, seeking Feyre's gaze. She didn't look happy about what Nesta had revealed, yet Elain had no clue as to why.

Feyre spoke next. "It wasn't safe for you to go near the cauldron. We don't know how your power would react, and we couldn't risk revealing its location".

She nodded, "I see, I would rather you had told me about it."

"You're right," her sister reached out a hand toward hers. "We should have done it. Myryam and Drakon gave us very little time, and we were afraid you would not agree."

"When have I ever contradicted you?" she said, with disappointment beginning to work its way inside her again, mixing with the anger in her stomach and tightening that knot around her throat even more.

She hated herself for how she felt in these moments, for the fact that anger and annoyance immediately turned into tears, that she was forced to remain silent to keep them from gushing down her cheeks.

At that instant, the door to the study opened.  Azriel was the first to come out, quickly followed by all the others. He looked at Feyre, then at Nesta.

"Did you tell her?"

Cassian and Rhys were immediately at his side.

Azriel's shadows began to swirl at his feet as Rhys and Cassian prevented him from approaching them.

 Lucien came to stand at her side. She didn't move away.

Feyre shook her head slightly, eyes fixed on Rhys's. Another of their endless silent conversations. 

From the silence that fell between everyone, she wondered if a mental conversation was taking place and she was the only one who hadn't been invited. Her eyes studied everyone carefully as they didn't dare to look up at her face. 

Then, at last, she turned toward Lucien. He shook his head, as if to tell her that whatever was going on, he was as clueless as her. He seemed sincere, and she really hoped he was.

"What else could there possibly be?"

Her voice had raised, despite that knot in her throat that choked her words. 

Azriel squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip, but still did not speak.

"What is the point of giving me half information? Have I ever gone against one of your commands?" she searched again for someone who had the courage to look her in the eye.

"Nes..." she finally called, desperate. Cassian put an arm on his mate's shoulders, as if to restrain her from whatever she was about to say. Nesta clung to him.

Elain wanted to scream in frustration, but she did not, feeling it build up like tears in her eyes.

"You know what?" she said then, exhausted from all that staging. "If I wanted to, I could easily find out. I could use my power and know exactly what you insist on keeping from me."

Rhys and Azriel gasped at her words.

"Elain," Feyre said, taking a step toward her.

She stepped back, bumping into Lucien just behind her.

"We just want to protect you," her younger sister continued.

"I'm tired of you doing that. Tired. Just tell me what's going on, I can't take these looks of pity and compassion anymore. Did you think I didn't notice?"

"That's enough," Rhys intervened, overruling Feyre. "The conversation is over, Elain. You know everything you need to."

A tear finally escaped her control; she could feel the warm liquid caressing her cheek. She did not have the courage to lift her hand to wipe it away. Once again she had proven herself weak and pathetic in everyone's eyes. She was ashamed of herself.

 They would never tell her anything, they would never really involve her. They'll continue to treat her like a helpless child, telling her half-truths to protect her, to keep her safe in a crystal bowl.

After all, she was not like her sisters, or like all of them. She was not a warrior, she was not a Valkyrie, she was not able to kill a man with her bare hands.

She sought Azriel's gaze one last time. She had once thought that he, at least, saw her.  Maybe she had been mistaken.

She turned on her heels and walked out. No one tried to stop her.

She had already stormed out through the gates and walked along the riverside, taking deep breaths that did nothing to calm her,  when she realized she had been followed out.

She slowed her pace as the sun slowly disappeared behind the mountains and the sky turned a darker blue.

She heard him stop behind her. He was breathing heavily: had he run to catch up with her?

"Did Rhys tell you to follow me? What, is he afraid I might not find my way home?"

Silence behind her, but he had now gotten close enough that his scent reached her nostrils.

He was close. Very close. She forced herself not to back away, turning slowly.

"I am not under Rhys's orders."

 His eyes were on fire. His whole presence radiated heat. A gust of wind tousled his red hair, loose along his shoulders, spreading his scent toward her.

"Did Feyre send you, then?" she asked, sustaining his gaze. She did not want to flinch before him, to show weakness.

"I only answer to myself. I followed you because you seemed overwrought," he swallowed. "I wanted to. To make sure you were okay."

Elain sighed, lowering her gaze. "I'm not your responsibility."  

Lucien tightened his lips. "I assure you I have no idea what happened, what they are hiding from you, but if you want to talk about it...."

"Yes, I believe you, and no, there's no point talking about it."

"You believe me?" 

Elain raised an eyebrow at his surprised tone, intrigued. "Shouldn't I?"

"Yes, I mean," he shook his head and swore, the golden skin of his cheeks tinged a little red. "You can always trust me. But I'm still surprised you did, I guess."

She lifted her shoulders. "You seemed sincere".

The corners of his lips curved slightly, but did not form an actual smile.

The sounds of the city coming to life, of the night that perfused its streets and lit them up, began to rise behind them, and a cold wind caressed her skin. Elain shivered, realizing only now that she had left the house with only her light dress on. She would not, however, go back to retrieve her cloak.

Lucien slipped off the thick jacket he was wearing, "here, take it."

She didn't grab it, observing his outstretched arm and then his chest, covered only by a light linen shirt. He was going to freeze. 

"Put it on, please," he insisted. "And let me walk you home."

She swallowed, looking away from his chest and mentally admonishing herself for lingering so long. Slowly, she lifted an arm to grasp his jacket, brushing her fingers against his.

The fabric was warm and heated, and when she put it on, it felt almost like a hug. She sighed in pleasure.

Lucien looked away from her as soon as she lifted her eyes at him. 

She stared at the exposed skin on his chest that his shirt allowed a glimpse of.

"You're going to freeze to death".

"I have fire in my veins, I'll be fine". He held out a hand to her, as if inviting her to check for herself.

To her own surprise, her curiosity got the better of her, and she reached to brush his palm. It was warm.

 "Why do you wear a jacket if you never feel  cold?"

He seemed amused by that question. He looked away from her, staring instead at the water that flowed just a few meters from them. Elain could feel the humidity rising from it curl the hair around her face.

"Vanity, I guess" he sighed.

Elain bit her lips, smiling. "Well, thank you for it". 

He smiled back, his shoulders straightening. "Can I walk you home?"

She nodded, and when he stepped to her side, she slowly began to walk in the direction of her apartment.

The warmth of his jacket was comfortable, protecting her from the cold evening air. She found that it was pleasant to walk around like this. His smell was all around her and it felt… nice.

"You sure you don't want to talk about it?" 

She pondered for a few seconds, then shook her head. She was struggling to find the right words to open up to him. To open up in general, lately... but when it came to him....

"Does my presence really make you uncomfortable?"

Elain momentarily stopped walking, squaring him off. That's what he thought?

 And, most important, was he right? 

That was how she had always acted around him. Like she was uncomfortable. But now she wasn't really sure she felt like that. Hadn't she just thought how comfortable the warmth of his jacket was? And his smell?

"You don't make me uncomfortable," she told him. "It bothers me to be treated like a child, or like I might break at any moment."

"Elain-"

"It won't happen, not again."

"All right," he replied. "How would you like me to treat you, then?"

"As you would anyone else."

He took a step toward her, coming close enough to make her feel his warmth. He exuded so much of it.  

"You're not just anyone else to me."

She swallowed, but he just resumed walking. 

"You don't even know me". She followed him a second later. "How can you be so sure I'm the right person for you?"

"I want to know you. If only you would let me". His tone was hard. There seemed to be little left of the usual kindness with which he usually addressed her. "How can you be so sure that I'm not?"

She bit the inside of her cheek as her hands tightened around his jacket, creasing its fabric. 

"I don't understand it, this magic," she said. She looked down at her shoes, so as to avoid his eyes and the way they made her feel.

 The possessiveness of his gaze, the hinting that he would go all the way to the other side of the world if only she asked, frightened her.

 Or at least it used to. 

"It's not to be understood, I think".

His voice had dropped an octave. "You just have to feel it, surrender to it."

The echo of his words reverberated inside her, and she clutched at the jacket to hide a shiver that, she knew, was not due to the cold.

"Have you ever loved anyone?" she asked him, feeling the need to change the subject, to divert his attention away from her just a little. 

His steps slowed down, and Elain allowed herself a moment to look at him, to let her gaze wander over his face. His expression became tinged with sadness.

"Yes. I loved, but unfortunately it did not end well."

"What happened?"

 "My family… they didn't approve because she was an inferior fae, according to them. They killed her."

She felt the instinct to console him for the deep sadness that furrowed his features, for the pain she read in his face. She reached out a hand, brushing his arm. "I'm so sorry."

Lucien sighed, staring at the spot where her hand touched him.  "It was a long time ago."

"That doesn't mean it doesn't hurt," she whispered to herself, slowly withdrawing her hand. 

"No, I guess not."

 They had almost reached their destination, and their steps were getting slower.

"Do you still love him?"

Something turned inside Elain's chest. "I loved him. I dreamed of a future with him. But now..." her gaze darkened.

 She had never really paused to address that question to herself, and she could not say when it actually happened, but no. She no longer loved Greysen.

Her heart had once belonged to him, but maybe that part of her had died in the cauldron that fateful day. She had accepted by now that missing piece inside of her and finally moved on. So no, she didn't love him anymore.

She looked around. They had reached her front door. 

She didn't want him to leave her, though.

She liked talking to him like this, when he wasn't handing her with gloves, like she could break down at any moment. 

He walked her even along her doorstep. By the time she reached the door, he was so close that it would have been far too easy to slip into the warmth of his body, to allow herself to be enveloped in his embrace and taste its intensity.

She wanted so badly to feel his warmth against her.

She swallowed. He hadn't said goodbye yet, nor had he remotely hinted at moving. Could he know what she was actually thinking about?

Suddenly that strange feeling grew in her chest. A mixture of euphoria, adrenaline, and something else, that reverberated and electrified her nerves with every inch he got closer.

She took a deep breath. "Would you like to come in for a while?"

Chapter Text

Lucien's heart beat as if it were about to burst out of his chest. He tried to maintain a neutral expression as she opened the door and let him into her apartment, although all his senses were alert as they had never been.

He knew it, knew it was finally happening. She was beginning to feel what he had felt all this time. Their bond, this magic between them that had been hunting him since that day… she was finally feeling it without running away. 

All he needed was a chance, just a little push to show her how it could be, how he could make her feel. And the fact that she was furious with everyone else… Well, for once, at least, things were turning to his advantage.

Once inside the apartment, her scent entered his nostrils and penetrated deep into his veins. Everything smelled of her.

His mate.

Elain slipped off the jacket, and without that heavy fabric on her he finally took the time to observe her small figure wrapped in the tight dress. It perfectly swathed her soft, delicate curves.

Blood boiled in his veins.

Elain clutched his jacket in her hands. "I can wash it before returning it to you, if you prefer."

He inhaled, already foretasting the way her scent would be imprinted on it after she wore it. Absolutely not, he thought.

 "Don't bother."

She nodded, laying it on the coat rack at the entrance.

From the tension he saw in her movements, and in her posture, he realized she was beginning to doubt whether or not letting him in was a good idea. He shouldn't allow it.

This was his chance to show what he could be for her, and the things she could feel if she just let herself go, surrendering to their magic, to him. The fire in his veins burned and stirred, along with something else, straining that golden thread that united them.

He advanced with slow steps until his feet reached the small sofa in the center of the room, on which he had spent the night only a few weeks before.

"May I offer you-" Elain began to say, but then froze.

Lucien knew what she was thinking about:

He too hated that sharing food meant so much to the fae. Elain had shared the food she prepared with anyone except him since she had been transformed. He watched the delicate white skin of her neck bobbing up and down as she swallowed, straining for words.

 "Some tea?" she finally said, noting the awareness in his eyes.

"Some tea will be fine," he nodded, "thank you."

He took a seat on the sofa while she went to the kitchen and put the water on to boil. He had to make her feel comfortable, appear relaxed. Yet it was not easy with his heart hammering so damn hard. He had never found himself completely alone with her, not for so long. And she had been the one to invite him.

He felt like tearing his clothes off from the heat. The fire had warmed him so far, shielding him from the icy city air. But now, inside the small apartment, surrounded by the scent of his mate, he was burning.

Nevertheless, he took a series of deep breaths, focusing on the noises coming from the small kitchen. He could almost hear Elain's heart beating as fast as his own. He had even seen a glimpse of it, in the slight pulsing of the skin on her neck. 

He needed to be the calm one, to make her feel comfortable. He could do it, he just had to focus and stop acting like a sloppy teenager, like he wasn't a fae with centuries of life behind him.

When Elain re-entered the room, however, all his good intentions faltered. He even had a hard time remembering what he had been thinking until a few moments before. Something about remaining calm, maybe.

He stared at Elain as she set a plate of cold cookies on the small living room table and poured him tea. The sleeves of her dress swayed with her every movement, and he found himself unable to look away from it. Her hands trembled slightly.

If nothing else, she seemed to be at least as nervous as he was. More so, even. Although he had centuries of experience behind him, this was as new to him as it was to her. Perhaps he could make her understand this. They were not so different. 

If only he could control himself enough to speak.

With no small effort, he forced his eyes to look away from her as she sat facing him. Continuing to stare at her like that would only frighten her.

He grabbed the cup, if for no other reason than to keep his hands busy so that he would not be tempted to reach for her. He had no desire whatsoever to drink the tea. Nor did he care for the cookies she had innocently placed on a saucer without directly offering them. He would have gladly devoured her, until his lungs exploded from lack of air and she started to scream and pull his hair in pleasure.

No.

 That was exactly all he shouldn't think about. He was supposed to make her comfortable, not scare her. He was supposed to make her keep talking, keep opening up to him. Right?

But it was so hot.

It wasn't just him feeling it. He knew it. He could smell the salty odor of Elain's sweat filling the room.

Driven by a force he was unable to control, he lifted his gaze to her.

She had moved her hair to one side, leaving her neck exposed. Her hands clutched the full cup, her legs tight against each other, as if...

His cock had been half-hard since he had set foot in the apartment. But now, as the smell of her arousal filled the room, it hardened to the point of hurting.

He was so ready for her. If only she asked him, if only she'd give herself to him…

But no, he just had to make her comfortable. Elain had had a bad day, and she was upset, and…

Fuck it all. 

***

Elain had the impression that he wasn't listening to her. She had sat in the armchair next to the sofa, denying the instinct that told her to sit next to him instead. She hated the conflicting emotions she felt. 

The part of her that was dying to give in was fighting with the one that was still opposing this magic, keeping her from looking into his eyes for too long or sitting next to him. And that was now making her talk out of turn when he was clearly not listening to her.

The smell in the room had changed. Usually, he smelled of pine and red roses, but now… now it was the smell of moss, pungent and deadly, that filled the room. 

She rose to her feet, and at the same instant, as if he had read her mind, he did the same. She walked, head down, around the sofa, not daring to look him in the eye. She wasn't really so sure of what she was doing, or if she even wanted him to go, but she headed for the door nevertheless.

He followed her like a predator. "Elain".

 His voice had dropped an octave.

He took a step toward her as the temperature in the room rose. She wished she could tear her clothes off, and at that thought her eyes dropped instinctively to his chest, to the glimpse of skin his shirt allowed.

 Drop of sweat kept sliding down her neck. She stepped back, until she felt the cool wall on her skin and breathed a sigh of relief.

"What makes you so nervous?" he asked, keeping just far enough as not to touch her.

She didn't know. Or maybe she knew all too well, but was afraid to name it.

"If you think this was a bad idea, just  say so and I'll leave."

"I-I-" she swallowed, "I don't know."

"You don't know if it was a bad idea?"

She nodded. Her mouth was dry, and in that moment she regretted not taking a single sip of her tea, too busy talking just to fill that silence, to distract herself from that look in his eyes...

"I'm nervous, too."

A chocked sound left Elain's mouth. It should have been a laugh, but her breathing became heavier with each passing second.

Lucien raised an eyebrow, still advancing. "You don't believe me?"

She held her breath, causing even less oxygen to reach her already foggy mind. How could she believe that he was nervous? He couldn't. Not when he advanced toward her like a lion with his prey, nor when he looked at her that way, his eyes burning into her skin as if they might devour her.

"Stop it, please."

Lucien squinted, his gaze confused and hurt. "Stop what?"

Elain let go even more of her weight against the wall, clinging to the cool feeling. "That. The way you look at me."

A glow of awareness crossed his gaze, sweeping away the initial confusion and disappointment. He understood.

A smirk curved his lips. "And how would that be?" 

"It's-" Elain swallowed.

"Say it."

When he spoke like that, a chill ran down her spine. "It's like..."

"Like?" he took yet another step toward her.

Her voice was barely a whisper. "Like you'd burn the world down, if only I asked."

He was now so close that his scent invaded her nostrils as she inhaled. "Do you want me to stop?"

He moved closer still, close enough to look down at her. Elain lifted her eyes to his, making the slightest, imperceptible shake of the head.

Lucien grabbed a lock of her hair and turned it over between his fingers.

"I wouldn't know how else to look at you," he said softly.

Slowly, he caressed her arm, making her shiver under that light touch, and run along it. When he reached her fingers, he squeezed her hand and lifted it, bringing it to his chest.

Elain sighed as her palm touched his skin. It was warm, and hard, and... she could feel his heart beating wildly.

Lucien held her hand firmly against him as he bent over her ear, words barely a whisper between their labored breaths.

 "Give me a chance, Elain."

A wave of heat unleashed through her body, and she felt arousal descend and wet her underwear.

 He inhaled, and she knew he felt it too.

"I can show you it could be worth it."

She was on fire.  Curiosity was eating at her, her body was begging her to give in, to surrender to this urge she kept resisting and find out what it was like.

"Yes," she whispered faintly.

Lucien separated from her just enough to look down into her face with a questioning look.

"Show me," she whispered again, a little louder.

Something snapped in his face as he registered her words. His chest expanded and his lips curved into a mischievous smirk. His tongue came out to moisten them, and Elain trembled at the thought of what it might do on her.

She continued to stare at those lips, expecting at any moment that they would meet her own.  However, just as they were so close that their breaths became one, he changed course.

She sighed in relief and frustration as he deposited a light kiss along the corner of her jaw. So light she barely felt it, but strong enough to make her shiver.

"I won't have it repeated," he whispered, inhaling the scent of her hair.

Elain could feel her knees begin to buckle.

 "You can tell me what you like, Elain " his tongue teased her neck, "or you can let me have my fun finding out for myself."

A moan escaped her before she could control it as one of his hands gripped her waist. She had the impression that his body shook at the contact.

"Don't hold back," he told her, his lips torturing that spot on her neck. "I want everything. I want to hear everything."

His warm breath tingled her sensitive skin, and when he squeezed her earlobe between his teeth she threw her head back and clung to his shoulders. She was...

She had never experienced such a sensation, and he had not yet touched her there, where she felt she was about to explode.

She was sweating, and she just wanted to rip her dress off. She sighed with relief when his hands wrapped around her back, pulling against the laces that tightened it on her body.

She gave him a single nod. 

He released her from that restraint with a quick move. The fabric slipped under the gravity, leaving her with bare breasts and underwear. Elain stared at his face, marveling at the way his gaze darkened.

He was staring at her with intensity. His eyes lingered like a firebrand on her breasts and then went down her hips, til the apex of her tights.

Elain dared to do the same, letting her own eyes wander over him. The bulge in his pants was frightening, and when he pressed his body against her, she felt it hard as a rock and blazing like fire.

Just then, he finally brought his lips close to hers, depositing a very light, tentative kiss on them. When she leaned forward to deepen it, however, he gave her another of his smirks and, with exhausting slowness, knelt before her.

Elain's heart, if possible, began to beat even faster.

It was happening.

His hands clasped around her hips as his lips rested on her breast. He took the nipple into his mouth, tongue darting over it.

A sigh left her mouth wide open, but she instinctively closed it again. His lips, this time, sucked harder. The slightest hint of teeth teased her painfully hard nipple.

"I told you not to hold back," he said, and there was something hoarse and menacing in his voice.

She looked at him, her vision clouded with desire. She was so far gone that she didn't realize she had begun to lift her hips in search of some friction. He smiled at her, then sank his fingers into the soft flesh of her hips and forcefully pushed her against the wall.

With the tip of his thumb, he stroked her over the fabric of her underwear.

"O-oh" escaped her throat.

"Yes, like that".  He nodded contentedly, before taking her breasts back into his mouth with an entirely new speed and force.

After what seemed like an eternity, when Elain was almost on the verge of begging, his lips began a slow descent to where she wanted them most. Mouth and tongue venerated every inch of skin of her abdomen on his way down. 

When he finally reached the fabric of her underwear, she gasped.

"Grab my hair," he ordered.

She obeyed without even thinking, wrapping her fingers in that red, silky mass.

"Good girl," he nodded. One of his hands lifted the fabric of her panties wrapped around her hips. A spark ignited between his fingers. Before she knew it, her panties slid, broken, to the floor.

"Now hold on tight."

The words barely had time to register in her mind that she was overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure.

The teasing was over. 

His tongue darted over her slit, hard and fast, and she saw his eyes roll back as he tasted her. 

"You taste like heaven" he whispered as his mouth devoured her. "So good".

"Oh-h".

He grabbed her thighs, fingers digging into their softness, and his hands began ascending. 

His lips parted from her then. She was about to protest in frustration when one finger brushed her entrance. He slid it inside, marveling at how it got lost in her folds.

His gaze returned to her face.

"Will you come for me?" he asked, not parting his eyes from hers as his lips came to rest on her clit. 

His finger began moving. Slowly. She threw her head back against the wall, leaning most of her weight on it. 

She could feel his lips curve into a smile against her tights.

"Will you, Elain?" he asked again. And the way he said her name… 

"Ye-yes"

"Then lift your leg over my shoulder".

Elain squinted as her pleasure-fogged mind took a few seconds to understand what he had said.

She hesitated, her knees were like jelly....

"I won't let you fall," he roared, his breath hot against her.

She obeyed his demand, and the moment she lifted her leg, letting her calf rest over his shoulder, he pounced on her again.

She was completely at his mercy, sprawled open between him and the wall.

Unintelligible sounds and words she would never dare to repeat out loud left her mouth as his tongue and finger drove her to orgasm. 

With this new angle, he added one more finger inside her. The sound they made, crushing against her wetness, would have made her blush if she hadn't been so far gone.

 She kept looking at him, at his mouth on her and his hair between her fingers, as the most intense pleasure she had ever experienced overwhelmed her.

The waves of her orgasm rocked her for seconds, making her moan his name like a prayer.

When the pleasure began to subside he stood, his strong arms holding her up better than her own legs.

He was panting, as was she. His hair was disheveled, and his body… She wanted more.

He rested his forehead against hers, and Elain placed a hand on his chest and caressed his muscles, enjoying the way he trembled under her touch. 

She dared to slide downward.

She wanted… no, she needed to feel it. Yet her fingers didn't have time to graze over his bulge that his hand wrapped quickly against her wrist. He squeezed it tightly, although not hard enough to hurt, and pinned it against the wall.

"I can't," he cursed.

"Y-yes," she whispered between breaths. Her heart seemed unable to resume beating at a normal pace. She didn't want it to.

An unintelligible cry left his throat. He still clutched her wrist. "I can't".

He pressed his cock against her tight, observing her face closely. 

Elain could feel the desire grow and pulse inside her. She wanted more. She needed more.

"If I take you now, Elain, I won't be able to stop until I've made you mine" he whispered to her ear. "Thoroughly and utterly mine".

She couldn't imagine how that could be a bad thing right now. She could just focus on the sound of his voice, on his warmth breath tingling her sweaty neck, on the scent of him now mixed with hers. 

Faster than her brain could process, however, he parted from her. His hands were already on the door handle as she opened her mouth, ready to beg for him to stay. 

"You would never forgive me for it" was all he said. 

She heard the sound of the door slamming and nothing more. 

She leaned back against the wall, the suddenly cooler air chilling her skin. 

He was gone.

Chapter Text

Lucien needed to recover; he needed air. Fresh air, before his body went into combustion and his heart shot out of his chest and back over the threshold of that door.

Holy cauldron. He had never felt more alive than this.

Three hundred. He had been in this world for three hundred years, yet he had never felt anything so intense. 

He had to run away, because he knew that the moment she touched him, the moment he no longer had the barrier of his clothes separating his body from hers… He would have taken her until she begged him to stop, until the line between hours and days became little more than a blurred confine. 

Deep down, in that part of his mind that still allowed him a little control over himself, he knew that stopping was the right thing to do. If she didn't already hate him, she would definitely hate him after that, even if her body desired it almost as much as his.

 But Elain didn't know what it would mean to them, to the bond, to go through with it. 

He walked for a long time after leaving Elain's apartment, waiting for the bitter cold that hovered in those mountains to finally quell the fire in his veins. 

He knew what he was going to do as soon as he was locked within the walls of the room where he slept. He could still taste Elain in his mouth, her sweetness. And his hands still had the feeling of Elain's soft body imprinted against them.

When it was late enough that the city had fallen asleep, he returned to the River House. There was no one there that night and he was happy to enjoy the privacy. He needed to get off some of the adrenaline running through his veins.

 His hands were at the waistband of his pants as soon as the door closed behind him. He sank against it, his hands moving frantically along his cock until the first orgasm overwhelmed him.

The second was less frantic, more measured, as his mind replayed every detail he had failed to focus on the first time: the way her fingers had gripped around his hair more tightly as she came, the way she had thrown her head back and opened her lips, his name on them.

The third was in the bathtub. The heat of the water mingled with the heat of his own blood as his hands pounced on his cock for the umpteenth time, imagining what would have happened if he hadn't left. He thought about the way she would have touched him: hesitantly, gently at first. He imagined the desire in her eyes, the uncertainty and curiosity of her movements. Then he would have taken her, savoring every second of her expression as his cock sank inside her, making her his.

When he finally left the bath, satisfied for the moment, he could still smell Elain on himself as he prepared for his meeting with Rhysand. They were to discuss what was going on between Beron and the Spring Court, and he already knew that this would be the ultimatum for Tamlin. Perhaps, it would also be time to discuss what had happened last night, the problem concerning Elain that everyone seemed to be aware of.

Except for him. And her. 

On the one hand, Lucien wished not to find out. He wanted to preserve this thing that united them, separating them from everyone else, for a little while longer. If Rhysand didn't speak about it, he decided, he would not be the one to bring up the subject.

He wondered if the shadowsinger would come to the meeting as well, and deep down he hoped he would, so that he would smell Elaine on him, so that he would know, or finally understand, that she was his...

It was maybe one hour after dawn when Rhysand crossed the threshold. Lucien held his posture against the big fireplace as heavy footsteps behind him announced Cassian. And then, after a few seconds, when he had stopped hoping for his arrival, he appeared.

Lucien straightened his back.

 The first reaction of awareness was on Rhys's face, his general's following a moment later. They exchanged a look that was worth a thousand words, and he could not help but greet them with a smirk.

Cassian avoided meeting his gaze, standing by the door as the shadowsinger entered. Lucien caught sight of his nostrils flaring. His siphons lit up as he looked at him. 

What exuded from his face was an icy rage. His shadows coiled at his feet, and the temperature of the room dropped a few degrees.Rhys took a seat in one of the armchairs in the center of the room, avoiding the glare contest between the two. 

Lucien sat across from him, while the two Illyrians remained standing. The redhead was more than content to have his back to them, not failing to run a hand through his loose hair, which still smelled of her. Rhys glowered at him, but Lucien shrugged and pretended to be oblivious. 

"So what's going on?" he asked, breaking that tense silence before anyone else did.

Azriel stepped forward into the room, and Cassian followed, like a guard dog. "Your father wants to attack the Spring Court."

"Well, we expected that, didn't we?" 

Rhys grimaced, tightening his lips. "Tamlin can no longer refuse our help. Either he will accept it willingly, or he will be forced to do so."

"I agree with that, but it won't be easy either way."

 "This is his last chance. His court needs to be strong; it occupies too ragged a position to indulge in weaknesses. We were lucky that no one has yet thought of invading it from the humans' side."

"As if humans would ever stand a chance"

Rhys's gaze hardened, telling more to him than his words did. "We must keep the peace and avoid a massacre, they too have suffered enough."

Lucien shuddered, remembering that Elain, his mate, had also been a human. Those words had left his mouth before he could think about them. They belonged to an old version of him, one he had outgrown now. "What do you want me to do?"

Rhysand leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Report this to Tamlin: by Calanmai the Spring Court must have recovered all its authority, at least in appearance. We will invite all the high lords and courts for the festivities to send a message."

Lucien cursed, well aware that another Calnmai was the last thing he needed. But he did not voice his thoughts, knowing that it would lead to no good. "All right. I'll see what I can do."

"You will go and talk to Tamlin this very morning".

"There's no such hurry." Just the idea of moving dozens of miles away from Elain caused him physical pain.

Rhysand's expression was resolute. "You can come back as soon as the situation with Tamlin is clarified. But it has to happen as soon as possible."

Darkness began to stir at the High Lord's feet, the deep blue of his eyes veering to darker shades of purple.

Lucien clenched his jaw and nodded.

"Mor is in town. You'll winnow with her."

Lucien kept his posture relaxed as he stood up. He felt his power course through his veins with a different force since last night. He had already been able to winnow here from the Spring Court when he thought Elain was calling him. Maybe with each step he took toward their bond his magic grew stronger.

Rhysand's focused gaze made him wonder if he was reading his mind at this very moment. He hoped so, so that he would stop looking at him with the pitiful glance of pain that only a mated male could understand.

He started toward the door. "You know what, Rhys? I don't think it'll be necessary anymore".

***

Azriel felt an icy rage coursing through his bones like never before. Few times in his life had he felt this way, and yet the main subject of his fury wasn't the scarred fae who had just left the room. No, it was his brother. His High Lord.

He turned Truth Teller over in his hands to calm himself, stroking the cold blade with his fingertips.

"I know it was you. You encouraged him to follow her."

Rhysand leaned back on the chair, sustaining his gaze. "Elain was upset, he would have followed her anyway."

Cassian stood in the middle between them, neither too much on one side nor the other, as if even an inch more in one direction could sanction his faction in the conflict that was about to escalate.

Rhys continued. "He had to stop and distract her. She could have used her power to find out, otherwise."

Azriel's voice was like the hiss of a snake. "There were many more ways to distract her than to throw her into his arms."

Rhys inhaled, standing up and taking a step toward him. "Elain decided of her own free will how far to go with him. No one forced her to do anything, and you know it."

His fingers tightened around the handle of the knife.

Rhys sighed. "We have to stop her from finding out the truth."

"I still believe she has the right to know". Az searched Cassian's eyes. "How did it end when we gave this treatment to Nesta? It is not up to  us to decide for her."

Cassian clutched his big shoulders. "Nesta is different."

"How do you think she would react?" Rhysand took a step forward. "You saw how she suffered when she lost Greysen and her marriage. How do you think she would feel if she knew she might have lost a child as well? What benefit would she get from the truth?"

Azriel swallowed as a weight slapped his chest, constricting his lungs and preventing them from filling with air. "You wouldn't really want that, if you cared about her. You wouldn't want to keep her in the dark. We treat her like a child but she's not. She's not-''. 

The words stuck in the back of Azriel's mouth. He couldn't finish the sentence. He hadn't realized the similarities until this very moment. Rhys's actions, now, made a little more sense.

As if he had read his mind, the look in Rhysand eyes veered from anger to sadness.  "She reminds me of her. My sister."

Azriel's anger evaporated at those words, at the memory of the sweet fae. He understood why Elain reminded him of her, now that he allowed himself to think about it. But Rhysand was unable to see beyond that. He was limited to the similarities, ignoring all the immense differences between the two.

He opened his mouth, ready to counter, to explain what his mind kept processing. Rhysand anticipated him. After that brief moment of vulnerability, his violet eyes had hardened again. "Elain has suffered enough. She doesn't need to be sad about things it's too late to change. Any other dangers, we'll take care of. She deserves that quiet and safe life-" his words froze, as if he was pondering the effect the end of that phrase would have.

"-which only a mate can offer."

Cassian stepped forward, putting himself between the two of them, but it was already too late. The room became a mix of shadows, wings, intertwining bodies and darkness.

Azriel received a blow on the lip, which he returned with a punch to the ribs before he felt two thick arms immobilize him. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as Cassian's arms tightened around his waist, pushing him back.

"This is getting out of hand, Az," Cassian cursed in his ear, his firm grip not wavering despite his flailing.

Rhys cursed. "I don't recognize you anymore, Azriel. I just want to maintain peace. In this family and in these lands. That is my only priority. I will not let a whim of yours destroy everything."

He started toward the door and Azriel watched with Cassian at his back, close enough to grab him if he snapped again.

He wasn't finished, tho. "You would have done the same. For Feyre, you started a war."

Lightning flashed in Rhys' gaze. "It was different. Don't make me repeat why" he reached for the door, then stopped. "Ah, Cassian, I almost forgot," a smirk on his lips.  "Some extra staff will come to the house to set it up for the Starfall ceremony."

***

Azriel was almost sorry that there was no one to torture that day. He would have gladly vented the icy rage coursing through his veins extorting information. 

Luckily for him, however, his mind was soon offered something to take care of. Nuala and Cerridwen burst into the dungeon with an unusual light in their eyes, as if they had recently discovered an interesting news. Since Azriel had given them no mission, except to take care of Elain and make sure she was safe, he snapped to his feet.

"What's going on?"

"We have a fugitive." He watched the twins exchange a glance, their long black hair sucking in the little light from the oil lamps.

 "Where did he come from?"

"Autumn. He declares that he wishes to seek political asylum."

"Have you started the usual procedure?"

"Yes. We have no reason to suspect that he might be a spy. But we think you need to listen to him."

Azriel, already on his feet, walked toward the stairs, not to the cells where they held prisoners, but to the upper levels, where they interrogated those who seemed willing to cooperate.

"What did he tell you?"

"He said that he overheard some conversations of the High Lord. And that lately he had begun to receive guests, from territories that had been on the other side of the wall."

Azriel opened the door to the room the twins pointed out, finding a fae much older than he would have expected. His pinkish skin and large ears were furrowed with deep wrinkles, and silver threads covered his entire head. He knew this breed of fae. Theirs wasn't an easy life in the Autumn Court. 

The fae sat with hunched shoulders. The glass of water the twins had offered him lay untouched on the table. His eyes went from sad to frightened when Azriel entered the room. Though intimidated, he sustained the shadowsinger's gaze.

"What is your name?" asked Azriel.

"Damian, my lord."

"I am not your lord. Why are you here?"

"I escaped."

"Why did you come to the night court?"

"The people who helped me escape… they told me to reach the Day Court, and to come here if I couldn't. I tried to enter the Day Court, but I was kicked out. I had a message to report to the High Lord, but I wasn't allowed to see him."

His shadows told him that he wasn't lying, at least for the time being.

"Who sent you, who helped you escape?"

The fae had a moment's hesitation, his hands trembling. "I..." he swallowed. "I promised not to reveal, so as not to endanger them. But my granddaughters, they only have me in the world, and now they are down there alone." 

"Why did you run away if you have someone there?"

"They wanted to execute me," his voice broke.

Azriel took a step toward him. "Why?"

"I was paying too much attention."

Here, the shadowsinger stared at Nuala and Cerridwen, and the elderly fae did the same. "I suspected that the two of them were not who they said they were," his gaze became blank, and he looked away. "My granddaughters ... they are also twins."

Azriel nodded. "The Night Court can offer you asylum, but there is a procedure to follow, to make sure you are not a spy. And-"

"I need your help," the man interrupted him. "I left my granddaughters behind to escape my sentence. But if I don't go back and get them in time…"

Azriel was certain that it was already a miracle that this elderly fae had managed to escape the Autumn Court and make it this far. That he would go back, retrieve two little girls and then make it all the way here… it was unlikely. Impossible, indeed.

"What are you asking us?"

The fae fell to his knees. "I will do anything. I will tell you anything. I have information. Things that not even the two of them-" he pointed to Nuala and Cerridwen "were able to find out during their stay."

Azriel wasn't usually shaken when someone cried, or begged, during interrogations. But there was something about this fae, in his tone of voice. 

But even if he wanted to...could they really do anything for him? Rhys seemed more than determined to cling to the idea of peace with other courts. And raiding the Autumn Court, meddling in their internal politics… He would never approve this sort of mission in a time like this, just to help a complete stranger.

Azriel shouldn't have felt so guilty at the idea that they would do nothing for this man and his granddaughters. 

"I can't promise you anything," he said, stepping back to allow him to pull himself together. "But I will talk to the High Lord about it. First, though, you must tell us everything you know."

The trembling in Damian's hands calmed as he began to speak. Azriel listened carefully to his every word.

He had worked for decades in the Autumn Court.  Being what they considered a lesser fae, working as servitude, in exchange for room and board, was as good as he could hope for.

"The High Lord  was always talking about his plans to invade the Spring Court after its fall."

"We know this," Az intervened.

"It was no secret," Damian continued softly. "Or if it was, Beron didn't put much effort into making sure it didn't leak. Not like he did with all the rest, anyway."

Both Azriel and the twin strained their ears. "What are you referring to?"

"He had started getting visitors. He would turn away most of the servants on these occasions..."

"What kind of visitors?"

"There was a rumor among us that the one that visited was his mistress. But I don't think so. I think that was the message he wanted to get across, making everyone at court think that was the reason for so much secrecy. But I overheard a conversation between them one day, him and this woman."

"Do you know her name?"

The man shook his head. "I can only describe her. Young, certainly attractive. She visits only at night, secretly entering through the servants' passages. I once glimpsed locks of red hair under her cloak."

The shadows suggested to him who it might be. The situation was bigger than he had imagined.  "What did you eavesdrop on?"

The man took a deep breath. "They were talking about a trade. He wants the humans' territories and she has access to the human who currently rules over those lands. And she wants...I don't know. She said she needs all the help she could get, but there are very few people she could ask at the moment. She said she is looking for something, or maybe someone, to deliver to him"

"Him who?" asked Azriel, every muscle in his body paralyzed.

The fae shook his head. "She didn't mention any names. All I know is that he is someone powerful, who she works for, I think. He has girls who work for him..." he swallowed, meeting Azriel's eyes. "She called them the girls of the lake. I have no idea what that means. This is all I know."

"All right," Azriel said, trying to navigate his way through this flood of information that he didn't like at all. "I believe you. But for us to trust you, you have to tell us who helped you. We need to know."

The man trembled, as if holding back a sob. "The lady of the Autumn Court. And her eldest" he finally confessed, tears welling up along his eyes. "She has always been kind to me and my daughter."

Azriel took a deep breath. He had a daughter?

The fae looked him in the eye. "She was a good worker and always kept her head down. She was so beautiful. Maybe too much so, even. They accused her of trying to seduce one of the High Lord's sons, and then they killed her. But it was a lie. She only cared about her daughters. She entrusted them to me, before they executed her, and now I left them alone."

Azriel felt a pain crushing his chest. He wanted to help this fae, even though he knew Rhys would never approve of such a plan. Maybe there was something he could do. On his own. With Nuala and Cerridwen, he could go in and out of the Autumn Court unnoticed in less than a day. 

And then, there was another important question: why had Vassa allied herself with Beron? What was she looking for here in the Night Court that she could not ask Rhysand, or even Lucien, for help? And, more important, on whose behalf was she seeking this, who was she working for?

With this and a thousand other questions on his mind, Azriel continued to feel that chill in his veins even as the sun beat down on the exposed skin of his arms, outside the House of Wind, hours later.

He had ordered Nuala and Cerridwen to keep quiet about the stowaway, even though there would be no need to. They answered to him, not Rhysand. He would report only the matter concerning Vassa to his High Lord. Perhaps they should have discussed it with Lucien. If she had already allied herself with Koschei...

A voice in his head kept screaming that somehow it was all connected to Elain.

The garden was fuller than usual that morning. The training of the new Valkyries was exceeding their expectations. Even Gwyn had been surprised at how many priestesses had agreed to take part in the training, and she and Azriel looked after the newcomers while Nesta, Cassian, and Emerie supervised the girls' training at the Illiryan camp. Something had changed since the girls had completed the rituals. He could feel this new energy filling the air, all of their rage finally coming out. 

"Continue with this exercise," Gwyn said to the newcomers who were struggling with strengthening their balance and abdominal muscles. Then she walked toward him.

He stood and watched the elegant pace with which she advanced, and the confidence she showed now, compared to when they had first met her. She continued to wear the necklace. Though she did not know who might have sent it to her, she had accepted the gift. 

He felt his shadows shift when she came near enough, as if running and at the same time reaching for something that emanated from her person. It was the same sort of feeling he had felt on solstice night: his shadows were scared and attracted at the same time, like they were trying to reveal something. 

"You look more somber and pensive than usual," she told him, taking a glass of water. 

He shut that feeling, continuing to monitor the priestesses. Some of them had not left the library in years, and they would need a lot of training and changes in their diet to put on the muscles needed to master the simpler exercises.

"What's unnerving you?"

He turned his eyes toward her. Those two blue puddles, so big they looked as if he could swim above them, were squaring him with a streak of amusement. "You're perceptive."

She shrugged. "You're not that hard to interpret."

 He smiled, grateful at the fact that she, like all the other priestesses, felt comfortable enough in his presence to be here, to stand near him. To allow him to train them. 

Then, as his shadows were still running through their legs, they whispered to him. 

Someone is here

He allowed nothing to seep from his face as he handed Gwyn some of the equipment for the girls to try out.

"I'll be right back," he said, before walking toward the inside of the house.

He already knew who was waiting for him, and he also knew that it could not be a coincidence that she had sought him out now.

Azriel advanced slowly. He didn't sit down, nor did he allow his body to assume a relaxed posture. "What is it?"

Her lips, as red as the dress she wore, curved against the rim of the glass. "Straight to the point."

He shrugged. "I find it hard to believe that you came here to supervise the training." At the look he read in her face, he took a deep breath. "If it's about Rhysand, I have nothing to say."

"Wait," Mor got up from the stool and took a step toward him, quickly checking that no one was paying attention to them from outside. "Do you think you are the only one angry with him? I'm furious too. His orders are becoming excessive. I think he's not seeing things clearly."

"He only ever wanted what's best for his court. Now that he has a mate and a child, his desire to protect them is..." he lowered his voice. "He is willing to do anything, for that. Even hurt us."

Mor bent the corners of her lips, her gaze bitter. "And that's what you think he's doing with you and me? With Elain?"

He felt a dull anger stir in his chest at the mere mention of her name. Mor knew him well enough to notice the change in his posture, his eyes, his smell. "What does this have to do with Elain?"

"We both want something from her."

He made no effort to hold back the roar that emerged from his chest. "And what is it that you want?"

"Her power can help Vassa," Mor said, eyes shining with hope and a little madness.

Azriel bit the inside of his mouth. Mor moved closer still, so close that their conversation became an exchange of whispered words.

"You think so, too."

He tightened his lips. No, that was not what he thought; she had misinterpreted his hesitation. Did Mor know that Vassa had allied with Beron? He didn't think so. 

"Unlike you, I don't want to exploit her power for my own gain."

"You know…" she told him, defiance in her eyes. "You know that she would help me and Vassa if only I could ask her. She is too good not to. And what you want from her is not so different."

"Don't you dare say that," he whispered, his shadows lifting. If Vassa only needed one of Elain's visions, just to glimpse a solution to her curse, why go to Beron? Why don't just wait? 

Mor smiled, and Az realized she had provoked him on purpose.  "What do you want? Why did you come here?" he trailed off, because his shadows would not stop stirring and her scent, now, was too strong for his nostrils. 

 "Rhys will not change his mind. There is nothing we can do except contradict his order. He will not listen to us."

"He will listen to Feyre."

"Fine," he nodded, "talk to her then. What do you want from me?"

"We should both talk to her, together."

He made to turn away, but Mor grabbed him by the hand, forcing him to meet her eyes again. They were dark, capable of swallowing you inside like a black hole. Not like Gwyn's, so clear they seemed transparent, like gliding over the surface of the ocean. Elain's, on the other hand… He had done his best not to think about them. Elain's eyes were sweet as chocolate, innocent as a fawn's, a caress to lose himself in whenever his dark side took over.

He resurfaced from his thoughts. He couldn't allow himself to be overwhelmed like that.

"I will not ask my High Lady for her blessing for me and her sister, given the circumstances. And I think you should be more careful around Vassa". 

From the expression on Mor's face, he could tell that she did not like his answer. 

 "Are you really taking Rhysand's side in this? Or you just hate me so much?"

"I never hated you and you know". He didn't expect this comeback from her. She was acting… different from how he knew her. 

"Do you really trust her? Are you sure she told you everything?"

"What are you insinuating?"

He shrugged. "Any news about Jurian and his mission?"

Mor's expression hardened. Jurian's time wasn't up yet, but they both knew that he could never have found a solution. "It's none of our business, isn't it? We could've helped and we chose not to". 

Those words sent a chill down his spine. "So  she has already gone to Koschei? And… she's still alive?"

Mor's expression looked a little scared, but it was nothing compared to the fear he felt. "I- I'm not sure. I'm doing my best to prevent anything-"

"What had she offered him? What can she possibly have to lure him into some sort of agreement?"

"She wouldn't tell me" Mor admitted. Sadness and fear clouded her usually fiery gaze. 

"I don't like this". 

"Me neither".

"Rhys?"

Mor closed her eyes. "He wouldn't listen". 

Azriel thought back to Damian's story. If Vassa was really working for Koschei, and she has gone to Beron of all people for help… things may be worse than what they had anticipated. "Maybe he will, now. But we'll talk to our High Lady first".

Mor looked at him, mouths trembling slightly. "I hope it isn't too late". 

Chapter Text

After spending the night tossing and turning in bed, even the thin linen of the sheets too warm on her skin, Elain breathed a sigh of relief as the darkness began to fade. She sprang out of bed at the first orange ray she glimpsed through her window. She hadn't slept a wink the whole night: her skin was still on fire, the feeling of Lucien's hands as strong as if he had branded her. 

She rushed into the kitchen. Since Rhys had prevented her from seeing the healers, she was left with just one thing to occupy her time and mind, to keep her own thoughts and visions from chasing her.

She wasn't hungry, her stomach still twisting from the thought of Lucien, but she baked some breakfast pastries until the sun was high in the sky and it looked like a decent hour for visiting her sister.

When she reached the mansion, it was Rhys who opened the door. He was holding Nyx in his arms, but that did not prevent his gaze from growing somber as he saw her.  

"Elain". 

He let her in, his face coming back to a forced smile. 

"Rhys," she said, sustaining his gaze. "Feyre wanted to talk to me."

He nodded and ushered her into the living room, while the little one in his arms stretched his small hands toward her. 

Elain couldn't force herself to entertain a conversation with him after the way he had spoken at her in front of everyone, and after he had forbidden her to do the one and only thing that had made her feel less like a burden.

She heard Feyre speaking of how Nyx had begun to flap in his sleep from beyond the doorway. She was with… 

Mor. Elain found it just a little strange that the blond had visited so early in the day. She had always given her the impression of being the opposite of a morning person. 

Both sets of eyes settled on her. 

"I brought breakfast."

Rhys grabbed the tray she had brought, handing her Nyx. When he smiled at her, she realized that that was the first genuine smile she had received in days. Weeks, even.

"He really adores you," Mor said, eyes scanning her as she sat on the free armchair.

Feyre placed her coffee cup on the table. "Elain has always been good with children." 

Since when? she thought, not voicing her retort. Instead, she glared at Rhysand. "Maybe I could keep Nyx these days, since I don't have much left to do."

The two mates exchanged a glance, then Feyre stood up. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. We are preparing the House of Wind for the Starfall ceremony. Would you like to help with the decorations? I mean, no one would know how to arrange the flowers better than you."

Nyx winced and wailed between her arms, as if voicing her exact feelings. Once again, she had been relegated to something purely decorative. She strained to feign enthusiasm at the idea. "Sure, I'd be happy to help."

Feyre clapped her hands together. "Perfect. We all need a distraction. Mor will help us."

She nodded, crossing the blonde's eyes. Mor had inexplicably taken her distance from her lately, as had Azriel shortly after the winter solstice. She was so tired of pretending she hadn't noticed and that everything was fine. 

Once they winnowed to the house of Wind, she struggled to respond to Feyre's and Mor's compliments about the flowers: they had the brightest colors and the sweetest scents, yes.  

And the petals? Their shapes and texture were as pleasant as they could be, too. 

Not long ago she would have loved all of this. Now, however, her nervousness had grown to such an extent that it oppressed her. She was growing annoyed at the looks of pity that Mor and Feyre kept giving her, at the false smiles and enthusiasm with which they were trying to… to do what? Cheer her up, distract her? 

But what could she have said to them without sounding paranoid, or crazy, or even just rude?

She tried hard not to mind Azriel's presence. He didn't even glance at her when they arrived. Why would he, though? He owed nothing to her, even if she missed just talking to him.

"Rhys believes this is a fitting occasion, since he has revealed Velaris' existence to the world, to welcome the high lords and members of the other courts," Feyre looked around the hall, her eyes shaping the surroundings.

Mor refined her gaze. "What about my father?"

"Keir will not be present, and neither will Beron. But Eris will come. Rhys must speak to him, and they can no longer meet secretly in the spring court."

The blonde nodded.

"The best way to hide is in plain sight," murmured Elain under her breath, and her sister nodded softly. 

Mor turned her gaze on her, then took her by the arm as they scanned the room.

"I'll have to go get a dress. Will you come with me?" she looked toward Feyre. "Your sister already owns a closet overflowing with inimitable wonders."

Elain nodded and kept smiling. For the mood she was in at the moment, a ball was the last place she wanted to be. She knew Lucien would be there, and she wasn't sure she was ready to see him again after what had happened. Being with him had been... easy. 

Too easy. 

Falling for him would be the easiest thing. It would be like letting the petals of a flower be carried away by the wind: if she let go, the current would carry her straight into his arms.  

When Feyre left her alone with Mor to attend to her High Lady matters, the blonde seemed to drop her mask of enthusiasm. Nevertheless, she began scanning the flowers they had collected, examining their colors and stating which would look best in which corner of the room. After a while, Elain found herself nodding passively, the anger in her veins slowly giving way to a subdued apathy. 

"Rhys invited Vassa, too."

She emerged from the cloud of her own thoughts. Focusing on other people's problems was therapeutic, or at least helped her take her mind off her own. "Why don't you sound happy about it?"

Mor frowned. "I am, I really am. It's just...I'm anxious about her, I wish I could help her."

"She still hasn't changed her mind?" 

"No, and she won't," Mor's voice grew harsher. "It's already been a month of the six he had given Jurian and me to find an alternative solution."

Elain placed a hand on Mor's, shaking it. "I'm so sorry, I wish there was another way."

Mor pulled up with her nose. "Do you ever think that sometimes Rhys and Feyre are wrong?"

"Wh-what?"

"I'm their third in command, and I give them my full loyalty and trust but… I don't know, I just don't like the fact that Rhys insists on opposing to use the cauldron"

Elain bit her lip. She knew very little about the subject and she wanted to avoid saying things she might regret. Feyre and Rhys knew more than she did, so she had better trust them and not grope in the depth of her ignorance. "He won't let her turn herself to Koshei. They wouldn't allow it..."

"They who?"

"Rhysand," she swallowed, "and Lucien. He wouldn't allow it. He's her friend."

"He is," nodded Mor. "But I think the only person to whom his full loyalty goes is you."

Elain lowered her gaze, hoping Mor did not sense the wave of heat that enveloped her at those words. 

 "Do you really think your visions are dangerous to you?"

Elain squinted. She didn't doubt what Rhys and Feyre believed was right, at least not out loud. 

"I mean-" Mor continued, " I really don't believe that making an attempt with the cauldron to help Vassa will reveal to Koshei where it's hidden. And even if it did, it's worth the risk. What would you do if there was a way to go back to your life, but they prevented you from it? Wouldn't you be desperate? Wouldn't you do anything-"

"I saw that Feyre is gone."

Azriel's voice caused a chill down Elain's spine, though she had heard him coming. Not him, rather, but his shadows. Their breeze had warned her of his arrival.

Mor smiled at him, letting her long blond hair sway. "Yeah, do you want to join in the decorations?"

Azriel's gaze remained serious, betraying no emotion. Elain felt hurt by the way he stubbornly avoided meeting her eyes.

"Will you be long, the two of you alone?"

What kind of question was that?

Mor seemed neither annoyed nor surprised, and she responded to the fixed gaze of the shadowsinger by widening her beaming smile. "The hall is large. Perhaps you and the priestesses would like to help?"

Elain stared intently at his face, his posture, the way the light from his siphons intensified. Anger and jealousy gripped her stomach.

"Are we somehow disturbing your training?" 

The words left her mouth before she was able to control them, and finally Azriel's eyes deigned to acknowledge her presence. 

Even Mor stared at her surprised by that interruption. Elain had the vague feeling that she was amused whenever she did something outside the box, or that made her look ridiculous.

 Azriel kept looking into her eyes, and she dared not be so cowardly as to break eye contact.   

"Rhys wanted us to start with the decorations," Mor added.

"Rhys," he nodded, lips tightening in a straight line. "Will you come here every day?"

When Elain didn't answer, he was forced to turn his eyes toward the blond. Mor shrugged.

The look on Azriel's face seemed annoyed. "Fine"

He made to leave, but when he was in the doorway, his eyes glowered at Mor one last time. There was pain when, for a second, it seemed to Elain that they finally met hers.

From that moment on, Mor didn't speak about Vassa, nor the Cauldron or her visions, and a light breeze seemed to follow Elain's every movement around the big hall. She had the feeling their conversation wasn't private anymore.

***

Azriel had donned a smart suit, and with Cassian and Rhys he waited impatiently for the guests to flock for the ceremony. 

He didn't believe that opening Velaris to the other courts on this very occasion was a great idea, but he was going to monitor the evening, making sure everything went well. That Beron wouldn't attend was a meager consolation since Eris Vanserra had just arrived, wearing a smile he would have gladly wiped off his face with his fist.

Rhys welcomed him, wasting a few minutes to discuss Beron's recent moves and make sure it was safe to leave him alone in the Autumn Court, if only for one night. No one noticed that almost whispered exchange; from the outside it just seemed that the High Lord was doing the honors.

When Helion joined them a little later, and Feyre and her sisters made their entrance into the hall, Rhys entrusted the task of doing the honors to his High Lady while he, Cassian and the High Lord of the day's court wandered toward the opposite end of the house.

They placed several corridors and walls of distance between them and the main hall, and then, as an added precaution, Rhysand placed a silencing spell around the room. His shadows, conveniently stationed behind the door, assured him that no one approached. 

He hadn't dared, even for a second, to turn his gaze toward Elain. From what he had seen from the periphery of his vision, he knew that she was wearing a light pink dress, and from the way it swayed with her every movement he knew that it perfectly swathed her soft body, her slender waist... 

He only allowed himself a small peek as the three sisters had their backs to him. Just long enough to notice her semi-curled hair, which fell in golden ringlets over her dangerously naked back.

Cassian caught his attention back with a cough.

Helion took a seat on the sofa, sipping the glass of liquor Rhys offered him. "This looks serious."

Rhysand sat opposite him. "Only the people in this room know about what I'm about to say, and it has to stay that way."

Helion bent his lips into a mischievous smile. "Anything for my favorite High Lord"

"It's about the cauldron, it can no longer stay with Myriam and Drakon."

Helion raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"I'll explain the details later. But we need another place to hide it, and it cannot be here in Velaris, that would be the first place they would look for it."

"And why me?" asked Helion against the rim of his glass.

"You are the one I trust the most. And your court offers excellent hiding places, far from prying ears."

"Ears?"

Rhys nodded. "I'll explain everything. But no one must know about this displacement. Everyone has to believe that it's still with Myriam and Drakon."

 "No one?"

"No one. We need to swear to never mention it. Never."

 That was a surprise to him as well as Cassian, but Rhysand made the four of them take the oath. A small spiral of black ink marked the skin of his bicep. He felt the sizzle of magic there, then saw his brothers touching their own arms.

Helion seemed both excited and intrigued by the situation.

Rhys drained his glass, then placed it theatrically on the coffee table and stood up. "Well, a party awaits us."

As the large, decorated hall filled with guests, his shadows followed Elain's movements around it. He didn't even have to command them anymore, they just knew to look for her when she was in the room, never coming too near to mark her with their darkness, but just enough to create a bridge between them when he couldn't give into the instinct to come closer. 

And even if he wasn't looking at her, he knew her big doe eyes were searching the room for him. 

"Congratulations, by the way."

Helion approached Cassian, one hand now clutching a glass of sparkling wine.

The general smirked at him as both their eyes turned to Nesta, who was greeting the latest arrivals with her sisters at the back of the room. 

"It seems that anyone who sets foot in your town, Rhysand, then finds a mate. Do you have some trick I need to know up your sleeve?"

Rhys smiled, hands waving mid air. "And since when have you been interested in a mate, Helion?"

"I've been interested in his," he replied, turning to Cassian and patting him on the shoulder. "But I doubt he's open for sharing."

Cassian's gaze gave him the answer he sought.

"Yet, I know there is another sister," his eyes darted to Elain with a predatory air. Azriel clenched his fists. "Now I understand why you always kept her hidden."

There was something that went beyond lust in his words, though. He was looking at her like he was actually searching for something... This reminded him that he had to find a way to talk to him by the end of the evening without Rhys noticing. He had a message from the Autumn Court to deliver.

"She has a mate" Rhys muttered with an indifferent air.

Az clenched his jaw. His brother never missed an opportunity to remind him that Elain had a mate, that she wasn't his. 

Not yet whispered his shadows before he could silence them.

"Beron's son?"

"Yes, him" Rhysand nodded but lowered his gaze, as if he couldn't look the High Lord in the eye. 

Azriel filed this detail away, as well as all the others that his shadows kept bringing back to him.

"But she still hasn't accepted the bond? How long has it been, two years maybe?"

Rhysand raised an eyebrow. "So?"

Helion finished his drink, leaving the empty glass on the tray of one of the passing waiters. "I take it she's not interested. A pity. For him, of course."

"Helion, I don't think that-"

"Oh, relax Rhys. It's not me he should be worried about"

Violet, hazel and dark brown eyes settled on Elain in the exact same moment, looking with shock at the person who had just approached her. 

***

Elain was seething with jealousy, and anger at herself for that same feeling, when she saw Gwyn. She wore her hair up and a light green dress the same color as the stem of her favorite flowers. She looked like a delicate primrose, whose red hair were the petals.

She hadn't left Feyre's side ever since the evening had begun, welcoming the guests with a smile on her face, shaking their hands and forgetting their name the instant they spoke it.

She didn't fail to notice the look that many fae males reserved for her cleavage. She was used to people telling her how pretty and delicate she was, but she had never really felt like an object of desire. Except for one time, but she wasn't going to think about that right now. 

She immediately turned her gaze when she accidentally crossed Lucien's red eye. She hadn't greeted him yet, and... Well, maybe she was avoiding him. 

She could feel her knees start to tremble if she looked at him for too long, her body reminding her of how he had made her feel.

"Elain?" Her sister's voice brought her back to the present. She turned, noticing before them a tall man with red hair and vaguely familiar features.

Feyre's voice was strained as she said, "meet Eris. He is Lucien's brother."

The resemblance was obvious. His short red hair fell in curls around his face. His skin, however, was much lighter than Lucien's.

He took her hand and, very theatrically, bent down and kissed her knuckles. Feyre forced a smile, without hiding her astonished gaze. His lips lingered on her skin a second longer than they should have, and she felt him inspire against her. When he finally let her go and straightened his shoulders, Elain met his blue eyes.

The more she observed him, the more she noticed that actually very little, other than the color of his hair, connected him to Lucien.

"We never had a chance to properly introduce ourselves, Elain Archeron. I'm Eris Vanserra," he turned a smirk in Feyre's direction, but then his eyes were totally on her, and Elain could not tell whether he was devouring her with his gaze or studying her like a rare species. Maybe both. "I'm sure you've heard a lot about me."

She smiled, for she did not know how else to react. She didn't know much about him, but what little she had heard suggested that the last thing she should do was trust him.

"The High Lady won't be offended if I take you from her for a dance, will she?"

His hand was already open before her, like an invitation, and her sister's blue eyes gave nothing away as she nodded and smiled. 

It was a scene: it was all a scene, this evening. To open Velaris to the world, to show the other courts how strong they were, even after all that had come down upon them.

Very slowly, she put her hand on his, avoiding meeting Lucien's eyes, which she could feel burning against her back.

As Eris led her onto the dance floor that was beginning to fill up, she allowed herself only a moment to observe Azriel while her dance partner had his back to her. He was still ignoring her, not that she expected otherwise.

Eris bowed as soon as the notes of the next song began to play.

"I'm afraid I'm not as good at this as my sister Nesta".

He grabbed her by the waist. His hands were warm, but the fire running in his vein was different from Lucien's.

"You Archeron sisters are full of surprises, I'd say," he spun her around to the music, so quickly that she felt the air moved by her long hair caress her back. A few golden-brown ringlets landed on her shoulder. 

Eris watched them as he guided their step.

 "I wonder what's your secret, Elain Archeron, since they kept you so hidden."

He was provoking her, but she did not take the bait.

"My sisters are the warriors. There is not much to know about me"

He made her turn. The velvet of his dark jacket caressed her bare back. He bent, his lips dangerously close to her ear. 

"Yet I heard it was you, Elain, who killed the king of Hybern."

He turned her around again with a pirouette, meeting her eyes.

"I gave him the first shot, but it was Nesta who finished him"

"You are too modest."

"Not at all."

Their conversations stopped momentarily when the dance involved an exchange of partners with the next couple. When he was near her again, the tone of his words lowered, hiding them in the loud music. 

"I've heard other things about you, Elain. About your gift."

She held her breath. Rhys had told her not to talk about it, and that the fewer people who knew, the better. How did he know? It certainly couldn't have been Lucien. From what she knew, there was bad blood between them.

"Do you really think Prythian knows nothing about you?" he whispered again, more on her neck than on her ear. "Do you think you are a stranger? That your sisters' fame has shadowed you?"

She swallowed. 

"The halo of mystery surrounding you makes you even more interesting. And if the rumors are true..."

They separated again, and Elain felt like cursing. She wanted to get closer. She wanted to hear… she wanted him to finish what he was telling her.

"What rumors?" she whispered.

He lifted his arm to meet hers in the dance. Their fingers hung in the air, a few inches separating them.

The fae shrugged, lifting his broad chest, and Elain bit her lips. Eris Vanserra was looking for something, but for some strange reason, she didn't see him as an enemy. More, maybe, as an unlikely ally. 

The music faded, and the widespread chatter of guests filled the room before the orchestra began playing the next piece. Her breath was heavy, she realized, and not from dancing. She took a few more seconds to study the male in front of her, who in turn had never stopped examining her.

Unlike the other male that evening, not once had his blue eyes slid to her small breasts swaddled and squeezed in the bodice of her dress, nor on her narrow waist, or the way the pink silk on her hips swayed with each movement.

The Vanserra's oldest bowed and once again, with excessive theatricality, kissed her knuckles before dismissing her. 

"Thank you for this dance, Elain."

He had been gone for mere seconds when Mor, Feyre and Lucien were on her. She couldn't see who reached her first, but she certainly knew who, of the three, she should confront first.

She sought Mor's dark eyes, who looked at her with a worried and somewhat curious air. "What did he say to you?"

"This is not the time to discuss it," growled Lucien, his golden eye darting around.

 Elain noticed that he was clenching his fists in the pockets of his sleek dark green pants. Despite the thick fabric, there was a faint light leaking from there, barely perceptible in the din that surrounded them.The emissary turned a single glance at Feyre, as if scolding her for allowing Eris to dance with her. As if she were a dog obedient to her sister's every command.

"I decided to dance with him." She looked first at him, then at the blonde. "You were willing to push Nesta into his arms just a year ago. I could be useful as well."

Feyre lowered her voice, speaking to her in a condescending way. "We don't know what he wanted from you, El-"

"I wouldn't be stupid enough to reveal anything to him."

Her answer came out icy enough to make Feyre squint. Her sister turned her eyes to the opposite end of the room, and Elain knew there was another set of ears on that conversation.

She hated this thing. She felt that anger again, terrible, mean, not like her, stirring in her chest, and she looked away from everyone. She grabbed a glass of sparkling wine from the tray of the waiter who walked past them, thanking him with a nod.

She didn't really want to drink, but she needed to keep her hands busy.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Lucien had his eyes fixed on her glass.

Elain blinked. "Excuse me?"

Feyre and Mor walked away as the tempo of the music increased and the dance floor became more and more crowded. 

Lucien glared at her.

Elain tightened her fingers around the crystal glass. "Are you going to stop me?"

Not taking her gaze from him, she took the glass to her lips. The liquid was sweet and it stung her throat.

He smirked. "I am going to take care of you, whatever you decide."

His eyes kept running up and down over her, unable to focus for long on a single point. She felt her cheeks start to color. 

"May I have the next dance?"

Elain swallowed. She approached another of the waiters passing by her, gently placing the now empty glass on her tray. Her heart had begun to beat rapidly, and it was then, despite her confusion, that she caught the outline of Azriel's wings approaching the beautiful green-clad priestess.

 She immediately looked away, taking a series of breaths to try to calm herself. Perhaps it was because of Lucien's reassuring presence, or because of the little bit of alcohol she had drunk, but she grabbed his hand.

Every second spent in his presence, so close to him, pushed her more in his direction. She didn't have to make any effort: she just needed to stop resisting and let herself fall. He would be ready to catch her.

His smile grew bigger. "I may be pushing my luck, but can I tell you something else?"

Elain leaned closer so that she could hear his words despite the loud music.

She was pervaded by a wave of heat when he was close enough that his lips brushed against her neck. "You look beautiful tonight."

She swallowed. 

This shouldn't have had this effect on her. These were just words that meant nothing, that she had heard many times before. Yet...

When the orchestra began to play the next song, she let herself fall. 

***

After watching Eris's lurid hands clench on her hips, his fingers grazing Elain's bare back as they danced, Azriel was almost relieved that Lucien had gotten in the way.

That he could tolerate. He had no other choice. But that Eris Vanserra would dare to breathe her same air, be under her same roof and even stare at her like that... it was hard to keep himself from the temptation to raze the whole room to the ground.

Yet he kept nodding and pretending to participate in the conversation.

Elain was smiling. She had been smiling the whole time she had been dancing with Eris, and she had seemed interested in what he was talking to her about. And his shadows… strangely enough, they hadn't wanted to cooperate.

The next dance was about to begin. Even though Rhys was here, keeping an eye on him, he had to get close to her, if only for a moment. 

"Would you like to dance?"

The priestess widened her big blue eyes. He had made a mistake; he shouldn't have asked her. But Nesta was still talking to some of the guests and she was the only one with whom he felt confident enough to ask. Yet he felt stupid. Maybe she wouldn't have wanted to be that close to him, to have his hands touching her.

He was about to say it was silly, and they didn't have to dance, when she nodded.

"I would love to dance with you."

He felt a sense of lightness invade his chest. He accompanied her to the floor where the next dance was about to begin.

Gwyn moved well. She was fast and graceful, and her movement reminded him of the waves of the ocean. Out of the corner of his eye, he continued to stare at Elain. He let go of his shadows, but once again they didn't report any conversation back. They felt… weirdly paralyzed now. 

He could see that she was smiling, and Lucien was so close that the smell of their bond filled the room. It was wrong; it should not have been so strong.

"Is something bothering you?"

He turned his eyes back on Gwyn, careful not to touch her more than necessary. She must have noticed his staring. 

"Sorry," he whispered.

"What's wrong?"

"I need to keep an eye on some of the guests" he said as he took the next step in the dance. 

A few more moves and they would have to exchange partners with the couple next to them. "I have never complimented you for the work you're doing with the other priestesses."

A slight blush dyed her cheeks, standing out against her pale skin. "It's also because of you."

"Don't give me credit that doesn't belong to me."

Just as he said that, he parted from the priestess.  He could feel Elain's breath catch in her throat as he stepped in front of her, her pulse quickening.

Time seemed to slow down. Even the music no longer reached his ears. There was no one else left in that crowded room but the two of them.

Her skin was warm when he brushed against it. Her naked back was as smooth as the silk of her dress, just begging to be venerated by his hands. Elain winced imperceptibly at the touch of his fingers, not taking her eyes from his for those few moments that the music allowed them. 

He tried to absorb as much as he could of her. Her slightly parted lips were tinged with a veil of pink, and he could smell the sparkling wine on her breath. If he kissed her now, he could taste it on her lips…

As he made to move back, he let his finger linger on the inside of her wrist, as if that simple touch could tell her all the things his words couldn't.

 Then he parted from her, his shadows recoiling around his feet as he moved away. 

***

Elain felt as if a bubble had burst the moment Azriel stepped away from her. The music suddenly felt too loud and the room was too warm and crowded. She needed some fresh air. 

"I need to go out," she told Lucien, without waiting for his response. 

She hoped he would not follow her. Yet as she slalomed between the bodies, she felt the heat of his gaze set her back on fire. Her neck was sweating where her hair fell like ringlets over her shoulders.

She passed the dance floor and the set up tables, storming through the hallway until she reached a small balcony hidden behind deep blue curtains. She stepped out. 

As the cool air caressed her back, her racing heart started to slow down. The city was silent below her. Almost all its inhabitants were here that night. The sky shone with its shooting stars.

"Elain."

"Please," she said without turning around.

"Why?" his voice had dropped, but he had grown closer, she could feel his warmth. "Have I done something?"

Her fingers tightened against the balcony handrail, gripping on that coolness and hoping it would somehow transfer to her blood.

"What happened, Elain? Why is it that for every step toward me you then take three steps back?"

She felt Lucien's warm hand tighten around her wrist, leading her to turn.  His face was dangerously close when he spoke again.

"Why do you keep resisting this?"

She swallowed, "I...."

"How can you even want to resist this?" he stepped closer and took a strand of her hair, the curl wrapping around his finger.

She took the slightest, almost imperceptible step backward. Lucien let go of her hair and gave her a bitter smile. "Do you think it's easy for me? I'm tired, tired of pretending that I can't see you making sweet eyes at him, looking for me only when you have no alternative, treating me like less than a second choice. I promised myself that I would wait and be patient. I'm not going to stop now, but I need to understand. Grant me at least this. Why do you keep resisting?"

He was in front of her, trapping her against the railing with his arms. "I would burn this whole world for you, and you can barely stand to dance with me?"

He was too close, and Elain could not help but inhale his scent. She closed her eyes only for a moment, fighting against the reactions that his smell caused her.

"Stop fighting it".

"You-" Elain swallowed, trying to distract herself from how close he was. "You ran away last night".

"You know what would have happened if I hadn't?"

Elain shook her head. 

He leaned closer, his gaze shifting towards something more animalistic. "If I… " his breath was heavy. "If I had fucked you, I wouldn't have been able to stop. I would have taken you for days on end. There's just something about this magic... I never believed the stories about it before I experienced it on my own skin. It would have meant something more to me than it would have to you, Elain. That's why I had to run away".

"I understand," she said, but she wasn't sure she actually did.

Lucien's face came closer. "No, you don't. This is a torment, Elain. I can't seem to stay away from you, but I can't stay close to you either. I'm stuck in this limb of suffering every single day…"

"I don't want you to suffer."

"You can make it stop. For the both of us", he bent down. His lips caressed her jaw. 

Elain held her breath. "I'd like to go back now".

Lucien tightened his lips, not moving his face away from hers. "Is that what you really want?"

"She told you so".

At that voice, Lucien took a step back. The expression on his face returned to normal, and then shifted from confusion to horror. 

Azriel's hazel eyes came out from the darkness behind them, his shadows still and tense at his feet.

Lucien didn't dare to look at him. He kept walking back, staring at Elain and then at his own hands.  "Elain, I'm so sorry. I don't know what… I'll go now."

He swallowed and kept moving away, looking at her in shock. She didn't have time to reply. 

She brought a hand to her chest as soon as he vanished beyond the french window, staring into that unnatural darkness. Azriel slowly emerged from it, leaving his shadows behind. 

His gaze remained hard.

"Are you all right?"

She nodded. "You followed me."

"You'd better go back." His tone of voice made her heart sink.

"Why are you treating me like this?" she asked, no longer caring that she sounded desperate or that someone might hear them. "You don't even want to be my friend anymore since solstice. I'm tired of pretending I haven't noticed" Elain felt dejected by his gaze.  "I miss you, you were my first friend here."

For a moment, she seemed to see something shift in his rigid gaze, the hard line of his lips softening a little. "We could never have been just friends." 

"But not even something more, it seems."

He took a step back, his shadows wrapping again around his feet, and disappeared into their darkness. 

As Elaine was left alone, the tears she had promised herself never to shed again began falling on her face, like the bright stars that streaked the sky before her.

 A cool breeze caressed her shoulders then, as an unknown voice whispered in her ear.

He misses you, too

Chapter Text

Lucien had been going back and forth between the Night and Springs courts, grappling with the arduous task of convincing, or maybe forcing -he was no longer certain whether he had crossed that line already- Tamlin to get help organizing Calanmai. Up to a point, his plan seemed to be working. Tamlin had somehow surrendered, letting go of his resistance. It seemed that the preparations for Calanmai had revived him a little. He still missed that sparkle in his eyes that always accompanied him during the holiday, even when their lands had been cursed, but maybe it was going to come back once he took his role in the ritual, with his full magic on display for the first time after half a century. 

Lucien tried his best not to think about what had happened last time, when he had been forced to participate. He would have gladly avoided even witnessing it at all this year, but he did not seem to have much choice in the matter. He had hated that feeling of losing control and the animalistic instinct the ritual had instilled in him. He remembered little of what had happened that night, but the sense of dread he had felt once the magic had worn off… It was a little too similar to what he felt at Starfall some weeks ago. He had no idea what had gotten into him. He hadn't seen Elain since and he almost feared the moment he would meet her again. Good thing she wasn't eager to see him either. 

The festival was only a few days away and people were buzzing for the great return of the High Lord. There were females in small groups already strolling around where the large bonfires were being set up, peering towards Tamlin's Manor, hoping to catch even the smallest glimpse of him.

Lucien could feel the atmosphere quivering with magic. The flowers were blooming faster than usual, their colors shining. He would have loved for Elain to see them, for her to have a chance to see the Spring Court like this, but he would never wish for her to be around when the magic demanded to be released.

Slowly, he reached the manor that was once his home. He slalomed among the servants who were working to make it presentable again in record time. No one paid any attention to him. He reached Tamlin's office, not waiting to knock before slipping inside.

 His friend sat at a table with a series of open books in front of him, which he closed as soon as he saw him at the door. Lucien sighed but didn't dare to ask what he was reading about. 

"Preparations are going well."

Tamlin brushed back a strand of blond hair. He hadn't cut it since Hybern, but Lucien was grateful enough that he had at least shaved for the occasion, so he didn't push the matter. Females loved it long anyways. 

Green eyes squared him from head to toe. "Are you going to force me to participate in the ritual?" 

Lucien took a seat in a comfortable chair in front of him, getting ready to go through the subject one more time. "You are the High Lord, and you have no idea how many gorgeous young fae are already hanging around outside. They are all excited about your great return."

Tamlin tightened his lips. "It wasn't so bad when you replaced me."

"I can't do that and you know it."

 "Because your sweet mate will be jealous?" his eyes narrowed into two slits. "Or maybe because she will be here too? She likes flowers, right? You could do the honors, I'll step aside."

"Tam-" 

"I take it you two haven't talked about what happened".

Lucien struggled to keep his gaze impassive. He hadn't wanted Tamlin to know the details about his relationship with Elain. There wasn't even much to know… Yet, when he had come back here after that night, nothing he could have done could have prevented his friend from knowing his head had just been buried between her wonderful tights. Just the memory of him going down on Elain set in blood on fire, his mind drifting to dangerous fantasies…

"Or did something else happen? Hmm, too bad you didn't bite her."

Lucien shook his head. "I didn't come here to discuss my private life."

"Pity" Tamlin said, getting up. "I don't think there's anything else interesting to discuss then."

Lucien followed him. "Will you participate in the ritual?"

"Do I have a choice?" the redhead lowered his gaze, and Tamlin nodded, catching the answer. "Well, there is nothing to discuss then."

***

"Nesta, Cassian and Elain. With Mor and Amren, too. They will represent our court at Calanmai."

Azriel clenched his fists to contain his anger at the absurdity of the situation.

"I'll be there too," Rhysand continued. "But Feyre has decided not to participate. I will not try in any way to change her mind."

"Yet you want to send her sisters there."

Cassian tensed at Azriel's side.

"Nesta and Elain have both a mate; they will be safe for the ritual. And it is important, now that we have opened Velaris to the world, to send a clear signal of our strength and unity in plain sight, where members of the other courts can witness it."

Cassian exhaled, shoulders barely relaxing. He, on the other hand, was as tense as he could ever be. 

"Elain hasn't accepted that bond yet" he growled, disgust seeping from his every pore.

"She'll still be safe," Rhys kept his voice calm. "If Tamlin should ever approach her under the magic's influence- which won't happen -we'll be there to prevent him from even setting his eyes on her. It's all just for appearance. It is crucial that they see us at our strongest".

"What happened to your warning months ago about  Koschei?"

"I talked to Feyre about it. We believe Elain will be safe for those few hours, and trapping her in Velaris will only worsen her mood"

Azriel wanted to scream, but he counted to ten, letting his fury settle into something cold and far more lethal. He met Rhys's eyes, "I'll go, too."

 "Is there any way I can talk you out of it?"

When he did not answer, the High Lord nodded to Cassian, mentally communicating to him that he would be tasked with keeping an eye on them. 

As they walked out of the room and into the warmer sky, Cassian's hand patted his back, words he couldn't speak out loud trapped in that gesture. Azriel understood. 

***

Lucien was growing tense. His magic was seething and hyper-reactive.  Although the reconstructions were proceeding swiftly and efficiently, the closer the calanmai approached, the more his nervousness grew, the magic stirring wildly in his veins without him being able to understand why.

The afternoon lights were in their full glory, and everything was where it should be. He tried to justify his nervousness by telling himself that Elain, his mate, would be here this evening, and if anything happened to her....

He repressed the thought. Not out of fear, but because thinking about her lately led him to lose control of himself. He had already been on the verge of it weeks ago, and now that burning had only got stronger.

Although all of his magic had screamed against it, deep down he had been grateful for the shadowsinger's interruption. He didn't know what had gotten into him, but in that moment he was certain that Elain's plea weren't going to prevent his lips from devouring every inch of her skin. The beast inside of him kept screaming that her body didn't really want him to stop, and he had been unable to shut it down just then. 

He imprecated, eventually bumping into one of the servants as he caught up with Tamlin. 

The High Lord was constantly hiding between his office and the library, his head buried in big old books. What he read with such interest, Lucien had never been able to figure out. Not that he cared to. The only thing he wanted right now was to get this hell of a celebration over with. 

He resented Tamlin for having him take over the burden of organization. It was a commitment and a duty that he had never been interested in, despite the power that would come with it. To find himself running a court- whether it was Autumn or Spring- was never meant to be his job.

This time, though, he didn't find Tamlin with his head in one of those dusty old books. He was sitting on the floor with his eyes closed, probably channeling his magic. It was since  they were cursed by Amarantha that he hadn't seen him do that. 

Tamlin slowly opened his eyes as he approached. "Is it time already?"

"Almost. Guests will be arriving soon."

 "From each court?"

"I think so. They've all been invited."

Tamlin expression was impossible to decipher.  "Beron will be here too?"

"I would bet on it. He's the main threat to your court right now, so it is important for you to appear strong and in charge."

Tamlin's lips bent in a smile that sent chills down Lucien's spine. "Good."

Lucien could take no more. He wanted to scream and force his friend out of the soporific state he seemed to have slipped into long ago.

"Will she be here?" 

"Feyre won't attend, but the Night Court will send a delegation. Rhysand will be here until the ritual begins."

"I wasn't talking about Feyre."

 Lucien's heart stopped for a moment. "Yes," he admitted, although he would have rather lied.

"Strange. Aren't you worried?"

Although Tamlin's expression remained impassive, something shone in his green eyes. Lucien clenched his fists, fighting against the fire threatening to burst out from his skin. What was happening to him wasn't good. This feeling felt a little familiar, too, now that he thought about it. 

"She will be safe. Rhys wouldn't have allowed  her to participate unless he hadn't been certain of it". Drops of sweat started running along the back of his neck.

Lucien trusted Rhysand, but what made him certain of Elain's safety wasn't him. It was, rather, the presence of another Illyrian. As much as every cell in his body opposed it, rationally he knew that she would be safe as long as the shadowsinger was here.

Tamlin lifted his shoulders. "Maybe the magic will choose her. This could be your chance, you know. If you participated in the ritual and claimed her, she couldn't oppose, and no one could blame you since you were driven by a stronger force. She'll be yours forever then".

Lucien lowered his fist onto the table, the magic that exploded from his hand burning the wood. A large black spot stretched across the place of the impact. "That's enough."

The amusement on Tamlin's face only made his anger worse. "You don't want to break the bond, but you don't want to claim it either. Do you really think that by doing so she will end up choosing you?"

He had to leave. Tamlin was provoking him because he was in pain, because he couldn't  understand. He ignored the black stain on the table, the smell of burning, the heat on his skin that made him sweat, and walked toward the exit.  "Get ready," he told his friend.

"Don't worry about me."

As he walked out, he could swear Tamlin laughed at his back. 

***

Two hours later, bonfires were burning, the high flames and smoke blurring against the orange backdrop of the setting sky, the air barely cooler, which nevertheless did nothing to quell the fire in Lucien's veins. He had put on the lightest linen shirt he had, the fabric falling loose against his body. Still, he wished he could tear it off. This urgency he felt in his veins, his power simmering… there was something strange about it, but he didn't want to think about what it might mean. It couldn't possibly be what he thought. 

Some servants had already headed to the manor to dress -or rather undress-  Tamlin for the occasion. After more than a year living in animal form and feeding on what he hunted, Lucien knew all of the females and even some of the males would be swooning on their feet over their High Lord’s muscular body.  

Guests from other courts began to arrive in large numbers. He spotted Tarquin, from the Summer Court, accompanied by Varian and Amren. He would have liked for Tamlin to be in charge of doing the honors and making sure everything was in its proper place, yet he knew it was already a great victory that he had agreed to participate in the ritual - and given his strange last minute behavior, he wouldn't take that for granted either. Stress was eating at him from the inside, and he couldn't wait for the whole night to be over.

His magic reverberated when she arrived. His eyes darted immediately in her direction. She was squeezed between her sister and Mor, the two Illiryans behind them. 

 Lucien gasped when he saw the way her eyes lit up as she looked around. This place, the colors, the atmosphere... He wished he could let all his fucking duty go and show her the court, walking her to trough the labyrinth that led to the rose garden, within which they could get lost, away from prying eyes, and then...

"Oh if this isn't my favorite brother"

He took a deep breath and turned away from her, facing Eris. He was grateful for that interruption, for it prompted him away from his thoughts. 

These instincts, these feelings… he had felt them once before, and it had been horrible. But no, it couldn't be, it couldn't be happening again.

Eris followed the direction of his gaze, then smiled. "Well well, it looks like Beron will finally have a chance to verify for himself the vaunted beauty of your mate."

His magic boiled over, and his brother looked at him, raising his eyebrows at the sparks that spilled from his clenched fists.

"Interesting that you cannot control yourself."

"Any male would react like that," he said through gritted teeth, though deep down he feared his brother was right. His magic was reacting strangely. It had changed, since he had a mate, yet this had nothing to do with the grinding control of his instincts that had affected him these past few weeks.

Eris continued to study him, and for a moment he felt like a helpless child again under that gaze. 

"Where is Beron?" he asked.

Eris followed him as he strolled between the different campfires. "He is on his way. Strange that this court was falling apart only a few weeks ago."

"What do you want?"

"Can't I just have a talk with my favorite brother?"

Lucien stopped walking, pausing to look him in the eye. "Whatever you're up to-"

Eris raised his hands. "I'm on your side."

"In what?"

A shrug, but just as he was about to answer, the drums began to beat at a slow but steady pace. The sun finally set, making way for a blue sky in which the first stars began to shine. Lucien walked toward the spot from which Tamlin was to arrive, in front of the main bonfire.

Eris followed him, and he wasted no breath in asking him not to. He knew it would be useless.

The bonfire's flame projected an almost unbearable heat against his skin, which only added to what he could already feel coming from his own veins. 

The priestess began to chant the ritual songs, and the beating drums were joined by the rest of the instruments. He looked around, sweat running down his neck, wondering where Tamlin had gone. He should have shown up by now; he had to be here, to be seen.

 A murmur rose all around, the earth vibrating with magic. Lucien's hands started to shake.

 Eris, still at his side, started to look vaguely concerned. From the look in his blue eyes, he finally understood: the thing he feared the most was happening. Again. 

And Elain was in the crowd.

"It can't be," he wheezed.

Eris drew closer, one hand against his forearm as Lucien felt the pulse of magic beckoning him to lose control. He clung with every ounce of strength to his lucidity.

He met his brother's eyes, suddenly grateful that he was here. "Tamlin," he roared. "Where is Tamlin?"

Just as Eris was about to answer, the High Lord made his appearance, walking slowly and totally unbothered. 

The crowd was deadly silent, gathered around the bonfire in front of the entrance to the cave where the ritual was to take place. Only the roll of drums and the chanting of the priestesses filled the atmosphere. Tamlin's uncovered body was fully painted, and no one noticed the wink he gave him as he approached the fire.

But Lucien knew, and he also knew that it was too late now. Somehow, the magic had chosen him. Tamlin had backed down, hiding, running from it, and so the burden had fallen into his shoulders. Now he recognized what he was feeling, the dread of the familiarity of it. Yet, it was stronger than last time. Maybe because he was, too. 

Tamlin's words echoed in his mind. She'll be yours forever then.

No, he couldn't have really done it.

He turned back to Eris. Everyone's attention was, luckily, on the High Lord. "Take me away," he growled. "Please."

"Where?"

He managed to step back a little, reaching a darker corner from where he could winnow. 

"At the Manor, there's a room on the second floor," he squeezed his eyes shut, straining not to breathe so that he wouldn’t smell her. "The key is in the door. Lock me in and then come here and order Elain out, make them take her as far away as possible."

There was a conflicted expression on his brother's face, and Lucien searched within himself for the magic that would allow him to winnow, despite his instincts screaming at him to do the exact opposite.

His lungs burned from the effort of not breathing, and when he dared to take in just a little air, Elain’s scent immediately reached his nostrils. He fell on his knees.

 "Eris, please”

***

As she stepped foot in the Spring Court, Elain felt a sense of lightness she hadn't felt in a long time. Now, strangely enough, Azriel stood by her side. He didn't speak much, yet Elain had missed him so much that just to have him near soothed a little that pain eating at her chest.

She didn't know much about why they had come here, she was just happy she got the chance to see a new place.  She had always loved to travel, and this land… She would have liked to spend days within its confines, to be able to study it, smell the scent of each and every flower, caress the softness of their petals, look at those colors for so long that they would be forever etched in her memory. 

Mor had disappeared soon after winnowing them to the Spring's court. Elain had not asked her if she was with Vassa, if the human queen would be here. Her relationship with Mor had grown colder in the last weeks, shortly after Azriel had taken his distance from her too.

Feyre and Nesta had explained to her what the ritual consisted of, and that their presence had only a political function. Yet, she had not felt this free for so long that she could not even remember.... She didn't want to think about their task here, about what was shortly to happen, about the fact that the High Lord of this court was the one who had shown up as a beast at their home in what seemed like a lifetime ago, nor that he was the same person who had sold them to the king of Hybern, and at the same time had helped her escape from his camp. These thoughts threatened to distract her from the wonders all around.

 When they stopped in front of what looked like the largest bonfire that had been set up in the field, Elain noticed that all her companions stiffened. Silence fell among the crowd as the drums began to beat. The chanting of the priestesses followed them shortly after. The first stars began to shine in the blue sky, the sun officially greeting the day as it waned behind the mountains on the horizon.

Azriel grew tense as Tamlin made his appearance. His shadows were as still as him, 

their breeze accompanying her as they walked, a cool caress down her back. She hadn't told anyone about what she thought had happened during Starfall. She was probably wrong about it, anyway. Who could believe the shadows had spoken to her? It couldn't be. 

Tamlin's hair was longer than when she had last seen him, and she tried not to fix her gaze too much on his fully painted bare chest. Nesta, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind squaring him over. Probably the sight of the half naked fae had no effect on her, since… well, she seemed to be in a happy, healthy relationship. Fae females all around them were quivering with enthrallment and she tried to redirect her gaze.

"We should go now," she heard Azriel whisper toward Cassian.

The general maintained a neutral expression. "Rhys said there would be no problem."

In the center of the crowd, right in front of the high flame of the bonfire, the priestesses gathered around the High Lord, singing in a language she had never heard before. A few seconds later the circle opened, and with slow, measured steps, Tamlin began to advance through the crowd.

She sensed Azriel's shadows trembling with anticipation as he whispered something to Cassian that she could not understand. The words she heard next were clear enough, but they didn’t come from him. Not directly.

Something is wrong.

The crowd began to move, fae of all ages pushing back and forth to get Tamlin's attention. In the confusion that arose, Nesta clasped her hand so that they wouldn’t be separated. She could feel the warmth of Azriel's body at her back as he stood closer to her. In a commotion, a strong thrust made her collide against his chest. One of his hands grabbed her by the waist, as if to help steady her. That single touch reverberated along all her nerves, making her breath catch in her throat.

She didn't dare to turn and look at him. She didn't want him to read on her face the reaction that simple touch had caused her. She was glad for the chaos.

In the distance, she spotted a head of bright red hairs making its way through the tight sea of bodies, jostling against that mass of people until it reached them. Elain was relieved to find it was Eris. She hadn't seen Lucien since Starfall, and after their last conversation she didn't know how she felt about him. What he had said... 

Azriel and Cassian stiffened, but the eldest of the Vanserra did not falter under their murderous gaze; rather, he looked Azriel straight in the eye as he spoke. 

"You must take her away."

Elain realized a second too late that they were talking about her. By the time she did, Azriel's hands were already wrapped around her body, dragging her behind his back, nestled between his wing and shoulder. 

"What's going on?" asked Cassian, stepping forward.

Eris's gaze was deadly serious as he looked into his eyes. "You must help me contain him. Magic chose him, not Tamlin".

Cassian's face drained of colors as the realization struck him. 

 "He's locked in a room at the Manor, but he won't last long and i can't do it alone" Eris' eyes met those the shadowsinger's now, who already had one hand clasped around Elain's forearm, "and you must take her away, as far as possible from here"

The rest happened so quickly that she barely had time to process it. She felt only the tight grip of Azriel's hand against her own, pulling her in the opposite direction from the one in which Nesta, Cassian and Eris were headed. They reached a point in the crowd wide enough for his shadows to wrap around them and winnow.

When her feet were firm on the ground again, she looked around. From the colors of the flowers that surrounded them she knew that they were still in the Spring Court 's lands,  but far enough from where the ritual was taking place that the sounds and noises weren't audible even for their fae ears. 

Azriel's shadows brushed one last time against the tip of her fingers before vanishing altogether. The sky had darkened now, his shades of blue similar to the light coming from his siphon. 

He had his back to her and was looking toward the horizon from where clouds of smoke were rising. Elain finally took a few seconds to reflect on Eris's words and on what had happened.

"How is this possible?," she whispered. The words left her mouth between heavy breaths, and she brought a hand to her chest, trying to calm her heart. 

"I don't know." Azriel's words were as sharp as the blade he wore to his waist.

 She contemplated the green expanse around, the trees, the bushes on which small white flowers reflected the faint light of the newly risen moon.

Her palms were sweating, despite the light spring breeze that blew across her skin. Azriel continued not to look at her, so she began to walk toward that expanse of green, toward those small white flowers on the bushes which seemed to be tracing a path in that dark expanse, the meadow stretching to the horizon until it merged with the sky, where the moon obscured all the stars with its light. 

Azriel didn't call her back, didn't ask where she was going or told her to stop. Yet, he followed her. 

 One step after the other, she marveled at the place. The grass was cool under her feet, and she paused for a moment to slip off her shoes, tasting its softness.  She kept walking through the hedges, grass tickling her feet and her skin caressed by the breeze, until she reached the threshold of a lake. Or at least, that's what it looked like. The surface was dark, darker than the night sky, and while the sky was devoid of stars, this lake shone with them, as if all the stars that had disappeared from the sky had gathered within it. 

She contemplated that spectacle, taking a series of deep breaths, begging her heart to stop beating so insistently. But it too, like the rest of her body, seemed to have detached from her mind. 

She heard his light footsteps approaching. When he stopped right behind her, she felt his breath on the skin of her neck, his head slowly bending towards it. 

She made to turn around. 

"Don't".

She stilled. "What is this place?"

"I wish I knew." 

She was run through by a shiver when one of his hands caressed her exposed shoulder. Her eyes continued to stare at that lake made of the same substance as the starry sky. There was darkness before them and all around, only the moon as a witness to their closeness. It had been a long time, Elain realized, since she hadn't felt the weight of prying eyes on her, ready to judge her every move. 

"I thought you were avoiding me."

He came even closer, so that his chest leaned against her back. His words were whispered directly into her ear. "I never wanted to".

Then, his lips brushed against her skin. They both sighed.

Elain was about to turn. She needed to see him, to read in his eyes that he was feeling the same as her, despite the darkness that enveloped them.

"Don't," he whispered again, and deposited another light kiss on her neck. His lips tasted her skin, and he inhaled. "I just want to-"

One of his hands ran down, brushing against her hip before squeezing it with a firm grip. Elain gasped, tightening her lips from the shivers that invaded her.

"I need to feel you" he breathed. 

And then his lips were back on her neck, a little higher than before. Elain let go a moan when he took her lobe between his teeth. "Why-" she stammered between heavy breaths, "why have you been acting like this?"

His fingers sank harder into the softness of her hips, and she leaned into his touch. "Elain, I am so sorry. I couldn't-". 

"What?" 

 Azriel stiffened, and she leaned her whole body against him, earning a groan from his throat. "It doesn't matter".

She shifted her hips and his grip on them grew stronger, preventing her from moving any further. "Azriel, talk to me. Please".

One of his hands left her hip, caressing the length of her body and wrapping itself in her loose hair. With expert gentleness, he tilted her neck so that their eyes met. Their lips were close, but not enough to touch. 

"I-" he started, but then stopped as his eyes descended to her lips. Elain shivered from the intensity in his gaze. 

"Please" she whispered again, marveling at the way his pupils dilated and his body shook. 

She could feel his tension, his effort to keep his muscles locked in place as to not extinguishing those few inches that still separated their lips. 

She decided at that moment that she was finally going to do it. For once in her life, she was going to take what she wanted without thinking about the consequences. 

She tilted her neck until her lips gently brushed against his, and a sigh left her mouth. She had spent so much time wondering how soft they would feel against hers, what they would taste like. 

His grip eased a little, allowing her to push more into him. As she did, she let her tongue trace the profile of his lips, which slowly parted against her push, allowing her to explore and savor the entirety of his mouth. 

When a moan escaped her throat, something snapped in Azriel. She felt the change in the air all around them, in his power steering and electrifying the atmosphere. His hand pushed her against him, and she gasped as she felt against her back how hard he was. His tongue finally responded to hers, working its way into her mouth, taking everything she had to offer and more. 

Elain could have gone on like this for hours, losing herself in his mouth and lips. Her body sparkling in every point he was touching her. 

Wanting more, she took his lower lip between her teeth, drawing him to her as her arm wrapped around his neck. She heard a guttural cry come from his throat as she sucked on his lip as her life depended on it. 

She hadn't realized how strong she had bitten him until the taste of blood tingled  against her tongue. She stilled, parting from him to look into his eyes, scared she may have hurt him or crossed a line. 

Just as she did, Azriel snapped, turning her so that they were finally face to face, one of his hands laid on her back, making their bodies press against each other, holding her tightly as if she might escape at any moment. She couldn't put into words how she didn't want to be anywhere but here. 

His other hand came down from her hair to rest on her neck. His fingers lingered there where he could feel the quickening beat of her heart, and his thumb grazed her lips. She held his gaze, knowing that her pulse wouldn't dare to slow down as long as he was this close.

His tongue came out, licking his lower lip where her teeth had sunk into it drawing blood. 

"Did I hurt you?" she whispered. 

"Absolutely not". His thumb parted her lips, and Elain let him work his way between them. She was at his mercy. She was going to explode with how much she wanted more of him, but she would settle for every stolen second, for whatever she could get.

"They'll be coming for us soon," Azriel gasped. 

She nodded, straining to get enough air into her lungs for those two syllables. "I know."

"God, Elain..."

She could still feel the slight metallic aftertaste of his blood in her mouth. Somehow, it had ignited something deep within her magic. She could feel that entity inside her mingle with the darkness coming from him. 

Azriel leaned his forehead against hers.

"I want you, Azriel," she said, the words leaving her mouth on their own accord. 

Now that she had finally given voice to the feeling, she felt lighter. As if an enormous weight had been lifted from her chest.

He moved closer, his tongue caressing her lips. There were no more traces of his blood, of those few drops she had taken from him.

"You have no idea, Elain, of how much I want you" he roared, his body trembling.

"Then tell me the truth, Az. What happened?" she didn't care how her voice sounded. It had never really mattered to her. She had always been herself with him, in those small, tender moments they managed to carve out during the war. 

"I can't," he whispered as his mouth ventured on hers again, one hand around her waist and the other wrapped in the long loose strands of her hair. "I can't," he kept repeating, their bodies pressed against each other, finally reclaiming what had been stolen from them all those months ago.

Elain's whole body was trembling with need when he froze, his arms tight around her. From the expression on his face, it was obvious that he was suffering as much as she was from the interruption. 

"We have to go."

She followed the direction of his gaze; Nuala was behind them. Elain felt relief to see her. With Nuala she knew their secret was safe, although she found it unfair that they were forced to hide.

"Rhys is coming for you, he just winnowed Nesta and Cassian back," she looked at them apprehensively, her dark eyes full of concern as they darted between the two of them.

 Elain didn't miss Nuala's overly puzzled air, and the way Azriel seemed to stiffen when she mentioned the High Lord.

"Make sure he finds you next to the main bonfire, you have a few minutes left."

With that said, she disappeared in a gust of wind, leaving them alone again.

 Elain felt as if a veil had suddenly been lifted from over her eyes. She raised her head to look at him, repeating her question. "What happened after solstice?"

Silence was the only answer she got. Those lips, which she had explored and savored until a moment before, stretched into a thin line.  "We must winnow. We won't make it in time by flying"

The words were almost choked, as if the mere thought of using his shadows on her made him ache. "I don't care about them, Az. I never did, I…" she couldn't explain what she felt toward his shadows, that weird connection deep inside her magic she had felt since she had been turned. "Answer my question".

His shadows began to wrap around their feet. She welcomed them, clasping her hands around his arms. "Az, please."

Darkness started to envelope them. "You know already" he whispered, the words lost in that nonexistent place, scattered in the wind in that fissure of space.

 The din of the crowd and the beating drums invaded her ears, and the crackling of the tall flame at the center of the bonfire blinded her eyes, but now she was finally able to see the full picture of what was before her.

 The anger she felt at that awakened something visceral deep inside her.

Rhys appeared before them seconds after their feet settled on the ground, and instinctively Azriel stepped forward, putting himself in front of her, but also putting several inches of distance between their bodies.

Nuala and Cerridwen stood behind the High Lord, whose violet eyes hid a dark anger beneath that seemingly peaceful air.

Now she understood. 

Chapter Text

Azriel and his shadows were barely visible in the corner of the room as Rhys reported to Feyre what had happened at the ritual. 

Cassian provided further details about Lucien's state after they had locked him up in the Manor. It had taken the combined efforts of him, Eris, and Nesta to contain Lucien after the ritual magic had taken hold of his body. 

"How could this have happened?" asked the High Lady, her gaze fixed toward the fireplace, brows furrowed. "It was stupid to send them there, to send Elain there."

She turned to Rhys with a look that suggested one of their many silent conversations. Azriel held back the instinct to roll his eyes.

"Nothing like this has ever happened before". Rhysand tried to defend himself, although the guilt for what might have happened was evident on his face.

 "Do we have reason to think Tamlin has anything to do with it?" Feyre asked toward Cassian. He was the one who could offer the most information at the moment.

Azriel felt shaken. Not only by what might have happened, but by everything that did happen. He repressed the memory of the feeling of Elain's body pressed against his own to keep his scent from betraying him. He would think abundantly about it once he was alone in the darkness of his bedroom. Still, he ran his tongue over that spot on his lips where she had bitten him.

 Cassian stepped forward, his expression serious and calculating. "I don't know. Eris reported that Lucien seemed pretty nervous, and then ... " he swallowed. "Tamlin attended the ritual normally. He chose one of the fae in the first row in front of the bonfire and took her to the cave. The ritual was consumed, officially".

Feyre made no effort to hide the expression of disgust that crossed her pretty face.

"What else?" asked Rhysand, noting Cassian's conflicted gaze.

"Lucien's magic reacted strangely as he tried to fight that of the ritual. Even Eris said he had never seen anything like that, neither from Lucien nor from any of his brothers."

A look laden with unspoken words lingered between the two mates in the room, permeating the atmosphere as if it were about to become an entity in itself. Azriel became curious, his shadows stirring at his feet.

"We'll address that, too," Rhysand said in a hasty tone, as if in far too much of a hurry to change the subject. "We need to figure out what might have interfered with the ritual and why the magic chose Lucien specifically."

"Maybe because Elain was present? We know their bond is strange." Feyre's voice was low, as if she was afraid to broach the subject in his presence.

"Maybe" he said, offering his first contribution since that conversation had begun and emerging from the dark corner in which he had been holed up with his thoughts. "Is it possible that having spent so much time in the Spring Court, effectively ruling those lands, magic has recognized Lucien as the High Lord?"

"Because of that or because of his power," nodded Feyre. "Maybe a mix of all these things."

"Then Tamlin must have known it," Cassian added. "He did everything he could to shift the burden of running his own court onto Lucien's shoulders, and we let it happen."

Rhys's anger grew, engulfing the entire room with the tension of his magic. "I will go and talk to Tamlin personally. We have been far too lenient with him. And I will hear Lucien and Eris's side of the story too"

He rose from the chair in front of the fireplace, his eyes staring at both him and Cassian. "As soon as possible we will move the cauldron to the Day Court, Myryam and Drakon are eager to get rid of it, focus on that now."

At the last words his eyes locked into Azriel's,  pupils barely dilating as he tried to recognize the smell on him, Elain's mixed with that of his own blood.

He shrugged, not backing down from the inquisitorial gaze until he finally dropped it. When Rhys left the room, he realized that Feyre, too, had been studying him. 

***

Lucien couldn't remember at what point in the night he had undressed. However, now he was completely naked in bed, the corners of the large mattress blackened and burned, as well as other furniture in the room. He suddenly sat up, his head spinning with that abrupt movement.

"Easy, sweetheart. Easy."

He gritted his teeth. His brother, his father's adored firstborn, was leaning in front of the closed bedroom door. He didn't fail to notice the dent marks on it. He vaguely remembered throwing himself against it last night after magic had taken possession of him.

He brought a hand to his head, as if that gesture might lessen the incessant pounding he felt inside. Slowly, the panic about what had happened, and worse still what might have happened, began to make its way inside his chest.

"You can calm down," his brother continued with a bored air. "Although you turned out to be more interesting than I imagined, we managed to contain you in the end."

"We?"

"Well, me, the general and his Valkyrie mate, and your favorite High Lord"

Rhysand. Rhysand had been here. Yet he had warned him. He had always known it wasn't wise for Elain to be here, although he could never have imagined something like this.

"Where is he?" he roared, anger beginning to mount.

Eris shrugged. "At breakfast, he seems quite serene and content, if I have to be honest."

He got out of bed and advanced to the door, although Eris had not hinted at moving.

"What?" he asked. "Are you afraid I'm going to kill him?"

"I don't think I would care at this point."

"Why are you still here?"

For a single moment, an expression that he would have dared to call pained furrowed his brother's rigid face. Then, however, the usual irreverent smirk resumed its place on his lips. "Wasn't I supposed to stay to make sure you were all right?"

"Don't think I'm stupid enough to buy that. I don't know what your ulterior motive is," he roared, coming so close as to push him entirely with his back against the door, "but stay away from me, and from Elain."

"Oh, your pretty little mate-"

Lucien brought a hand to his throat. The smile disappeared from Eris's lips. "If you or our father even dare to approach her-"

"Why do you think I'm here? Why do you think I came to Calanmai or to the Starfall ceremony?"

Lucien let him go, not dwelling, however, on his words. Nor on the memories they evoked, on what his father, aided or not by Eris, had done to Jasminda. 

Finally, Eris moved away from the door. Lucien bolted into the hallway, his brother at his side as they reached Tamlin in the great hall. "Anyway, thank you for yesterday."

"I haven't had such a fun evening in ages."

The blood ignited in his veins when he saw the blond-haired fae sprawled in a chair in front of the dining table, intent on gorging himself on fruit and sweets as if everything that had happened the previous evening didn't affect him in the slightest. Much the same as he had been doing for the past few weeks. 

Lucien stood in front of him and placed both palms on the table. "Did you enjoy yourself? Did you get what you wanted?"

Tamlin remained unflappable, continuing to eat grapes as if his head wasn't about to be smashed against his plate.

Lucien was pressing his palm with such force that he heard the wood creaking. The fire in his blood against that surface spread a burning smell throughout the room. He didn't lower his gaze to observe the black stains on the elegant table, continuing to stare at his friend's face. He should probably say former friend, even if just the thought of it hurts. 

"I don't know what you did for what happened to be possible, but I swear if it was on purpose..." he swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

Tamlin grabbed the cup in front of him, sipping his tea nonchalantly. "I did nothing. Magic simply chose the male with the strongest power."

Lucien restrained the instinct to roll his eyes and instead gave him a bitter laugh. "It was always you, and you know it."

"It may no longer be so."

"Cauldron damn me" he cursed, turning his back on him and catching his breath. Eris, still in front of the door, continued to enjoy the scene apparently in no hurry to leave.

What he was waiting for, Lucien realized when the air all around them vibrated and filled with magic. No matter how hard he tried to appear unperturbed, Tamlin shivered at the precise moment Rhysand plowed through the manor door.

"Welcome," his brother prodded him.

Rhys ignored all provocation, going straight to him. Lucien held his gaze. He did not need his metallic eye to understand that he was obviously upset by what had happened, and that he was drowning in guilt about what might have happened. Well, at least there were two of them.

"Has it passed?"

He didn't expect that question, but still he nodded, "I think so."

Rhys looked at him regretfully. "I didn't think such a thing was possible, I would never have allowed Elain to participate otherwise."

Lucien did not respond, watching those violet eyes shift to the High Lord still seated at the breakfast table. "What is your goal?" he roared. "To destroy your own court and fight those who are trying to save it? Would you rather have us as enemies?"

When he got no answer, Rhysand leaned further towards him. "Consider yourself lucky," he said, his voice so icy that Lucien felt a chill on his skin that could quell the flames on the verge of spurting out. "Because if something had happened to Elain last night, right now your head would be my breakfast."

"If you really cared, you wouldn't have sent her here in the first place."

"Elain is like a sister to me," Rhysand said, his voice higher, betraying his rising anger despite his seemingly relaxed posture. "I would never have put her in danger like this if I had known"

Tamlin turned the cup over in his hands. "Magic is unpredictable, Rhysand. And I know you don't do anything by accident, so why did you send her here, what's your angle?"

Lucien knew Tamlin was trying to provoke Rhys. Just as he had done with him over the past weeks, if not months, and as he did with anyone who tried to help him. Still, he couldn't help but wonder, in a small part of himself, what Rhysand's intentions might really have been, and why he seemed particularly interested in everything regarding him and Elain. "How is she?" he asked, breaking the moment of tension between the two High Lords.

Rhysand's stern expression barely softened. "She's fine. She doesn't know what could have happened".

A weight lifted from his chest at those words. At least he hadn't scared her further.

Eris stepped forward. "Good thing my father-" he coughed, looking at Lucien- "our father wasn't here."

Something he could not decipher crossed Rhysand's gaze for a moment, disappearing as fast as it came. Lucien sighed. "I wish that after centuries of me being gone, he had abandoned his constant desire to torment me."

"The confines are stable for the moment," Eris continued, directed at Rhys, "But I don't know how long I can keep it that way by just continuing to dissuade him."

"Do what you can." With that said, he approached the table from which Tamlin continued to enjoy the scene, breakfast now abandoned before him. "What do you want to do? Do you want your court and its inhabitants to perish?"

"My court was snatched away from me even before Amarantha came" growled Tamlin in a low voice. "And when I thought I had a second chance at it, you took it away."

Darkness gathered behind Rhys's back. "It doesn't have to be that way. Your people are rebuilding. The ritual, in spite of everything, has given a signal."

"Do you know what is the real meaning behind the ritual?" Everyone remained silent, although Lucien feared the words about to leave his friend's mouth. "Once the male chooses his female and frees the magic, the land proliferates."

There was a long pause, then those green eyes fixed themselves on Lucien, on his bare torso scarred from the wounds he had given himself the night before, seized by the instinct to go out and look for Elain.

"But the ritual hadn't actually been consummated. It doesn't matter what people believe happened, these lands will perish."

There was coldness and a certain sense of solemnity in his words that made Lucien's anger cool down. Anxiety took hold of his stomach again. He couldn't take it anymore. 

Rhys brought a hand to his hair, sighing. He turned his back to Tamlin and looked at both him and his brother. "I'm done here".

"I don't think she'll want to see me again," Lucien said, more to himself than to the others.

Rhys didn't respond, giving him one last sympathetic look before disappearing in a swirl of darkness.

Lucien let himself go against the nearest wall, sliding until he found himself sitting on the floor and catching his head with his hands. At that point Tamlin finally got up from the table. "For what it's worth, you are always welcome here in my court. I'm sorry things didn't work out for you".

"I don't know what game you're playing," he said, no more traces of anger in his voice, just pure resignation. "But why risk involving Elain in your sick plans? She hasn't done anything to you."

Eris straightened his shoulders as Tamlin approached the door. 

"Remember what I told you, about her and the bond?" he winked at him.

Lucien snapped to his feet. "So what was your plan, to push me to claim her possessed by who knows what magic?"

Tamlin lifted his shoulders again, with that irritating look on his face that forced Lucien to sink his nails against his palms to resist the temptation to punch him.

"I couldn't be sure that magic would choose you," he said, drawing closer. "Apparently, now, your power is stronger than mine. It happens when one finds one's mate."

"And what would you know?" he roared.

The High Lord moved away, dodging Eris and approaching the door with his hands in his pockets.

 "I know, Lucien. I know."

***

Elain was determined. Although she felt her hands shaking and her knees weak, she was determined. She was going to talk to Rhys.

She had sensed for some time that something had happened to Azriel. He had completely changed his attitude toward her after the winter solstice, and she had naively thought it was because of her. Maybe he didn't want to kiss her, maybe there was someone else for him, or maybe he really believed that she belonged to someone else.

Yet, after seeing the way his gaze had hardened after Nuala mentioned Rhysand, she finally understood. And she wasn't going to stand by and do nothing, bowing her head and obeying. She had done that already, and it had taken her nowhere.

 Whatever was the reason Rhysand had thought fit to meddle in her love life, it was time for her to finally get to know it. Despite the anxiety coursing through her veins, she was fucking curious to find out why. 

Why her. Why this.

The sun was high in the sky and at last the warm spring air was beginning to be felt even here in the mountains. Elain enjoyed the feeling of the sun's warmth on her skin as she advanced from her apartment toward Feyre and Rhys's mansion.

Feyre could not hide the alarmed expression at her request to speak with Rhys. Elain began to feel tired, that feeling that mixed anger and despondency once again taking hold of her, crushing her chest. The desire to let this fight go was strong, but she would not give up, not this time. 

She sat down on one of the large sofas in the living room that overlooked one of the main streets of Velaris, Nyx kicking and waving at her. Elain took him in her arms and he started playing with the long strands of her hair that curled toward the ends.

"Rhys should be back soon," Feyre said.  "What's going on?"

She ignored that question. "Did he go to the Spring Court?"

 "Yes. I'm sorry about what happened."

"And what would that be? Nothing happened."

Her sister seemed shaken by that answer, and Elain realized that she had responded rudely, or at least less politely than others were used to, by her. "Sorry," she corrected herself. "But really, nothing happened. It was just a big jump scare, mostly to the others than to me".

Feyre put a hand on her leg, exhaling. "That's good to hear. We have no idea as to why magic seems to have chosen Lucien for the ritual."

"It doesn't matter, really."

"Lucien will want to talk to you," she continued. "To apologize."

She met her sister's blue eyes, so similar to their mother's and the same as the small winged fae she held in her arms. "There is nothing to apologize for. Nothing happened, and it wasn't his fault anyway, was it? It was magic. It always is, apparently. There's nothing he could have done to prevent it, I guess".

Feyre nodded, then her brows furrowed. "N-no. That's right". 

"That's just how things work" she muttered to herself, not worrying too much about Feyre hearing her. 

"Elain, are you angry for some reason?"

At that instant, the air around them was shaken by a tremor and Rhys appeared at the door.  As soon as he saw her, he smiled and went to sit by his wife's side.

At that moment, the thought flashed through Elain's mind that this was actually a terrible idea and that anything she had to say was stupid. There were very few times when she had not backed down from a confrontation. Maybe this wasn't going to be one of them. 

"You wanted to talk to me?" asked Rhysand. "I was just at the Spring Court. Lucien is mortified about what happened."

She interrupted him. "I was just telling Feyre it wasn't his fault, and nothing happened."

"Thankfully," he muttered.

In her mind the battle continued between the desire to get some answers and the fear of making a fool of herself. Again. 

She had thought Feyre's presence would have given her some sense of safety, but she had been wrong. Right now, as she looked at her sister, she knew for sure that she would always be on Rhys's side. And it was right. That's how things were supposed to work. He was her husband, her other half, her… mate. 

Feyre's loyalty was always going to be toward him. It was Rhysand first and everyone else later. She understood, but it still hurt a little to realize it just now. 

Rhys kept staring at her, waiting for her to speak. She had come here with the goal of talking specifically to him. She had said that, hadn't she? Surely now the two of them were having another one of their silent conversations about how she was emotionally unstable and the events of last night had shaken her to the core. They probably would decide never to let her out of town again, as if she were a pet to be controlled.

To hell with that.

"Elain, is everything all right?" an expression of concern creased Feyre's eyebrows.

"No, not really," she said, looking into her sister's eyes, because she didn't have enough courage to sustain Rhys's gaze just now. "I need to get this doubt out of my mind, but there's no nice way to say or ask it"

Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw Rhys stiffening. They both waited silently for her to speak. 

"I wondered," she swallowed, hating that her hands began to sweat. "If you think that I can't handle my love life on my own."

She watched her sister's expression go from astonishment, to displeasure and then to a mix of anger and shame. Slowly, she turned to Rhysand, her gaze rigid.

The fae leaned his elbows against his knees, as if he was trying to get as close to her as possible for that conversation without getting up from the couch.

"Elain, we all just want to protect you. We don't want to see you suffer again."

Those last two words pushed her inner battle between fear and anger in favor of the latter. "I can handle my own pain. I won't let it get me down again."

Rhys's eyes darted toward Feyre, who was slightly shaking her head. Still more secrets, secrets that probably concerned her.

"Why Azriel?" she hated the obvious tremor in her voice and did her best to fight the knot growing in her throat, the one that always kept her from making her point whenever she got angry.

Feyre's expression was pained, but there was anger there too. She recognized it in the slight tilt of her head as she looked at her husband, in the way she clenched her jaw and straightened her lips. 

Was it possible that she didn't know that Rhys, for some absurd reason, had ordered Azriel to stay away from her?

She repeated the question, though her voice was weaker. "Why Azriel?"

"You remind me so much of my sister, Elain," Rhys said, his gaze soft as he stared at her. "She was like you, fragile, sweet. Too good for this world."

"I am not fragile," she said, though her trembling voice betrayed her own statement. "I'm sorry for your sister. But answer my question, please".

Rhysand tightened his lips. "I'd like to be honest with you at last. Do you think you can handle the truth?"

She nodded, even if her hands began to shake. Feyre reached out and took Nyx in her arms, the little wings flapping as she lifted him up.

"I know you feel connected to Azriel, and I won't deny that he may have feelings for you as well," he continued. Elain held her breath, her heart missing a beat at those last words. "You could reject the bond with Lucien, get with him. Then what happens?"

Elain opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.

"Rhys," Feyre called him.

The High Lord leaned further into his chair, grabbing Elain's hand. "I want you to think about what would happen if you reject the bond, though. It is your decision and you are free to make it, but you need to be aware of all the possible consequences''.

Elain felt anything but free right now. 

"The fact that you rejected your mating bond does not mean that he will one day do the same."

"Rhys," called Feyre again, more firmly this time.

Elain sank her nails against her palms, gathering every ounce of strength her body possessed to hold back those hateful tears she felt against her eyelids, hating herself for the knot in her throat that had now become so tight it prevented her from speaking.

"You may be together ten, fifty, even hundreds of years. But one day he may meet his mate."

"Rhysand."

Rhys finally looked toward Feyre. "I have waited five hundred years for you, and would have waited as many more if necessary". 

"Stop-"

But Rhysand's gaze came back to Elain. "And think about Lucien. The stronger the bond, the higher the chances the male will lose his mind if rejected. Your bond snapped into place as soon as you were turned. Not even to me and Feyre happened this goddamn fast. It means both your magic are so strong that…" 

Elain started shaking her head. "It can't be. You're High Lord, and Feyre…".

"We still don't know what your magic is holding. Nesta's power was stronger than we had imagined, and we have no idea about what you'll be capable of, what the cauldron did to you-"

Rhys was going to keep talking, but Feyre interrupted him. Elain felt her delicate hand tighten around her wrist.

"Take some time, Elain" her sister pleaded. The hint of anger she had seen in her gaze before had faded. It was Rhysand first, everyone else later. 

"Maybe think about what Rhys said. Don't be too hard on yourself, on this magic and… on Lucien"

Elain's heart sank. What was the point of arguing? What could she possibly say to that?

She dislodged her hand from her sister's grip and stood up. "I need some air. Sorry for bothering you".

Once she was outside, her feet moving without her command, she let the tears fall out. She walked for a long time. Despite the spring air, now it seemed to her that the city was frozen. Even the warmth of the sun on her skin seemed too far, unable to reach her. She kept walking until there were no more tears left to shed and her feet were too tired to continue. Only then, when the sun had now completed its path across the sky and the air was beginning to lose the bit of warmth spring brought, she set off straight for her apartment.

 There was a note in front of the door when she entered. She recognized Feyre's handwriting and decided to ignore it. Now she didn't feel like talking. She felt so stupid, so furious… more at herself than at everyone else.

The only thing she thought she had ever chosen, since her life had been turned upside down, was her friendship with Azriel. Her feelings for him. Cultivating that, letting those feelings grow into something else, had been the only thing that had allowed her to feel somehow connected to herself. And now this one thing too was being taken away from her, ripped from her hand when she barely had a chance to taste it.

Was magic always supposed to win? It seemed to have already decided everything for her: it had assigned her a power, a mate, an unchangeable role in this earth. What she wanted, apparently, went against its plans. 

She let go on the couch, the anger and frustration simmering in her chest stirring the power inside her. She could feel that entity tensing, moving, rebelling. She let her head sink against the cushions and took a series of deep breaths. 

Her magic vibrated under her skin, demanding to be released. She didn't oppose it, but she wasn't going to surrender to it either. This time, she was going to choose. If she couldn't get rid of this power that had been forced on her, then she was going to control it. Own it. Bend it to her fucking wish. 

She didn't indulge in the images that casually appeared behind her eyelids. Not this time. Now she had a specific goal, something to look for. It was more difficult than usual. She channeled all the anger, that pure, raw energy she felt, toward that task. Sweat begins to trickle down her skin from exertion. She had never gone that far, never really tested her magic. She had just been used, surrendering to it and letting it drag her down. Now, however, she was in full control of it. It was a good feeling to hold power in her hands, but it was exhausting.

She heard Rhysand and Feyre's words echoing in her ears. 

Don't be too hard on… Lucien.

She followed that name as if she were chasing that golden thread tied at her ribs. She knew it would lead her somewhere, and the more she followed it, the more she felt she was moving away from herself. 

Images of Lucien began to flash behind her eyelids. Whether she was seeing him in the present or in the future, she couldn't say for sure. She didn't know if what was in front of her was what she was looking for, but her curiosity prompted her to stop anyway. 

She saw Lucien with a woman with red hair. At first glance it might have looked red like his, but it was actually a darker shade, with deep brown strands falling through that tangled mass.  There was something haunted in the woman's gaze. She kept looking around the narrow hallway as if someone was coming, as if the two of them shouldn't be there.

"You need to leave," she said softly, although her tone of voice betrayed urgency.

Lucien was wearing a white suit with gold embroidery. He looked at ease with himself, his chin high, his shoulders relaxed. 

"I'm not leaving, Vassa".

"I made a mistake," she continued, her voice almost breaking. "I made a mistake. But I didn't think you… I didn't think you were going to be involved. I hope- ."

There was a roar in the air all around them. Vassa's terror-filled gaze prompted Elain to linger on that vision.

Her heart was pounding from effort to control those images, to bend magic to her will. She sensed something dark in the atmosphere all around and in her own mind. It was different from the kind of darkness she was used to, that of Azriel's shadows whispering in her ears, caressing her skin. This was a stronger, more ancient power.

 She held her breath, her head beginning to ache and a ringing slowly filling her ears as she followed that force. Somehow, she felt it was reaching for her too.

The line between present and future became blurry. For a few seconds she was surrounded by darkness, chills enveloping her skin even though the feeling was somehow distant, belonging to a different moment in time than this one. Something was calling for her, breathing on her shoulder, waiting in the corner for the inevitable moment when she would catch up with it.

Then the image gradually took shape. That pitch blackness dissolved under a silver light, which allowed her to recognize herself standing beside Azriel. Once again, she didn't know the place. The only thing she could say for sure was that it was not the Night Court. She heard her own voice utter a cry of pain, but she couldn't tell if it came from her current efforts to control her magic or from the future she was witnessing.

Something caught her attention, something other than the presence hovering over her, a dark promise in her near future. 

 A silver thread united her to Azriel, connecting him to that entity she felt inside, that magic that screamed in her chest and to which his shadows had spoken. She wanted to get close to that light, to brush it with her finger and taste it on her skin. Somehow she knew that it would feel like a cool night breeze.

She tried to reach for it but her strength faded. Her power bounced against her chest like a string that had been stretched too far.

She sank back into pitch darkness. 

There was a word echoing in her ears. She didn't know what it meant and it didn't sound like any language she had ever heard. She tasted its flavor against her lips, whispering it between heavy breaths before passing out. 

"Carranam."

Chapter Text

Some things hide in the night. Azriel always loved the night: from its beginning at dusk, when the sky was tinged with pink, until the moment it ended with the orange rays of dawn.

Those colors had recently become his favorite. 

They reminded him of the flowers he had spent hours observing on his long walks with Elain in the garden. The same flowers he observed hiding in its shadows while she worked, her back bent against the flower beds, her hands dirty, her hair gathered in a messy braid from which small strands escaped falling down her face, curling slightly at the tip, inviting his fingers to touch them, to brush them away.

He loved watching Elain work. And he felt that she liked to be watched too.

The sun was setting when he flew up to the river house that day. It was going to be a moonless night, with nothing and no one to witness their closeness. 

Elain was where he knew he would find her. 

He didn't announce his presence. He stayed hidden in the shadows for a few minutes, just watching her. Yet from the way her hands stopped working for a moment and her nostrils flared, he knew she had noticed his presence. Somehow, she always felt it when his gaze was on her. With complete naturalness, she continued working until she had finished arranging all the seeds. 

He flew into the night above her head as she headed home, in her hands a basket full of roses and jasmine, some of the most intensely scented flowers, whose smell would cover theirs. He held back a smile. Smart girl. Always underestimated, but not by him. Never by him.

When she was home, he made sure his shadows hid him from everyone as he walked through her bedroom window and finally joined her in the kitchen. Elain was arranging the flowers she had brought on the windowsill. A delicious aroma came from the oven, filling the atmosphere.

Since Calanmai, this was the third evening he spent at her place, sneaking in through her window, enjoying what she cooked, talking to her all night about everything and nothing at all.

Elain smiled at him and his heart seemed to skip a beat. He leaned closer and kissed her on the head, inhaling the scent of her hair.

"You don't have to cook for me."

Those brown eyes blinked at him and his breath got caught in his throat. "I want to do it. I like doing it."

Azriel didn't insist. He had long stopped fighting what he felt for her, and sure as hell he wasn't going to object to what seemed to feel for him. He just smiled, his heart full with feelings he couldn't even name. "Okay".

They ate and talked about everything and nothing at the same time. He had almost forgotten, in the months he had spent away from her, how easy it was to talk to her, how the tension in his muscles lightened in her presence. How he did not have to strain, to pretend all the time.

After she had been taken away during the war, he had sworn to himself that he would always keep her safe. But it was actually her who made him feel safe. Here, alone with her in her kitchen, he dropped every mask.

 When, having finished eating, Elain got up to put the dirty dishes in the sink, he gently placed a hand over hers.

The corners of her lips curved into that smirk that made him want to kiss the life out of her. "You don't have to do that."

"I know, but I want to do it, I like doing it."

 She blushed when he used her words from before, and cauldron damn him if that sight didn't make his knees tremble every single time.

 He wondered only for a split second all the many different ways he could make her blush before his self-control returned to its place, calming the beast inside him, his darker instincts.

 "Nobody likes washing dishes."

"Oh you're wrong. I love it," he said as he quickly cleaned the plates from the remnants of their dinner, not thinking in any way, not even for a second, about that color on her cheeks spreading down her neck, across her chest…

"Az-"

He searched her eyes, his tone barely hardening.  "I won't make you do the dishes after you've already cooked for me. Sit down, Elain."

He watched her rosy neck move up and down as she swallowed and quickly looked away from her skin as the smell of her arousal filled the air. 

God, it wasn't a good thing that his voice had this effect on her. The fact he could arouse her just like this menaced to wake a part of him he was trying so hard to suppress when it came to her.

 He needed a distraction. Fortunately, it was Elain who offered it.  

"They show up more often now," she said softly, and Azriel saw out of the corner of his eye his shadows appear in the room, circling around her. Too close. Too close than he could bear.

Very quietly, he finished washing the last dish, his jaw clenched, and turned around.

Elain, contrary to what he would have expected, was smiling, not at all annoyed or intimidated. It was only when she met his eyes that her smile faltered. Azriel felt a tightening in his chest.

He hugged her then. The instinct just so primal, rising from inside his chest like a new and unknown force. He caressed her hair, inhaling its rose scent, feeling its softness against his own fingers and the way her chest rose and fell tight against his own, his heart threatening to burst from the emotions that surged through him.

After that, as a part of this newly born routine into which they had both entered as if it were the most natural thing they had ever done, they sat on the couch in the living room, her back against his chest, his arm on her shoulder. 

They talked, but they also stayed silent, simply listening to each other's breaths. There wasn't anything else in the whole world he would trade this for. 

He often talked to her about what he did. This day, too, he felt like it.

"Tell me, Azriel" those brown eyes threatened to swallow him inside by the intensity of her gaze. "Every secret will always be safe."

He did it. He told her about Damian, his journey from Autumn, his granddaughters abandoned there and his daughter unjustly condemned by Beron's cruelty. With each word that left his mouth the weight in his chest lightened.

He was used to keeping secrets. His whole job consisted of that. Yet to withhold such important things, both of his work and his own life, from Rhysand was a burden he had never carried, and it was proving exhausting.

Elain listened to his every word in silence, her head resting against his shoulder, her hand lazily stroking his chest. It was fucking worth it, though. Just for this alone.

"You should help him."

He sighed. "I know. I'm waiting for the best time to do it. It's just that..."

"What?"

"I'm not used to disobeying Rhys".

Her eyes became gloomy, which made him want to take back his words, to do anything to remove that veil of sadness from her face. At that same instant, his shadows reappeared, as if her sadness had evoked them.

He watched Elain's face as she gazed at them, stiffening when they came close to her, almost touching her fingertips. Elain, to his surprise, did not retract her hand, letting her fingers sway between them. 

"Elain, don't-"

She turned to look at him, letting her hand fall. His shadows froze, as if they too were waiting for his response with anxiety and trepidation. It was strange.

 "What is it?"

He shook his head, trying to find the best words to bring to life the mix of sensations churning in his stomach. "I-I don't know," he sighed. "I prefer when they are far away. From you."

Elain's face softened as she looked at him. He tried to memorize that expression so that he would recall it whenever he doubted that there was any good in the world, something worth fighting for.

"I don't think they are evil." He held his breath as she continued to speak. "There's a kind of peace only darkness can offer. And shadows aren't born from that alone. They can't exist without light, either"

Azriel pondered those words for a long time, lying back against the sofa as his hands caressed her soft hair, nestling in some of the slightly tighter curls.

He knew he had found his light. Still, the idea of bringing darkness into Elain's life haunted him. 

But how could he think this was wrong while her face looked so serene, her muscles relaxed as her eyelids closed under the weight of gravity and she fell asleep on his shoulder? He couldn't believe it.

He wouldn't believe it.

***

Azriel flew into the slowly clearing sky to the wind house. Cassian was already outside, waiting for him. Only the three of them, Nesta and Feyre, knew the details of what they were about to do: moving the cauldron to the Day Court 

Rhysand had decided not to tell even to his second and third in command the details of this mission, which would end before the sun was fully up in the sky. 

The cauldron had been acting strangely, especially in the last few days, as if something had awakened it, and Myriam and Drakon were suspiciously eager to get rid of it.

It would be safer in the Day Court, closer to them in an emergency and well protected by Helion's powers if a threat ever arose.

Cassian was already in his war stance when he landed a few meters away from him. A gust of wind shook the seemingly calm air of that night, and the darkness dissipated to reveal Rhysand. The High Lord peered at both of them, a serious expression on his face.

"Are you ready?"

They nodded. There was no need for words. The blue and red lights of the siphons glowed against their dark armors.    

The first winnowing led them to a rocky, deserted area similar to where they went the first time they had been there.

Drakon appeared as soon as their feet were firmly on the ground, taking them by surprise. The fae immediately sprinted toward Rhysand, but he had barely time to brush past him before Cassian pinned him down.

"What's going on?" asked Rhys, keeping his voice calm despite the urgency in Drakon's eyes.

"Is this a trap, Rhysand? What have you done?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Something happened at the cauldron. Two nights ago."

"What, exactly?"

Azriel felt every single muscle in his body freeze as he focused on the words about to leave Drakon's mouth.

"It weakened our protections," he began. Just then Az noticed the deep black circles furrowing his gaze. "Creatures that my people haven't seen in centuries have wandered into our territories."

A flash passed through Rhysand's gaze. "How do you know it was the cauldron?"

If looks could kill, the one Drakon gave to the High Lord would have been deadly even to him. It was sharper than a newly forged sword.

"It can only be that. All our problems started when we decided to guard it in our territory. And it has only gotten worse from there on."

"That's why we're here," roared Rhys. "To get it out of your hands"

 He motioned for Cassian to let him go, and as soon as the general loosened his grip around Drakon, the latter broke free with a yank, moving several steps away from them.

"Where is Mor?"

"Busy on other missions."

Drakon seemed surprised and all too intrigued by Rhys's answer, but he was smart enough not to ask any more questions. "Follow me."

They traveled on the same path as the previous time. Now the city was even emptier and more silent than they had left it.

"We used spells," Drakon explained as they proceeded into the deserted palace and then down the set of narrow stairs that led underground. "To mask the sound as much as possible. The line beyond which they were applied is right there."  

He pointed to a small step beyond which the staircase became narrower and steeper.

Az followed him to that point. The noise that rang between his ears was one of the worst he had ever heard. It rumbled in his eardrums sharply, hurting his bones. Rhysand quickly placed protective spells around them so that it became little more than a hum.

"It's gotten worse since last time," he stated, meeting Rhysand's worried expression.

"We'll work on it with Helion, it will be handled."

They continued downhill until they reached the dungeon. The closer they got to it, the more its energy seemed to permeate the atmosphere. The air was electrified by it. Azriel felt each step getting heavier, his breathing more difficult.

"This is not normal," Cassian confirmed, anticipating what he too was about to say.

"It had never been like this before Hybern," Drakon said. "No one has ever reported these anomalies with the cauldron."

Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian looked at each other. Since Nesta and Elain were forced inside...

Azriel knew that they would need to face that conversation alone, away from prying ears. Perhaps Amren, being so ancient, would know more about it.

Rhys looked around, slowly approaching the cauldron. Its liquid was splashing all over the place, bubbling frantically, and something was glowing from the inside.

"Let's hurry."

As he perfected the spell that would winnow them with the cauldron itself along the Day Court's border, something interfered with his magic. He looked toward Drakon. "What's going on?"

"The spells that protect our city are barely holding and the cauldron keeps attracting dark beings."

Az swore he could hear Cassian cursing under his breath at his side. He put a hand on his shoulders, ready to winnow, and then met Drakon's eyes one last time as darkness enveloped their feet.

 Rhys grimaced, as if the effort to winnow the cauldron was proving more difficult than expected, this time. It shouldn't have been, considering his power had never been stronger than this. A tiny drop of each high lord's power flowed through his veins, mingling with his own magic. He could control every element. This mission should have been smooth, and yet… there was something wrong. 

Azriel was alerted by his shadows a split second before he saw it.

"Drakoon," he shouted, pushing forward, letting go of Cassian's shoulder.

A figure appeared behind the male's back. He caught the glint of a blade before blood splashed toward him with such rapidity that he could do nothing to stop it.

An abnormal gust of wind blew through the dungeon.

Rhys had charged his magic far too much to be able to stop, and so he, Cassian and the cauldron left, sliding to that non-existent place, that fraction of darker space between realities. The force with which it occurred made the walls tremble.

Azriel blinked a few times before realizing he didn't go with them. Lime and dust clouded his vision as he lunged at Drakon, one hand clenching against his throat to try to stem the massive bleeding. Blood quickly soaked his clothes, dripping copiously onto the floor all around him.

The man's face grew paler under his powerless gaze. "Tell Miryam I love her, and that I'm sorry". 

Before Azriel could utter a word, his eyes went blank and life slipped from him.

He cursed under his breath. It wasn't possible, it should not have been possible for a fae to die so quickly.

He sent his shadows out to reconnoiter. Whoever had done this must be around. Why had they killed Drakon? Was it an attempt to prevent the cauldron from being moved? Why target him and not them?

He sniffed at the fae's wound. With the scent of his blood and the fear that had soaked him in his last moments, was the smell of some kind of poison. They had disabled his powers, along with his ability to heal. He hadn't seen something like this in centuries. 

He immediately sprang to his feet, truth-teller clutched in his hands, ears strained listening for any sound he could find. Rhys and Cassian should have been done with the cauldron by now. If they hadn't returned, it meant something prevented them. 

With small steps, he approached the stone wall, hiding between his shadows in the darkness of the dungeon.

 Drakon was dead, and his killer, whoever they were, possessed a weapon capable of killing fae, arresting their healing powers, preventing their blood from coagulating.

A clang came from the opposite end of the big place, followed by the sound of running footsteps. Oh, they weren't going to run away.

With the knife tightly gripped in his hands, he began to chase them as fast as he could.

He climbed the steps of the narrow staircase three at a time until he spotted a hooded figure wrapped in a blood-red cloak. He further quickened his pace once in the large, deserted hallway of the palace, pushing the thought of Drakon's dead body lying downstairs away as he continued to chase that figure.

"Who are you?" he shouted, unfolding his wings, ready to launch himself into the air in pursuit.

He had almost caught up with them, close to the large doorway of the main entrance. He had them. As soon as he pushed past the gateway, however, they grabbed something. 

It was… it was a broom?

It flew free, and Azriel followed it a second later, after a few moments in which he just observed it in shock. 

A witch?

None of his spies had reported the presence of witches in Prithyan for centuries… Where were they hiding? 

The cold air lashed his face, a vibration making Rhysand's figure appear a few feet away from him, wings spread.

"Drakon?"

He shook his head.

It was a matter of a few moments before both Illyrian caught the fugitive.

A witch.

***

The witch was neither young, as the maidens looking like eternal teenagers described by legends, nor old, as told by the horror bedtime stories they all heard as children.

Helion and Cassian joined them as soon as their feet touched the ground of the safe zone on the border between the Night and Day Court. 

Rhys's powers immobilized the witch, his eyes on fire. Her long, frizzy black hair was tied in a braid that fell down her back, her night-black eyes, which looked like two black holes in that lean, angular face, stared back at Azriel.

"Who are you?" asked the High Lord, a question and an order.

She didn't answer, continuing to keep her gaze on the shadowsinger.

"Let's take her to the cells for now" commented Helion, "or you can take her right back to your court and do whatever you want with her".

At that comment his gaze darted to him, and Azriel nodded. He would make sure she talked, revealing who sent her and why.

From the calculating look he saw on Rhysand's face, Az knew he was already thinking about how to deal with the political war that would arise as soon as Myriam and her people learned what happened. The sense of guilt turning inside his High Lord's chest was so strong it was palpable. 

Drakon was dead. Their friend, their ally. He was one of them, and he was dead, gone without a fight, as fast as a human would have under a blade. For the first time, a fear he had never felt before churned his insides. 

One of them could have easily been in Drakon's place, just fate and sheer luck keeping them from the poisoned blade. 

A shiver ran through his nerves: he went against fate, whatever it was, often enough to know it wouldn't protect him for long. 

***

Helion had a puzzled expression, and instinct told Azriel that there was something else, besides Drakon's recent murder and the war that threatened to break with his people, that worried him.

They hid the cauldron on the border between Day and Night, and he and Cassian stood by and watched as the two High Lords surrounded the area with spells.

"I didn't think witches still existed," Cassian commented under his breath, as if he feared he would draw their presence just by talking about them.

"Neither did I."

"Who do you think sent her?"

Azriel pondered that question. It made sense that she was working for someone. Someone who knew the location of the cauldron, or maybe someone who had followed them from Velaris. His skin crawled.

"I am more concerned that she was able to kill Drakon with a knife. It was soaked in a poison that did more than just nullify his power..."

Cassian's body seemed momentarily run through with a chill. Although they had both received terrible wounds in battle, risking their lives more times than it was possible to keep track of, the idea that it could happen so quickly, that they were reduced to being so fragile…

Once they were finished with the cauldron, they moved to Hellion's private quarter in his palace. They needed to talk, alone. 

No one but the High Lord seemed to want to sit down. The three Illiryans started pacing back and forth around the large room.

"A war will break out," murmured Helion, sitting in front of the fireplace. It wasn't a question.

"We will prevent it from happening," Rhysand interjected. "I will take care of it."

Helion didn't seem convinced by his answer. "There's more to it than that."

Azriel stiffened. "What do you mean?"

"I know for a fact that Beron is about to attack the Spring's court. He wants to take over its territory and be closer to the human lands. Something is happening over there."

Rhysand sought Azriel's gaze before responding. "The human lands are safe. The situation is stable there."

Helion bent his lips in a grimace. "Maybe before Jurian disappeared on an impossible mission and your emissary left the palace to go up and down between courts," he commented in a dismissive tone. "Vassa's left alone over there, and she doesn't care about humans or their peace right now. She would sell the whole Phrythian if it meant breaking her curse."

"And how do you know all this?" roared Rhys.

"I have my sources. I don't have to justify myself about this. I'm just warning you. I thought we were allies."

The air in the room grew tense. 

"We are."

"Then just trust this. Beron is about to attack and Spring is weaker than ever, even after all our attempts to make it look like it isn't".

"Eris assured us that the border was safe for the moment, after Calanmai."

Helion's gaze was fierce. He stood up so that he was face to face with Rhys. "His son is not aware of this, and by revealing this information to you I am jeopardizing my own source. Therefore, Rhysand, you'd better believe me."

Given the tone in which he spoke, the energy in the room seemed to change, and even Rhys took a step back. 

"I'm not saying we don't believe you. But either Eris lied to us, or-"

"Or his father suspects his double-dealing and doesn't trust him," Helion finished. "Rumors are beginning to circulate about how the eldest of the Vanserra is growing impatient to become High Lord. Plus he has been seen hanging with your inner circle on multiple occasions".

Rhysand took a deep breath, then his shoulders slumped. He looked Helion straight in the eye with an afflicted air, different kinds of pains coming from both the High Lords turning into a silent understanding.

It was then that the realization struck. The importance of what Helion had revealed went beyond the Spring Court. It affected all of them. It affected him. It affected Elain.

"Thank you," was Rhysand's reply.

Azriel's mind was racing. If Helion had confidential information about the Autumn's Court, information that not even Eris or his spies have been able to report to him, then there was only one person who could have given it to him. And this confirmed all the rumors about Helion's alleged affair with Beron's wife. 

His shadows kept whispering to him. He knew he shouldn't think about it. He didn't want to think about it, but he couldn't stop himself. 

He began to observe Helion carefully, taking small steps toward where he and Rhysand now stood. His eyes were dark, his skin brown, his nose large and straight and that square jaw...

"How long has this been going on?" he asked, offhand. 

Both of them turned sharply to him. Rhysand's eyes glowered menacingly, but he didn't care. He had to know. 

"What do you mean?" There was a primal rage in Helion's voice. The inclination of it suddenly reminded him of… Lucien.

 Lucien always had slightly darker skin than his brothers, his features less defined.

He felt a sense of nausea at the pit of his stomach. The idea that it was true, that he, Elain's mate, was the heir of the Day Court, a future High Lord, freezed him in place. 

The Lord of fucking light.

 He was light, and warmth, and all the things she deserved and he couldn't give her. Her exact half, not her opposite, as was he. 

He felt an unpleasant sensation grow in his stomach, turning it in on itself and then reaching his throat, tightening around it like a noose.

"We all know what I mean," he replied, and his voice was weaker now, less convinced.

Azriel, stop

Is it true? he asked Rhys through his mind.

What?

Lucien is Helion's son?

There was a moment of silence. Rhysand's gaze hardened. Helion doesn't know

He tried to control his instincts, calming that anger that was churning inside his chest along with something far more unpleasant: the fear of  losing one of the best things that had ever happened to him after he even had time to savor it. It grew like ivy over the wall of his confidence, the terror that he was wrong, and that maybe… 

Maybe the cauldron had been right. 

***

Azriel had tortured enough prisoners to know it was going to be difficult to extort information from her. He had never seen a witch before, but he knew some things about their history. Even his shadows were tense, as if they feared her presence.

As soon as he entered the room, although she was chained to the wall, she smiled at him, his presence nothing more than a pleasant distraction. 

He wouldn't torture prisoners If he had another choice, but he knew that getting her to talk wouldn't be easy with just verbal persuasion. In spite of everything, however, he would try.

"What poison did you use?"

A laugh. Shrill, disturbing, with rotten yellow teeth surfacing from her mouth, disfiguring that unnaturally young face, betraying her true age.

"Hurt me all you want, shadowsinger. Physical pain is nothing to me". Her eerie laugh echoed through the stone walls. 

"Would you rather I go out there to find some of your sisters? Torture them to make you talk?"

Those black eyes peered down at him. "The only weapon you could have had has already been taken away from me. A long time ago."

Azriel knew that whatever she was talking about, she was telling the truth. His shadows sensed it. "This doesn't have to be painful."

"Life is nothing but pain, since I lost her."

Azriel decided to keep her talking. "Who?"

"My companion."

"You mean... a mate?" he hadn't heard of witches in hundreds of years, but to hear of one who had a mating bond was strange. That kind of magic worked only between fae, and although it was unconfirmed, rumors said that one of its main functions was to put together the male and female capable of producing the strongest offspring. 

The witch's laughter resumed, but this time it was not that eerie sound bordering on madness, but a more bitter verse. Her gaze filled with awareness. "It's not what you think, shadowsinger. The mating bond isn't the only kind of bond existing in this world. There are other forces, rarer, sometimes stronger…"

"What are you talking about?" he asked on impulse, regretting it shortly afterward. 

It was unwise to encourage her, letting her control the conversation. And it was even more dangerous to let her see this part of him.

 "Sometimes fae can share their magic. Often it happens between mates, but less often it doesn't."

He held his breath, circling her chained body so that she couldn't see his face, the attention in his eyes. 

"It is even rarer than finding a mate, to find one's carranam. That these happen to be in two different persons it's the rarest thing".

This word… it belonged to the ancient language. He couldn't remember where he had heard it before, but it wasn't new to him. 

"It is a powerful bond, but dangerous. Few fae are lucky enough to find someone compatible with their magic. Many are consumed by it. It can make one powerful, but it can also be his damnation. I had found mine."

Azriel returned in front of the witch, his face impassive. "You are not answering my questions."

She looked him straight in the eye, her pupils burning into his soul. "I know that what I am talking about is much more interesting to you. But it's not the power the bond will give you that you crave, shadowsinger. Isn't it?"

Azriel took a step toward her, truthteller pointed at her abdomen. "Let's try not to get lost in chatter and legends."

The witch let out a laugh, which only pushed her abdomen toward the blade. Small drops of blue blood dripped down it, but she didn't seem to mind. 

"Are you hoping that this is a legend? Or are you afraid to find out that it isn't, that there might be something more for you? Maybe a chance to finally get what you want…"

Azriel took a step back. This conversation wasn't leading to anything good. She was playing tricks with his mind. He had learned nothing about her motives, and he had the impression that she had instead learned far too much about him.

"We'll continue this later," he said as he started toward the door.

She struggled against her chains, the metal clangor echoing between the stone walls.

He had already stepped over the threshold when the witch resumed speaking. He kept walking, yet his shadows wouldn't follow him. 

They waited, and they listened.

"Do you know how the bond between carranams snap, shadowsinger?" 

Az got goosebumps as he turned into the hallway, the sound of her voice still following him, hunting his every step. 

"Through the blood of the person to whom one is bonded".

Chapter Text

Elain didn't insist when Azriel sat down at the table, his gaze hunted. She knew that if he wanted to talk about what was going on in his mind, he would. And she also knew that he had to do it in his own time, when he felt safe to.  Whatever happened, she hoped that his shadows, which communicated with her from time to time, wouldn't reveal it.

When he sat down on the sofa after dinner, as was now part of their routine, Elain didn't take a seat next to him. He turned toward her for a moment with a questioning look in his eyes, but stayed silent. The intensity of his gaze only increased, causing a shiver to run down her skin, as she stepped behind him and brought her hands to his shoulders.

"You're tense."

He straightened his head, then closed his eyes and rolled his neck. "It's been a long day."

She tentatively let her hands run over his shoulders and neck. She didn't know exactly how to move; she knew wings were very sensitive, so she tried not to touch them. Slowly, applying gentle pressure, she began to massage his muscles. "You can tell me about it, if you need to get it off your shoulders''.

He exhaled. "Fuck, Elain."

The verses that began to leave his mouth as she moved her hands across his back encouraged her to increase the pressure, pushing further, almost touching the point where his wings stuck out from the leather of his uniform.

"You don't have to do it tho," she said, applying pressure with one hand as the other tentatively grazed the beginning of his wing. She was rewarded by a tremor that shook his entire body. "Only if it can make you feel better"

She kept going. Azriel had closed his eyes, his muscles becoming gradually less tense under her hands. He started talking, all of his tension easing with each word that left his mouth.

And Elain listened, straining to keep the rhythm of her movements steady even as Azriel told her of Drakon's death, of Helion, of the witch. His muscles became tighter for a moment when he spoke of her. She knew there was something there he wasn't telling her, but she wouldn't insist nor demand more than he was willing to offer.

"He died instantly. An immortal being," there was bitterness in his tone of voice. 

 Elain understood the fear behind his words: it could have been any of them in Drakon's place.

"Do you still have the knife?"

Azriel turned his head, looking into her eyes.

She explained further. "If it was soaked in poison, there might still be traces of it. Maybe I could recognize some ingredients, and maybe there are even plants that could help produce an antidote."

Azriel's gaze left her speechless for a moment. Maybe this was a foolish idea. It was a rare poison, and she didn't know enough about this world or its plants to claim to be able to recognize, let alone counter it. 

"It's just a theory. It probably won't work, but maybe…"

Azriel was on his feet with a quickness she never thought possible given the way his entire body was relaxed against the couch.

Elain stopped talking when he was in front of her. One of his hands lifted her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes, his thumb a phantom touch over her lips. "That's a very good idea. I'll show you the knife."

"R-really?" she hadn't realized how much she needed those words until he had spoken them.

"Yes, Elain," his expression hardened. "Why do you find it so hard to believe you had a good idea?"

She hesitated. Why? She didn't know, and just thinking about it made that knot she hated tighten a little more around her throat.

"It's in my dungeons. I can bring it here," Azriel said, sensing her need to change the subject.

"Can I come there?"

The expression on his face was hard to decipher. His eyes fixed on the floor, wondering. Elain stroked his hand, holding her breath as she waited for his answer.

"You will see a part of me..."

"I want to see it," she said.

"You might hate it."

"Or I may like it…" 

His gaze ran up and down on her body just then, settling at last on her eyes. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but then shook his head. 

As if he had taken a silent decision, he offered her his hand, and this time he didn't wince as his shadows wrapped around their wrists, caressing her skin with that now familiar breeze.

***

Elain knew Azriel was nervous about showing her this part of himself. Yet as she observed the dungeons, the place where he did his work, in secret, away from the light, she felt anything but afraid. She was intrigued.

She looked around, inhaling the smell of stone, leather and metal that hovered in the air. When she turned back to Azriel, she noticed that he was watching her, studying her every reaction, his eyes still darting up and down her body.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing. It's just that... I never imagined I would see you here."

She smiled. "Did you think I would be scared?"

He took a step forward, getting so close that she had to tilt her neck to keep looking him in the eye. "No. You are braver than you let on, perhaps more so than you yourself realize. I remember when-" he took a deep breath. "When you had been kidnapped. When I got there, you were quiet, silent. You didn't panic, you didn't scream or cry. And when the moment came," one of his hands caressed her cheek, the touch of his fingers barely perceptible on her skin, "you grabbed truth teller and killed the king of Hybern without hesitation. From that moment on, I swore to myself that I would never underestimate you, knowing that whoever did was a fool."

"Now you may be overestimating me," she said, feeling the blood spread over her cheeks.

"You aren't weak, Elain. You never have been. Your strength is different, but it's a strength that is as good as any other. I'm mad at the world for making you believe otherwise".

Surprised, she lifted herself slightly on her toes and deposited a light, chaste kiss on his lips, watching the way every muscle in his body seemed to freeze, then she took his hand. "I wanna try to help. Show me the knife."

She carefully observed the poisoned blade.  It was still soaked with blood, which had now solidified on it. She knew fae blood was different from human's. It was a darker, more intense red with a pungent smell. The blood that covered this sword, however, was all too much so.

Azriel stood silently by her side as she examined the black stains that the dead fae's blood had taken on, scattering along the metal blade that took his life. Where Drakon's blood left the metal visible, Elain noticed a thin, glossy patina. It was almost imperceptible in the dim dungeon lights, so she approached one of the lanterns on the walls to get a better look at it.

Azriel followed her every movement with an attentive, captured air, and this only increased her confidence, along with her desire to understand more, to give him answers.

"Do you see it?" she said, tilting the blade so that the light from the lamp reflected exactly what she was trying to show. Azriel came closer, his presence at her back familiar by now, but at the same time never ceasing to cause a chill down her spine. She swore she could feel his muscles stiffen as well. She swallowed, happy to note that he hadn't stepped back, keeping close enough that she could feel his breath along her neck.

She continued her examination, lifting her hand to touch that transparent layer with her fingers. 

She felt Azriel inhale and open his mouth at that, as if to stop her. When she turned, she found his face dangerously close. "It's okay," she whispered, although no one was there to hear them. "I think I know what it is. It's only lethal when in contact with blood."

Azriel's eyes, at that moment, didn't show hesitation or indecision. He trusted her, what she had said, what she knew. 

She held her breath as she brushed her fingers over the substance that coated the knife. It was cold and sticky, and when she brought her nose closer to smell it, she gasped.

Azriel snatched the knife from her hands and immediately stepped in front of her, letting it go against the floor with a clang that echoed through the stone walls, then he grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Elain, is everything all right?"

Elain searched his eyes. Anger, against those who had betrayed her, but mostly against herself, for being so naive and not seeing the signs, churned in her stomach.

"What is it? What did you recognize? Are you hurt?" his eyes looked down at her hands, the skin intact, no sign of damage on it.

She was breathing fast. "I think I recognize this poison. It was made from two plants..."

Azriel nodded, encouraging her to continue, his grip firm against her shoulders, steadying her. 

"They used plants...that I myself grew. For the healers."

His gaze quickly changed from astonishment to icy anger, softening slightly as it fixed on her face.

"No, Elain," he said. "Don't think for a second that this is your fault."

She felt her heartbeats quicken, the touch of his hands the only thing that allowed her to not lose her mind. 

"I was so stupid."

Azriel shook his head. "No. We were. I was, for not suspecting when I should have."

"Rhysand warned me. He told me to stay away from them."

"And you did, Elain," Azriel's grip tightened. "Do you hear me? This is on me and Rhysand. Not on you".

 Anguish slowly made way for anger in Elain's chest. How could Madja and Benjamin have mocked her like this?

"I know every single plant I gave them," she reflected aloud, his touch helping her mind to focus.  "And each of them presents an antidote. Whatever formula they can come up with, it could always be countered, I think."

His eyes took on a whole other light when they met hers, this time. "Do you really think so?"

"Yes," she nodded. "It won't be easy to get the seeds and work on them without anyone noticing, but... I think I can do it. I've been studying these plants for months. Even more since I stopped growing them. We need to have an antidote if we think they may attack you again." 

This time her hands clung to Azriel's arms, returning his grip, the magnitude of the danger they had just taken, the fact that instead of Drakon it could have been him, or Cassian or... Rhysand. She couldn't risk losing them.

"Elain, this is not a war you need to fight."

"I want to, and I can, Azriel. So I will."

He didn't insist, didn't try to dissuade her. "I will help you. It will be another secret of ours."

The feeling that he trusted her, and the way he was looking at her, ignited something in Elain's chest. Her magic was a living, soulful entity stirring inside her, responding to him.  When she instinctively rose up on her toes and wrapped her arms around Azriel's neck, bringing her lips to his, it was as if she could feel that magic explode, reach out, extend through him.

Azriel must have felt the same, because he opened his mouth wide against her, surprised. "What was that?"

There was curiosity in his eyes, warmth in his hands clasped around her waist.

Elain swallowed and shook her head. "I don't know. I don't... I don't know what happened."

Azriel brought his forehead against hers, his lips inches from hers as he whispered, "I feel you, Elain. This power of yours, this magic inside you..." he brought a hand to her chest. Elain knew he could feel the way her heart beat wildly. She held her breath waiting for him to continue speaking. "I've always felt it, ever since you came out of that damn cauldron. Maybe even before that, and I'm sorry I wasn't able to figure out what was happening to you sooner."

Elain closed her eyes, inhaling his scent and pressing her body even more against his, her chest on his hand. "I'm glad, Azriel, that it was you who understood me, who saw me first."

She crossed his gaze in the hope of being able to communicate with her eyes all that her words were unable to utter, all that storm stirring inside her, the devotion she felt toward him, the need for him to keep seeing her, the desire to have him near.

 She inhaled. She needed him. Closer. The feeling crushed her bones with its sudden intensity.

She didn't know if she had spoken or just thought those words, but Azriel granted her wish anyway. His lips were on hers, but this time the kiss was different: where the previous one had been slow, gentle, a tender meeting of their lips, this one was the exact opposite. There was desire in the way his tongue made its way in her mouth, there was need in the way he pushed his body against her, their feet chasing each other until Elain's back was firm against the cold wall. There was affection in the way his arms supported her, reverently caressing every inch of her hips.

"Ever since I first met you, Elain..." Azriel barely shook his head, catching his breath before his lips ventured to her neck. "You were trying to get the staff to leave your house so we could come in."

Elain sighed, straining to stay focused on his words despite the sensations his lips on her neck were causing to her nerves. She clung with her hands to his muscular arms.

She felt Azriel smile against her skin, the words whispered like a prayer in her ear. "I hadn't even seen your face yet, and already you had captured me."

Elain sighed, more in surprise than in pleasure. Azriel parted from her to look into her eyes.

"Does that surprise you?" 

She nodded, surprised even more that he had read perfectly how she felt before she even realized it herself. But that was it, Azriel had always been able to understand her.

"I hate that you underestimate yourself, Elain. I hate that this world has made you believe that there is nothing more than a pretty face to you."

"Azriel..."

He leaned his forehead against hers.  "Don't get me wrong, you are gorgeous. And when I saw you, I was breathless, ready to get on my knees, to give you anything you wished for. But... you had bewitched me before that" 

He kissed her lips again, but this time lightly, without urgency, with reverence.

"You are clever with words, and you have one of the sweetest voices I have ever heard. Even before I saw you, I knew that anyone would give in to any of your requests, and after seeing you ..."

Elain held her breath. His words were awakening a desire within her that she would not have believed possible. Her heart was beating wildly, her lungs protested at the lack of air, but still she did not breathe. She would not until she knew, until he finished the sentence.

She was at his mercy. She always had been.

Azriel's eyes fixed on hers. "After seeing you, I knew I was the damnedest of them all. I desired you, Elain, every second, knowing I did not deserve you, and that you could never be mine."

Her eyes watered at those words, and his face was crossed with an expression of pain. She wanted to throw herself on him and wash it away with her own lips, but Azriel's grip on her hips tightened, pinning her against the stone wall.

"I'm selfish, though," he continued, his voice taking on a lower note, his gaze growing darker. "And now that I have you, I'll never want to let you go."

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." Elain let her hands caress his arms, reaching up to his shoulders, wrapping around them, tracing the outline of his tattoos barely visible in the dim dungeon lights.

"I am so wrong for you."

"No," she whispered, heading toward him, taking control of the kiss. "You complete me."

She placed a hand on his chest, where she could feel his heart beating as wildly as her own. "In nature, every element has its opposite. Every poison has its antidote, days have nights and every light has its darkness."

She moved her hand slightly downward, caressing the muscles of his abdomen, and was surprised to notice how his entire body was run through by a shiver. This caused a rush of adrenaline in her nerves. She let her eyes wander downward, not failing to notice the bulge between his leather pants.

Elain was not an expert in sex, yet in this moment, given the way Azriel's eyes devoured her and the tension in his every muscle waiting for her next movement, she felt like the most desirable woman in the whole world. A goddess. She let her hand slide down a few more inches. An animalistic growl left Azriel's mouth, followed by her name.

She searched for his eyes, "I want you, Az."

 Those words, as she had learned by now, triggered something inside him. They broke his self-control. Elain watched in wonder at the way his pupils dilated, completely engulfing his hazel iris. 

He bit his lips, pressing his body against hers until she was crushed against the wall, trapped by his chest and arms. She sighed at the feel of his hard cock against her belly. He was big, and she had no idea about how she was going to take it, but she wanted it. She wanted him.

His lips descended on her neck once more. She even felt a hint of teeth barely graze her skin, withdrawing a moment later. "I don't deserve you."

She opened her mouth to protest that statement, but Azriel's lips on her throat silenced her. What was she about to say? She couldn't remember.

"But I am selfish enough to not care. I want you too, Elain. You have no idea how much".

"Yes Azriel, yes."

"Yes what?"

"Touch me."

Just for a moment, his every muscle froze in place. Then, however, whatever shred of self-control he was clinging to was swept away. 

His hands clasped around her waist and  turned her around in a fluid, swift movement, so that she found herself with her face against the stone wall, his cock pressed against her back. 

She clung as best she could to the wall as her knees already threatened to give way. His wings were spread out, wrapping all around them, creating even more darkness in that already dimly lit place. She had never felt more aroused than this, and she knew he could feel it too. 

He took a deep breath, shivering. "This damn smell is going to be the death of me".

"Azriel, please".

"We shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be here with you, touching you" his hips rolled against her. "Feeling you".

She shifted her hips then, trying to recreate his movement, needing to feel something, anything. His hands stopped her. 

"Don't move," he whispered against her ear. 

She obeyed, holding her breath as he lowered, his hands caressing the fabric of her dress till the hem, down to her calves. Her heart skipped a beat as he slowly began to lift it, her lungs struggling to get enough oxygen to her brain. She knew he would soon feel how aroused she was.

His fingers caressed the bare skin of her legs as the hem of her dress rose up along them. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this. To touch you, to have you so close."

When he reached the apex of her thighs, his finger lingered on the wetness she could feel there. 

"Tell me," he said, his lips teasing that sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder as his fingers continued to tingle the bare skin of her legs, but without getting any closer to the point where she was about to explode. "Tell me what you feel, Elain."

His fingers went slightly upward, until they grazed the spot where her arousal had made a mess of her underwear. 

"I..." it was like she was unable to find the words for it. 

"Are you wet?" he asked, even though he was feeling it, his hand brushing against her panties.

"Yes" she breathed. 

"Do you want me to make you come?" 

He teased her again, the light pressure of his movement driving her crazy. Yet she didn't answer, and he rolled his hips against her back, his face sinking on her shoulder.

"There is nothing ... nothing you can ask, no request of yours that I could ever resist. Ask, and it will be given to you."

"Yes" she finally found the courage to say. "Make me come, Azriel. Please". 

He grunted, then sighed, as if her words had freed him. 

Slowly, while one of his hands moved her panties to the side and his finger caressed her folds, the other went to wrap around her neck, tilting her head slightly so that he met her eyes.

"I can't wait to feel you wrapped around my fingers" he murmured as one finger slowly and easily entered her, withdrawing too fast for her liking. 

Her moan of protest died on her throat when his same finger massaged her clit. "I want you to make a mess of my hand" he whispered as he applied a light pressure on it,  moving in circles. "The same way you made a mess of my head, of my feelings, of my whole fucking life since I met you"

She felt herself becoming wetter with every word. When his finger entered her again, it made an obscene sound that echoed in the silence. 

"Do my words arouse you, Elain?"

She tried to nod her head. 

"Is that a yes?".

"Y-yes" she trembled, his finger increasing its rhythm inside her. 

He pressed his cock against her back, and it was even harder than before. "Good, because feel what are you doing to me. I'm so hard for you it hurts. All the fucking time". 

Her hips were moving of their own accord, pushing her against his hand, needing more of it. She tried to express it, and he understood. 

"Should I add one more finger inside you?"

"Please" she begged. 

He did, both of his fingers entering her easily. She felt full, surrounded by him, and her walls clamped on his hand. 

"You have no idea the things I've imagined to do with you, and to you".

 His hips rotated against hers, and Elain opened her mouth wide at the sensation. "Hating my body for this. For my reaction to you".

"Oh, Azriel-"

"Everything you want, it's yours. All I am, is yours."

She kept moaning, his fingers now moving fast in and out of her, his palm pressing on her clit, driving her to the precipice.

His teeth teased the skin of her neck. Elain bent it for him.

"Open your eyes, look at me," he said, and she obeyed, finding his eyes, now two completely black pools. 

 His fingers tilted to touch that spot inside her that made her legs tremble.

 "Give it to me, Elain. Let me feel you coming all over my unworthy hand".

She exploded.

 Her knees gave way as she leaned fully against his back, shaken by waves of pleasure, her walls tightening around his fingers, locking them inside her. 

Azriel's arms were strong, tight around her, and she felt his cock pulsing against her back, his body shivering.

"Elain, oh my fucking god".

She was unable to think. She could just feel. 

And what she was feeling, right now, was pure bliss.

***

Azriel parted from Elain with the promise that he would return as soon as he had finished discussing the difficult political situation they had gotten themselves into.

 Rhys had placed special emphasis on keeping the new placement of the cauldron a secret even within their inner circle. The fact that neither Mor nor Amren knew about the mission...

How could they keep Drakon's death a secret? Or how could they explain it without mentioning their own involvement and omission of information?

He took a deep breath, chasing away these doubts. Before the meeting he took a bath with the herbs and petals Elain had prepared for him, specially designed to mask and hide their scents so that no one would know where he had been, or that they had been together.

A strong, raging, part of him wanted anything but that. His instinct screamed for everyone to know where he had been, what he had done. He was ready to take on the whole world for her, fighting them all till his last breath if necessary. But Elain was right. He couldn't deny that right now the best thing was to go on like this, to hide. For how long, thought, was what scared him. 

By the time he reached Rhysand's mansion, Cassian was already there, as was of course Feyre, whose blue eyes were filled with worry, her teeth tormenting the inside of her cheek with nervousness.

When Mor entered the room, Azriel felt the usual twinge in his chest, that stirring feeling that maybe he now recognized a little more. With each step he took toward Elain he was able to look at it with the proper detachment. He had always felt something connecting him to Mor, triggering in him an irrational anger, a desire to protect her, a jealousy toward anyone who came near her. With Elain was different. He had chosen to protect her, and will keep choosing it until the end of his days, but there was more to it. He felt he understood her. And when she looked into his eyes, he felt seen. They were night and day, light and darkness dancing together, entering each other's world, blending together in the perfect combination of the two. He needed her, his light.  But would she need him? He shuffled the question off for later.

How could magic have done this? A mate and a carranam, but in two different people. How could it force her to choose between them?

The bond between carranam was not romantic, as far as he knew. It wasn't tied to that disproportionate lust he felt toward her. No, that came all from him.

His shadows brought him back to reality. He would do his proper research later on what was happening to him.  

His eyes squared Mor from head to toe, her long hair less tidy than usual, her red dress slightly wrinkled along her sides. And then his gaze rested on her brown, fiery eyes.

Mor went straight to Rhysand, ignoring everyone else. "What happened?"

"What are you talking about?"

Azriel felt the walls vibrate from her fury. "Myram contacted me. Drakon is nowhere to be found, their city's defenses have collapsed. She got almost everyone out before he arrived."

Azriel held his breath. Koschei. Koschei had found where the cauldron was hidden. They had moved it just in time. Just twenty-four hours later...

"Each of them will be offered shelter in our court and in Day for as long as necessary." Rhysand kept his voice calm and measured, yet the tension he felt was evident in the way every single muscle in his body was locked in an unnatural stillness.

Before Mor could resume, he continued. "They had been warned, we knew Koschei was looking for the cauldron and it was only a matter of time before he found it."

Mor took a deep breath. "Where is the cauldron now?"

"Safe."

"And where is Drakon?"

Rhysand's lips tightened into a thin line, but his eyes didn't leave Mor's. 

Her breathing grew heavier as she looked at everyone else. When her gaze landed on him, Azriel gave her a swift nod of his head, enough for her to understand.

Tears began to stream down her face. Mor accepted the comfort offered by Cassian's hands along her back, but when Rhys took a step toward her, she stopped him. "How could Koschei find them? He is imprisoned by a curse, bound to the lake."

"Byraxis has been on the run for some time," Cassian replied, his voice low, his gaze distant. "With their combined powers, they may have found a way."

"We told Myriam and Drakon that they would be safe, that no one would ever find them or the cauldron. It worked just fine for two years… Something has changed, something triggered its power. Something recent."

"The cauldron's been unstable for quite some time," Feyre intervened.

Mor looked at her and blinked a few times, as if she was finally coming to some conclusion. At last, her eyes found Azriel. "She did it."

His shadows instinctively gathered around his legs, shielding him from the potential threat. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Tell me she hasn't used her power recently," Mor continued, then looked toward Rhysand and Feyre. "Can you confirm that, too?"

"Elain knew not to use her powers".

Rhysand's words were interrupted when Mor took a step toward him. "She did, she didn't listen to you."

Feyre took a step forward. "Mor, Elain has nothing to do with this."

"She has everything to do with this and we all know that. She's intrinsically connected to the cauldron. She was the first person in history to enter it and survive, and she even came out with a fucking gift. If she brought Koschei to Myryam and Drakon, how long before she drags him to our doors?"

"That's enough," Rhysand said under his breath.

Mor paid him no heed. "Has she ever told any of you what the fuck happened when she was down there? What did she see? What did it tell her? Why the hell would the most dangerous and powerful magical entity give an insignificant human girl one of the rarest powers?" 

Azriel felt his shadows protest. He struggled to keep them in place as they began to move against Mor and her words. Something inside him was battling, two parts of his magic going one against the other. 

Mor's rage was directed at Rhys, ignoring the fact that Feyre had stepped up at his side. "If you hadn't forbidden me to let her use her powers under supervision, we wouldn't be here now. Drakon would be alive, their people would be safe, and Vassa," her gaze was dark, her voice sharp as a knife. "Vassa would be free."

"So what were you going to do? Use Elain for your own personal gain?"

"Do you think it's better this way? To let her go free with such power in her hands, not knowing who or what she might attract to our doors? How low could she go on pretending to be still a useless human, just tending to her garden and kitchen every single day? It's time to break this fucking bubble we all got her in and show her the real world-"

"That's enough now."

All eyes in the room turned to Feyre, and Azriel saw an authority and seriousness in her that he had never seen before, but which only increased his respect for His Lady. 

"Be careful how you speak of my sister" she warned, and Azriel never felt more proud of her.  "I agree that we have kept her in the dark far too long. We will address this in her presence and decide the most appropriate way to control her power with her."

The room remained silent, filled only by the breaths of each of them. As the High Lady's blue eyes met his, Azriel nodded in respect and the corners of her mouth lifted in a ghostly smile.

"Is there anything else?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Mor seemed to hesitate for a moment before she turned her back on Rhys and started toward the door. When she reached the threshold, just for an instant her eyes darted toward Azriel. He saw her nostrils flare slightly as she breathed his scent.

His shadows wrapped more tightly around his body.

Shaking her head, eyes sharpened, Mor left the room.

Chapter Text

Her shoulders were hunched on the desk, her eyes fixed on the ink-covered pages. Elain had no idea what time it was. She was head deep into her research about the plants she would have to grow to prepare an antidote to the poison used against Drakon. The hours had gone by, but in the darkness of the dungeon, with no sunlight to mark the passage of time, she had no idea what time it might be now. When her eyelids started to grow tired, Azriel finally came back from one of his missions.

 He worked at night, and night also seemed to be the only time in which they could exist together. She let her shoulders go against the back of the chair as he approached, holding her breath as he came to stand behind her. His large hands caused a shiver down her spine as he began to massage her numb shoulders.

She relaxed under his touch, sighing.

"You're tense," whispered Az. "You're working too hard."

"Me?" She had the impression that everyone in the entire court was doing far more than she ever could.

Azriel's hands paused for a moment.

"Don't stop, please. That felt too good."

He inhaled, the air tense before his hands resumed moving along her neck, the movement slower, his touch deeper, warmer. She relaxed under it, the tension built up in her muscles melting away. 

"Found anything interesting?"

"Mmh" she hummed. "Kind of."

"Tell me about it."

So she did. She told him about the plants she had been able to recognize by examining Drakon's sword and blood, and the ones she knew would counteract the venom's effect. She even showed him her notes, blushing at the way Azriel complimented her handwriting.

Then, together, they planned their next moves. Some of the seeds would be easy to find, Az assured her. Planting and growing them, however, was another story. Some would require the light of dawn, others to be placed in contact with the earth under the full moon. These magical plants were as complex as they were fascinating, and Elain would have lied to say she was not a smidgen excited by this mission, by the desire to try her hand at it, to do something important for once. Yet her enthusiasm was soon overtaken by the usual thoughts making their way through her mind, partly stifling that fire that was burning inside her.

"What is it?"

"I wonder..." she searched his eyes. "How long we should keep hiding, and whether we would be able to".

"El-"

"No," she interrupted him before his guilt came out. "I mean..." she said as she stood up, turning to face him. "Shouldn't we defend ourselves somehow? Rhysand and Feyre have the power to read minds, right?"

Something shifted in his gaze. 

"I want to learn, Azriel. I want to have mental barriers. Protect myself. Especially since we will eventually have to be in a room together, with their eyes ready to scrutinize our every movement, every glance exchanged between us."

Azriel remained silent, but one of his hands caressed her cheek. Then his palm wrapped on the nape of her neck, his thumb grazing her lips with a light touch.

"Teach me, Az."

Azriel's eyes dropped to her lips, and he murmured something that Elain didn't fully understand, but which sounded like a curse.

Elain kept her eyes fixed on his until his gaze went back up. She batted her eyelashes at him, her words a whisper on his lips. "Will you?"

His free hand wrapped around her hip. His body was shaken by a tremor as he moved closer to her, annihilating the distance that separated them. That abrupt movement caused Elain to take a few steps backward to keep her balance, colliding against the desk. Before she realized it, Azriel lifted her up as if she weighed nothing, settling her on it.

"You like teasing, don't you?'

She swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady despite the fact that her heart threatened to sputter out of her chest. "Is it working?"

Azriel positioned himself between her legs, pressing against the inside of her tight so that she felt the full length of his cock. He was hard.  "What do you think?"

She shivered. The lust she felt for him had been building up for so long that now threatened to set her off for good. Yet Azriel persisted in resisting, in taking it slow…

She sought his eyes, losing herself in his dilated pupils, seeing in them the deeper part of him that threatened to come out and that he struggled to hold back. She wanted to push him to the limit, to test his self-control, to see him finally give in.

She reached out a hand toward him, though she wasn't sure what she was doing, guided only by her instinct and that blinding desire that clouded her mind, encircling his length, caressing it from beyond the leather of his pants. Azriel's body shook at her touch. 

She felt electrified by his reaction. "Azriel, please."

She wanted it so badly. She wanted him to be the one to have her for the first time in this new body of hers. She wanted to find out what it felt like with him. She voiced these thoughts, seeing a mix of emotions she couldn't decipher across his gaze. She knew he wanted it too; she was neither stupid nor naïve enough to dare to think otherwise. Yet, for some reason, he continued to resist.

"You want it too," she said, continuing to stare at him with wide eyes, batting her eyelashes.

Az shook his head. 

"You want it, Elain" He moved closer to her lips, caressing them with his breath, inhaling her scent. She could smell her own arousal begin to fill the room, permeating the stone walls. "I need it. I crave it. I fear what it would unleash. Want doesn't even come close".

"Then do it" she dared him, not breaking eye contact.

 His hand gripped her chin. "Not here."

"We can go to my house," she hastened to reply

"Let me-" he sighed. "Let me get a taste of you first."

He moved closer to her, and finally his lips rested against hers. The kiss wasn't soft. Right away lips, tongue and teeth battled against each other, each trying to take as much from the other as it could. 

As her teeth nudged his lips, his hands went on her thighs, sinking into their softness. His cock pressed against her at the perfect angle, hardness and leather rubbing against her clit.  She tried to grind against him, to take as much of him as she could. She didn't know what she was doing. The only thing she knew was that she needed more than this, more than what he was giving her. 

She closed her eyes as lust took over her every sense, feeling for a moment the cool night air caress every inch of her exposed skin. Then, the feeling of falling into the void took over her, making her heart skip a beat.  She ended up with her back against the hard ground, her fall cushioned by Azriel's arms wrapped around her, his body on top of hers. She held back a moan of pleasure at the way his erection pressed against her from this angle and looked around, surprised.

 They were in her apartment. The curtains were drawn, only the faint glow of the lights outside filtering through them to light the room.

"Elain did you..." he said, his breathing heavy. "Did you just use my shadows to winnow us here?"

"I..." she shook her head. "No, you did it"

Azriel just looked at her. "It was you".

"I-I'm sorry. I don't know what I did."

"Elain this is..." his hazel eyes shone, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. "This is incredible."

Seeing him smile, a weight lifted from her chest. She smiled too, her gaze settling on his lips. "I am ready, Azriel. I want to do this. I want it to be with you."

She saw him close his eyes, fighting a battle against himself. She shifted her hips against him, quick breaths leaving her mouth. 

"Fuck, Elain". The corners of his lips bent momentarily. "Hold tight".

She had only a moment to understand, her legs tightening instinctively around his waist and her arms around his neck before his shadows wrapped around them again, winnowing them into her bedroom, already on her bed.

She gasped. "That's better."

Azriel's lips were on her neck. He inhaled before his tongue started feasting on her skin, making her grow even wetter. "Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure about anything."

His eyes burned into hers. "Let me get a taste of you first. Then, if you still want it..." there was a moment's pause, Elain held her breath, her heart hammering against her rib cage. "Then I will be yours, Elain."

The air was gone from her lungs, so she merely nodded. That was enough. His lips began to move expertly down to her breast as he tugged her dress down, caressing and brushing every inch of skin on the way. Elain tilted her neck back offering herself to him as much as she could. Words rose from her mouth before she could properly think about what she was saying, like something was rising from the core of her magic.  "Bite me."

Azriel stilled, his gaze became serious, concern and surprise darkening the lust in his eyes.

"Elain, what are you-"

"I know what we are, the two of us. Or at least I think I do" she began to stammer, her voice trembling. "You know what that means, don't you? Carranam?"

Azriel's mouth went wide for a moment, his eyes fixed in hers. For the first time, she saw in his gaze that he didn't know what to say.

"Did you..." he sounded hesitant, scared even. "Did you see it? In your vision?"

She saw that he held his breath as she nodded. Then, slowly, as her answer sunk in, something in his eyes lit up.

"I think I knew it all along," she explained, her words interrupted by his lips brushing against hers, his work on her dress forgotten halfway down her chest.  "There was something between us.You complete me."

Each word was interrupted by his lips, sighed against them before he broke away from her, looking straight into her eyes, devouring her with his gaze.

"If you want to stop, at any time, all you have to do is say so."

Elain shook her head, her own hands now clutching at the laces of the dress tight around her body. Too tight. She wanted to rip it off.  

"Stop," Azriel said, placing his hand on top of hers. "I'll take care of it. I'll take care of you. But I need to know that if you want to stop-"

She opened her mouth to once again reiterate her position, but Azriel silenced her with a finger to her lips. "No, Elain. It is important that you know it. For this and for times to come. If you want to stop..." his gaze grew dark, more intense, as if he were digging into her, as if she was already naked before his eyes. "Choose a word, Elain. Choose your safe word, and then we'll begin."

Elain's heart stopped and resumed beating at a rate she didn't think possible. 

Every fiber of her body was electrified, every sensation all too intense against her skin.

 "Choose"

"Truth teller."

His eyes turned dark, the hazel ring of his iris succumbing under his dilating pupil. "I like it."

 He grabbed both her hands, clasping her wrists in his and settling them above her head. With his free hand, he grasped the hem of her dress, dragging it down and exposing her breasts. Elain sighed at the feeling of his eyes on her. His gaze devoured her as her chest rose and fell to the rhythm of her breaths.

When his mouth ventured onto one of them, another sensation replaced that of his hand around her wrists. A cool breeze wrapped around them, immobilizing her. She looked up, watching his shadows tightening on her skin, their touch more like a caress than a chain. She sighed.

Azriel brought his now free hands to her breast, alternating the expert touch of his finger on one with the caress of his tongue on the other. She felt her arousal grow, her walls tightening against nothing.

"Remember, Elain. If you want to stop..."

"Don't you dare stop," she spoke quickly.

 His lips tightened around her nipple with a slight hint of teeth. She shifted her hips, lifting herself up, squeezing, trying to get friction where she needed it.

He smiled at her. "As you wish". He finally began to drag her dress away from her skin, freeing her from that oppressive heat.

His warm breath caressed the bare skin of her abdomen as his dress came down along it, and as he passed it around her waist and then down her legs, she shivered under the light and deliberated touch of his finger. 

She was naked now, only the light fabric of her panties to cover her. Azriel was breathing hard. He sat on the bed to remove his shirt, and her gaze fell to the bulge in his pants. 

He started to kneel between her legs again. 

"Wait."

"Your word, Elain"

"No. I don't want to stop" her gaze ran up and down his muscular chest, settling on his cock. "Your pants."

"What?"

"Remove them."

He stilled, one corner of his lips benting. "You want to see me?"

She nodded, holding her breath as, with slow movements, he got off the bed. The devotion in his gaze gave her courage. He unbuttoned his leather pants and, along with his boxers, ran them down his legs, finally freeing his cock.

 Elain swallowed as she took him in. 

His hand grabbed it at the base, running along it till the tip. She tried to imagine her own finger against it, shuddering at the thought of how big he would look in her hand.

A little fear settled in her chest. Would it hurt? She had only been with Greysen in her life, and he hadn't been this big. 

 "Are you scared?" his hand ran again along his shaft, a single drop of precum glistening at the tip. 

Her mouth watered, hips rising in search of nonexistent pressure. Azriel's eyes caught on her spread leg, his hand tightening on his cock. 

"Answer me". His voice was hoarse, deeper. "Please"

"A little".

"What scares you?"

Even though she was naked, legs spread before him in only her panties, it was answering that question that made her feel the blood rush all the way to her cheeks. "You're big". 

His hand stilled. "We don't have to do anything if you're not comfortable with it, Elain". 

"I want to do it" she hastened. "Please Azriel, ple-". 

She was silenced as his hand suddenly covered her mouth. He had come on top of her so fast she hadn't even seen him move.  

"There's nothing I can be able to resist if you beg me like that" he rasped, his hands finally ripping her panties off from her. 

Again, she looked into his eyes and battled her lashes. "Please". 

"Let me first…" he didn't finish, making his way down her body until he knelt between her legs. His tongue licked her hard and fast along her slit, flicking on her clit. 

Her hips buckled. 

 "I've wanted to taste you for so long".

"Azriel, please," she said, lifting her hips once more. She needed him inside her. She was ready; she couldn't be more ready than this.

 "What do you want?" his voice was like a cold blade caressing her skin, menacing but safe.

"You" she pleaded.

"You need to be more specific."

Even though all the blood in her body was pulsing in her core, some still managed to run to her cheeks. She shut all of that down, succumbing to her own lust and looking him straight in the eyes. 

"I want your cock" she swallowed. 

He cursed, giving one more lascivious lick before lying on top of her.

"Remember your safe word".

She nodded, spreading her legs wider as she felt him settle between them. She was shaking in anticipation. 

They both held their breath as the tip of his cock brushed against her folds. He soaked himself in her arousal, sliding on her until the tip stroked her clit. 

His hands cupped her chin. "Look at me," he ordered, aligning himself at her entrance. 

She felt her walls stretch around him as the tip slowly entered her. She held his gaze through it, ignoring the slight discomfort as he made its way in. 

His whole body was rigid, every muscle tense with exertion. He stilled for a few seconds, letting her adjust against him, then started sliding backward. 

Elain looked down: he wasn't even halfway in. She tightened her legs around his hips, her feet pressing on his calves.

"More, Azriel".

 " I don't want to hurt you".

"I want all of you." Her walls clenched on him, as if to confirm her words. 

He leaned on one forearm, his other hand holding on the headboard behind her head, his lips coming closer to hers. "Say it."

 "Please". 

Less slowly than before, she felt him slide in again, this time pushing so deep that her eyes widened, a mix of pain and pleasure running through her nerves, stretching toward the latter when his tip grazed a spot that caused another wave of warm arousal to rush through her and soak his length. 

"How does it feel?" he murmured on her lips, eyes searching every inch of her face. 

"Good. So good".

His pelvis rubbed on her clit as he slowly ebbed out and, slower than before, went back in, hitting that spot again. 

"Please don't stop, '' she begged, throwing her head back on the mattress. 

Azriel continued to move slowly, his chest brushing her hard nipples with each movement, his lips a breath away from hers. 

The pressure in her core began to build, like a knot that became tighter and tighter with each thrust of his hips. She could feel the same tension in his muscles. It was bliss.

Yet, there was something more she wanted from him.

"Azriel," she called.

 His eyes were immediately on hers, his length stilling inside her.

 "Bite me."

His cock twitched with a whole new force as he processed what she had just said. The intensity of his gaze confirmed to her what she already suspected, what would happen if he did. 

His lips sank to that spot on her shoulder as his thrusts resumed, this time harder, faster, more urgent. 

"Elain".

"Just do it."

"Not now. I can't do this to you."

 "I'm asking you."

He thrust into her, hard, making her gasp both from pleasure and pain. "I can't. Not now. Not like this". 

He started fucking her harder and faster, chasing the air from her lungs, preventing her from asking again. 

"Remember your word, Elain. If you want to stop."

"I-"

And then one of his hands came down between her legs, moving over her clit, applying just the right amount of pressure that made her close her eyes and drop her head back. Her mind cleared from every thought. 

"God Elain,'' his breath was heavy and warm on her neck, his weight leaning more and more on her, pinning her down. "Do you remember it?"

"Yes" she exclaimed, the combined movement of his cock and fingers pushing her over the edge. "Don't stop, please. I'm-"

The pressure exploded. Her mind went blank, her leg spasmed as she clamped around him.

She felt his body become tense above her, the orgasm sweeping over him at the same time. Their breaths intertwined as waves of pleasure shook the muscles of their bodies, a warm feeling spreading all over her skin. 

This. This is what she had always felt called to.

And if this was sex felt like in this new body, she wasn't so mad at the cauldron anymore.

*****

She felt sore, especially between her legs, yet she had never felt better. She felt full of love, of freedom, of hope. Most of all, since the moment she had been turned she finally felt one and all with her body, mind and flesh coexisting peacefully for the first time. 

Azriel came out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, hair damp, and Elain felt she could start all over again just at that sight. But they couldn't. Given what he had told her, they had wasted far too much time.

She sat on the bed, not knowing if her legs would be able to hold her up if she stood. "When will this meeting be held?"

"I don't know, but soon enough. Feyre decided that you should be informed about anything that may concern your power and the cauldron."

"Then we should start now. Train me, Azriel. Teach me everything you know. Teach me how to defend myself."

"I will," he said, sitting beside her on the bed and taking her hands. "It will not be easy but ... we will do it. Together"

She noticed that he wasn't making eye contact with her, and there seemed to be a veil of worry darkening his gaze now. She stroked his chin until she met his gaze. "Is everything all right?"

Azriel swallowed, "I'm sorry".

"For what?"

"I-" he lowered his gaze. "I didn't control myself, I should have asked you".

"What are you talking about?"

"I didn't ask, before I came inside you". 

His voice sounded hunted, but she just shrugged, smiling. He seemed surprised by the lightness of her reaction.  

"That's fine for me" she felt she was blushing again. "I mean, it felt good."

Azriel's gaze was on her cheeks.

"And you don't have to worry. I've been brewing a contraceptive mix for my sisters for some time now. I take it too once a month..." She looked down, feeling her cheeks on fire, the words were suddenly hard to find. "I mean, not that I thought anything would happen. I mean yes, I hoped for it, I guess. But…"

Azriel's thumb on her lower lips silenced her. 

She looked up at him. 

"You thought about it?" he asked, dead serious.

She nodded.

"Good" he whispered, bending his neck toward her ear. "Because I did, too. Every night, when I couldn't sleep because your scent burned in my nostril. Every morning, when I wake up at dawn just to watch you work. Every moment that I spent away from you, too. The thought of it has been hunting me since I met you, Elain". 

Now she was definitely ready to start all over again. She didn't care about the soreness all over her body, and she had forgotten what they were even talking about just a moment before.

"But we'll continue this conversation in due time," he said, standing up. "Now we have work to do."

She nodded, standing up on shaky legs helped by his hand. 

They had, didn't they?

***

"I'm afraid it's my fault," she said, her breathing heavy from the exertion, her heart beating rapidly. It was strange that her body was reacting like this despite not having made the slightest physical effort. 

Panic began to work its way inside her, but before it could oppress her chest, Az took her hands, wrapping them in his.

"We have no idea what is happening to the cauldron, and to you." As soon as he finished saying that, a shadow quickly crossed his gaze, vanishing in a split second. If she had only blinked, she wouldn't have seen it. Yet he knew that with Azriel everything meant something. "You are a victim of what is happening, as is Drakon, as are we all."

"I had one task," she sighed. "Rhys ordered me not to use my power."

"Yes, and yet we didn't stand by you. We didn't help you manage it, control it," she made to lower her gaze, but Az lifted her chin up, forcing her to bring it back to him. "So it's our fault. When Nesta had the same problem, we were all over her. But you were ignored, and only because your response to your trauma was different, quieter"

She took a deep breath, absorbing his words, letting them work their way through the tangled mass of thoughts that nagged at her mind. The knot around her throat loosened a little.

"Okay," she sighed, smiling against his hand, before, however, her expression returned to a serious one. "I need to tell you what I saw".

Azriel remained silent, his  gaze not wavering for a second from hers as she told of the dark presence she felt behind her in the last vision, of how she had followed that golden thread that united her to Lucien, feeling with each step that she was moving away from something inside her, rather than closer. She told of Lucien's strange panic, of Vassa's concern, of the silver thread she had seen between the two of them.

And of the dark promise looming in the future, inevitable, waiting just over her shoulder.  Azriel's gaze darkened as she described the fear she had felt, his jaw clenched.

"Do you think it's ... the cauldron?" she asked at last.

"It could," he said, his voice low and lethal. It would have intimidated anyone, yet knowing that it had been triggered by a threat against her caused her to shudder in a way that wasn't due to fear at all.

"Yet it was different," she reflected. "When the cauldron took me, it wasn't like that. It's presence wasn't dark or menacing, it just was. Despite the King's intentions, the cauldron didn't really want to hurt me. It was almost as if it was sorry it had to do it" she sighed. 

"It could be..." his words stalled.

"Koshei?" she finished for him.

Azriel swallowed, and Elain watched his adam's apple rise and fall at that movement. "There is something I have to tell you, Elain. I should have told you some time ago, but I was a coward".

His words startled her, but she encouraged him to continue. "You can't tell me everything".

"When things happened with the cauldron…" he approached, offering her support with his own body. She held her breath, aware that whatever he was about to say was going to hurt. But she would face it. With him by her side, she knew she could face anything.

"Do you think it's possible that you could have been pregnant?"

Silence. A silence broken only by his heavy breathing as air seemed unable to enter or leave her lungs. She didn't know how much time had passed before she answered. Seconds, minutes maybe. His steadfast presence was like a rock to cling to in the storm going on in her mind.

"Why do you think that?"

"When Myryam and Drakoon reported the first oddities with the cauldron, we went to see it. Nesta pretended to be you." His voice was firm. "The cry that came from it sounded almost like a wail".

Silence again.

"Elain," Azriel called her back. "You don't sound very surprised."

She barely shook her head.

"You knew already. What the cauldron took from you". 

She didn't confirm his suspicion. She didn't need to. 

"And you grieved it all on your own". 

Despite the knot in her throat, she managed to look up at him. "Feyre was already carrying so much guilt for dragging us into this. I couldn't put this on her shoulders too". 

She took a deep breath. "I had only been with Greyesen once, and it was only five weeks... I couldn't know. I thought about it sometimes, but with all that was going on," she shook her head, letting the words come out, reliving the moment she had been pushed into the cauldron, what she had seen and heard.

Large hands gripped her skinny arms too tightly. As she wiggled, she could feel their fingers leave marks in her flesh. The adrenaline in her veins, luckily, was enough for her not to feel the pain, and the air in her lungs was spent in the futile effort to free herself.

 Time seemed to expand indefinitely as her muscles finally gave way and her lungs filled with precious air. Would she need it once inside the cauldron? Would she die slowly, like drowning, or instantly, her body disintegrating before her mind even had time to realize it? She prayed for the last option as her eyes searched her sisters one last time. She took in Nesta's furious and desperate gaze, which promised pain and revenge, and Feyre's, full of guilt and fear. The fae with them, to whose presence she had grown attached by now, lay wounded on the ground. There was blood everywhere. 

Her eyes found hazel irises. She had the feeling that his body tried to reach out for her. She shut her eyelids closed as the surprisingly warm water found her bare legs. The last image in her mind was Greyesen. She would never have the future she had dreamed of. She would never wear the white dress she had chosen with such emotion. She would never become his wife, waking up next to him every morning in a warm, colorful house. She would never have children with his beautiful blue eyes and golden brown hair. She would never see them grow up and discover the world, make mistakes and learn from them, fall and get back up.

She wouldn't grow old with her sisters. 

She would never watch the sunset from her backyard, sitting in a rocking chair as she sipped her tea, an old face full of life reflected in her teaspoon, a plate filled with freshly baked cookies and chubby little fingers reaching for it. 

Maybe she was already dead, for she realized that she was not just thinking about her lost life. 

No. It was all before her eyes: the life she would not live glimpsed past her. And now she saw that big garden, an old lady with brown eyes in a rocking chair. She wondered if this was what the afterlife looked like. 

"You're not dead yet, Elain Archeron."

The voice was calm and deep. It came from behind her. As she slowly turned around, she could see nothing but an outline. It was light, a cluster of power and magic.

"What is this, then?" she asked, looking around. Her voice was choked, and she realized she was crying.

The presence before her didn't look evil. It seemed kind. And sad, even. 

"Your life. How it could have been."

"Can you get me back there?"

It shook his head, and Elain took a step forward.

"But you," her voice cracked. "You are power in its purest state. You can do anything."

"I can't. I'm stuck here just as you are now."

Elain took another step, even if the light emanating from the figure blinded her. 

"Please."

"Your life, that life," it pointed toward the elderly woman, who was now clutching two small children in her arms. They were smiling, oblivious to the eyes watching them from a distance.

 "You can't have it back. I just wanted you to taste it one last time. I felt I owed it to you. All the humans I met were mean, greedy. They came to me blinded by their desire for power. This is not a place for people who wish for simple lifes. I had never encountered such a kind soul, nor had I ever had to see her meet such a tragic fate"

Elain was crying. "So I'm not dead yet, but I'm going to die?"

When it nodded, her heart began to beat rapidly. She didn't want to die. She hadn't lived yet. "I can't die". 

"Everyone can. And everyone does."

Elain turned again, contemplating what she had lost. Then she thought about Nesta, and a shiver took over her body. Was she already here, somewhere else? How much time had passed?

"My sister. My sister will be here after me. Take me, but let her go. Please."

"I don't make trades". 

The desperation she had felt for the loss of her own lifes was nothing compared to the feeling clutching at her chest now. Nesta couldn't die. Not like this. Elain's life may not have been the fullest, but at least she had experienced something that her sister still hadn't. Love. She couldn't die before getting a taste of it. 

"Please" she begged, reaching for that entity with a trembling hand. "You can have me, my soul. Whatever you want. But let her live".

For Nesta, she was ready to go. If Nesta was going to live, she would avenge everything that had been done to them. And then she would move on, heal, find love…

It spoke again. "You didn't want to die just a moment ago. And now you're throwing yourself, your own soul, at me".

Suddenly the atmosphere changed. The air became cold, everything vanished as darkness surrounded her, taking over the orange sky, the green garden with the colorful flowers. Even the entity in front of her was now shining less brightly. Its light had changed, merging with the darkness all around.

Elain couldn't make out much of the figure. She could only see that there was a layer of darkness beyond that façade of light. 

It studied her carefully. "Maybe there is something I can do for you, Elain Archeron."

Elain waited for it to continue.

"I cannot give you the life you were meant for. But you can go on living. Existing"

"And my sister?"

As if the question bored it, it huffed. "Your sister will live."

"But-" it sounded too good, too easy to be true. There had to be something there. "What is the price for it? Why did you change your mind about me?"

A hand, made of light and dark overlapping to create a dance of shadows, reached out toward her. It was as if she could feel its touch on her belly. 

"Sweet girl, I've taken enough from you. You can go back, but first..."

That same hand went back, toward the center of its chest, pulling out a ball of the very essence that made it and holding it out toward her.

Elain hesitated, not knowing what to do.

"Take it. It's not even a crumble of my power. Light and darkness, and an infinity of shadows resulting from their dance. It's up to you to choose which one to make yours."

"Are you giving me your power?"

"I am giving you a choice."

***

She didn't realize how much she had spoken, or that she had begun to cry, or that Azriel had taken her into his arms. She had never told anyone about what had happened; she had buried the memory, striving not to think about it, distracting herself any way she could.

Yet now she understood. She had always known, but she had refused to think about it, to acknowledge it, to add another item to the list of things that had been ripped away from her. But now she was no longer afraid to do so. Now, in Azriel's arms, she felt that every single thing that happened to her had brought her to this. 

"I knew it, deep down. But I had repressed the idea. For two years, I did everything I could not to think about it."

Azriel's hands caressed her back.

"I always felt like a part of me had left me that day. The person I used to be wanted to be a mother, to have children. I had always imagined my future that way. But the person I am now..."

"What, Elain?"

"This person is lost. I don't know what I want. I only know that I want this thing between us. I don't know anything else."

Azriel held her against his chest. She clinged to it, calming herself listening to the rhythm of his heart. "There's nothing wrong with it. It's ok to want different things, or not to know what you want. There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing."

She held him tighter, feeling some void inside her chest feeling up, like a missing piece finally clicking into place. 

Chapter Text

Lucien noticed there was something different about the shadowsinger the next time he saw him. 

Fucking secret meeting. He hated having to attend with him. He couldn't help but notice how little signs of Elain were on his person every single time.

Today, however, his scent was unusual. There was nothing reminiscent of Elain on him, not even the lightest flowered perfume that usually lingered all over his leathers after he spent hours observing her in the gardens. This, precisely, made him suspicious. 

Rhysand was tense for all different reasons, though. Lucien could feel the High Lord’s dark magic in the air, sending shivers down his skin. And to his great annoyance, Eris was fucking late. Damn his brother, and Beron, and the entire Autumn Court. He hated all of them for what they had done to him. And for the fact that his life somehow continued to intersect with theirs. He was constantly stuck, trapped in this limbo, in this maze from which there seemed to be no way out. No matter how fast he ran in the opposite direction: he always ended up back at the starting point.

As soon as the air shifted, he breathed a sigh of relief. Yet, that same air remained stuck in his throat as Eris’s feet landed in front of them and he looked at them with blood-shot eyes.

"You have to leave this place right now. The Spring Court is no longer safe."

Rhysand curved his lips into a smirk at Eris's alarmed expression. 

At their reaction, or rather lack of, his brother huffed. "You already knew? How?"

As he received no answer his eyes narrowed into slits. Then he nodded, as if he had understood.

 Apparently, Lucien was the only one who had no idea how Rhysand and his inner circle knew about Beron's plans even before Eris himself.

Could one of  his other brothers be secretly allied with them? It made sense. It had to be someone from Autumn, close enough to Beron.

"Lucien, you will come back with us. It's isn't safe to stay here anymore."

He sought Rhys's gaze. "For how long?"

"As long as necessary."

He hated it. Hated having to return to a court where his mate couldn't stand his presence and anyone else either pitied or despised him. 

"What will you do with Tamlin?" Eris asked.

Something's tightened in Lucien's chest at the idea of leaving his friend behind. He tried to remind himself of what Tamlin had done to him at Calanmai, but the guilt only eased slightly. 

"We gave him a choice. Multiple times. We'll try to evacuate his people as much as possible before Beron's troops start marching."

A resigned silence fell over the group, broken only by Eris. "After that?"

"After that, we'll be at war”. Rhysand ended the conversation, winnowing away with the general as he waited for him and the shadowsinger to follow. 

 Lucien hesitated.

Instead of winnowing to the Night Court, he let his powers take him a little further, to the border of Tamlin's property. 

He owed him at least a warning of the imminent attack. 

He looked around, his eyes alert to try and catch a sign of Tamlin's presence. He hoped he wasn't hunting in his animal form. In that case, he wouldn't have time to find him. 

As he made his way along the abandoned property, voices caught his ears. Someone else was here, and it wasn't Tamlin.

He used his magic to try to blend in, confusing himself among the trees, and slowly made his way towards the voices.

He didn't have to get too close before he recognized them..

 His brother Eris and him, the shadowsinger. Why had they stayed behind, hiding from the High Lord? 

He held his breath as he tried to glean as much as possible from their conversation.

 "I know you helped him already. But he still needs your help," the shadowsinger was saying. 

The hatred in his tone was quickly reciprocated by his brother. "It's not easy. We already risked being discovered just to get him out”.

Who is we? Lucien thought.

"The girls are safe for now," Eris continued. "Yet I know it can't last long. I'll see what I can do, but you'll have to be efficient. And we need something to make Beron leave the court."

Azriel nodded, the shadows around him spreading all around. 

Before Lucien could react, his wings unfolded, and he was on him. Lucien kept his muscles tense as the shadowsinger’s arms pushed him against the thick trunk behind.

"What did you hear?"

"He's with us," Eris called from behind, the tone seemingly calm.

Azriel's grip didn't waver.

Lucien was in no rush to get away from his grip.The fact that he was so close allowed his eye to study him closely, capturing all those details he hadn't seen before but could now notice. He knew there was something different about him, something he had done his best to hide from the world. Elain.

He sensed her presence on him, and his magic roared. As if burned, Azriel let him go with a shove that made him momentarily stagger.

Regaining his balance, Lucien shot a glance between the two. Their mutual hatred was palpable in the air. "What is this story?"

Azriel moved to speak, but Eris preempted him.

"Two girls. Lesser fae. Beron executed their mother. If we don't get them away, it won't be long before they face the same fate."

No.

Not again. 

Something tightened in Lucien's chest. He looked between both of them. 

"How can I help?”

***

There seemed to be a strange atmosphere at the river house. 

 The last time Lucien had been here, at Starfall, he had had a tense conversation with Elain. The magic of Calanmai was slowly taking hold of him at the time. 

Now he would have preferred to be among the ruins of Tamlin’s Manor, waiting for the attack from his father's army, rather than here, in this deserted house, watching the star-filled sky from his bedroom window. He should have felt something observing such a beautiful spectacle. Yet, besides acknowledging the objective beauty, he felt nothing, no spark ignited within him as it seemed to do with everyone else.

A breeze carried the familiar scent of flowers to his window, directing his gaze downward to the vast stretches of land where Elain spent her days working. 

They had never talked about what had happened, and he had never tried to seek her out after Calanmai. Even now that he was here, going to her home didn't seem like a good idea.

However, it looked like fate wanted him to talk to her. 

Elaine was here. In the dead of night, she was in the river house garden, her hair gathered in a messy bun, bent over a flowerbed full of vibrant-colored blooms.

Why was she working this late in the night?

He slowly made his way downstairs. As he approached, she sensed his presence, turning towards him. 

Her hands let go of what she was doing. She stood up, wiping her dirty hands against her pants.

"Lucien."

That name shook something inside him. For some reason, he believed she wouldn't even speak to him. And yet, here she was, approaching him until she stood just a few steps away. 

Lucien held his breath, observing her. There was a strange light in her eyes.

"I didn't expect to see you here," she said.

He tried to compose himself, tearing his gaze away from her lips. "Well, there have been some issues at the Spring Court and Rhys wanted me here, and… I wanted to talk to you about what happened there."

Elain reached out a hand as if she wanted to grasp his, but then stopped mid-air, retracting it. "Nothing happened, really. I know it wasn't your fault in any way. It was the magic."

At her words, a weight that he had been carrying for weeks lifted from his chest. "Did I scare you?"

"No." She seemed more than convinced of her answer, not a trace of doubt or hesitation on her beautiful face.

"W-well, I'm glad to hear that."

Elain smiled, and an awkward silence fell between them. 

"Why are you working at this hour?" he asked, wanting to linger in her company for a few more moments.

Elain took a few seconds to respond, and if it weren't for his mechanical eye, he wouldn't have noticed her lie. "Oh, I'm trying to get ahead with work. Feyre tasked me with handling the floral decorations for her art studio."

 She was good.

 Besides this well-crafted lie and the unusual gleam in her eyes, there was something else that was different about her. Painful as it was to admit, since he had known her, she had never looked happier and healthier than she did now.

He tried to understand, looking around, what could be the cause of this change and what she was really doing here, but deep down, he felt like he had always known. And in that moment, the inevitability of his broken heart crashed onto his chest, like a punch to the stomach that took all the air from his lungs.

He stopped smiling, letting his eyes wander towards the flowerbed she was working on. There was something else among those brightly colored flowers, but the way Elain shifted, placing herself between him and the direction his gaze was headed, told him everything he needed to know.

He gave her privacy, bringing his gaze somewhere else. There were gloves on the ground next to a pile of seeds. Dirty, as if she had just used them. She had accepted his gift after all. Somehow, this hurt even more.

"L-Lucien?"

He took a step back, distancing himself from her. "It's okay, Elain. I better leave you to your work."

"Okay”.

His chest burned, a weight inside him crushing his stomach and extending to his throat. Before that knot tightened completely around it, he spit out those words. "Just relay this message to him, from Eris. Everything will be ready for the summer solstice."

Elain furrowed her eyebrows, an expression of surprise and confusion so well executed that it deceived even him, if only for a moment.

 "We both know who I'm talking about, you can  stop pretending. Goodnight, Elain."

He turned away without waiting for her response, the weight in his chest getting heavier with every step he took.

Only at the end, when he was already on the threshold of the door, did he seem to hear her whisper. 

"Goodnight, Lucien."

He entered without looking back.

***

Are you done with your work? The shadows whispered to her. 

Elain nodded. “Lucien is here. He knows."

See you at the same place? Az asked through them.

"Yes."

Since the shadows began to speak to her, she discovered that they also allowed them to communicate from a distance. Elain had been feeling her powers changing since then.

 She wondered if Azriel had experienced something similar, or if he had to bite her and take her blood to feel the same. Would he share her visions? Would he feel this strange mix of light and darkness battling within his chest?

She arranged her work tools and changed quickly, trying not to think about her strange conversation with Lucien, the way he had looked at her, the expression that had crossed his face when he had been close enough to see… she didn't know what he had seen. But whatever it was, she knew he had understood.

After leaving the garden, she walked towards her apartment.

Change of plans, the shadows whispered. I want to show you a place. Turn right.

She followed the instructions, a shiver running down her spine as she headed towards a dark alley on a deserted street.

Azriel was there waiting for her. She didn't see him clearly, but her whole body reacted to his presence, slowly adjusting to the darkness, her eyes focusing on his silhouette against the wall.

She found herself with her back pressed against the cold surface, and she had to lift her neck, finding his hazelnut eyes glowing in the dark, hidden by the shadow of his wings.

"What did he tell you?"

"Eris wants to let you know it will happen at the summer solstice. You need to be ready."

Azriel nodded, then brought his lips close to hers, not touching them, simply inhaling her breath. Elain's heart was beating fast. The more time she spent with him, the more her body's reactions to his presence intensified.

"I will be."

"Az… you're shaking"

His hands, pinning her against the wall, trembled even more, and his body pressed against hers. "I may be feeling a little jealous, but I don't want to patronize you."

"Is it because of the bond between us?"

He shook his head without a moment of hesitation. "No, Elain. Absolutely not," his lips finally crashed against hers. "This all comes from me, the bond’s magic has nothing to do with it."

"Good," she whispered, then lifted herself on her toes, bringing her hands to his muscular chest. "Because it's the same for me." 

They flew through the night, a shield created by the power of his siphons mocking the still cold air between the clouds, the city lights slowly thinning beneath their eyes as they headed  amidst the mountains.

As they began to descend, she saw before them the expanse of a manor. It was a large villa, but not monstrous, not as huge as the house of wind or the river house. It was entirely black: the ceiling, the walls, the windows… everything. However, it was another detail that took her breath away.

Where everything was dyed black, the garden surrounding the house was full of roses. Red and pink roses popped up against the dark background, like stars shining in a moonless sky.

She didn't realize her feet were firmly on the ground until Azriel took her hand. 

"Elain, welcome to Rose Hall.”

***

Sated, her limbs tired and sore, Elain still felt an energy within her that prevented her from staying still as she discussed with Azriel. 

She had never felt more alive. Finally, she was taking part in something. 

"I have never put this power to test," she explained, the sound of her steps on the dark marble floor echoing in the absolute silence of that place. "I know I can see the future, and even the present. During the war, I found something... for Feyre. But the past?"

Azriel stared at her intensely.

Elain broached the subject again. "If I shared my power with you-"

His jaw clenched. "We're not sure it works exactly like that. My shadows had spoken to you even before you... bit me," his voice lowered on the last words.

Elain blushed as her heart picked up speed. "But if you tried..."

"As tempting as that is now," his eyes scanned her whole figure slowly, lasciviously, "not yet."

"Fine," she breathed. "But... do we really want to know?"

"I thought you should."

She took a step toward him, taking his hand. "It changes nothing, Azriel. Absolutely nothing. Neither towards what I feel for him, nor towards what I feel for you. Nothing can change that."

"I don't deserve you," he murmured.

"You have no idea the wonderful things you do deserve," she said in response before sitting down again. "I’ll try, but what should we do once we find out the truth?"

He was at her back, one hand over her shoulder.

"It is up to you, I guess”.

Elain closed her eyes. Yes, she thought. If she was going to break Lucien's heart, or whatever the bond implied, she owed him something, at least. 

"I'll do it. He deserves the truth, and if no one is going to give it to him, then I will.”

***

Azriel had left her at her apartment early that morning, so both had enough time to wash away the scent of each other. 

Once she reached Rhysand's house everyone was already gathered. The weight of various eyes burned against her skin as she settled at the long table, completely ignoring Azriel sitting a few chairs away. She couldn't help but notice how Mor sat beside him, her long blonde hair flowing freely down her shoulders, swaying in his direction. She looked away before her reaction could betray her.

Feyre coughed once. “Elain, we've called you here to discuss, with you present, the recent events. We believe that your power and your history with the Cauldron may be involved, somehow.”

She nodded, her full attention on her sister. 

She pretended to be shocked when Feyre told her about Drakon.

 She was surprised to notice that it was her sister speaking, the rest of the inner circle, including Rhys, listening in devout silence. Good for her.

“So what do you suggest I do?” she asked when Feyre had finished, daring to bring her eyes to Azriel just for a moment while surveying everyone in the room.

“It's our fault that this happened. We left you alone with such power, and neither I nor Nesta have ever faced this fate. We will help you control it and try to better understand its nature.”

“Good,” she sighed. “Who will help me?”

“I will,” Rhys said.

Those were the first words Rhys had spoken since the beginning of the meeting, and Elain shivered as she met his violet eyes, struggling not to let her gaze flicker toward Azriel for support.

“We will meet every week,” he said decisively.

Elain thought she had maintained an impassive expression, but something betrayed her agitation, because Feyre began to bend a moment later. “I believe Rhysand is the best person for this task, Elain. He taught me how to raise my mental barriers and control these powers even before I learned to read and write.”

She didn't protest that statement.

“Great,” she exclaimed with a fake smile, her cheeks aching while she screamed internally.

***

“You'll manage," said Azriel, pacing back and forth on the marble ground.

Elain swallowed. She had to change the subject, at least for now. "What about the healers?"

"Nuala and Cerridwen are keeping an eye on them. We monitor their every move."

"Anything suspicious?"

Azriel shook his head. "Don't change the subject. I'll handle them."

Elain sighed. "How am I going to keep us a secret if Rhysand will literally enter my mind?"

"You don't have to push him away. But you can choose what to show him."

Elain pondered. Yes, maybe she could manage. She suddenly remembered... "Yes, I've already done it, I believe."

Azriel furrowed his brows.

"Not long after being transformed, when Madja came to see me..." she shook her head, trying to recall that period of her life she tried to avoid thinking about. "She said to Feyre she couldn't get in. But I remember her expression, the way she looked at me, the feeling of another presence in my mind..."

Azriel approached, and she sought his eyes.

 "I know what to do. I'll show Rhysand what I know about Lucien. And the things my power can do. This should be enough revelation for him”.

Chapter Text

The morning of her first encounter with Rhysand, Elain was as tense as a violin string. Despite everything, she took a series of deep breaths and practiced meditation, raising her mental barriers as Azriel had taught her.

The High Lord didn't waste time with pleasantries.

He seemed determined to uncover whatever she was hiding, and it was clear that he knew she was concealing something. Elain didn't bother to pretend otherwise.

Crossing her legs, she sat in the chair opposite him. "Well, what does this training entail?"

He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "I will teach you to have mental shields, to control your power"

"So, you will enter my mind?"

"Only if you can't keep me out."

Elain inhaled, not taking her eyes off his, striving not to appear weak for even a second.

She wasn't like Feyre. She had to feign certain emotions. However, she had recently discovered that pretending and lying were things she excelled at.

"Imagine your wall," Rhysand told her in a low voice as he stood up from the chair and began to circle around her. "Its appearance, length. Imagine the waves of my power crashing against it, without trespassing. If you learn to keep me out, you can do it with Koschei, or the cauldron, or whatever power you invoke."

Elain nodded, ignoring the fastening beats of her heart.

"I'll warn you only this time, since it's your first."

She nodded, closing her eyes. The wave of Rhysand's power crashed onto her mind.

She felt it as it rolled through her, expecting to meet a resistance. But instead of building a wall, she opened a door. As Azriel and his shadows had taught her, she directed the mass of Rhysand's power toward an image, a specific memory.

Lucien.

The things she had seen, the discoveries she had made by delving into the past, unfolded one after another, quickly and chaotically. She couldn't control them well yet.

She could feel Rhysand's astonishment, anger and fear. All his emotions felt like her own as he realized what she knew, what she was showing him, and what her power was capable of.

Her head ached, and her ears continued to ring even when Rhysand abruptly interrupted that invasion.

His gaze was fiery, and Elain gasped for breath. She was sweating from the effort it took to control that power, all while Rhysand seemed perfectly unaffected. As if he hadn't unleashed even a fraction of what he was truly capable of upon her.

She was scared, but struggled to not let it show.

"It's not just the future then," Rhysand said finally. "How long have you known about this ability?"

"I-" she stopped herself from stammering, controlling her voice and nerves. "Since the war with Hybern, when Feyre had me find the Suriel."

"This power is… I fear it has never existed before. Elain, if someone finds out what you're capable of-."

"No one will find out."

Rhysand brought a hand to his eyes. "We can't be sure that someone doesn't already know."

Bryaxis. Koschei. The healers?

"How long have you known about Lucien?" Elain asked, changing the subject. It made no sense to worry about things they couldn't control, for now.

"It's not important," Rhysand concluded. "It's not a secret for me, or us, to reveal."

"I believe he deserves to know the truth."

He scoffed, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "I thought you didn't care about him."

"Do you think I'm a monster?"

"There's not a person on the entire planet who could ever think that of you" he scoffed.

Elain stood up, pacing back and forth. "Yet I feel like you continue to treat me as such. To look at me with disgust, as if the decision I made makes me despicable."

"What decision are you talking about?"

Rhysand's gaze became stern, and when his magic pushed against the barriers of her mind again, Elain closed her eyes, but wasn't fast enough. He saw Azriel.

Rhysand emerged, breathing heavily. "This power, Elain, is as incredible as it is dangerous. If word spreads anyone could try to kidnap and use you.".

"No one knows."

"Far too many people already suspect," Rhysand sighed, a hand through his dark hair.

Anxiety grew in Elain's chest for the genuine concern she read on his face, as if he were truly worried about her well-being. 

His fear reminded her of one of her last visions, of the threat she had perceived looming over their future. She steered the conversation back to the previous topic.

"Lucien deserves to know.”

"Yes. But in due time, and from the right person."

"His mother is too afraid to speak. She might be killed by her own husband." She took a deep breath. "Beron, her mate, treats her horribly. Helion, on the other hand, loves her."

Rhysan averted his gaze. "Elain, you're getting involved in matters that don't concern you."

"You wanted me to control my power. Well, I do. I choose what to see. Beron is her mate, yet their union has brought her nothing but pain."

"Lucien is not like his... like Beron."

"Because he's not his son. He's the son of another man, whom his mother loved. A man who wasn't her mate, and with whom she would have been happy."

Rhysand ran a hand through his hair. "Lucien's mother almost died during her last pregnancy, and since then, she couldn't have any more children. Now we know why. Because the child wasn't Beron's."

Elain crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't think delving into this specific topic is wise."

"No," Rhysand sighed, approaching and looking her straight in the eyes. "What do you want me to say, Elain? You want Azriel? Take him, go live together. Break Lucien's heart, destroy him. You may end up never having children, never becoming a mother—"

"What makes you think I want to be one?"

Rhysand closed his mouth, waiting a moment before responding. "Wasn't that what you always desired?"

"That was before, when I was still human. I am a completely different person now."

"But someday—"

Elain reached a hand in front of him, silencing the most powerful High Lord as if he were a child. She would be lying to say it didn't excite her even a bit.

 "Whatever I decide to do with my reproductive system one day is solely up to me to discuss. And I don't feel like doing it now."

Rhysand sealed his lips. "Okay."

Elain tried not to show her perplexity. "Okay?"

"Yes, Elain. Fine. You're right. I wanted to protect you, maybe too much. It's your life; you're free to do as you please. And if your choices ever hurt you one day—"

"God, why do you have so little trust in Azriel?" she spoke quickly.

"Because I've seen it," he yelled. "I've seen him love my sister for years. That's until he met Mor and chased after her for five centuries. And then, suddenly, you arrive and Mor doesn't exist anymore to him. I wonder how long it will last."

"I'm done for today," she said, circling the table and gathering her belongings.

 It wasn't the first time she found herself contemplating the strange history between Azriel and Mor. To respect their privacy, she had never used her power to find out more about it.

 Yet, she had no idea about Rhysand's sister. How long ago did it happen? They were so young back then, compared to how they were now, after centuries of experience and life lived. Maybe it was time to bring the subject up with Azriel.

***

"How did it go?"

Those were the first words Azriel uttered as soon as he set foot inside her apartment.

His hand caressed her cheek, and Elain leaned into it, welcoming his touch. "Fine."

He bent to kiss her, a gentle touch of his lips against hers. "But?"

"How do you know there's a 'but'?"

"I understand you, remember?"

She smiled, despite the anxiety in her chest.

Azriel's expression changed, a hint of uncertainty on his face. She felt like his voice trembled as he asked, "Would you prefer to talk about it here or at Rose Hall?"

"Here is fine," she sighed.

"What did Rhysand say?"

Elain began pacing back and forth. "I showed him what I know about Lucien and his father. About his mother and Beron. And Helion."

Azriel nodded, standing still in the center of the room, letting her continue.

"We talked about how she wasn't happy with Beron, her mate. She loved another."

Azriel swallowed, his gaze intense.

"And how her last pregnancy, with the child of the man she loved, almost killed her."

"It's the bond between mates..."

"No, it's not that," she interrupted. "Look at how it went for Feyre and Rhysand. This thing doesn't make sense. And then he changed the subject, anyway"

Azriel, she noticed, was holding his breath now.

"He talked about his sister, Mor… and you."

He brought a hand to his forehead at that moment, letting it run down his face. "What else did he tell you?"

Elain stopped pacing, standing in front of him, just a few steps out of reach. "Nothing else. I left. Whatever happened, I wanted to hear it from you. I never understood the nature of what was between you and Mor..."

"Did you use your power?"

She shook her head.

"Perhaps you should. To finally clear any doubts," he took a step forward, but Elain halted him with a hand.

"What doubt?”

“I-” Azriel brought a hand to his chest. “After Mor and Eris's incident, I always felt something tying me to her. As if something had clicked inside me. We were so young back then, and Rhys's sister... she was reserved, just like me. We spent a lot of time together, and I won't deny I felt something for her. I cared for her, but…”

"Mor?" Elain's mouth dropped open. "All this time? And does she know?"

Azriel scoffed. "She seems to know everything but has never bothered to confirm or deny. I've been in this limbo of uncertainty and pain for five hundred years."

Elain kept her gaze fixed on the floor. Mor... Mor could be Azriel's mate?

"Elain, please look at me."

Slowly, she raised her gaze to him.

"Are you angry with me?"

She shook her head slightly. "I wish you had told me."

"You're right. I was never sure. But when I met you... I felt something for you. It was different. Less irrational. Instead of burning me, you gave me relief. Being near you made me feel good, calmer".

"Do you think Mor knows? Why not say it?"

"For Cassian, maybe. At least, it was like that for some centuries. Now? I don't know, it's gone on for so long..."

“It changes nothing between us," her voice trembled on the last words. "Right?"

Azriel took a step forward, grabbing her hands and forcing her to look into his eyes. "Absolutely not, Elain. I want you, understand?"

When she didn't respond, his voice became more serious. "None of the rest matters; it's only you."

Elain nodded. It was irrational for her to feel this way now, at the idea that Azriel had a mate. She, too, had a mate. No one better than Azriel could understand her pain.

"Understood," she sighed, tears beginning to trace down her cheeks.

Azriel kissed her. First on the lips, then, with his lips, he chased away every drop that ran down her cheeks. "You're right to be angry at me. I deserve it; I should have talked about it."

"I'm not."

His lips moved to her neck, while one hand gripped her hair, positioning her head in the way that gave him access to as much skin as possible. "Still, let me beg for forgiveness."

And he knelt in front of her.

***

Azriel winnowed to the location where he was supposed to meet with Lucien to discuss the plan for taking the little girls out of Autumn. Elain’s taste was still on his lips. This time he didn't bother to wash it away. 

Lucien had already figured it out, so they might as well face the issue.

"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now," Lucien growled through clenched teeth as soon as his shadows dissipated.

"We both know the reason."

Lucien brought a hand to his mouth, taking a few steps back, covering his nostrils as if trying not to breathe in that scent.

"If you kill me, Elain will suffer. Protecting her is what we both want."

"So, she chose you," Lucien murmured.

Azriel struggled to contain the instinct to say something sarcastic or possessive. He knew Lucien's reaction had been surprisingly calm, and he didn't want to push it too far. Despite everything, his respect for him was growing day by day. 

  He knew the only reason Lucien had never claimed a blood duel with him was Elain. His love for her went beyond pride, and Azriel respected him for that. He could understand, after all, how painful it was and the strength it required to fight the animalistic instinct that magic instilled in a male.

"You should talk to her about this”. 

Lucien gave him a smirk. "Ah, you think? Should I approach her? Maybe I can still try to change her mind."

Azriel clenched his jaw, taking a series of deep breaths before responding. Lucien was testing him. 

"Elain is free to choose and do what she wants. And I will always respect her choice, whatever it may be."

Lucien turned away, giving him his back. "Just tell me what I have to report to Eris and let's be done with”.

"The day of the Summer Solstice, we'll all be at the Day Court. I made sure Helion invited Beron too.  I'll find an excuse to disappear and winnow to the Autumn Court, taking the girls away. It'll be a quick thing."

"Fine."

"Will you be there?" 

Lucien turned for a moment, looking him in the eyes.

Azriel explained, "Elain will insist on participating, and neither Cassian nor Rhys know about this mission. I've tasked Nuala and Cerridwen with keeping an eye on her and making sure nothing happens to her for the brief period I'll be away, but..."

Lucien’s gaze was dead serious. "You know I would never allow anything or anyone to harm her. That you have the audacity to ask me to protect her—"

"Yes, I do."

"And what if I said no?”

"You wouldn't. I'm just warning you about how unstable the situation is with her power, the Cauldron and Koschei" Azriel paused for a moment. If only Lucien knew the true extent of his powers, that he was the direct heir of one of the strongest High Lord. With Lucien that day, he knew Elain would have the best possible protection while he rescued the girls.

Lucien’s jaw clenched. His metal eye seemed to move, as if trying to focus. Whatever he saw, he seemed satisfied with the result, because he nodded. "Is there anything else?"

"Will you stay in the Night Court?"

"Is it relevant? Do you want me away or close to Elain? I'm starting to not understand."

"It's about Beron. We thought he would have already marched on the Spring Court and from there to the human lands by now."

"I'm not informed about my father's movements. You should ask Eris about that," he shrugged.

"You'll see him before I do".

"I'll ask him then. Can I go now?"

Azriel nodded, watching as Lucien winnowed away, as if eager to get away from him and end that conversation. He didn't blame him, but he respected the male.

***

The sun was rising now beyond the House of Wind. A movement behind him suggested that Cassian was at his back. 

Azriel turned, looking closely as his expression switched as soon as he sensed the scent all over him. 

"Should I congratulate you or what?"

"I'm not here to talk about this."

Cassian gazed at the horizon. “How did Lucien take it?"

"We only discussed politics" he lied. "Strange that Beron hasn't marched on the Spring Court yet, isn't it?" A part of him felt remorse for not revealing the details of the plan to Cassian.

Cassian nodded, thoughtful. "He must be plotting something. Do we trust Eris?"

"For now, yes, but I think he's loosing his use as an informant. I fear Beron doesn't fully trust him."

"Spring’s people have been completely evacuated, right?"

Azriel nodded. "Only Tamlin remains."

"I'm worried about him, too," Cassian muttered. "Anyway, training is about to begin."

"Right," he nodded, getting into position as Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie arrived, already dressed for training, ready to prepare the field for the other priestesses. More and more of them, as well as the Illyrians women, had agreed to train.

His shadows tensed. Something was off.

He looked around, unable to identify anything strange.

What's wrong? He tried to ask them, receiving only silence as an answer.

Throughout the training, he couldn't shake off that feeling. His shadows remained tense, hesitant, waiting.

Towards the end of the morning, he felt nervous and on edge, furious with his own magic for being so paralyzed. Yet, there was something familiar in this feeling.

He was replenishing with some water when a presence behind him prompted him to turn around.

He sighed in relief noticing it was just Gwyn.

He smiled. "Water?"

She nodded, taking the glass from his hands and wiping sweat from her forehead with her sleeve as she caught her breath.

Observing her, Azriel noticed her appearance was paler than usual. "Is everything okay?"

She nodded. "Yes. I'm just... I don't know. Nesta invited me to the Summer Solstice party in the Day Court."

Ah. Maybe this explained why she seemed so troubled. Yet, there was something else that didn't sit well with his shadows. "Are you worried about leaving the Night Court?"

"I'd lie if I said no."

Azriel took a deep breath, seeking her eyes. "It's normal to be afraid. But look at what you've accomplished, what you've all been capable of. You won't be alone."

Gwyn smiled, and Az continued."Nesta and Emerie will be there, by your side. And so will I."

Something passed quickly in her blue eyes at that moment. Gwyn staggered, and Azriel grabbed her shoulders, preventing her from losing balance.

"Are you sure everything's okay?"

She shook her head, quickly moving away from him.

"I fear I may have over exerted myself.”

“Are you sure?” Az’s voice faltered at last. 

Gwyn shook her head, and he caught a glimpse of the golden chain around her neck.

 “I'm fine” she started walking away. “See you in Day, Azriel”. 

Chapter Text

Lucien knew he shouldn't have returned to human’s lands. Yet, he didn't know where else to go; this seemed to be the only place where he could exist without feeling a burden or unwanted.

 Here too, though, the atmosphere was tense. The main room was empty, yet there were signs that someone had been here not long ago. The extinguished ashes in the fireplace were still slightly warm. A half-empty glass of liquor sat on a small table in front of the fire.

He looked around, and a strange and swift movement behind him made him startle. He tried to focus on that figure, but it was challenging in the darkness of the room, with the curtains completely drawn. 

He snapped his fingers and a flame erupted, partially illuminating the environment. Jurian.

Lucien knew he would return empty-handed, it was clear from the beginning that the mad mission he embarked on would have no positive outcome. Yet, the fact that he was here meant that time had run out sooner than expected. And from the look on his face... There was no hope of stopping Vassa before she surrendered to Koschei. 

"Where is she?" he asked.

Jurian shook his head, slowly. They were too late. He had been too late.

"Where?" he repeated.

"I don't know," Jurian's voice was broken.

"Do you know what she has to offer him in return? What could have possibly convinced him?"

Only silence followed that question. He knew, but he didn't want to talk about it. Not with Lucien, at least. Lucien was smart enough to connect the dots, and he didn't like the results he got. 

"Are Rhysand and his court safe?" he asked, his voice low and menacing as an anger he didn't think himself capable of grew within him. 

Jurian's eyes flared.

Lucien felt the magic of his bond boil. He advanced toward Jurian, fists clenched, the warmth of the flames beginning to burn against his skin.

Jurian flinched. "Why do you care about them?" This reaction-," he continued, hesitating, taking a step back and putting more distance between them. "It's for your mate, that I can understand.  But Rhysand and his court have never done anything for you. And this magic controls you, prevents you from being yourself. Reject that bond, be the first to do it and let them bear the consequences of their actions."

"None of them are responsible for what happened to Vassa."

"But how many other crimes have they committed?"

Lucien growled. "If it weren't for Feyre, we all would still be under that mountain, including you."

Jurian seemed to shudder. "And what has she done after? She freed everyone only to destroy the Spring Court, to send us into war against Hybern. You betrayed your friends, your home for the last fifty years for her. But what has she done for you? And her sister..."

His magic surged, flames erupted from his hands. "Don't speak about her."

"She couldn't care if you live or die. I wouldn't blame her for not wanting to have anything to do with the fae. But she seems to only have problems with you”.

“You know nothing about her and me”.

Julian snorted. “Do you think we can't see it? Even I, human as I am, can taste your misery in the air”. 

Lucien clenched his jaw. Something started to erupt from him, something stronger than his control.  "Shut up and get out of this house now."

Jurian looked straight into his eyes. “I want to help-”

“I said now”.

 Lucien barely heard the sound of his footsteps fading away as everything around them went up in flames.

***

Elain awoke abruptly. Something was burning inside her, painfully, suffocatingly. It felt like her chest was on fire.

She looked around; she could vaguely sense the cool evening air on her skin. It was still night outside Rose Hall. 

Azriel lay deeply asleep beside her, his face much more serene and youthful when relaxed.

Yet, the pain in her chest persisted. Struggling to move quietly and not wake him, she slid from under his wing. Her bare feet on the cold floor offered no relief from the heat.

The sensation seemed to originate from the thread pulling against her ribs. She approached the window, observing the moonless star-filled sky outside.

The feeling against her chest grew more intense as she struggled to comprehend it. Fresh water on her face did nothing to alleviate the pain.

A faint sound of footsteps made her turn as she was looking outside. Azriel stared at her from the doorway, blending with the natural shadows of the room and his own.

He approached, studying every inch of her as he did.

"What's happening?"

One of his hands cradled her face, and Elain sighed, leaning her cheek against it.

"Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Her hand clenched into a fist against her chest. She couldn't find the right words to explain what she was feeling right now. The pain was present, yet distant, not really in her body. 

She sought Azriel's dark eyes, two black pools in the dimly lit room.

"I think it's Lucien”.

For just a fraction of a second, she caught the corner of his mouth tightening, the muscles in his shoulders tensing. Then, the Azriel she knew and loved... God, yes, she loved him, returned.

"I think something is happening to him," she continued.  "I've never felt like this before, but now..."

She parted from him, pacing back and forth in the room.

"He's not here in Velaris, isn't he? Do we know where he is?"

Azriel’s brows furrowed. "We last met in the Spring Court. Rhys advised him not to stay there and even ordered him not to go to the human’s lands. Beron will attack, and there's nothing more we can do to avoid it."

"Yet, he hasn't returned," Elain muttered to herself. Her hand kept rubbing her chest, as if that gesture could soothe the burning sensation inside.

Azriel's expression was a mix of emotions all at once. Elain could see his jaw clench as he blinked several times.

"I'll talk to Rhysand and try to figure out where Lucien is."

"And what will you tell him?"

Az shook his head, considering. "I'll handle it. Don't worry."

 "I could find him. I could use my powers to see what happened, where he is" she bit her lip. 

"Let me give it a try. If I return with no news, we'll use your power to understand what's going on. Azriel lowered his gaze to Elain's chest, to her hand still clenched on it.

She nodded, her breath becoming heavier as the anxiety and pain intensified. She was sure something was happening to Lucien; she had never felt like this.

 "I don't understand," she gasped, breath heavy.

Azriel closed his eyes and embraced her. "He's your mate, and he's in danger. It's normal to have this reaction," his voice was strained. "I know exactly what you're feeling."

"Did it happen to you too... with her?"

Azriel nodded, then he put on his leather pants and headed to the door. "I'm going to talk to Rhys. We'll find him, Elain."

"Az?" she managed to say as he unfolded his wings at the threshold.

He turned, his expression tormented. "Yes?"

The words she wanted to say got stuck in her throat. "Th-thank you."

Without saying more, Azriel took flight.

***

She couldn't stay still. The pain grew if she laid down: it urged her to move, to reach for him. Azriel had been gone for almost an hour now, and she hadn't felt any better. 

"Just a moment," she told herself as she sat down with her hands on her knees. Just one second. 

 She guided her power, directing it in the opposite direction of where it seemed to want to go, forcing it to follow that golden thread.

It brought her to hell. 

Or at least, that's what it felt like. Even through her vision, the heat and flames felt real on her skin. Even her eyes burned from the intense light all around.

She tried to isolate herself from that chaos, searching for Lucien, focusing on his presence. The closer she came to him, the weaker he seemed. Then she saw him, amidst the flaming rubble of a place that looked vaguely familiar. His chest rose and fell weakly, his clothes incinerated by the flames and his skin magically untouched.

"L-Lucien," she called out.

As it happened when she had sought him unconsciously months ago, he opened his eyes and looked straight at her. In the same instant, the ground seemed to shake, and a roar filled the air.

 There were marching troops.

"You have to get out of here," Elain pleaded.

She received only a scoff in response.

"Lucien, please," she continued. "Don't kill yourself. Don't do this." Still, no response.

"Lucien, I... I have to tell you something. It's important. But you have to come back."

In that moment, she thought she saw something change in his eyes, but it quickly passed as they closed in on themselves.

No. No. No.

A rustle behind her made her turn around.

A massive beast was advancing toward her. Or rather, toward Lucien's unconscious body amid the flaming rubble. Its golden mane and green eyes gleamed as it approached, hoisting his limp form onto its shoulders and fleeing in the opposite direction from where the troops seemed to be coming.

She lingered for just one more moment in the vision. She recognized the place. This wasn't the Spring Court.

Among the debris and remnants of the walls all around, she identified the crest of Greyesen’s family. 

These were the human's lands, and they were under attack.

***

Lucien thought he was dreaming. Yes, it could be nothing but a dream. Because there she was: his mate, and she had come looking for him, genuinely concerned.

 As if she could really care.

She had said she needed to talk to him, that she had something important to tell him. Her presence had prompted him to open his eyes. It could have been a dream, yet the feeling was familiar, different from the times he used to dream of her. If she had truly sought him out... What could she possibly have to say?

He opened his eyes and looked around, realizing he had no idea where he was 

Tamlin sat in front of him, his beard long and his hair completely disheveled.

"Where are we?"

“What does it look like?" his friend scoffed, continuing to scrape stones between them to start a fire.

Lucien unleashed some of his power, instantly bringing the flames to life and illuminating the cramped space. They were in a cave.

"I was in the lands of humans when..."

"We're still here."

Lucien sighed. "What happened?"

"Beron," Tamlin shrugged.

"I wanted to warn you." The redhead ran a hand through his hair. "But you already knew. You handed over your court, you let them march."

"I had no choice."

"Please," Lucien admonished him. "You were offered all the help possible."

"I couldn't accept," said Tamlin in a low voice.

 "What does that mean?"

Tamlin shook his head, teeth clenched. "I've already said too much." Then he rubbed his arm, a pained expression on his face.

Lucien became suspicious. What couldn't he tell him? He seemed… bound, by some kind of  spell that his eye couldn't unveil.

"What's the deal? Why did Jurian and Vassa betray Grayesen and hand over the lands?"

"Grayesen is a mere human, frightened and blinded by power. How long did you think this alliance was going to last?"

"But what do they gain from it?"

Tamlin shook his head again. 

"You can't tell me." He received no nod of confirmation, but he didn't need it. "Let me think. Vassa gave herself to Koshei to break the spell. What could she have offered him? What does Koschei want?"

Tamlin didn't answer that question, but Lucien knew within himself what Koschei really wanted.

"But how is Beron involved in all of this? Why let him march without a fight?"

"We're done here," Tamlin muttered, getting up.

Lucien followed him out of the cave, observing for a few moments the signs of devastation left by the troops of the Autumn Court.

"Where will you go?" he asked his friend.

"To my court. You should come with me."

"I think you should be the one coming with me, to the Night Court."

Tamlin snorted.

Lucien pressed his lips together. “ I have to go back there"

"And why? Who's really waiting for you?"

That stung, because Lucien couldn't truly answer. Yet he had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to be there. “Someone needs to talk to me,” he whispered. 

***

Despite what had just happened, Lucien didn't feel weak. His magic was strong, vibrating beneath his skin, as it had the first time Elain had reached out to him through her visions.

He winnowed in the Night Court, at the foot of the palace.

His presence must have triggered some kind of alarm, because a dark figure immediately descended upon him. Lucien barely dodged it as his eyes focused on the attacker.

The Shadowsinger.

"Where have you been? What happened?"

Lucien tried to remain calm, avoiding eye contact. "Beron marched on the human’s land. Jurian and Vassa yielded."

"Come," was all the Illyrian said, entering the palace.

Lucien followed, ready to report what had happened to the High Lord. What he didn't expect to find, however, was her.

Elain ran into his arms before anyone could stop her. His body reacted on instinct, holding her close and inhaling her scent for that fleeting second. When she pulled away, he sought her eyes.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "I felt like I was burning, and then I saw you, and we learned about Beron—"

"I'm fine," he interrupted.

At that point, Elain took a step back, distancing herself from him. Lucien had the chance to look around. Azriel had a stern expression, and it was clear from the rigidity in every muscle of his body that he was holding back from making a jealous scene.

Lucien didn't care. He sought Rhysand. "I suppose I need to report everything?"

The High Lord nodded. "It can wait a few hours. You may want to rest."

Did he? He wasn't sure. Elain kept watching him, and the words she had spoken in the vision came back to him.

"You needed to talk to me?" he pressed.

She nodded, nervously twisting her hands. Then she looked toward Rhysand and the Shadowsinger. "Could you leave us alone?"

Lucien tried to ignore his heart flipping at those words, as if she wasn’t about to break it for good. 

One more slowly than the other, the two Illyrians left the room. He watched the slender figure of his mate pace nervously around the room. He took a deep breath and waited, preparing himself for whatever she had to say.

"I was worried about you”.

"It's kind of you."

"But it's not..." She stopped, an agonized expression on her face. "It's not—”

When he saw her struggling to find the words, he intervened. “I don't have to get strange ideas? I shouldn't misunderstand your concern? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

Her expression was so mortified that Lucien almost regretted the harshness of his words. Almost.

"Sorry," he corrected himself. "But, Elain, there's something I have to ask you."

She looked up into his eyes.

"Why haven't you rejected me yet?"

She swallowed, and he held his breath.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Is it really just my feelings that worries you?" He stood firm on the ground, despite the instinct screaming to get closer to her.

Elain closed her eyes. "I don't know, Lucien. But..."

His heart started to beat faster. "You feel what's between us, a part of you wants to run to it, despite everything."

"No," Elain sighed.

Lucien pressed his lips together. "You don't feel it?"

"Yes, I feel it. But no part of me wants to run towards it."

That hurt. A lot.

"Lucien, I'm sorry."

"Why haven't you rejected me then? Don't you want to be free of this burden?" He didn't care about his brusque tone now.

"You should be the one to do it," she replied promptly.

"What?"

"You should be rejecting me."

The air was completely sucked out of his lungs at that moment. He could reject her. Of course he could, it wasn't impossible, even if unheard of. It had always been an option. Yet, just thinking about it caused him so much pain that he felt his heart may collapse in his chest.

"I'll be fine. It's a pain I should bear," she continued.

He looked at her as if he were seeing her now for the first time. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

 "I do. And it's the least I can do for you."

He shook his head.

"We don't have to decide now. But there's actually something else I wanted to talk to you about”.

Lucien brought a hand to his chest, as if he could grab that invisible thread and tear it away all at once, freeing himself from this pain. "I think it can wait”.

"Lu—"

"Elain, please," he insisted, the pain intensifying.

"Believe me, I never wanted to hurt you. You're a good person, Lucien."

"Yeah, I've heard that before."

"You deserve to be loved. And chosen."

"I need you to leave now, please. I don't feel good".

Elain took a step back, and it was as if he could breathe better. He sighed and lowered his gaze.

 "I still need to talk to you when... when you feel better. Think about what I've told you, Lucien”.

Then she left, and his chest stopped burning. 

Chapter Text

The day of the summer solstice finally came, and it meant two things: Azriel was on a mission and Elain had to keep Feyre and Rhys from finding out. 

She wore a white dress with golden embroideries for the occasion. She knew how important it was to Azriel to rescue the girls from Autumn, and her goal was to ensure that no one noticed he was missing.  She had confidence in her rediscovered skill of lying: it seemed to come naturally to her, so she felt strangely calm.

 Opportunities to leave the Night Court were rare, so she would enjoy the chance to look around, to admire the beauty of a new place.

As soon as they winnowed, she couldn't help but notice how Helion's palace was simply incredible. She was breathless as she contemplated all the light, the golden walls surrounded by tall clouds through which the rays of the sunset filtered. The floor sparkled to the point where one could see their reflection in it.  Waiters dressed in white and gold advanced with trays full of sparkling glasses and enticing dishes. No alcohol for her tonight, but she couldn't wait to dive into those delicacies.

 Helion himself who welcomed them.

 Observing side by side the High Lord and Lucien, it wasn't hard to notice the subtle resemblances between the two. Yet they were both so unaware. How was it possible that Helion didn't know, that he had never even suspected?

“It's an honor to be here” Rhysand spoke for all of them. 

“I couldn't not give you back the hospitality I was offered at your court” Helion smirked before hugging his fellow High Lord. 

They soon eased into the growing crowd. This party was way different than the winter solstice, and way more people filled the large hall than she was used to see in Velaris. 

Elain grabbed a glass of sparkling wine from one of the waiters, letting it only wet her lips, keeping her hands busy while she pretended to participate cheerfully and thoughtlessly in the conversations around her.

As even more people arrived, the music started playing louder, and the guests began to enjoy the food and wine. The center of the room filled with dancing couples as the sun finally set behind the mountains. There was something strange about the night here. It wasn't as dark as night was supposed to be. It was as if the golden walls of the palace had captured the sunlight from before and were now releasing it, waiting for its return.

Now that the sun had set, she knew she wouldn't find Azriel anywhere. She checked rapidly if anyone else had noticed;  Nesta and Cassian had joined Emerie and Gwyn, and seemed to be lost in conversation and laughter. Feyre and Rhysand were talking with some fae that Nesta had described to her as other High Lords.

Elain took a deep breath, enjoying that moment of brief solitude. Yet she knew she wasn't truly alone. She turned around, feeling the pull of his presence at her back. 

The fae eyed her. Having been noticed, he took a step towards her, abandoning the false pretense of not following her. 

"I still need to talk to you," she said softly. It was unlikely that anyone would hear, given the loud music. Besides, the people around them seemed to have drunk more than she had ever seen the inhabitants of Velaris do during their celebration.  

"I'm only following you to keep you safe." His tone was strained.

 Elain looked up at him. "What do you mean?" Lucien shrugged.

 "Can we talk somewhere more private?”

Lucien didn't seem particularly enthusiastic about it, but he consented to her request. She followed him through the main hall, shifting through bodies until they reached an elegant corridor adorned with paintings in golden frames.

 This place was ethereal. 

She wasn't sure revealing the truth about his parentage now was a good idea, but she wanted to talk to him anyway. About their bond, about the two of them. If he rejected her now, in this court where his power was at its peak, maybe there would be less consequences. Was it possible? She had to ask—

"Aren't you afraid to be alone with me?" He asked, snapping her out of the trance she had fallen into. She searched his eyes, and Lucien added, "given how it ended last time, at Starfall”.

"Nothing happened last time."

She felt strange. There was something familiar about this place, about this precise corridor. She looked at Lucien again, observing him from head to toe. She recognized these clothes; this wasn't the first time she saw them.

She had been here before. She had already lived this moment.

 It had been one of her visions.

She brought a hand to her chest. Whatever she wanted to talk to him about vanished.

"Why did you say you had to keep me safe?" she asked abruptly.

"Business as usual," he said. "We're outside Velaris, away from its protective spells."

But then he looked up at her, and any trace of sarcasm vanished from his tone as he looked into her eyes and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Elain, are you all right?"

Elain's head started spinning. A sharp pain shot through her temples. She shuddered, and  Lucien supported her with both arms so she wouldn't collapse to her knees.

"I... I saw this day in one of my visions."

She couldn't finish speaking, couldn't say what she wanted to. A disruptive force, much stronger than anything Rhysand had prepared her for, crashed against her mind. She tried with every ounce of herself to resist, but it was in vain.

Everything became dark around her. Lucien's voice screaming her name became just a distant echo as a much colder and deeper voice whispered in her mind.

"At last, together again. Mother and son. The cauldron and its gifted.”

**

It had been hard for Azriel to ignore Elain all evening, and even harder to prepare to leave her here, outside the protective spells of the Night Court. Only she, Lucien, Nuala, and Cerridwen knew about the plan to save the Autumn's twins.

He cast one last glance at the redhead, who nodded in return, before heading to the place from where he was supposed to vanish. Eris had to handle the rest. Keep the children ready so he could take them to their grandfather, who was waiting for them in the Wind House's library.

Just as he turned toward a secluded spot, Nuala and Cerridwen waiting for him at the end of the corridor, a figure with red hair caught his attention.

Gwyn staggered, or so it seemed, bracing herself against the wall until she stumbled into the ladies' room, practically throwing herself against the door. Despite his urgent mission, instinct told him to follow her. There was something unusual about what was happening.

When he opened the bathroom door, he found her on the floor, water from all the taps gushing and flooding the sinks, soaking her white and blue dress.

Her face was pale. She was sweating, and her eyes seemed to be veiled by a white mist beyond their blue.

"Gwyn, what's happening..."

She brought her hands to her temples, trembling.

"I can't. I can't."

She spoke with her eyes closed, as if the words were directed at an entity inside her head. His shadows tensed. He noticed that the closer he got to her figure curled up on the floor, the more they seemed to stir, urging him to move away.

Whatever was happening to her, his shadows didn't like it at all. 

He glanced down the hallway, signaling to Nuala and Cerridwen. They would have to start without him.

"Gwyn," he called out louder.

This time, she slowly opened her eyes, an expression of pain on her face.

"He's coming," she murmured softly.

"Who?"

Before he could finish asking that question, he felt the surroundings grow darker, the air colder. The golden glow reflecting off every surface vanished, turning to gray, and his skin tingled from the sudden chill. He didn't like this one bit. 

The priestess's eyes widened abruptly. There was nothing of her left in them. Those irises as blue as the sea were gone. Her entire eye was white.

She stood up, murmuring words Azriel couldn't understand.

The bathroom door swung open. He already had Truthteller in his grip, ready to strike, but he lowered it when he saw it was Nesta.

She stepped in front of Gwyn, shaking her shoulders, but the priestess didn't react.

Her silver eyes met Azriel's.

 "What the hell is happening?"

Nesta shook her head. "I was just looking for you. Beron..." Nesta didn't finish speaking because Gwyn pushed her back with abnormal force, sending her crashing into the wall. With slow and mechanical steps, as if controlled by a higher force, she headed towards the exit.

Nesta was immediately on her feet, Azriel at her side as they restrained the priestess. Any attempt to make her speak, however, was futile.

Nesta looked at Gwyn again. "This has nothing to do with Beron," she murmured.

"No," Azriel added, anxiety rising in his chest. "I have to go, but we can't leave her here."

"I'll take care of her," said Nesta. "Call Emerie. I fear this is Koshei."

Hearing that name sent a shiver down his spine. It seemed Nesta shuddered too.

"Elain?"

Nesta shook her head. "Last time I saw her, she was with Lucien."

Azriel nodded. His previous plan would have to be postponed. Right now, he needed to find Elain and bring her back to the Night Court, if Lucien hadn't already done so. He really hoped he had.

"What were you saying about Beron?"

“Oh…” Nesta blinked, her muscles tensing as she held Gwyn in place. “He challenged Helion to a blood duel.”

***

Lucien held Elain in his arms as she collapsed to the ground.

"The cauldron," was all that escaped her lips.

"What? What it has to do with this?"

She was shaken by a tremor, and Lucien cradled her into his arms. "The cauldron is here, in this court. I can feel its power."

"Helion surely has it secured," he attempted to reassure her.

Yet the expression on Elain's face, the terror in her eyes, ignited the magic in his veins. At the same time, darkness descended all around.

"I have to get out of here, Lucien," she trembled. She was shaking with fear. "I can't... I have to..  I have to vanish. Please."

He started gathering his power. He had no idea what was happening, but Elain was looking terrified, and he knew he needed to take her away from this place.

"We have to warn Rhys. The cauldron isn't safe anymore."

"How do you know all this?"

Elain shook again. She brought a hand to her chest. "I can feel it. My magic... it's like someone is doing something to it."

She paled, and her eyes nearly closed. Lucien realized she felt weak. What they feared the most was happening: someone was manipulating the cauldron and, indirectly, Elain's power.

"I'll take you away from here," he tried to say, cradling her tighter into his chest.

Elain clung to his neck. 

"Rhys," she muttered with the last of her strength.

"I'll take care of it, Elain. I'll take care of it."

His veins were full of power, ready to winnow, but nothing happened. He tried again. And again. Yet, his magic felt more and more like a suffocating fire. He couldn't make it work.

He began to run towards the main hall. He couldn't winnow but a High Lord, someone as powerful as Rhysand or Helion, certainly could. They had to get Elain away from here, within the protective spells of the Night Court.

His steps grew heavier. The air turned icy all around, and he couldn't gather even a spark of fire from his veins to warm himself and his mate.

"You have a choice."

That voice echoed in his mind and at the same time reverberated in the hallway. Lucien looked around. Suddenly, everything became dark. 

His eyes struggled to focus on what lay ahead.

He tried to move forward again, but the air around him had become a thousand times heavier. He could do nothing but succumb to the weight, falling to his knees, Elain still in his arms. He wouldn't let her go, no matter what happened.

He heard that voice again.

"I need your mate, male. But you're free to go”.

Lucien roared with what little air remained in his lungs.

"You can let her go now, I don't intend to harm her".

"Fuck you," was all he managed to say.

“Bring him” said another voice, deeper somehow. Lucien felt it wasn't speaking to him. “The male will be useful”.

The other voice scoffed. “He won't receive her same treatment, though”.

His limbs grew heavier, as did his eyelids. The last thing he did before losing consciousness was to make sure his body shielded Elain from whatever force was about to strike them.

**

Azriel rushed to find Rhysand in the main hall. Nothing could have prepared him for the scene that unfolded before his eyes.

All the guests were gathered in a circle around three, or rather four, individuals.

Beron and Helion stood at opposite ends, facing each other, exchanging hateful glares. Sparkling flames, whose heat he couldn't perceive, emanated from Beron's hands.

In the middle of them, on the floor, lay Lady Autumn's bruised body. Azriel gasped as soon as he saw her. Her face was swollen, her eyes teary. But despite it all, her gaze showed no fear as she looked into her husband's eyes.

Rhysand had stepped forward into the crowd, as if to place himself between the two and mediate whatever was about to happen. Azriel wasn't sure if it was a wise move, but if anyone could do something, it was Rhys.

As his shadows tried to gather as many whispers as possible to understand what had happened, his eyes quickly scanned the room. There was no trace of Elain or Lucien.

He suppressed the shiver of fear that ran down his spine, as well as the instinct to abandon any strategy and run to find her.

His eyes caught a mane of golden-brown hair flowing loosely down a bare back. He approached her. Feyre's expression was determined.

"We can't winnow" she murmured very softly. "Something is blocking our power."

At that point, another voice whispered in his mind.

"Do you have any idea what might have happened?"

Rhys.

"No," he replied. "Do you?"

"I fear this Beron's spectacle is a distraction. I fear that..." here he hesitated. "He may have found a way to release Koshei from the lake and let him into the court."

Elain, Azriel thought, strongly enough that Rhysand heard him.

"You and Feyre need to find her," he ordered.

"And the cauldron?"

"It's safe. They can't reach it. The spells protect it, and it can only be accessed in one way..."

"What would that be? How can we be sure that..."

"We aren't sure. But it requires Helion’s blood to be moved".

Azriel locked eyes with Feyre. They had to find Lucien and Elain.

"My own wife, stabbing me in the back. My own mate, nothing more than a filthy spy."

Though she trembled like a leaf, Lady Autumn stood up, ignoring Beron's venomous words.

Flames continued to flicker from the High Lord's hands. From the opposite end of the room, however, Helion remained still as a statue, his gaze fixed on the male before him.

"You never deserved her," said the High Lord of the Day Court, his tone subdued, teeth clenched as if struggling to contain an anger that threatened to erupt at any moment.

"Deserved? She's my mate. The Cauldron gave her to me... and she dared to betray me. First she fucks you, then plots behind my back, conspiring with my enemies along with those unworthy males I even called my sons."

"Don't speak of them," she growled.

Beron smirked. "Does he know?" he said, indicating Helion. 

She lowered her gaze.

The High Lord of the Day Court raised a curious eyebrow.

"I had always suspected," Beron continued. "But I put my suspicions aside. I chose to be good to you. And... you know, the last of seven was irrelevant anyway. I never looked at him as closely as I should have."

The mask of coldness on Helion's face seemed to falter, and he tore his eyes away from his adversary's to look at the female between them.

"Oh, but where is he now?" Beron shrugged. "That useless scum."

"Don't you dare speak of him like that," his mate pointed her finger at him, and even the air around her seemed to still.

Helion approached her. "What is he talking about?"

"For someone as powerful as they say, you don't seem equally clever."

Helion ignored Beron's words and only looked into her eyes.

"Do you understand already or should I continue?" the male smirked.

At this point, Rhysand took a step forward.

Helion was whispering in the ear of the woman he loved. Azriel felt everyone in the room hold their breaths to hear what he was saying.

"Lucien is mine? He's my son?”

An almost invisible nod of her head gave him the answer he sought.

It was difficult even for Azriel to witness the various emotions crossing Helion’s face. 

 At last, the High Lord looked at them, his gaze scanning the crowd as if to find that one person…

 Unfortunately, Lucien wasn’t here.

Wherever he was, Azriel knew that Elaine was with him. They had to find her. Find them.

"I have a  son," he murmured to himself in shock. His eyes sought hers. "With... you."

"Ah—" the sound that escaped Beron's mouth made his skin crawl. But he didn't have time to continue witnessing the spectacle. Rhys would take care of everything. "That useless and weak traitor."

"Don't you dare—"

"Dirty like his mother."

"Let's settle this once and for all between us," Helion said, letting Rhys step forward and take Lady Autumn, leading her away. "As we should have done centuries ago."

***

Elain's head throbbed. She opened her eyes, the world spinning all around. It took her a moment to understand where she was and what was happening.

She was in a bed, but she didn't remember how she got there. The sheets were soft and smooth, just like the pink nightshirt she was wearing. It reminded her of… home. A home she had left behind, one she knew she would never return to.

Her memories were confused.

Where was she? She remembered strong arms wrapping around her just before she lost consciousness. That familiar, masculine scent. That intense yet suffocating warmth.

A shiver ran down her spine as she desperately tried to figure out what was happening.

It felt like her home. In an old life. This room seemed just like the one she had shared, albeit briefly, with... with...

It couldn't be.

She looked at her hands. Then she brought them to her face, to her ears. They felt… rounder.

She was about to get up, to run to the mirror, when a noise from a door to her right caught her attention. And then a voice spoke, a voice familiar but almost forgotten, buried deep in the recesses of her mind to avoid suffering anymore.

"Darling?"

She remained still. Terror, astonishment, and confusion swirled  in her chest.

The door opened.

In front of her stood her lost love, his smile as bright as she remembered it.

Greyesen.

Chapter Text

It had been four weeks, three days, and twenty one hours since he had last seen her.

Azriel regretted not being more selfish. If he had bitten her at the time, maybe now he would share some of her powers, so that he could look for her.

He would take any small clue, every tiny crumb. The truth, however, was that after four weeks of exhausting searches, they were all back at square one. 

They had interrogated Beron for days straight. Rhys had delved into the deepest corners of his mind. Still, he had been nothing more than a useless pawn for the warlock.

The Autumn Court had been turned upside down in the search for any small trace that Vassa and Beron might have left behind.

There was nothing. 

The new High Lord Eris had allowed them free access, even helping in the searches. The concern he was showing now betrayed the mask of indifference he had worn for centuries when it came to his brother. He wanted to find Lucien just as much as they wanted to find Elain.

Helion was helping them, too.

 They had found nothing in the Day Court’s palace, nor in the lands of humans, where there wasn't much left to search for anyway.

 After Beron's troops attack the lands had been completely devastated. Greyesen's family was all dead, yet his body hadn't been found. 

Azriel paced back and forth, the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece marking every passing second since Elain had disappeared. The thought of her being harmed and the fear of imagining what might be happening to her at this very moment were consuming him. Yet he didn't flee from those images. Never. Every time his mind conjured  horrific scenarios he welcomed them, torturing himself, letting the nightmares fuel his anger and his power so that when he found those who hurt her, he would make them regret it. 

Rhys's power, fueled by his own anger, shook the palace walls. Azriel had to admit he hadn’t seen him like this in a long time. Centuries.  However, the High Lord's anger was nothing compared to what he felt. 

The High Lady too was shaking with rage, her power mostly unknown to them ready to be unleashed, fueled by fury and terror. Among them, Cassian was the most lucid and strategic.

They winnowed in the Spring Court, splitting up to find Tamlin. If there was anyone who could tell them something, at this point, it was him. Later they would sift through the lands of humans to try to find even the slightest trace of Jurian.

Vassa seemed to have disappeared into thin air, and Azriel struggled not to think about what he would unleash on the queen as soon as he found her.

The wind whipped his wings and blew on his face without any protection from his magic, and his shadows searched the ground fiercely, quickly. Even they missed Elain. They were restless without her.

Rhys spoke in his mind mere minutes after their search had begun, as he was flying by the ruins of the manor. 

"Feyre found him.”

Returned from his animal form, the former High Lord sat on a small chair in the basement, his unkempt beard and mud-caked hair surrounding his face.

They had immobilized him, but it all had been easier than expected. He hadn't put up the slightest resistance.

"Tell us what you know," Rhysand began.

Tamlin shrugged. "I only let Beron's troops march, I had no other choice."

Feyre put a hand on his shoulder, and his shadows, which had begun to swirl rapidly up his legs, calmed, albeit slightly.

"Explain yourself better," Rhysand insisted.

"I can't," Tamlin said through gritted teeth. His gaze seemed to suggest something.

Azriel muttered to himself, but loud enough for the others to hear. "A spell… a spell prevents him from speaking."

Tamlin couldn't nod, but his green eyes settled on the shadowsinger with less hostility than he had shown towards the others. Azriel had a flashback for a moment: how Tamlin had helped him escape from the Hybern camp, his wings battered, Elain trembling in his arms.

And now, however, he couldn't save her. He hadn't been able to protect her. Wherever she was, he hoped Lucien was still by her side.

"Cassian," Rhys ordered. "Go call for Mor."

Azriel shuddered but stepped forward towards the prisoner. Strangely, he didn't believe Tamlin was involved in whatever had kidnapped Elain and Lucien.

"What can you tell me about Lucien?" he asked, twirling Truth-Teller between his fingers.

The blonde raised an eyebrow.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"In the lands of humans, after the attack. Just before he winnowed here to continue licking your-"

A hand crashed against Tamlins cheeks so fast he almost missed it. Everyone stared at it in astonishment. 

Feyre looked down at her hand, as if she couldn't believe what she had just done. 

A smirk appeared on Tamlin's face as he looked up at her. "He chose you over me."

"That's not true. You didn't want to hear his reasons-"

"He suspected you were up to something back then, but he kept it hidden from me. To protect  you, or maybe your sister. I don't know, but he betrayed me".

"Yet you helped us," Azriel intervened, trying to put a stop to the hostilities. Arguing wouldn't get them anywhere. "At the Hybern camp."

Silence fell in the room. "I wanted him to have a chance to be happy with his mate. Despite everything, he was my only friend. He still is. But you took that from him".

"Do you have any idea where he might be?" Feyre asked. 

Tamlin's eyes widened. A confusion and concern so sincere that it was clear he had no idea what had really happened during the summer solstice.  He truly believed he was here for his role in the attack on the human's lands.

"What are you talking about?" he blinked. "Lucien isn't with you anymore?"

"No. And neither is Elain," Azriel said flatly.

Tamlin lowered his gaze. "From your concern, I deduce it wasn't a love escape."

"They're gone. Along with Koschei and the cauldron."

"And why am I here? Do you think I'm guilty?"

"No," Feyre explained, her tone gentler. Then she brought a hand to her forehead, revealing a hint of vulnerability. "But you have to tell us everything. Even the slightest detail could be helpful. Please."

Tamlin's rigid gaze seemed to soften at that moment.  "There isn't much I can tell you…"

"Anything will do."

"Okay," Tamlin breathed. "But I'd like to ask one thing first…"

Azriel raised an eyebrow, intrigued by their exchange.

Tamlin looked Feyre straight in the eyes, ignoring everyone else in the room. "I want to talk to you, alone.”

He paced back and forth in front of the closed door where Feyre and Tamlin were discussing. He struggled to keep his shadows by his side. He had promised his High Lady some privacy, but he was struggling to stand by that. 

Mor should be here any moment now.

 He, too, needed a moment alone with her. It was time to address the issue, and he could no longer avoid this confrontation.

As Mor winnowed into the room, he stood in front of her. He couldn't read or interpret the expression in those brown eyes. They were so different from Elain's, which held a world of thoughts and feelings just for him.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice barely audible.

"I'm sure it can wait. I have to interrogate Tamlin, don't I?"

The blonde started toward the closed door, but Az continued. "He's already confessing everything to Feyre."

"And why should we trust him?"

"Because our High Lady trusts him," he replied in a cold tone. Then he glanced at a door to their left that would lead them to another isolated room.

When Mor opened her mouth to give him another excuse, he added in a frosty tone, "You can't postpone this discussion any longer. I know it. She saw it."

Mor flinched, and grabbing him by the forearm, she almost dragged him into the other room herself.

Azriel remained silent and still as she paced back and forth, the sound of her shoe soles echoing off the stone walls of the empty room.

"What did she see?" she finally said, bringing a hand to her mouth, her teeth nibbling on her perfect nails.

"What I've always thought. The unspoken that has always been between us…"

Mor took a deep breath.

Az continued. "Tell me the truth, did you know?"

She shook her head.

"With your power… You mean to tell me you never had a way of knowing for sure?" 

She took a step towards him, a tormented expression on her face. "Az…"

Azriel backed away, avoiding her outstretched hand that was about to rest on his chest. "Why not tell me anything, why leave me like this?"

"I… I don't know. I was afraid."

"Of me?"

"Of hurting you. It was too much for me."

"Then why not reject me?" his voice had become louder. He tried to control himself. He didn't have the time or energy, now, to get angry about this. But it was a matter that had come to a head.

"It would have hurt you," Mor shrugged, hugging her arms to her chest.

"Mor," he said, approaching, but not close enough to touch her. "I've endured worse," his gaze fell to his own hands, to the scars that marred them.

"I know, but…"

"You have to do it. Now. Free me from this, so I can be with her."

"She also has a mate."

"And that's something she'll have to deal with herself, when and if she wants to. But this thing," he gestured between the two of them, "ends now."

Mor opened her mouth to protest.

"If you won't do it, I will, Mor. It ends here."

Mor seemed to regain herself, a serious expression covering her face as she clenched her lips and straightened her shoulders. "Okay, Az. Fine."

Azriel raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

"But be careful with her."

He sighed, tired of these games. "If you have something to say, say it clearly. I've endured your subterfuge for five hundred years."

"I can bear this burden. I can reject you, but are you sure she can do the same?"

"You have no idea what she's capable of."

Mor lowered her voice. "It's been a month since she disappeared, we're not even sure she's still alive-."

"I would know," Azriel roared, his shadows rising behind him. "I would know if she was-" he couldn't even think the word.

"You can't be sure, you're not her mate."

"No," he breathed deeply. The anger he felt now was no longer calm and icy, but more like a storm inside his chest.

"So be realistic, all this could be for nothing, and you'll have an extra pain to bear."

"She's not dead," he repeated again, yelling.

Mor yelled back. He heard footsteps running behind the door: their screams must have attracted the attention of others. "You can't be sure."

"I said I can."

The door burst open, but Azriel didn't turn. He didn't care that their conversation was no longer private. It was time for everyone to know the truth.

“How can you?”

 "Because she is my carranam. And I'm hers.”

***

Azriel went to the library to find the priestess. As soon as Nesta had managed to bring Gwyn back to the Night Court, whatever had possessed her seemed to be kept at bay by the city's protective spells, but it had drained all energy from her body. She slept for a week straight, and she is still recovering now. 

Her face looked a little less pale today when they sat down in a quiet corner in front of her.

Azriel was tense.

 Nesta shot him a glare to tell him to go easy with the questions.

He took a deep breath, his fists clenched. "Have you heard… anything else?"

Gwyn raised her blue eyes, watery. Then she shook her head.

Nesta squeezed her hand. "Varian, a friend of ours from the Summer Court, has reported that several creatures whose power is tied to water have experienced… anomalies. And some of them have even disappeared."

Gwyn scoffed. "So he's taken over what, an entire species? Cursed us while trapped in the lake? What does this mean?" Her voice broke at the end.

Azriel spoke this time. "We don't know exactly what his power entails. It seems he's gathering an army, yet we don't know what for."

Gwyn nodded. "I'm sorry for your sister." Then she looked at Azriel, just for a moment. "I want to help, I swear. What happened to me didn't give me any clues. He has taken over me, but he hasn't told me what he wants. He's only taken my body."

Her voice faltered on the last words, and Azriel decided the conversation was over. It was useless to torment her like this. He thanked her nonetheless for trying, and left Nesta with her.

For the next people he had to interrogate, it would be better if he was alone, only Truth-Teller to witness what he intended to do.

He waited for the sun to set, then flew beyond Velaris, hidden by the gray clouds of that strangely dimmer evening, as if even the stars refused to shine if she wasn't present. A few flaps of wings later, his feet landed on the damp grass of the healers' field. Only the sound of crickets among the bushes filled his ears, his steps silent as he advanced among the tents.

No one had seen Madja and Benjamin since Elain and Lucien had disappeared, but Azriel knew they had to be involved. They suspected something about Elain's power, and they might have talked to someone about it.

He didn't actually have a plan. He knew they weren't hiding here. They had already searched the place. Yet, he kept silently moving among the tents. He had to find someone close to them, someone who could know something. He would make them talk, at any cost.

Azriel.

He turned quickly. 

Rhysand leaned against one of the tents, hands in his pockets, wings folded behind his back.

"Whatever you're about to do, I'm here to stop you before it's too late."

Azriel could barely contain the fear and terror churning in his chest. They had been gnawing at him for weeks now.

"I know how you feel," Rhys sighed. "Now I can understand it. Your bond is… unique. Even rarer than the one between mates. I don't know much about it, but one thing I can say: if something had happened to her, you would know, Az."

At that point, Azriel let the weariness he felt take over. His shoulders slumped. 

Rhysand approached. "I won't rest until we find her and bring her back. I promise you."

"You should come with me," the High Lord continued, then extended his hand. "Eris might have found a way to make that scum of his father talk.”

Azriel took his hand and let Rhysand winnow him into the Day Court.

They had spread the news that Beron had died on the day of the summer solstice, after the blood duel against Helion, and the Court had passed to Eris. 

Beron would have died for sure if the best healers hadn't worked on him day and night, but couldn't be gone before they got as much information as possible from him. 

Helion had insisted on keeping him prisoner in the Day Court and had proved to be a furious and powerful ally in this matter. Finding Elain meant finding Lucien, his son and heir.

In the dungeons of the palace, Beron lay on a worn out cot, his hands and feet tied to its edges. Not that he could actually move. He had several broken bones, and despite his magical blood and all the treatments he had received, they were not yet fully healed. He was pale and thin, with a gray, unkempt beard and deep gray furrows under his eyes.

Helion kept him in a state of stupor. 

The first time they had tried to wake him up, just a week ago, they had obtained nothing from him. He had shouted and kicked, not realizing where he was or what had happened. The healers didn't seem to be able to do much for his head injuries, and it was hard to extract information through torture on an ill mind. 

The new High Lord of Autumn was whispering with Helion in a corner of the room, his mother standing between the two. Helion's eyes stared at her with a love and devotion that weighed heavily in Azriel's stomach; he could recognize that look, and all the conflicting feelings hiding behind it.

The three soon broke from their private conversation and joined them. Eris spoke first, his back straight. "Beron is confused, we don't know for sure what kind of brain damage he might have suffered. But I believe we could use this confusion to our advantage."

Helion continued, explaining what he meant.

"We'll use an illusion, a spell, to make him believe he's still in the Autumn Court."

Azriel sighed. He was willing to try anything at this point, "But he didn't fully trust you either.  Whatever he could have revealed to you, we would already know."

Eris nodded. "I know this, but we'll make him believe he's talking to someone else" his eyes went to his mother.

Helion protectively put a hand on her shoulder, but her gaze showed only determination to find her son, wherever he had ended up.

“We'll use a spell,” she said. “To make me look like someone he met not long before all this happened”.

Rhysand and Azriel hid in the shadows as Helion's spells transformed the cellar into one of the private chambers of the Autumn Court. It was easy to tell that there was a spell in the air, but they trusted that Beron's mental state would let him believe it.

With some adjustments, dim lights, and a cloak covering much of her face, Lady Autumn transformed into the former queen.

When everything was in place, Helion let Beron wake up. 

His gaze, as he woke from the spell that kept him in coma, seemed more than confused.

"We don't have much time," she said, her voice low. Beron looked around again, then shook his head a couple of times.

“What do you want me to do?”

Azriel held his breath. She kept her answer as vague as possible. “We already agreed on it. We have a date now”.

“When would that be?”

“At the summer solstice.”

Beron rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants. "Are we sure the girl will be there? Even if she were, with all the protection she'll have behind her..."

“He'll take care of her.”

“Fine” he snapped. “I'll create the distraction he needs, then”. He moved as if to get up, but then stopped, as if too tired for it. “Remember that you owe me. My troops have been ready for weeks-”

Beron blinked, as if remembering something. She quickly changed the subject. “You'll have the lands, I don't care about them at all.”

The promise of the spoils of the human lands seemed to distract him for a moment, but a worried expression still covered his face.

“Are you sure about this plan?”

“What do you mean?” she cautiously asked. Azriel's heart started beating rapidly.

“I just hope you know what energies you'll release by taking the girl and the cauldron to that monstrous place. I want those lands, and I intend to keep them to gain richness and power. I would rather not have to hide down there because of the monsters you're going to release from their cages”. 

His voice choked,and he began to tremble. He fell to the ground, his eyes rolling inside his head, leaving only the whites of his sclera visible.

Lady Autumn rushed to him, but Helion held her back, letting Eris be the first to approach as the illusion spell dissolved all around.

It was a monstrous scene to witness. Whatever he said triggered something from inside him. His bones started snapping on themselves as he convulsed on the ground, blood coming out of his mouth, nose and even his eyes. 

Helion took a step forward, but Eris, giving them all his back, raised a silent hand to stop him. “Let him go”, he said. “I know what he was talking about”.

As soon as Beron’s body slumped, drenched and broken to the floor, he turned around. 

“I know where Koschei might have taken Elain and Lucien.”

Azriel didn't breathe for those seemingly endless seconds.

“They're at the Prison.”

Chapter Text

Elain stared once again at the plate full of food in front of her. The smell... it was exactly identical to how she remembered it. And even the taste, for the little she managed to swallow before her stomach knotted up on itself, reminded her exactly of a period in her life she thought would never return. It was all so identical to how it used to be that it would have been so easy to believe it was real, so easy to convince herself that the last years had been just a dream.

She glanced up again at the male sitting across from her, who was not lacking appetite. He raised his eyebrows, then reached out a hand towards hers, squeezing it. Elain flinched, but she tried not to pull away.

Greyesen sighed, then wiped his face with the napkin and shifted in his chair, almost kneeling in front of her. Elain held back her shivers. The act she had put on had bought her some time, hoping someone, him, would come to rescue her. Maybe he would have found out where she was by now. But she knew she didn't have much time left. Greyesen, or whoever controlled him, was starting to become impatient.

"My love," said the boy she had once believed was her true love. She didn't know what they had done to him, but despite talking like him, and moving like him even, this wasn't him. Greyesen had rejected her. The Greyesen she thought she knew didn't want her. "What do you say? Could today be the day?"

Elain hesitated again, thinking about what to reply. She bit her lip. "I still feel very shaken-"

"You just have to do this one thing, and then they will heal you from this illness, from this parasite that has turned you into a monster," his gaze was lost now, though his words were firm and determined. "And then we'll have our life, what we had always dreamed and longed for. Just one last effort, and then you will be rid of all of them. You can forget them."

Just the thought of forgetting everything, all the people she had known and come to love, made her feel a sharp pain in her chest. 

"If only I could have a few more days.”

Greyesen let go of her hand, abruptly standing up from his chair. He began pacing back and forth in the large dining hall. Elain had no idea where they were. The palace was identical to the one she had lived in with Greyesen, the one belonging to his family. Yet she didn't believe they were in the human lands. Whenever she looked out the window, the sky was always the same. The clouds were always where she had seen them the day before, day after day. Sunsets and sunrises followed one after the other. It was as if she could sometimes sense the illusion. 

She hadn't been able to use her power since she woke up here, yet occasionally she felt the magic... that itch on her skin, when the spell's effect seemed to diminish and the real chill of that place penetrated deep into her bones.

"We don't have any more time, Elain," Greyesen shouted.

It wasn't the first time he had yelled at her in these days. Every time she tried to stall, his anger grew.

The boy ran a hand through his hair, and Elain noticed how, with the violence with which he rubbed them, entire strands came loose. She shivered again.

"It has to be today, Elain. He doesn't want to wait any longer, and I can't find any more excuses."

"My love-"

The words died in her mouth. Greyesen grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. "I told you it has to be today. You  don't have to do much, really. You'll just enter that damned cauldron again and break any bond that ties it to you, preventing it from being controlled by others. And then you and I will be free, you'll be normal again, and we'll have our life back."

His eyes were red, the blood vessels visible in his sclera. Elain nodded, pretending to be excited about what he was proposing, containing the tremors of terror and fear shaking her body.

"When will it be?" she asked softly.

"As soon as possible."

She swallowed, taking a deep breath. She knew this moment would come, sooner or later. Maybe she could still buy some time.

"I want to do it," she said, softly, hoping not to trigger another outburst of his anger. "But I want to talk to them, I might need a hand..."

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head, blinking innocently, letting strands of hair fall in front of her face. When Greyesen reached out to tuck them behind her ears, she leaned into his touch. "Tell them I'm ready.”

***

She let Greyesen guide her. Since she woke up here days ago, or perhaps weeks ago, she had never left the house they lived in, an exact replica of the manor where she had been with Greysen weeks before their marriage.

The exterior garden was also a perfect replica, but she had never ventured beyond it. She had explored every room, every remote corner, but had found nothing different than what she remembered.

Greyesen let her stand in the middle of the main hall. Elain held her breath, trying to keep her heartbeats under control.

"She's ready," he said, looking towards the ceiling.

The atmosphere all around suddenly became darker, the air cold and damp. Elain shivered, huddling in her light dress. Even this was a perfect replica of the many she once owned.

"Finally," said a voice, as cold as the air on her skin. She recognized it. She had heard it that day, at the Day Court, and even before that in her visions.

When the atmosphere around changed again, growing warmer, she knew that magic was in action again. They were setting up another illusion.

Her eyes adjusted to it, seeing that in front of her stood the most beautiful man she had ever seen. He was tall, almost like Azriel. He had tan, shiny skin, like molten gold illuminated by the sun. His hair was dark, and it fell around his face in wavy locks, framing two hazel eyes that took her breath away for a moment.

As he approached, he smiled at her, and two dimples appeared on his face. She recognized those dimples.

She turned to Greyesen, who was still by her side. Now that she looked at him, she could almost glimpse them in his pale face. Those dimples had been what made her fall in love with him for the first time. 

She took a deep breath. She had no idea who was in front of her, but it was clear that whatever magic they were using, the goal was to seduce her. To induce her to accept any offer they were about to make her. She tried to calm her nerves. Despite everything, she could still think clearly, so she hadn't been enchanted. And it could be worse. At least they weren't torturing her.

Yet.

The male came in front of her, bent down and took her hand, theatrically placing a kiss on her knuckles.

When he looked back at her, his smile showed  bright white teeth. "Finally," he said. 

Although his physical appearance might seem seductive, that voice made her shiver. It was as if, despite all the magic they were using to make that place what it wasn't, they had forgotten about this detail. Or maybe they couldn't act on it. 

Silence stretched for several seconds. Her gaze shifted to Greyesen, who stood at her side in unnatural stillness. The man, or fae, in front of her raised an eyebrow, following the direction of her gaze. 

"You know, Elain," he said. "Despite my immense power, your mind remains impenetrable. I can only rely on that strange human gift called empathy to try to understand what's going on in your head. But I'm not familiar with it. Please-" Elain held her breath as he continued. "Tell me what you're thinking.”

She stuttered, uncertain how to proceed. "I—" she gulped. "I'm wondering who you are."

He smiled again. "Oh, my apologies for not introducing myself properly." His hands made a sweeping motion, moving from top to bottom along his body. "I hope this form I've chosen is to your liking."

Elain couldn't say, at that moment, whether she felt more scared or uncomfortable. Probably both. She merely nodded as he continued.

"I intend to explain everything to you, including the reason for your presence here. In exchange for your cooperation, I can offer you anything you desire." His gaze shifted back to the human at her side. "I don't presume to know the deepest desires of your heart, but I dared try to guess. Your last days here were just a taste of what I'm willing to offer."

Elain fought against the urge to open her mouth in astonishment as several pieces of the puzzle finally began to come together. They wanted something from her, something so important that they were willing to offer her anything in return for her help. And so, they had kidnapped her and brought her here. Greyesen... she couldn't say with certainty whether he was under some illusion spell or they had simply convinced him well, but she was certain of one thing: they had entered his thoughts, probably seeing his memories. Their life before all of this, the way they had parted, the pain she had felt at his rejection. 

And now they were offering her everything she had lost, unaware that she no longer desired it.

Maybe she could use this to her vantage.

She took a step away from the boy at her side, then looked around. "The male I was with... before coming here. Is he okay? Is he with you?"

Greyesen stiffened, but by the time it took her to turn completely towards him, his gaze became empty. The hand he held her with became limp, and Elain let it go, watching as it fell inertly by his side.

"Don't worry, he's just suspended. It seems to me that this conversation is a touchy subject for you two".

She forced herself to nod. If she could play her cards right, if she could find Lucien... Maybe she could get him free. It was something, at least. After all, it was her fault he had been dragged here too. She also knew, however, that once free he wouldn't just go his own way, but would do everything to bring Rhysand and the others to her. She was sure of it, and it made her heart clench. A part of her cared for him. More than a part, actually.

"What can you tell me about him?" she continued.

"I thought you didn't care about your mate," he said, more curious than suspicious.

"It's complicated," she said. "I can't help but worry about him. It's the nature of the bond that ties us, made by the Cauldron."

His eyes lit up when she mentioned the Cauldron and she realized she was on the right track.

"What do you want me to do for you, Elain Archeron?”

"I would like to see him." To the silence that followed, she added, "And what do you want me to do for you?"

His gaze suddenly became ten times more unsettling, icy and dark. "You're a smart woman, Elain Archeron. Let me introduce myself first, then we'll think about the rest."

***

Elain pondered what else she could come up with to buy her time as she was led into what seemed to be a dungeon. 

They wanted her to go back into the cauldron. 

This part was clear. The reason why, though, she couldn't understand. Was it true that the cauldron could only be controlled by her? And how was she supposed to break this bond? Or… could she… no. She wasn't going to think about it. 

She didn't believe she was capable of doing it, but she couldn't risk saying it out loud now. 

No, she would find another way to stall. 

Maybe they could even manage to escape. Lucien was powerful. He was the direct heir of a High Lord, for heaven's sake. 

She held her breath as they reached some iron bars. A figure lay curled up at the back of the cell, covered in dirt.

As soon as he saw her, he stood up. Elain's heart began to beat rapidly. All this time, while she was sleeping warmly between silk sheets, he had been in this cold room, surrounded by darkness and filth.

She turned to the sorcerer who had escorted her, trying to communicate with Lucien through her eyes not to say a word.

"Why is he in these conditions?"

"I thought you didn't care about him," despite not being truly human, she thought she detected a hint of a childish hesitation behind those eyes strangely similar to Azriel's.

"He's my mate," she said, noticing the slight startle that shook Lucien.

The man, Koschei, put a hand to his chest. He snapped his fingers, and the cage enclosing Lucien dissolved into nothingness, as if it had never existed.

The fae moved towards her, enveloping her in his arms, and Elain felt a huge relief in that simple gesture. Leaning close to his ear, returning the embrace, she whispered softly, "don't say anything."

"I apologize," Koschei said. "The memories of the human deceived us. If I had known how important he was to you, I wouldn't have left him here."

Elain took a moment to breathe and figure out the best response. She couldn't bear to part with Lucien. It wasn't safe to discuss an escape plan with him, she knew they could have ears everywhere, but the two of them could find a way to work together. 

Feeling Lucien's grip tighten around her, she said, "I wish not to be separated from him."

The sorcerer raised an eyebrow, showing a curious expression. "Oh. I always thought humans and fae were interesting creatures. But you, one before and then the other, are the most interesting I've ever encountered, Elain."

Lucien's hands grew warmer, his body vibrating as if trying to shield her from the unsettling gaze of the sorcerer that ran up and down her body. 

But they couldn't afford scenes now. She placed a hand over his, hoping to convey with that gesture alone not to do anything and let her speak. "It's something I cannot fight," she said. "Our bond is wanted by the Cauldron."

"I understand," he said. "Better not to deny the Cauldron what it desires.”

***

Elain didn't know whether to thank the mother, or the Cauldron, or any divinity she no longer believed in, but when she asked for Lucien to have a bed, a meal, and a warm bath, they were given a room.

She had no idea where Greyesen was, but the sorcerer's gaze gleamed with macabre interest when he told her to take all the time she needed and that they would see each other the next day.

She glanced out the window, noticing it was now night. She didn't know how to decipher what was happening, but whatever she had said about the bond between her, Lucien and the Cauldron seemed to have interested them enough to grant her an extra night.  Hopefully, it would be enough.

As soon as the door to the room closed behind her, Elain let herself go, leaning her back against it and sighing. She was so tired.

Lucien immediately opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say, she stopped him. She didn't know if they were truly alone. As she did before, with Greyesen, she felt like there were always ears and eyes on them. She moved closer to him, so fast that she practically threw herself into his arms. The surprise at that reaction made him close his mouth as his arms tightened around her.

She closed her eyes, feeling his heartbeat. This close, she could feel the thread of their bond lightening. She wondered how he must be feeling.She pulled away from that strange embrace and looked him in his eyes.

He simply said, "What do you want me to do?"

Elain took a few seconds, reflecting.

Lucien took her hand, and Elain simply watched as he clasped it in his and closed his eyes, concentrating. She felt that thread against her ribs tense, pull, and then she heard his voice.

"Does it work like this?"

She gasped. Lucien was looking at her intensely, but also with fear, as if afraid he had invaded her privacy. This was... a very powerful weapon in the situation they were in. She nodded.

"Try it yourself."

She closed her eyes and tightened her grip on his hand, focusing. "Like this?"

"Yes, Elain. I can hear you. But it only works if we touch I think."

As if to test what he had just said, Lucien let go of her hand, and despite the intensity in his gaze, Elain no longer felt his voice.

"It depends on our bond, I suppose," he explained, gently taking the hand he had just released.

Elain nodded. "We should lie down," she said quietly.

Lucien blinked several times. "I can take the fl-"

"No, you can't," she interrupted. "I need them to believe that I can't be separated from you. Together we'll have a better chance of escaping."

At that point, Lucien didn't protest. The bed in the room was large enough for both of them to sleep in. She preferred Lucien to the strange and unsettling version of Greyesen she had shared the bed with in the last few days. 

And thanks to this mental connection, they could keep talking. 

She didn't bother to get under the covers, simply lying on her side directly on top of them. After a few seconds, Lucien followed suit, lying in front of her. Although hesitant, he took her hand.

"Are you hurt?"

Elain shook her head. "Are you?"

Lucien pressed his lips together, but she heard no answer to that question.

Elain took a deep breath and spoke to him again. "They want me to go back in," she swallowed, "into the Cauldron."

Lucien's gaze darkened, but she continued before he could succumb to anger.

"They want me to try to break any bond between me and it. I don't even know how to begin with" to the concern and anger she read in his face, she added, "It didn't kill me the first time, it's unlikely to happen now, right?"

"Can you use your powers?" he asked her.

Elain shook her head. "Can you?"

Lucien raised his other hand for a moment, the one not holding hers, but when he tried to summon a flame nothing came out of it.

"It could be the food and water," he commented. "It's not the first time this has happened to me."

Elain took note, reminding herself to avoid anything the next day. She hoped it would help.

"Can you talk to him?" Lucien almost withdrew his hand, as if he regretted asking that question and wanted to retract it. However, Elain tightened her grip on his hand so it wouldn't slip away from hers.

"No," she answered. "But I can feel he- they are searching for us"

"They're searching for you. No one cares that I disappeared."

There was immense sadness in his eyes. Elain didn't fight the instinct to comfort him. She leaned in a little closer, squeezing both of his hands in hers. Now that he was sad, they lacked their usual warmth. 

"Don't say that. You have people who care about you. And I care about you” she whispered.

Lucien closed his eyes, as if he wanted to shield himself from her. From those words. Elain didn't blame him.

“Lucien” she called, waiting for him to open his eyes again. “There's still one thing I have to tell you."

"Can it get us out of here?"

Elain hesitated. It probably wouldn't help him to know right now who his real father was, but she felt she owed him the truth. 

He anticipated her. "Sleep, Elain. Please, you need rest."

"You should rest too. More than me". She took a deep breath, saying what he was avoiding to. “You already thought it through, right?”

“Elain, ple-”

“There's no way to get out of here. Is this what you think?”

“I don't know” Lucien sighed. 

“If I can convince them to get you free-”

“They would never. They'll either kill me now or keep me around as long as you seem to want it”.

Elain swallowed. “I'll never let them hurt you”.

As they settled into silence, neither of them let go of the other's hands.

“Sleep now,” Lucien said finally. 

She nodded. "Goodnight, Lucien."

"Goodnight, Elain.”

***

They were led the next morning into a large stone room, which reminded Elain too much of the one where everything had started the first time. She clung to Lucien as Koschei led them to the center of the room.

Even before they entered, Elain had felt the pull of the Cauldron. It hit her like a stone to the chest once she saw it, making her legs tremble. Lucien supported her, one arm around her shoulders.

"What's wrong?"

Koschei turned to her, studying her with an unsettling air and eyes that gleamed with excitement for whatever was about to happen.

"I feel it," Elain said to Lucien.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," she nodded, straightening up and forcing herself to go on. "It's not painful, it's just... intense."

When she was in front of it, she noticed that the Cauldron was different from how she remembered it. Or maybe this time, it was she who was different. Despite everything, it looked less menacing. Smaller somehow. 

There was someone else in the room. Another being, vaguely human-shaped, who stood in the shadows. It emitted an energy that Elain couldn't define. And then guards, with empty eyes, like Greyesen's when he had been suspended by Koschei's power…

Greyesen.

She looked around the room. Not seeing him anywhere. She searched Koschei's hazel eyes. "The human… where is he?"

He shrugged. "Still suspended. I don't understand? I thought you wanted to be with your mate"

Elain swallowed, uncertain. "Is he... okay?"

He shrugged again and then, as if nothing had happened, Greyesen appeared in front of her, coming out of the trance he had been in since the day before.

His eyes were haunted. He looked at her first, then at the fae by her side. Strangely, despite the terror in his eyes, he seemed more like himself now. She understood it from the look of disgust he gave her.

Elain immediately brought her hands to her face, to her ears. They were pointed again. 

she prayed within herself that he wouldn't say anything, but it was a vain hope. 

There was terror but also disgust as he looked between her and Lucien. "After everything I've done for you, to bring you back to normal... What are you doing with him?"

Elain opened and closed her mouth, confused but also furious. "What do you mean what you've done for me? You're the one who had me kidnapped and brought here?"

Greyesen swallowed, then looked towards the sorcerer, who watched the scene fascinated.

The dark figure at the back of the room, however, seemed impatient. "The time has come," it said, its voice deep and inhuman, vibrating the stone walls.

"The girl must cooperate," said Koschei, his hands clasped and a disturbing smile on his face as he approached her. "Isn't that right, Elain? Your help in exchange for your mate”.

Greyesen's eyes widened at that moment, and Elain felt so small under that expression of anger and contempt. Lucien stepped in front of her again, shielding her from that look of hatred and from the sorcerer who continued to approach.

But time was up, and she didn't know what to do. 

Greyesen spoke, this time not addressing her. "You said that you would make her human again”.

"I said that in exchange for her help, I would grant her what she wants. That thing isn't you, human," Koschei’s eyes sought hers. "Or am I wrong, Elain?"

Her mouth was dry and her heart was about to burst out of her chest, her mind racing to figure out how to get out of this strange situation.

"Greysen," she said finally, taking a deep breath and standing beside Lucien. "You rejected me when I wanted no one but you, but now I've moved on-"

He advanced, going to grab her by the shoulders, but Lucien stepped in front of her again and stopped him. "You don't understand," he yelled, looking between her and the red-haired fae. "They can free you from this, from him. And we can have our life back."

"That's enough now."

The dark figure at the back of the room moved forward. Elain trembled. She knew it was time to enter the Cauldron. How she would accomplish the task they asked of her, however, would be another matter.

"And if it doesn't work?" she advanced.

"It's better if it works."

"But-"

"In that case," said Koschei, "you'll stay with us a little longer. But let's hope it's not necessary."

Meanwhile, Greyesen had reached her side and taken her hand. "Do what they ask. And then you will return human and we will have our life back. The last few days have been just a taste-"

Elain quickly withdrew her hand from his. "I don't want to," she said firmly.

"What?" The shock and betrayal on Greyesen's face made her doubt herself. As if she were the one in the wrong. As if he hadn't rejected her first. 

"I don't want to go back to what I was before."

"Ah," was the strangled sound that came from the sorcerer's mouth.

"Do you want to continue being a monster? They brainwashed you-"

"That's enough now." Lucien silenced him. Every muscle in his body was tense, vibrating with anger. Elain's heart squeezed in her chest.

"Elain," said the sorcerer, stepping forward. "Is this what you want? To live with your mate?"

Elain couldn't answer.

Koschei continued. "Or with your human?"

"He's not mine. He's his own person and-"

"That's enough now" The terrifying shadow at the back of the room advanced. 

It all happened too fast. 

A gust of cold freezing wind shook the air, and then she heard something hit the ground. She looked down as a strangled scream left her throat. 

Lucien's back was suddenly in front of her, preventing her from that macabros scene as Greyesen's decapitated body fell to the ground. 

She couldn't keep calm anymore. Cries and sobs shook her whole body. It was her fault. She had caused this.

“You made your choice. Now it's time”. 

Elain felt the ground beneath her feet disappear, as if she was being lifted.

"No, no," she screamed, clinging to Lucien.

"Let me go in with her," he said, surprising everyone.

His expression became more determined as that idea solidified in his mind.

Elain shook her head, her feet firmly on the ground again. She looked Lucien in the eyes. "Don't do it, please. I can't lose you too".

Lucien ignored her, fearlessly and proudly defying the two evil figures in the room, the decapitated body of Greyesen lying inert between them. "The Cauldron created our bond. My power and hers are as bound as she is to the Cauldron. You can't break that bond without breaking the one between me and her too".

Koschei ignored him, using his power again to drag Elain towards the Cauldron. But Bryaxis interrupted him.

"The male is right."

Elain began to plead again. "He's lying," she screamed through sobs. "It's not true."

Lucien took her in his arms a magic dragged them back towards the object in the center of the room.

Elain beat her fists on his chest. "No, Lucien," she cried. "Please don't. Don't sacrifice yourself for me. Please."

He hugged her, despite everything. The dark water of the Cauldron now under their feet. "It's okay, Elain. Everything will be fine."

He kissed her forehead.

And then the cold enveloped them.

Chapter Text

There was nothing but the freezing feeling on her skin, her head spinning, her hand tightly gripping Lucien's, despite everything.

Yet this time she wasn't screaming. She wasn't afraid. She knew what to do now. 

She would ask the cauldron for help, as it had helped her before.

As the air around them cleared, her chest warmed with a familiar feeling, like visiting one’s hold house. But this time she hadn't landed in a vision of a lost future. This place was…

She couldn't find the words to describe it as she looked around. Pink, red, and orange filled the sky all around them and a bronze palace rose on the horizon, far from their eyes.

Lucien squeezed her hand and she shifted her gaze to his face, finding awe in his expression, but also something else.

She responded to his grip. “Lucien…”

He looked into her eyes. “Was... was this what you saw the first time?”

She shook her head. 

 “I know this place. Or at least I think I do. This is—”

“The lost court,” a voice spoke for him, seeming to come from above.

“The Dusk Court” Lucien whispered. “I can't believe it.”

“What does it mean?” Elain asked.

“This place is what they want to desecrate. But they won't succeed. I decide to whom I open my gifts.” Elain recognized all too well the cauldron’s voice, since it wasn't the first time it spoke to her.

“So it's true,” Lucien said, still looking around.  “This court...”

“The Court always existed in this non-place. It’s in my power to decide who will get to reign over it”.

Elain held her breath as Lucien's mouth opened for the surprise and shock of it all. “Why are we seeing this?” the fae said, still looking around, trying to find where that voice was coming from. 

“After endless centuries, I had chosen you both for this priceless honor. I had chosen you, Elain, for the purity of your soul when we met. For what was being taken from you, which deserved an equally great gift. And for the son of Day”. 

Lucien stood still at her side, not understanding. 

“What does it mean?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed. “To whom is it referring—”

“I am speaking to you, a male that goes by the name of Lucien Vanserra”. 

Lucien still didn’t understand, his gaze lost. “Elain? What is happening?”

“I tried to tell you, but there was never a right moment.”

“I don’t understand. Tell me what?”

“Your father” Elain’s hands started shaking, and despite everything, he took them in his. 

That gave her the courage she was lacking. “I saw something, through my power”. 

“Your visions…” he said to himself more than to her. “They’re not just about the future?”

She shook her head no. “I can see the present, and the past too. I didn't know what I was doing, but I was looking, reaching for you, and I saw it”. 

His body was still and tense as he urged her to continue with his eyes. She had never seen him this on edge. 

She took a deep breath and spoke fast. “Beron Isn't your biological father”

“He-” Lucien’s body shook. “He isn't-”

She shook her head, squeezing his hand to reassure him.

“You're the only son and heir of the High Lord of the Day Court. At his death, his power will eventually come to you”. Elain got the impression that Lucien was about to collapse, his knees on the verge of buckling to the ground. A thousand different emotions crossed his face.

Just then, that entity made of pure power appeared before them in the same way it had manifested to Elain the first time: a figure made of light. She could have sworn there was something familiar about it now… She shook off the sensation, not wanting to think about it. 

As it advanced, Lucien protectively took a step in front of her, but Elain stopped him, conveying that it was okay. It wasn't going to hurt them.

“Through the centuries, I have received thousands of requests for power, magic, kingdoms, all of them thrown at me with presumption and superiority. Many tried to rob me, and sometimes they even succeeded…” There was a pause, followed by an almost human sigh.

“But this was the first time I decided to give something to someone.”

Lucien straightened his back, finally lowering his guard and turning around to take in everything before him.

“For us?” he asked, more incredulous than interested.

“For you, for your heirs.”

“Is that why…” Lucien swallowed. “Is that why you made us mates?”

The cauldron nodded, and at that gesture, it was as if Elain could see an invisible weight lifting from the fae’s shoulders.

“There was something, however, that I hadn’t foreseen when I chose your bond,” it continued, pointing toward Elain. “I was blinded by your light, and I didn’t see the darkness lurking beneath it.”

Elain knew what it was referring to. Lucien remained impassive by her side, not lowering his shoulders, and when she turned to him, there was no regret or sadness on his face. Only… sole sort of relief, for all the truths that were coming out.

“I still want to ask you explicitly. Do you refuse my gift?”

Elain and Lucien looked into each other’s eyes, and time seemed to stretch at that moment. For the first time, she felt that neither of them was hiding or pretending.

They both nodded at the same time. Then they smiled, squeezing each other’s hands.

“So be it,” said the entity, raising its arms into the air.

Elaine didn’t know what was happening, but she felt a warm wind rising from below, lifting her hair and Lucien’s, who continued to hold her hand. She grabbed his other hand too, so they were face to face.

A light began to spread between their bodies.

“I could have loved you in another life, Lucien,” she sighed, a tear slowly rolling down her cheek.

“I could have loved you in this one,” was his only response, hands clasped together, as the golden thread between them lifted.

It wasn’t painful. She didn’t feel anything breaking or shattering. That golden rope simply rose into the air, leaving their bodies as if pushed away by a gust of wind, its golden light shimmering above their heads and rising.

When it was high enough to be no longer visible to their eyes, they let go of each other’s hands.

She didn’t know how he felt, but she felt… normal. Not too different from how she was before. She placed a hand on her chest and noticed out of the corner of her eye that Lucien was mirroring her gesture.

“It will find another home,” the cauldron said. 

Elain opened her mouth, nodding. Then, remembering the real reason they were there, she said: “You can help us”. More a statement than a question.

“Help has already come, Elain.”

“Wh-what?”

She had no chance to insist on an explanation. She felt the ground disappear beneath her feet, and that familiar sensation of being pushed by a stormy sea overwhelmed her again.

Before her lungs filled with water, she grabbed Lucien’s hand, holding it tight as everything went dark. Again.

***

Azriel scented her. Their bond. Despite the instinctual jealousy that protested from deep in his chest, he was actually glad that Lucien was by her side. He would protect her, and if they were together, it would surely make their plan easier and faster to execute.

They winnowed as close as they could to the prison, thanks to the combined power of Rhysand and Helion, and flew the rest of the way, their wings beating against the wind and the thick fog surrounding the island.

Azriel hated this place, and thinking that Elain  had always been in there gave him chills.

They had devised a plan to enter, but it wouldn’t be easy. Azriel prayed, for the first time in his life, that luck would be on their side. He held his breath as they circled in the clouds above the prison.

Phase one began now. He nodded at Nesta, flying in Cassian’s arms, and she closed her eyes and summoned the mask. Azriel held his breath, and he swore he saw even Rhys and Helion do the same.

Without another word, Nesta landed on an uneven rock, the mask on her. 

They all prepared to face the creatures she was going to resurrect, hoping they would keep the sorcerer and Bryaxis occupied long enough for Helion to create a breach in the place’s magical defenses.

The ground shook, as if shaken by an earthquake, and the stormy water seemed to rage even more. 

“They're coming,” Nesta said.

Helion began reciting his spells. With every passing second, with every layer of magic that was lifted, it was as if Azriel could feel her. Her presence, his shadows, their shadows, responding to her.

I’m coming, he tried to communicate to her, hoping she could feel him.

Once they could sneak in, Nesta and Cassian flew to the back, hiding in a strategic spot from where she would call back to the death the monsters she had resurrected when they wouldn't need them anymore. 

He stayed with the High Lords. He hid in his shadows, along with Rhysand. Helion was under a disillusionment spell, so well-crafted that he couldn’t see him even if he tried. The entrance was as gray and cold as he remembered, but there was something he hadn’t expected to find: silence. That place had never been so religiously silent.

“What is it?” he heard Rhys whisper beside him, directed toward a point in the void. He saw nothing, but Helion was probably there.

“A spell.”

“Another one?” There was surprise in his High Lord’s words. They could understand the spells outside, but inside…

“It's not a defensive spell,” Helion continued, scenting the air. Azriel did the same but couldn’t distinguish the type of magic just from the smell. “It’s an illusion.”

Were they keeping Elain in an illusion? This could mean she wasn’t suffering too much from the horror of the place, right? He should have felt relieved, but he was anything but that. A weight sank into his stomach instead.

Helion stepped out his disillusionment, appearing before their eyes.

To the alarm on their faces, he added, “Something is happening.”

As if to confirm his words, Azriel swore he felt the stone walls tremble.

Abandoning any form of dissuasion or disguise, they began to run down the long corridor. Even without a precise direction, Azriel felt he was getting closer to her. His shadows sensed her power, although he couldn’t feel her.

“Shouldn't we split?” Rhys asked.

The question was lost in the void as, feet and wings working in unison, Azriel and the two High Lords reached a large barred door. A flicker of power from the High Lord of the Day Court blew it open.

The smell that invaded his nostrils was the faint scent of their bond. It took him less than a second, however, to notice that despite their scent in the air, Elain and Lucien were nowhere in sight.

***

Lucien felt different, more powerful somehow. The truth about his father continued to echo in his mind, but it was as if it had also ignited something in his veins. A new awareness of his power. He hadn't had the eyes to see it before, but now that it was in front of him… he felt foolish for never realizing it. That was why he had always felt different and out of place, as if he didn't belong anywhere. Elain had helped him see.

In just a few seconds he felt everything shift within him, and when the cauldron, with its vague but hopeful words, brought them back into their trap, he was ready to fight.

He pushed Elain behind him, protecting her against the wall as he let his power explode in a blinding light. 

After that, he took just a moment to realize what was actually happening all around.

The sorcerer and Bryaxis were no longer the only presences in the room. The cauldron was right, and help had indeed arrived.

Rhysand, Cassian, and a woman he recognized as Nesta wearing that terrifying mask were fighting against the creatures, while two other figures advanced towards them, leaving the fight.

He saw Elain run and throw herself into the shadowsinger’s arms, while someone else headed towards him. He didn't know what to say, and the High Lord of the Day Court seemed equally embarrassed. He… knew.? Why was he here?

“Lucien” was all he said.

Lucien didn't know what to do. He was a High Lord. Was he supposed to kneel? Weren’t they losing time from the fight?

Azriel, with Elain in his arms and protected by his outstretched wings, finally addressed them, breaking the momentary silence filled with unspoken things. “Did something happen inside the cauldron?” His gaze fixed on Lucien, but was devoid of the usual hostility.

He looked at Elain and nodded. It was something she had to say. 

“We’re no longer… mates.”

Helion stepped forward swiftly, his tone accusatory towards Elain. “You rejected the bond?”

Azriel tensed, but before either he or Elain could speak, Lucien intervened. “We both did. A gift from the cauldron, I believe.”

“What does that mean?” Helion asked.

Elain explained. “The bond… it no longer exists between us. It wasn’t meant to be, I think, from the beginning. The cauldron allowed it to find another home.”

Azriel swallowed. “This seems impossible.”

“But it happened,” Elain smiled at him, only love and devotion in her gaze.

Suddenly, the walls trembled, reminding them of the battle currently aking place. Cassian flew overhead, dust and blood on his face, his siphons glowing. “Can we postpone this tender moment? We kinda need your help.”

Lucien, despite everything, smiled and looked at the man beside him, at the power and the light emanating from his hands.

“I want to learn from you,” he said suddenly.

Helion’s eyes sparkled, and then a grin formed on his face. “Then take a look.”

***

Azriel could only think about Elain. She seemed to be fine, and he had finally found her. 

Now, the two most powerful High Lords in Prythian were fighting the monsters that had harmed her.They had forced them into retreat. He heard Rhys say in his mind that Koschei was about to winnow, as he could feel his magic preparing for it despite the strong spells of the prison. 

There was nothing they could do to prevent it, but it was still a victory. Now they needed to make sure the two of them never got near the cauldron, or Elain, ever again. 

They moved to a safe place, taking the cauldron with them. They relocated it to the Court of Nightmares, as it was the best plan at the moment. Through it all, Azriel kept Elain by his side, an arm constantly wrapped around her shoulders or her waist, as he feared she might disappear again at any moment. It had already been twice now that he hadn’t been able to protect her.

 While Rhys and Helion were discussing the details of their next moves, Lucien approached them with uncertain steps. Their scent was different now. The scent of their bond... he didn't feel it anymore. Not as if it had weakened, but as if it had never existed.

Elain slowly slipped out of his arms, reaching Lucien. Then, rising on her toes, she hugged him, a tear sliding down her cheek, followed by an equally sad expression on his face. The fae then cleared his throat as she slipped out of the embrace. “I’m going to stay in the Day Court.”

Elain nodded. “I'm sorry for not telling you first.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “It wasn't your place to do it. I'm glad, though, that I found out with you.”

They smiled at each other, and Azriel finally stepped up. He looked the male in the eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, sincerity seeping from his words, gratitude in his gaze.

He knew Lucien had kept her safe, despite everything.

“I wouldn't have done anything different,” Lucien said.

“I know,” Azriel added. “I know.”

And then, as she felt Elain contain a gasp, they hugged. It was short and fast, but felt all the way.

Azriel’s mind was still trying to wrap around it all. He wasn't her mate anymore. She wasn't his mate anymore.

She only had him now, her carranam. And a whole lot of enemies he was going to hunt down.

Chapter Text

The air that evening was a pleasant cool breeze against her skin, slythering through the curtains of Azriel’s bedroom at Rose Hall.

Elain took a deep breath, then slowly turned towards him. He was standing still at the center of the room. 

She was tired of passively waiting for things to happen.

She turned to face him, her hands lingering over the knot of her robe. She didn't untie it, though. Instead, she walked toward him, putting her hand on his naked chest, right above his heart. 

His chest began rising and falling against her hand with increasing speed. His pupils had become two black holes, swallowing the hazel of his eyes until only the tiniest ring remained. She let her fingers trace the profile of his tattoos. 

“Elain,” he breathed.

She pushed him toward the bed, her steps following his until he laid on it. Then, she looked down at him. 

“For once, I'm doing what I want,” she said. 

“And what is it?”. 

Her hands finally let go of the knot on her robe. Azriel hissed, eyes running everywhere along her body. 

“I want to be in control of my life, Az” she whispered, getting closer to him. “I decide what happens to me”.

He looked up at her from the bed, leaning on his forearm. His naked chest distracted her from a moment from what she wanted to say. 

“I'm yours, Elain. Do what you please with me”. 

Heat pooled all over her at his words. 

She came on the bed, leaning over him. Her hairs fell all over them, his hands encircling her waist. He looked at her expectantly, breathing her in. She did the same with him.

“Would you do anything I asked you to?” she asked. She shifted her hips, rubbing herself along his shaft. They both gasped. 

“Anything” he said through gritted teeth. 

She moved her hair from her shoulders. “Then bite me”.

His eyes darkened as the whole room swept into darkness, the shadows rising all around them. With a swift move, he shifted their bodies so that he laid on top of her. He quickly got rid of his pants, the last barrier between their bodies. His wings spread all around them, shutting them out from the rest of the world. 

There were only the two of them, their naked bodies, skin, sweat and labored breaths. And that burning need to get lost in each other. 

His lips ventured on her neck, yet his touch was light. Too light. Regardless, she shivered. Chills run along her nerves, making her toes arch against the mattress. She was so ready for him already. 

She dared to look down, seeing that he was just as hard and ready as she was.

“I need you now, Az” she said, lifting her hips. 

The tip of his cock caressed her slit. He leaned his forehead against hers. “All you want, Elain. I’ll give you all you want”. 

He entered her. Slowly, making her feel every inch and every vein as he stretched her. She closed her eyes, marveling at the feeling of him inside and all around her. 

He gave her a few second to adjust before he started thrusting in and out of her. Their mouth clashed against each other. It wasn’t sweet. It was messy, eager. Too fast and yet non fast enough. 

The edge was close, but she didn't want to jump yet.

She needed him to do it now. 

She moved her lips away from his, offering him her neck instead. His rhythm faltered for a second, before a new kind of hunger clouded his gaze. 

“Are you sure?” he breathed. 

She looked into his eyes. “I’ve never been more sure of anything”.

His eyes closed. “God” he started kissing her neck, tasting it with his tongue. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me” his teeth grazed her skin, just lightly.

“Do it” she wrapped her arms around his neck, caging his face. “Please Azriel”. He was still moving inside her, his hips rubbing her clit just right. 

She felt his teeth again, stronger this time. 

“Yes” she breathed. “Yes, Azriel, please”.

“Everything you want. Whatever you want”. 

And then, she felt his teeth break her skin. A warm, small drop of blood ran along her neck, his lips and tongue chasing it. A prickling feeling invaded all of her body.

Even though she had been close, she was still surprised at the strength of the orgasm that ran through her. 

She clung to him as he did the same, his body also shaking.

Several seconds passed before both of their bodies stopped trembling, but when it finally happened, Elain searched for his eyes. They seemed... brighter than usual. His expression reflected an awe, a feeling that she could feel within herself, so strong and intense that her eyes filled with silent tears of joy, which began to stream down her cheeks.

Azriel didn’t ask her why she was crying, because he knew already. What she felt, he felt too. They were finally bound now, in a way that was unique and special, something that was theirs alone. 

She was his. He was hers.

He moved off her and lay down at her side, wrapping her in his arms and wings.

They looked into each other’s eyes, just smiling. 

**

Their powers were united, one and only. Azriel, deep down, had always known it. Even when she was still human, he had noticed the strange reaction his shadows had to her. They were fascinated by her, but at the same time feared they might taint her with their darkness. He hadn't been fully able to control them when it came to her, and now it was clear why, now everything made sense.

Elain could talk to his shadows and he... he felt this new energy in his blood. A new power that they would learn together how to control.

 The things they could do, together.

There were other problems to face at the moment, however. The room was silent, all the eyes on them. There must have been something different about their scent now, because every fae in the room was looking at them as if they had grown a second head.

He knew neither Rhysand or Mor had ever seen anything like this before. The bond between carranam was even rarer than that between mates.

It was Amren who stepped forward, breaking that stunned silence. “I have seen something similar before,” she sighed. “More or less so”.

They waited for her to explain. “I knew two fae. They had this bond but…” she shook her head.

“What?” Azriel raised an eyebrow.

“They could share their magic, communicate telepathically. A great advantage, especially in battle.”

They all waited in silence.

“It happens. Just like the mating bond. No one can choose it.”

Elain squeezed his hand.

“But I must say…” Amren continued, glancing between the two of them with something close to awe, “I’ve never seen it like this. Different mating bonds, and different carranam bonds. No one is ever blessed with both, and in two different individuals, nonetheless”.

“Noone was ever even gifted by the cauldron itself” Elain said, surprising everyone with her baldnessm “Or no one has ever taken from it. Or, still, no one has ever been given power from all the High Lords. Things happen”.

Amren seemed to have nothing more to add. She simply nodded, keeping her cold gaze fixed on her. Elain didn’t flinch, returning her gaze head-on. Azriel felt so proud of her at that moment.

When Amren finally let go, Elain told them everything she had seen and what had happened while she was away. The sorcerer, Bryaxis, the spells in the prison. Greysen, the cauldron, what they wanted her to do... and also what she had seen inside it.

“So Greysen...?” Nesta hesitated.

Elain nodded. “They killed him. But I’m not sure how much of him was left in that body after what they had done to him.”

“And the cauldron?” Feyre asked. “Are you sure about what you said?”

Elain nodded firmly, then sought out the eyes of the High Lord. “They’re in retreat. They know the cauldron is with us, no matter where it’s hidden, they won’t come for it directly. And for the cauldron itself… It will help us, I’m sure of that.”

Once Rhys seemed convinced enough, Elain searched Mor's eyes.

“You could have just talked about it.”

The blonde held her gaze. “No, I couldn’t.”

Elain turned to Rhysand then. “I expect not to be treated like a child anymore. If something happens that directly concerns me, I deserve to know.”

Nesta stepped forward, her voice almost breaking as she spoke. “When you went into the cauldron…”

“Yes,” Elain cut her off. “That, I already know. Not thanks to you.”

Silence fell over the room. No one dared break it, watching the quiet and lethal force of nature that was Elain.

Finally, she turned towards Mor again. “I'm going to help Vassa. With the cauldron’s power, I'm going to break her curse.”

They all stilled.

Rhysand stepped up. “Elain-”

She spoke to Mor only. “Bring her here. And then bring me to the cauldron.”

Azriel spoke to the blonde then. “There’s something else we need to put an end to”.

She shivered, “If you think it’s the wise thing to do.”

“I believe it is” came the cold reply from the shadowsinger.

“We can discuss this later,” Mor said through gritted teeth, her eyes darting around the room as if she feared someone could discover the secret she had kept for centuries, hidden even from him, her so-called mate.

But they couldn’t know. Somehow, her power had made sure of it.

“What difference does it make?” Az asked, raising an eyebrow. “They don’t know, and they can’t know.” When her expression seemed to shift, he added, “Don’t ask me how I finally figured it out.” He walked over to Elain and took her hand. “My power has changed, but there’s still one small, tiny obstacle to remove before our magics can truly belong to one another.”

He looked at Rhys, who had been following the strange conversation with a worried expression. Even the High Lord had never fully understood how Mor’s power worked.

“Take Elain to the cauldron”.

***

Elain made everyone leave the room. She wanted it to unfold this way.

When she was sure Rhysand's power was far enough, she took a deep breath and circled around the cauldron, her fingers brushing against its now-familiar metallic surface. She swore she could feel it purr in response, its magic beginning to resonate with the power running through her own veins, like two sides of the same coin. Azriel watched her with a hint of a smile on his face, while Mor looked defensive, almost as much as the red-haired queen at her side.

Elain closed her eyes, placing her full palm against the metal surface. Its waters began to stir in response to her call. Then, after a few seconds, they seemed to calm and shift, taking on a different color.

Mor took a step forward, her hand tightly clasped with the queen’s.

Elain raised a single finger, stopping her.

“You alone,” she said.

Uncertain, Mor and Vassa separated, but when the queen moved forward, Elain shook her head.

“You, Mor.”

The confusion on the blonde’s face seemed to clear when the shadowsinger stepped forward from the corner where he’d been hidden.

“Just you and me,” Azriel said, locking eyes with her. “First, we're going to get this over with.”

Elain felt another weight lift from her chest. After all the obstacles, this was the final piece, the last obstacle standing between her and the love of her life. After this, they would belong to each other, indissolubly.

“Are you—” an outraged expression briefly distorted Mor’s beautiful features. “Is this blackmail? Are you forcing me to break the bond or you won't help Vassa?”

“It’s gone on long enough,” Azriel said, his voice cold and sharp as the blade he constantly carried by his side.

Mor was about to protest again, probably fearing the effects that breaking the bond would have on her powers, when Vassa spoke.

“Just do it,” she said, her eyes pleading with Mor.

“This ends now,” Azriel repeated.

Mor looked at him. “It could affect you too.”

“I don’t care.”

“How do we even know it will work?”

Elain took a step forward. “Because the Cauldron did it for me, and it will do it again.”

“And then you’ll help Vassa?”

Elain met both women’s gazes. “I will heal her”.

Elain closed her eyes, her fingers dipping into the cauldron’s waters once more, focusing until that  familiar figure was before her again.

“I’m getting used to you, Elain. What brings you to me again?”

“I need your help.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“No,” she said firmly. “But I need you to break a curse.”

“I don’t sense any curse on you.”

“It’s not about me. It concerns someone else.”

“I see,” said the cauldron. “If I didn’t know you so well, I’d say your constant concern for others it's as fascinating as it's naive. A soul so young and pure in a world so cruel… But you’ve taught me that even the purest beings have a touch of darkness within them.”

“I wanted to thank you for breaking the bond between Azriel and Mor.”

“You and the shadowsinger have made your decision, it was no longer my place to obstruct it.”

“Thank you, for that.”

“But?” the cauldron asked.

“I need your help one last time.”

Elain swore she heard a sound like a hint of laughter come from him, though it seemed impossible.

“Oh, Elain Archeron, I sincerely hope it’s not the last time we meet. What else can I do for you?”

Vassa plunged into the cauldron then. When she emerged in her human form, she looked pale, smaller. 

Her eyes met Elain’s. “Thank you.”

She looked frightened. Elain wondered if she had appeared that way herself when she first emerged from the cauldron. A shiver passed through her at the thought, but was dispelled by a firm hand on her shoulder bringing her back to the present, and by the gentle caress of shadows around her ankles.

Mor wrapped the queen in a blanket while Rhys moved toward them.

“I’m glad everything turned out well,” he began. “But your actions have put everyone in this court at risk. And the fact that the cauldron fell into the hands of Bryaxis and Koschei…” His gaze grew darker, more threatening and terrifying.

“Worse could have happened if not for the bond linking it to Elain. To hand such power to those individuals…”

“His power would not have responded to them,” Vassa replied, her voice weak but loud enough to be heard by everyone present.

“That’s something we know now,” Rhys’s words left his lips before they tightened into thin lines. He turned to Mor. “You are free to host her until she is well enough to travel, but she will not stay in Velaris.”

“Are you exiling her?” The blonde’s shock was tempered when the queen placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I will return to the lands of the humans.”

Rhysand nodded. “And you'll never come near the cauldron again.”

“I have no intention of doing so.”

“It's settled then,” concluded the High Lord. Vassa huddled in the blanket as Mor escorted her out of the room and home.

When they were gone, Rhys turned to her and Azriel.

“I suppose I owe you an apology, Elain. And I must also thank you for helping Vassa and Mor.”

“I would never have refused”.

The High Lord’s eyes flicked between the two of them.

“The River House is yours. Consider it my gift to apologize.”

Elain opened her mouth, uncertain. She wanted to protest that it was too much, and they couldn’t accept it, yet Azriel already had a smirk on his face. “I think we may actually stay in another place.”

Rose Hall.

Understanding passed between the two male gazes before Rhys nodded.

And then they flew home.

***

Azriel focused, his hand tightly clasped in hers, and closed his eyes. The power surged into his mind, like overwhelming force. He felt dizzy as something began to shift and move beneath his eyelids. Like a dream, but much more real. Only the feeling of her hand in his helped him remember that the real word was beyond his eyelids.

He found the healers in a place he didn’t recognize. It was dark, probably cold, judging by the sound of their chattering teeth.

“We’ve lost,” Benjamin kept saying.

 “We tried. It’s not over yet.”

“We lost both the cauldron and the girl. You won’t be able to help her anyway, your queen.”

Azriel struggled to focus on Madja. The image, however, began to waver, as if he had expended too much energy.

He felt Elain’s grip tighten. She too was growing tired, but they needed to know.

Benjamin’s voice shook as his body was wracked with shivers. “We could have just talked to her. She would have helped us.”

Madja remained immovable, stoic. “I don't doubt the goodness of her heart, but the High Lord wouldn’t have allowed it. And neither the Shadowsinger.”

Benjamin seemed to flinch at his mention, looking around as if fearing he might appear in that cell at any moment.

“Now they have the cauldron again,” the boy said after a moment of silence. “And they have her. Do you think they know about her heritage?”

Azriel’s interest was piqued, to the point where he used all his strength to cling to that vision and ensure it didn’t slip away.

“I don't think so” the woman continued. “It's just the cauldron they care about. Somehow, it responds to her. Their powers are intrinsically connected and dependent on each other. If one ceases to exist, so does the other.”

 Benjamin started whispering, even if it was only the two of them. “But you said there’s more. Most of her power comes from the cauldron, but—”

“Yes” agreed the old woman. “I believe there’s a small part of it that's intrinsic to her, there since she was human” she grimaced. “I couldn’t say it when I first met her because… I was terrified. That darkness, that kind of power. I had encountered it only once before.”

“With the witch,” Benjamin hummed.

“With the witch,” confirmed Madja.

What were they talking about? What did it have to do with Elain? 

When they emerged from that vision, his head spun and his stomach felt unstable. He felt like he was going to vomit. He hadn’t felt this way for centuries… since the times when he learned how to winnow.

Elain cradled his head in her hands. He leaned into her and her gentle touch, taking deep breaths.

 “God… does it always feel like this?”

“It gets better with time.”

Her voice was so soft. He shook his head. “I hate that you had to go through all this alone. It took us too long to figure out what was happening.”

“It was you, Azriel,” she leaned her forehead against his. “You figured it out. It was always you.”

“Our powers,” he sighed. “They reached for each other before we even realized. It was always you, Elain.”

Her expression shifted. “What do you think they meant when they mentioned the witch?”

His gaze grew thoughtful. “I don’t know, but we’ll find out.” There was a pause, a sigh, then those chocolate cake eyes found his again.

Understanding like he had never felt before passed between them. Together, there was nothing they couldn't face.

***

Finding the healers hadn't been a priority before, but now that Elain and Lucien were home and the Cauldron was safe, they could focus on this. 

The conversation that Elain and Azriel had overheard had intrigued them, awakening in Elain a doubt, a thought she had carried with her for years, until she had buried it beneath larger problems: hunger, cold, poverty, the ruin of her family and all that happened afterward.

Thanks to what was now their power, finding where the healers were hidden—or rather, imprisoned—was not difficult.

Rhysand prepared the perfect cover for them. While he, Feyre, Cassian, and Mor entered the Court of Nightmares, Elain and Azriel slipped into the depths of the large, intimidating palace.

Shadows cloaked their bodies in custom-made suits, blending them with the darkness of the narrow corridors. Most of the guards had been called upstairs for the arrival of the High Lord, but a few still patrolled the hallways of the dungeons. Azriel quickly disarmed them as they descended.

Whispers, grunts, and sounds of astonishment occasionally came from the various prisoners who caught glimpses of two shadowy figures darting past their cells.

Elain could feel the healers. They were close, almost there…

Their footsteps were silent, stealthy, imperceptible even to the sharpest Fae ears.

Azriel slowed his pace as they approached and she did the same. There were no other guards around their cell, just two huddled figures sat in the dark on a filthy floor.

When they were in front of them, more than two shadowy shapes in the darkness, Madja flinched, and her hand found the arm of her young assistant, whose head was resting against the wall, eyes closed, breath heavy. He appeared ill.

Elain noticed he was naked, while two cotton blankets covered the woman from head to toe.

When Benjamin slowly opened his eyes, she and Azriel allowed the shadows to dissipate, revealing their faces. Madja didn’t seem surprised. The young fae flinched, his frightened gaze darting quickly between them.

“Elain, I’m really sorry, I—”

Elain raised a hand and silenced him. “We’ll have time for that later,” she said, taking a breath. Azriel squeezed her hand, a brief gesture hidden from external eyes, shielded by their protective shadows.

“How did you ended up here?” she asked them, surprised to find her voice steady. She had the power now, and she liked the feeling.

Madja kept her lips sealed, though she looked away as if she couldn’t bear to meet her eyes. Benjamin, however, was quick to confess.

“Keir captured us while we were escaping. I’m so sorry. It was a mistake, but you need to know that it was never our intention to put you in danger, Elain.”

“Why did he capture you and keep you here? Why didn’t he hand you over to Rhys immediately? He has to rapport to the High Lord always”.

This time it was Madja who spoke, addressing him. “Take a guess”

Azriel’s calm shattered, and with a roar of rage, he said, “Did you tell him about her? About her power?”

“Do you think we would be in this state if we had? That he would have let us in this filthy cell if we had handed him some precious information?”

“You better be telling the truth”.

Some people burned with rage, and it was like a flame consuming everything in its path. Not Azriel, though. His fury was cold, penetrating to the bones.

Elain took control of the conversation again. “We can get you out,” Benjamin’s eyes lit up at the words. “But you will remain our prisoners until you answer all of our questions.”

“I’ll tell you everything, Elain, I swear,” the young man continued, looking at her with hope and regret. However, Elain was now staring only at the woman, waiting for her response, her reaction.

“I will speak,” the woman finally said.

Elain continued to look into her eyes. “About everything.”

She saw a moment of hesitation on her face, then understanding, quickly followed by terror. In the end, though shivering, the woman gave a slight nod.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Azriel’s dungeons were cold and damp, a stretch of gray stone and dense shadows. The torches fixed to the walls cast flickering lights on the faces of the bound prisoners, Madja and Benjamin, who were facing Elain and Azriel. The two were seated at a long wooden table, no need for physical bindings. It would be impossibile for them to escape these dungeons.

Madja, the healer, looked paler than usual, her face etched with fear and regret. Benjamin, her assistant, was impassive, but his eyes betrayed palpable nervousness. Azriel, with his intimidating aura, leaned against the table, while Elain remained rigid at his side, her gaze fixed on Madja.

“We didn’t want to hurt you, Elain, truly,” Benjamin’s voice was a plea, breaking against the stones around them. “I would never—” he swallowed. “I would never have let them harm you.”

Azriel, turning the truth-teller between his fingers, stopped, his palm resting on the sharp blade. “What do you mean?”

“I—” he faltered, then looked down. Despite the darkness, the redness on his cheeks was evident.

Azriel leaned over the wooden table, coming face to face with him. “I might almost be moved by this confession if your actions hadn’t been so pathetic.”

Benjamin dared to look up, glancing first at Elain, then at the Shadowsinger. “Whatever you two did with your magics… it was wrong. You are wrong for each other, unnatural.”

Azriel’s shoulders tensed, the shadows swirling around his feet.

“We’re not, but it’s none of your business anyway” Elain said in a harsh tone. “I chose Azriel, and I will continue to choose him for the rest of this immortal life.”

With that, she dismissed him, turning to the healer. “What do you have to say?”

“I wanted to help Vassa, nothing more. The plan never intended to harm or imprison you, only to temporarily use the connection between you and the Cauldron to heal her.”

Azriel released his hold Benjamin, after the shadows had sufficiently terrified him by swirling around him, and turned to the woman. “How did you know? How did you know about the link between Elain’s power and the Cauldron?”

“Her story isn’t as secret as you think. Human sisters thrown into the Cauldron and emerging as High Fae. One with the power of death and the other…” she pursed her lips. “The aura of mystery surrounding her only heightened the curiosity, the craving for whatever power you might have gained from the Cauldron. And then I felt it myself, when I came to visit you, shortly after everything had happened.”

Elain stepped forward. “What else did you feel that day?”

Madja hesitated, weighing her words. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“You know very well,” Elain continued determinedly. “Besides the power of the Cauldron, what else did you feel?”

“I lied, you know,” she said. “When I came to visit you, when I tried to enter your mind to understand what was happening to you… I said I couldn’t do it, that it would be difficult for anyone and it was better not to try.” She raised her gaze. “Do you want to know the truth?”

“You’d better hurry up,” Azriel warned.

Madja barely parted her lips. “The truth is that what I saw made me run away with my tail between my legs. What I sensed inside you. And it wasn’t the power of the Cauldron, the light, or life, or whatever others choose to call it.”

“What was it?” Elain asked, letting the authoritative mask she had worn until now slip away. Her heart was pounding. She felt that the final knot of the tangled mass that had overwhelmed her life was finally about to unravel, and then she would finally be free.

“Darkness, but not like the kind we know. A different power, hidden in your blood…”

“In her blood?” Azriel asked. Even his face, now, had let go of the warrior’s mask  and was full of concern.

Elain squeezed his hand as the healer continued her story. “In her blood. Something that was passed down to her long before she entered the Cauldron.”

“But that would mean…” Azriel pondered, stopping before his voice betrayed a slight tremor. Elain recognized the hesitation in the tension in his shoulders.

“My father and mother were simple humans,” Elain cleared her troath.

“Rhysand would know… he would have sensed it if Feyre had been part magical, if she had another magic in her blood,”Azriel interjected. “Their bond would have made him feel it”.

Elain held her breath, anticipating the words that came from the old woman’s mouth. “But we’re not talking about Feyre here, are we?”

Azriel got closer to her, gently caressing her foream.

“Do you think she’s lying?” he made the shadows whisper.

Elain shook her head slightly.

“You’ve always suspected it,” the woman continued, looking straight into Elaine's eyes. “After all, you’ve always wondered why you were so different from your sisters. Daddy’s favorite, but the one mom couldn’t stand, the one she couldn’t wait to marry off to the highest bidder. She hated your pretty face, it reminded her too much of your father's betrayal”. 

“Enough,” Azriel interrupted her, the shadows rising and swallowing up the faint light of the candles on the walls. “We’re done here. The High Lord will decide your fate, but don’t expect a pleasant stay in the city”.

***

Evening was settling over Velaris, wrapping the town in a cloak of golden light and longbshadows. The gentle breeze blowing through the open window seemed to carry the echo of a thousand secrets, and the scents of night-blooming flowers mingled with the silence. Azriel and Elain were on the private terrace of Rose Hall, a secluded spot offering a breathtaking view of the glittering sea and the lights of the city below.

Elain leaned against the railing, her face bathed in the warm glow of the sunset, while Azriel sat beside her, his body tense yet relaxed. His wings were draped elegantly, enhancing his regal and mysterious appearance. A conspiratorial silence reigned between them, broken only by the distant sounds of the city and the whisper of the wind.

“I always thought the answers I was seeking were within the cauldron,” Elain began, breaking the silence with a soft, reflective voice. “But now, after discovering the truth about my mother… I understand why I always felt different, out of place”.

“Do you still feel like that?” he said, coming closer to her.

She smiled, shooking her head. “Not with you by my side. You saw me for who I truly am, every single part, even the ones I was hiding from myself.”

 “This doesn't change anything”. Azriel took her face in his hands. “I see you, Elain. You’re not defined only by your past or your origins. You’re defined by your choices. And I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll keep choosing me. Because I love you. In all that you are, whether it's light or darkness or anything in betweens, and there’s nothing that can change that.”

A faint, sincere smile appeared on Elain’s lips. “You’ve saved me, Azriel. In every possible way. I love you, and as long as there's a beat in my heart, I'll keep choosing you”

Azriel tilted his head, his face lit by the sunset light, giving his skin an almost golden hue. “No matter what happens from now on. What matters is that we face it together.”

Elain nodded. “Together.”

He gently pulled her closer, his lips a breath away from hers. “Against all odds.”

Elain’s lips met his in a sweet, passionate kiss, a seal to their silent declaration. In the warm glow of the sunset, amidst the stretching shadows and the softly whispering wind. “Against all odds”.