The Last Scholar of Akatan
Summary: Nim has been hiding deep within the winter court since the last dragon died a century ago. As the elusive black dragon egg is expected to hatch very soon, she is thrust into working along side the Shadowsinger of the Night Court.
The metallic stench of blood and sweat seemed to seep into every corner of the Illyrian war camps. The damp walls of the tent no exception. The only thing worse than the smell was the unrelenting frozen wind that filled the small tent, the thin canvas no match against the elements. You were sure that you would die any day now. If not at an Illyrian blade, then to hypothermia.
It must have been weeks since you were taken, if the raw wrists beneath heavy magic repressing chains was any indication. In that time you had been dragged across endless kilometres of frost cover mud and rock over the Illyrian mountains. The exhaustion had set in three days ago, when your legs finally gave out. Even at the threats of a blade to the throat, your body no longer protested, it had given up. Three days in this damp cold tent with no food.
Despite the hunger, the solitude was welcomed. Perhaps they thought the isolation would make you nervous, antsy. But it was the one blessing you had been given all these weeks. It was familiar, the only semblance of home.
The only presence over these three days had been Luca, the aching in your palms a plea to be let out. That was the real torture of all this, knowing your familiar was trapped, unable to stretch her legs or feel the snow beneath her paws.
'Soon' you tried to sooth, even though you had been repeating the same thing over and over these past weeks.
The precious silence was broken as an Illyrian soldier stormed into the tent. He didn't utter a word as he yanked your bound wrist by a chain, hauling you no doubt to the commander. Panic started to wined its way around your throat. The commander had been growing angrier by the day, giving me deep cuts across the soles of your feet before packing the wounds with mud as a parting gift. Your shredded feet fumbled beneath you as you tried to keep up. Boney knees collided with stone hard mud as you were thrown into the tent. The commander already pacing forward before you could notice anything but the pain shooting through your weak legs and the throb of your feet.
He paced, inches from your kneeling form. He had grown impatient. He knew you had been leading him nowhere remotely useful over there trips from camp to camp, cave to cave.
He halted; your eyes glued to his filthy boots. You had wondered how long it would take him to realise you would never give him any real information about the possible whereabouts of the egg. You would die before you gave over even a sliver of remotely valuable information to the Illyrian's. After all they'd taken from you over only a few weeks, you'd lead them in circles for the rest of your life if you had to.
"You." The commander spat with venom.
Slowly, you schooled your expression into neutrality and vacancy as your eyes meet the raging ones above.
"Yes." you answered, trying to keep your voice from wavering.
"Do you take me for some kind of fool!" He bellowed as he gripped a handful of matted hair.
You were sure your scalp would rip clean off your skull. A muffled yell escaped, at the pain but mostly frustration finally escaping your hold. If only it would simply end. That the commander would be overcome with rage and kill you before he could order your continued torture. But in the back of your mind you heard that rational voice whisper. If you died, Luca would be released. And you couldn't stomach the thought of what they would do to her. How they would enslave or slowly kill her.
"You've been leading me in fucking circles!" He spat, landing a blow that came crashing into your cheekbone.
It was hard to hear as the commander continued to scream, the sharp pain spreading over your entire face, another blow landing square into your stomach. Bile made its way up your throat as the remaining content of your stomach emptied onto the floor.
You heaved, desperately trying to hold back sobs and keep at least a small pathetic piece of dignity. Bracing yourself, you readied for more pain. But the blows ceased, and silence fell over the tent. Two sets of footsteps made their way through the canvas flaps, stopping just inside.
The vice grip on your hair released, and the side of your already bruising face collided with the mud bellow.
"And who is your newest friend, Henry." A male voice called. The words casual, but his tone was laced with disapproval and annoyance. The way he addressed the commander told you enough to know the new male outranked him.
"What do you want." the commander demanded.
"I want to know why this girl is in chains." The new man said, slowly making his way to the side of the tent, looking over your slumped form.
"That's none of your business."
Consciousness was slipping further from your grasp. Your head was pounding and the dampness seemed to be penetrating through your skin to your very bones. Your palms were pulsing as Luca grew more and more distressed at your current state.
"When you've been so adamantly trying to hide her from us it is." A steady monotone voice said, the second intruder.
If there was anything left in your stomach, any strength left in your muscles, you were sure you would have vomited again. If higher ups of the Illyrian force where here, it surely wasn't to bring anything better than the torment Henry had been inflicting.
"She must be valuable." The first male mused.
Some sense of relief washed over you as you realised these new comers clearly didn't know who you were, why you were here. That was one slim advantage if you were again to be taken.
"I should thank you then Henry, for bring us something of use for once."
The amusement in his tone had the commander baring his teeth at the man, red rage threatening to burst from him.
"You go on Az, I'll clean up a few things here before I join you." The male said.
Before you could contemplate if being left here would be worse than being forced into a potentially more dangerous situation, you were swept up in two strong arms.
The feeling of being pressed against a hard chest had panic forcing your exhausted limbs to move. Hands bound, you thrashed your legs into the arms of the man carrying you. Every point of contact made you feel overwhelmingly claustrophobic. You finally lifted your head to view the stone faced Illyrian man that was beginning to walk away from the camp.
"Let me go!" you tried to scream, but the words were hoarse and barely audible.
Before you could fling yourself from his grasp, black waved of smoke enveloped you. And you were winnowed from the camp.
The world seemed to continue its spinning even as you were set down out of the male's grip. Blinking repeatedly, you tried to sharpen your vision as the room around slowly came into focus.
The small space was empty save for the rickety wooden chair you had been placed on, and a stool across from you that the Illyrian was perched upon. He was tall, his cropped dark hair tussled from the winds of the war camp. Clad in Illyrian fighting leathers, the seven blue siphons told you all you needed to know.
The man before you must be the High Lords Shadowsinger. His spymaster. Black tendrils of shadow moved lazily around his form. His large black wings held behind him. Golden hazel eyes where boring into your own, and despite the deep discomfort it sent through you, you refused to look away.
Silence fell across the room, both you and the Shadowsinger refusing to speak first. His sharp features made his vacant expression all the more intimidating.
But he didn't know your identity. If the Shadowsinger was aware, you would have been taken to the High Lord, Rhysand. Not to a cell. You tried to settle on which option was worse.
You didn't have it in yourself to get into the middle of this witch hunt for an egg that didn't even exist. You wouldn't put yourself through that again. Even if it was for an old friend. You couldn't.
After a tense minute of staring, you felt the sting of shame and frustration as you were the first to avert your eyes. You chose to stare at your left palm, focusing on the red ring that took up most of it. An identical tattoo sitting on your other. With your eyes you traced the ring, round and round, trying to steady your racing heart and centre yourself back into your body.
"What's your name." The Shadowsinger asked, but the flat tone made it feel like a demand.
You were given a chance to leave the war camps, and even though you was grateful to finally be out of the thundering wind, you weren't grateful enough to give up any bit of information that would reveal your identity. So you kept your mouth tightly shut.
"The commander often takes prisoners without just cause." He said next.
You knew what he was doing. Trying to get you to feel safe, to reveal that you was just an innocent girl wrongly taken. But you had a feeling he would know instantly if you were lying, so you said nothing. The magic restricting chains around you were enough of a giveaway that you weren't some unsuspecting victim of the commander's foul mood. You kept your gaze focused on your palm, refusing to let your body language reveal anything to the spymaster.
Silence blanketed the room, for several minutes there wasn't a single sound. You were almost tempted to lift your head, and see if the Shadowsinger was still across the room. Until you heard the unsheathing of a blade. Your breath caught in your throat.
"What is your name." He repeated again, voice slowly inching towards me.
There was a soft pattering of a few footsteps before two large black boots fell into your eyeline as you starred at the ground.
His voice was quiet, coming from where he towered over you. The command smooth as velvet and cold as death as it came from him.
Every instinct in your body said obey. Obey or reap the consequences. But you kept your head down as tears threatened to fall from refusal to so much as blink.
Slowly, smoky black tendrils swam towards your feet. And the ice returned to your bones, frozen in fear as they travelled their way up.
"Look" he whispered in warning.
Your head still refused to move, out of determination or fright, you did not know. Shadows gentle made their way to your face. Like a snake one slithered it's way up and around your neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The touch feather light as it slid under your chin. Anger flooded through you as his phantom touch along your skin continued painfully slow. The shadows following his command to take their time as the daunting helplessness overcame his victim. Your body refused to deny the shadows as they lifted your face, the sensation causing every hair on your body to raise.
Against your will, your head slid back to reveal the planes of your pale face to the man above. Satisfied, the shadows slid back to their master, the touch still burnt into your skin even as they left. You let all the rage and defiance show as you stare straight back into those amber eyes. They searched your face, as if trying to see where across the slight curves there, he would find your name hidden. You wanted to reach up and slap him if only to see if his face was capable to making even a slight expression.
"I'll ask one more time, what is your name." He whispered.
You tried to keep the defiance in your eyes, but as you noticed his wrist moving, you couldn't stop your eyes from flitting down. you couldn't pull your attention away from his slender sacred fingers as the gently twirled a glinting blade. You snapped your gaze back up to his and mustered all the courage you had left.
"Fuck. You." you gritted, preparing for the knife to make its way to your skin. If you were going to die down here, then at least Luca would have a chance to maul the Shadowsinger before he realised what was upon him.
And it was the first flicker of emotion in those eyes, the faint satisfaction that swam deep within, that you knew you had given him the answer he had wanted. You watched from your periphery as he slowly raised the lethal blade, racking his eyes over your body to find the perfect spot to lodge it.
The cold metal made contact with the sliver of exposed skin below the hem of your filthy top, inching tortuously slow from hip to hip. Your breath hitched, the sensation jolting you. The pressure was barely a graze as the metal traced the line that he would push down across to disembowel you. His eyes fixated on the red ring across your finger, and it was when the tip of razor sharp metal began to pierce the thin skin of your index finger that you knew this was the begin of a very painful end. His eyes found yours as the tip of the blade halted a few millimetres below your skin. You dug your fingernail into your opposite hand to stop yourself from screaming.
"Tell me your name." He said, but his eyes were lazer focused on the blood that was beading at the entry wound. He might as well have been hypnotised by the liquid.
You prepared yourself for the wounds that he would inflict that would likely make the nearly infected ones on your feet that Henry had given you look like child's play.
His stilled momentary, and drew the blade away.
"I'll give you some time to think about if keeping your mouth shut will really be worth losing a finger."
And with that he vanished, leaving you alone in the cell. It was a long while after he left before the tremors across your body stilled. A small tray with water, bread and some sort of broth had appeared in the corner. You looked the cell over, searching for anything that would help you escape. But the stone walls of the room were boxed off with a matching stone floor and roof. It was useless. You tried to lull yourself into sleep, letting the memories of the small arctic rabbits that were likely forming new burrows for the even colder season back home. You added finding some better quality hay for the white balls of fluff to your list of chores that would need urgent attendance once you were back home. But you likely wouldn't ever go back there. You hoped that once you died, Po would get the message to Sen and she could make sure someone took over your duties.
You hadn't noticed you were finally starting to doze off hours later until he appeared again. His eyes went straight to the untouched tray. The broth had smelt heavenly, and it took all your strength not to crawl over there an let it warm you from the inside out. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. You wouldn't let yourself rely on him. You were done letting yourself be abused and battered only to take any scrap from them like a god blessing it's subjects.
He stood against the wall across from you, only a few feet away considering the rooms small size. It was the stillness about him that was so unnerving. Henry had been barrelling every minute, no time to anticipate the next move because it was already upon you. But the Shadowsinger let you stew in the dreaded anticipation of what was to come. He was cruel in a different way, refined and thoughtful.
"Would you like to tell me your name yet?" He asked, voice reverberating off the walls around.
You kept your gaze on the floor trying to seem more interested in examining the cracks running through the dull stone.
"Maybe you can answer another question then."
He slowly stalked over again and sat back in his stool, closer this time. His knees almost brushing your own, you were surprised at the warmth radiating off of him. And for a split second you made the mistake of thinking he was just another being, nothing so different from yourself.
But he was different. Had been honed into pain embodied in male form. It seemed logical that those terribly scared hands now inflicted the kind of tortures pain they once received.
"To restrict power." you replied dryly.
He didn't seem too pleased that answer.
"What power" he said lower this time, leaning in close.
You begged your heart to slow its pace, scared that it would beat so fast it'd somehow kill you. This kind of fear he was able to instil in you wasn't like the kind Henry had. It was like one of those dark tendrils sliding through your chest to slowly constricting your heart till it popped. But you still kept your mouth shut.
When it was apparent you had no intention of answering him, he raised himself above you. The familiar hair raising sensation of those deadly shadows was slowly starting to encircle your ankles.
He moved to stand behind you, the ends of his massive wings just reaching the corner of your vision as they curved around you to accommodate themselves to the cramped room.
It was a hand gently falling onto your right shoulder that had your racing heart still. And from it smoky black began crawling up the side of your neck, angling your jaw to the side to give the male above better access. Your pulse was thrumming beneath your cheeks and temples as he drew down and closer to you. You felt the soft breath before you realised his face was right beside your own. The shadows that kept your neck angled in place were a static cold along your skin while the touch of his hand like a searing burn. You were defenceless to the panic surging through you, the faint sting of a blade at the base of your throat.
"This is where your jugular is located. And if I were to push a little further, I could leave you hear choking on your own blood until it covered every inch of your skin." He murmured against your ear.
And it was the almost sweet, quiet tone that he said those horrific words with that had a whimper finally breaking through your final walls. The only thing stopping you for outright shaking with it, was the dangerously close proximity of the blade to your artery. You could imagine that sticky hot liquid painting the room as it stained you red. Couldn't stop imagining it.
He removed the blade from its rest at your neck to drag the blunt edge down the centre of your shoulder and rest the tip piercing ever so slightly into the skin above your ribs.
"Or I could slide it through the thin layer of tissue protecting your ribs and scrape away at the bones until they themselves could be used to pierce you."
Mother above, was anything you had to give really worth all of this? It's all you could think as you choked back a sob.
"Or you could give me something." His breath caressing your ear, and the cold sting halted. Both his is large palms came up to anchored you to your chair. Pins and needle spread through your body as you felt yourself slowly loosing any control you had, your muscles were so tense they were dead weights.
"I'll take a name or the specifics for the chains." He asked, grip tightening ever so slightly to remind you of the consequences.
"I'm a summoner." you managed to get out between stuttering breaths, hot tears staining your cheeks.
You hadn't told Henry a single thing when he had you kept captive. But Henry was a brute, he didn't know how to work his victims up into a full mind and body panic response. The Shadowsinger did.
Your muscles seemed to give up and hunch over as the weigh of him left your shoulders. The wounds on your feet baring the weight that your muscles had been holding was only a dull pain, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. His presence still an uncomfortable pulsing behind you.
You had prayed it was enough to satisfy him without giving away everything. Summoners were uncommon, the trait only carried through a few dozen families. You had a finite amount of time before he narrowed it down to your mothers bloodline.
You were snapped away from your declining hope when the back of his scared hand grazed softly against your cheek. Some innate part of you begged to lean into the conservative touch, desperate for any sort of comfort and affirmation.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" He said, voice the closest it had ever been to pleased, as if he had finally gotten a stubborn child's cooperation and was delivering a reward.
It was after a restless night of brief moments of sleep that he returned.
The small room instantly warmed at his presence, his large frame filling in the pockets of cool air that slipped through cracks in the stone. He seemed impossibly taller from your view, curled up in a corner to provide your body with some sense of security.
His gaze again slid over to the untouched food. It had been replenished with warm soup and fresh bread a few hours ago. You hadn't let yourself indulge in the tantalising meal. After the information you'd given up yesterday, you felt you didn't deserve it. You had failed yourself.
"You will die if you don't eat." He stated plainly, leaning his back into the far wall once more. His wings curling at the tips slightly as the sides of the room failed to accommodate them adequately.
The time left to stew in your frustration over the night had reinforced your will to not slip up again. You watched him as he assessed your form. You could practically see the cogs in his brain turning, trying to figure out the most effective and effortless way to temp you into revealing more.
His wings pulled back close behind him as he stalked over to you, like a cat getting ready to pounce on a cornered mouse. Your heart already in your throat at the sight of him crouching down to your level, his eyes predatory as they pierced through you. But it was the bluish circles beneath them that caught your attention. He clearly hadn't slept the night before.
"You are not an Ellen, Beckett, or a Verlice, and not a Haynes. So which summoner line to you hail from." He questioned, his voice lacking some of that controlled boredom it had previously had.
So he had been doing his research. You fought every instinct in your body that told you to look away as you held his stare. You could see the barely leashed frustration lurking behind those deceptively Fae looking eyes.
"Which Summoner bloodline are you from." He repeated.
Your breathing was becoming shallower as his inched closer, before a hand came to settle on one of your feet. A hoarse yelp escaped you as his thumb grazed the festering cut on the sole of your foot. Mustering all your strength, channelling all your anger, you flung the aching foot out into his chest.
That had been the wrong move. Air was struggling to enter your lungs before you knew what was happening, his movements carried out in the blink of an eye. Jagered stone crushed against your spine as he caged you into the corner. One hand holding his weight against the wall, the other wrapped around your neck.
"There are real threats I need to be dealing with right now, and the more time I have to waste on you is wearing my patience thin." He snarled.
Your anger was speaking before you could rope the words in, "Maybe you should look for a new job then, Spymaster."
The words were chocked out as you raised your chained wrists to claw at his tightening grip on your airways. If you were going to die you weren't going to lay down and take it without making it a hassle. Though you guessed the Illyrian could end this in a second if he grew tired of waiting.
He ripped a blade free from its home at his hip and pressed the hilt roughly into the wounds on your foot. Even as you screamed he didn't retreat, but didn't push in further. Just held the pressure as you dug your nails into the skin of the hand still squeezing your neck.
Without warning the cell was suffocated with a raw power emanating from behind the Shadowsinger's vicious features. And as soon as it entered the room and the Shadowsinger's blade stilled, you knew it was Rhys.
"Good to see you're not dead after all, Nim." He said, the smile practically dripping from his words.
The Shadowsinger retreated, fingers loosing from your throat and sheathing the dagger as he remarked his boss.
"Rhysand."you replied between gulping down air.
His amber eyes snapped to yours, and swore you saw anger flare for half a second in them as you answered Rhysand willingly.
"I'm afraid this one's a friend of mine Az, so I'll have to ask that you bring her to the house of wind instead of skinning her. Cass is already waiting."
And with that the Shadowsinger had a harsh grip on your arm and was winnowing you once again. Free falling for a few moments before he shot out his wings and glided towards a rapidly approaching balcony.
The house of wind was as you remembered, the lavish interiors a welcomed change of scenery.
You surveyed the room, taking in the four other Fae that lounged across the armchairs throughout the large office. Another longer haired Illyrian clad in fighting leathers, and seven red siphons. Likely the commander of the Illyrian's. A stunning blonde in a lavish crimson dress. A brown haired lady with a tattoo spread up her arm that suggested she was the recently crowned high lady of the night court. And Amren.
The Shadowsinger leaning against the wall near the doorway could easily have been mistakes for a statue at his unnatural stillness.
"Still prefer cinnamon tea?" Rhysand asked, a warm smile that suggested he was genuinely happy to see me.
You couldn't deny that after more than 200 years, you were glad to see him to. Rhysand had always been the only high lord you didn't dread to see when accompanying Tilia to their meetings. He had given her free reign to search the night court of any possible eggs that had been laid and undiscovered.
"I prefer not to be in chains." you said, trying not to be overcome by embarrassment at your filthy dirt covered state.
Rhys sent an apologetic look, and at the snap of his fingers, the layers of grime on your clothes and skin disappear. Your white hair finally smooth, falling over your shoulders and free from knots. And then the cuffs fell.
As soon as they hit the ground your palms warmed and light flashed from the red rings. Luca was roaring as she charged straight of the Shadowsinger. Never had she released herself without your permission. But after weeks of being trapped by those cuffs, and being forced to know your suffering, she disobeyed.
The leopard was a running flame of gold light as she lunged for the Shadowsinger. His shadows seemed to react before he could, spiralling for Luca. She thrashed as they wound around her paws and anchored her to the floor, her light battling them to released her. As her light cut through the shadows the Shadowsinger grunted in pain, and sent a shadow wrapping around her neck to retaliate. Rage encompassed you at the sight.
"Don't you dare touch her!" panic overtaking you as her light died down, and the fur of the snow leopard revealed itself.
With a clap of your hand together, trying to summon her back and out of the shadows grip, but failed. You panic was snowballing, the shadowy tendrils still holding her as she yelped.
Not once had you summoned her back and failed to return her to the red tattoos. You readied to lunge at the Shadowsinger who was panting as he recovered from the pain Luca's light had inflicted on his shadows. But the other Illyrian had come up behind you, his arms a vice grip as he clasped your arms to your side.
"Azriel stop." Rhys growled, the command in his voice making you recoil.
And then the shadows where unfurling and leaching back to Azriel side, curling around his ear to whisper to him. Luca remained before him, snarling and snapping her teeth. You relaxed your breathing and stilled in the Illyrian's arms, and once he deemed you wouldn't attack Azriel, released his grip.
"Luca come." you called to her softly, and reluctantly she began to back away.
With how fast her light had diminished she must be significantly weakened. Through the bond that connected you, your malnourishment and physical injury had taken a toll on her too.
It's okay, I'm okay. Whispering down the bond, you tried to sooth the snow leopard. Finally she turned and came padding over. Her large blue eyes meeting yours, you smiled fondly running a hand through her fur for the first time in weeks. If it weren't for the other's presence you would have broken down into tears and wept as you pat her gentle fur. The heartache of not seeing her for three weeks was raw.
"Well that was entertaining." The Illyrian behind you murmured.
He stepped around you to come face to face, all be it a good few steps away as Luca began to softly growl at him.
"Sorry for the man handling." he smiled before making his way over to the Shadowsinger.
Amren sat in the corner, smiling smugly at the incident, before giving you an assessing look. Amren had been the only one of Rhysands inner circle that you had personally met before today. She had taken a keen interest in the dragons when they still roamed and had even aided in Tilia's search for any remaining eggs. You wouldn't go as far to say you were friendly, but perhaps professional acquaintances.
"Let me introduce you to Mor, and Feyre." Rhysand gestured respectively to the women who both gave a civil nod.
"And your brothers Azriel and Cassian." He gestured to the Illyrians, Cassian smiling as Azriel glowered.
"Why don't you give Nim and I a minute." Rhys said to no one in particular. You watched as the room emptied, returning Azriel simmering gaze as he was the last to vacate the room.
Sitting across from Rhysand behind his large oak desk, you were finally able to try and loosen the tension in your shoulders and relax into the plush chair.
"I'm sorry about that. I know you're not fond of... gatherings." He said, pushing a cup of tea towards you.
Not fond of being around others, especially strangers he meant. But was too polite to put it plainly. Being raised in the isolated winter court mountains with only Tilia, your father, and the animal inhabitants had made being around anymore than a few farmiliar faces seem dreadful. Most ventures away from the mountain had been to attend to business, but after Veikko died 200 years ago, leaving the snowy hills for business was unnecessary. And the few times you saw Sen through the year, she often came to the winter mountains, enjoying the family's of Arctic animals you tended to.
Rhysand had been one of the few people you had considered a friend throughout your life, so to see him again under these circumstances was bitter sweet. Luca was already rubbing against his chair, pawing at him in demand of head scratches. The leopard had always been fond the the High Lord.
"It's good to see you too Luca." He coed to the needy leopard.
Traitor, you sent down the bond to her, to which she simple purred at Rhy's touch, uncaring of what you had to say about it.
"It would have been nice to hear from you. I really did think you'd died up in those mounts after Veikko passed." He said, a regretful look across his face.
"Would have been nice for you to come and check." You answered too tired to really care if the words hurt him. Both knowing even if he had tried to come, he wouldn't have found the cabin. Tilia had ensured the wards kept it hidden from everyone, even the high lords.
"But now that you are here, you know what I have to ask of you." He winced at his own words, straight down to business.
"You know I have to refuse." you replied.
Rhys seemed to mull over what to say next as he soothingly ran a hand through Luca's fur.
"I'm sorry about Henry. If I had have known I would of come right away. But if they are looking for the egg then I'm sure others are too." He said, a hint of urgency in his voice.
"The egg doesn't exist." you said with more force than intended. Luca returning to rest her head on your lap at the sense of your unease.
Rumours had spread that the black dragon had laid an egg. But it was simply a fools dream. An old myth. Tilia had been searching for the egg since the black dragon had gone into a year long hibernation 700 years ago, and had up until the day she and Veikko were killed. If it where to exist, she would have it.
"If it existed Tilia would have found it."
It was hard not to get defensive. After the last dragon bound to your mother died 100 years after the war, she had searched endlessly to give Veikko a chance. Devoted the last 200 years of her life to looking for that egg.
"Nim, I want to show you something."
"Then show me." you said, already bracing for him to enter your mind.
And then he was in your mind, showing me a memory. The image was there for a flash and then it was gone, and Rhys had receded. A black egg, nestled into a bed of labradorite stones. The glow of the stones the only thing that illuminated the shape of the egg.
"A vision my Seer had two days ago." He said, his voice hushed.
Your mind was wiped clean, and all you could hear was the thumping of your heart in your chest. And in that moment, all the aching and throbbing over your bruised and battered body seemed to fade against the shock of the image.
"Their wrong." Was all you could manage.
He simply watched you, pity in his eyes as your mind tried to digest the information. You wanted to flee, to return to your cabin in the snow and lock the door and leave the key to melt in the fireplace.
Yes, home. You needed to go home. You could run a bath and soak your infected feet in the healing salts Sen had left her last visit. And the animals will be growing uneasy at your unusually long absence. You had to go home to the cabin.
"I know it's a lot to take in." Rhys said, speaking softly, afraid you would run like a spooked animal at the wrong words.
You couldn't listen to him talk anymore. All the noise was unbearable. You couldn't stand to hear another word.
You focused on the small red band that ran around your right index finger, and called for Po. And even as the tattoo momentary flashed, letting you know he had heard your request, the small blue bird didn't appear. If Luca was so weakened by your physical state, then it was unlikely Po hadn't the reserves to winnow either.
"Rhys take me home." you pleaded.
You were trapped without Po to winnow you home, unable to do so yourself. You missed seeing the foxes play, missed the small pond beside the cabin that the koi inhabited. You missed watching the owls nestling up together on the tree branches.
The office walls felt like they were closing in, and the whispered voices coming from the living room seemed to grow louder and louder. You needed to get away from here, from these people.
"If you can walk yourself out of this room, I'll take you home." He said, making a point to analyse your bruised and sickly complexion.
Fine. You had endured this much. You could endure a little longer.
Your feet roared under you as they made contact with the plush carpet. Pushing yourself up and putting your entire weigh onto them, white spots darted their way around your vision, your body screaming at you to stop. Even Luca pushed her wet nose against your leg, softly trying to tell you to sit back down. Your whole body was shaking with the effort it took to drag your aching limbs a few measly steps.
Four steps was as far as you made it before a pained screech was ripped from your throat and your muscles gave in. Luca worked her way under your arm, softly whining as she tried to hold you up. You weren't getting out of this room. Seeing those dazzling blue eyes watching you with so much worry was enough.
"Fine." you said, defeated.
Rhys was instantly crouched down beside you, signalling the person waiting just outside the open doorway to come in.
"Just stay a few days at least. Let your wounds heal."
He must have been speaking with his mate as you had been pathetically dragging mud and blood across their carpet trying to prove yourself. Luca stood defensively in front of you as Feyre slowly approached.
"It's okay Luca." you said to her, your breathing raged from using up the last of your energy.
After she and Rhys exchanged a glance, Feyre carefully held her wrist out for Luca to sniff. Rhys must be instructions her on how to approach without upsetting the snow leopard. A small smile spread across her face as Luca seemed to pick up on her and Rhy's mixed scent, giving her enough reassurance that Feyre wasn't a threat to you.
"You're a very pretty girl aren't you." She cooed to the leopard as it brushed up against her legs.
While you might have enjoyed the solitude of the mountains, Luca was ever the socialite.
"It's nice to meet you Nim." Feyre's smile warm and welcoming as her and Rhys put each of your arms around their shoulders to help you to your feet. You did your best to return the smile but couldn't force it to reach your eyes.
Luca trailed behind as they helped you towards a guest room. A large bed with cream sheets and pillows piled atop sat against the far wall with a small stone top side table. A wooden desk to the left, holding a few lit candles. Next to it an amour. And to the right was a large window, taking up the entirety of the wall. The powdery snowfall making its way to the rooftops of the city bellow gave a small feeling of familiarity spark in your chest.
"There's a bathroom through there." Feyre pointed to the open door on the far wall as she and Rhys deposited you onto the side of the bed.
"I'll call for the healer to come as soon as she can." Rhys said before he and his mate made their way out to leaving you to rest.
Once the door closed you let yourself lie back into the soft mattress savouring the heavenly feeling. The pillow behind your head like a cloud sent from heaven.
She jumped up beside you, curling up against your shivering form. Slinging an arm over her, you let yourself relax as you breathed in her scent. Finally you let tears fall, burying your face into her fur. She was the only company that had always been by your side over the last two hundred years. Your closest friend.
"I missed you so much." you whispered to her, and she nuzzled her face in reply.
The bone deep exhaustion had you falling into a dreamless sleep in minutes.
tangentwithtanner
discoholicmusic
turnnoffyourmind
kianamaiart
izzy806
stormborns
origamiaround
prguitarman
