Court of Betrayal

The Palace Guard stood with the towering Illyrian-fae before him. The High Lord’s normal misty aura radiated around him, caressing golden skin like a cape. His wings were nowhere in sight today. He appeared regal... relaxed, though a jaw muscle ticked as the faerie in charge of the market spoke. “She was spotted at Alec’s jewelry stand with the rift-raft again, My Lord. He has promised to remain quiet. Some coin was left by the...rift raft No one else seems to have noticed much. Apparently, it was loud that day. I do have one faerie that reported screams! But no wraiths were mentioned in that report! Though, he did see a blue skinned female leave with a mysterious male that was seen tossing payment on Alec’s counter!.” His voice pitched as he spoke quickly. This was not a subject any of them enjoyed approaching. Last time Rhysand’s wraith had done this was... gods... years ago. It had been a time when she was young and uncertain.

On the floor kneeling. Silver hair hung loosely at his shoulders. He did not dare peer up. An angry voice boomed in his ear. There was fire in that voice that spoke with the coldness of a god.

“You are a guest. You have no right to interfere with my court affairs.” The cold marble floor bit into his knees. He had been forced down by fire and pure ire. Was Beron even thinking right? From the side of his vision, he saw Erin running off. For once, he was grateful the boy had listened. Breath caught in his throat as fingers found purchase in the white strands of his hair. Surprise filled those crystal eyes, but his features remained of icy stone. There was nothing to show or see. He appeared calm, even as those deep mahogany eyes gazed into his. His head careened impossibly back and pain stabbed through his scalp. Sapphire stared into the angry eyes of the High Lord of Autumn. “You. Have. Not. Answered. Me.” Cruelty danced in those hazel eyes. Eyes that did not belong to those of his lover, the princeling of Autumn. No. Even though those ambers often spoke of righteous anger, they were still soft. They were warm when they gazed upon Kollyns. 

Not these. And as Beron spoke, he scented carrion. He scented ash and smoke that choked oxygen from his lungs. “Answer me, general. Or not even your High Lord can save you.” “Father.” Everything stilled. The earth stopped. No noise skittered through the manor. It was as if a fire had been snuffed. 

The grip in his hair did not loosen, but those hazels were glancing up and leaving the winter male. Kollyns could not see behind him in the foyer. But he sensed the heir of Autumn as he neared closer.

Eris, clad in a deep brown tunic the color of dead leaves, had a palm caressing the cool polished wood of the balcony. He stalked down the stairwell slowly, his features almost uncaring. His tone was dismissive. The perfect mix of carelessness and pose. Beron stood stick straight. “This is not your business, Eris.” “Well. In that case..” He stepped closer. Now he was nearly an arms length away from the General. “May I suggest, My Lord, that you take this to the study?” “No.” His father’s words were backed with steel. But Eris did not flinch. He did not back down. “My Lord, you currently have a cousin of the High Lord of Winter kneeling on the floor of the main entrance. Surely, there are far too many eyes here.” Placating and soft he spoke, like a mouse whispering to the cat that he was not tasty. No one dared show their face, but there were many lurking. There were many watching in baited silence. Beron seemed to freeze slightly. The fingers that hung at the High Lord’s side steamed with smoke. Eris knew he would need to move his father quickly before worse befell the Winter General. 

His grasp loosened. He stood back. Eris reached down and curled his fingers around Kollyns’ forearm. He pulled him up, a move that had been familiar between the two. But now it was filled with caution, and malice. Eris motioned for the warrior to move before him. The two walked slowly towards the study. Beron followed without a word. Kollyns did not dare look back. But if he had, he would have noted the calm and cool of the courtier. A courtier that was none of those things. Something burned in his gaze. Fear? Panic? And his jaw ticked as that uncertain fire flickered in amber eyes. And then, just as quickly, it all disappeared. The door clicked behind them in a resounding echo. The echo of death. Eris’ heart thundered as he prepared his mind for what was likely to follow. A wisp of darkness flickered at his shadow. Eyes widened slightly as his fire danced in that tell-tale way. Lips quirked slightly in a frown, but as Beron rounded both males, he was quickly stoic. Beron could not find her. Not her. Eris would die if anything happened to her. He inwardly froze. Die? Would he? He searched through those emotions. Through that chaos. Emotions that had not stirred in a very long time. Had he fallen that far for her? And Kollyns… his heart beat the same. Such deep shit. He was in such deep shit. “The general saw fit to stop me from disciplining a page that knocked a glass from my hands.” There was such rage in his monotone voice. Eris did not react. He could not. But he did curse the General. Kollyns and his big heart. “I shall have the page flogged, Sire.” He kept his voice even. Erin had told him everything in one breath. It had been garbled, and when he had finished talking, Erin had panted for breath. 

Erin had been running. Damn boy. How many times had Eris warned him?! Erin had run right into the fucking High Lord of Autmn and he had knocked a glass from his gods damned hand. Wine had splattered on the floor like crimson ichor pouring from a gaping wound. A hand had lifted, and the poor lowly boy had frozen in fear. His eyes had shut and he had awaited the bone crushing blow. 

But it had not landed. Instead, crystal blue eyes the shade of a frozen glacier gazed down at him. Silver hair had flashed. And a hand had curled around Beron’s wrist. Kollyns. “Run.” The General had told him, and he obeyed. Then, Beron’s fire had forced its way around his wrists and ankles and forced him down. 

Now, Eris stood stone still. “No food for him. For a week.” “Yes, Sire. It shall be done.” Eris dipped down in a low bow. His foot kicked at Kollyns’ and he jerked his head. The General held Beron’s blazing stare for a moment, then, he too bowed lowly at the waist. There was utter fury painted on his face. But ambers caught sight of those icy sapphires. They spoke silently, almost pleading. Eris. Pleading.

Eris shook his head. Kollyns’ gathered all that rage. All that violence. He quenched it with ice. The fireling straightened with such aching slowness. Hazel eyes were dancing between the two. Nostrils flared and a deep breath filled his father’s lungs. Shit. Shit. Shit. Eris cursed himself. He should not have done this. Beron suspected something. “Kollyns is not used to our court, Sire. I will deal with the page and Kollyns will never interfere again.” The warrior still remained dipped down, his eyes on the floor. If he looked up now, he might just burst in a cacophony of ice. Beron deserved death. “My deepest apologies, My Lord. I swear it will not happen again.” Because you will soon be dead, he did not add. A long silent moment settled in the room. Eris waited, not even his breath breaking the deathly quiet. Then, the air seemed to thicken. “Leave, General. Make sure it does not happen again. Eris. You stay.” Kollyns stood and turned. He paused, but Eris shook his head. No sooner had the male left the room that Eris spoke. “Fa-” An echoing slap echoed through the manor. The whole world. 

His head felt light, and pain shot through his very soul. He stumbled, one foot tripping over the other. Eris fell, a palm slamming into the floor. His knees pulsed in utter pain. His breath was gone from his lungs. His world was spinning. He knelt now on one knee. Fuck. He prepared himself, even as his mind reeled. His fires flickered and skittered, fighting to break free. To protect their master. To protect the wraith they still sensed. “Never. Fucking. Question me in front of others. Never.” He did not dare meet those piercing hazels that beheld untold agony. His agony. His screams. His other knee slid down as he drew on all of his strength to fortify his mind. But his fires bucked and struggled to protect her. “NO.” 

“Excuse. Me.” His father rounded on him. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Had he spoken aloud? His words were scrambling together as he searched for the right combination. “No. No, father. Never. I deserve your correction, my lord.” He gritted out the words. Please. Run. Leave. I do not want you to see this. 

He thought the pleas loudly. He hoped she could hear him. He wished she could. Go back to Erin. Make sure he is safe. Please. Before him, he heard the slither of leather. The slice as it was folded together. The snap as Beron doubled and pulled it taut. Demeaning words met his ears. He kept his face down. He deftly straightened up as burning fires ate his shirt. His father’s fires undressed his top half. The first slice was nothing. It was a familiar pain. It was welcome. He could lose himself. 

Useless. Nothing. Disgraceful. Weak.. Miscreant. Idiot. Imbecile. But Eris was gone. A hollow voice answered when it was bidden. Five hundred years of this. He was used to it. He would recover. As long as Erin and Cerridwen and Kollyns were safe. 

As long as Beron took out that anger on him. He could take it. 

Hours passed by. Or was it minutes? Eris did not count. It felt like an eternity. 

Copper stained his nose, and pain shot through him like electricity. It rocked his serenity and pulled him back. Blood. His father had broken skin. Amber eyes disappeared behind hooded lids. It had been awhile since Beron had been this angry. Enraged enough to bring forth blood with only a belt. The slice of leather cutting through air continued on, and teeth dug into his lip to suppress any nose that might betray him. He would take this. His body, however, began to tremble. He would not fight or pull away. He did not. He could not. He took it. For Erin. For Kollyns. For Cerridwen. A blood stained belt clunked to the floor. It did not tear Eris back. He did not hear his father. It was only the soft wisp of a shadow that caressed him, and a soft voice that whispered to him. It was frantic. So filled with an ire that wished to kill the High Lord here and there. His body swayed and he stood as those shadows beckoned him. Long angry red stripes decorated his back. No inch was left pale. Beron’s eyes seemed to behold his work with satisfaction. 

With one last glance, his father had dismissed him, demanding he clean up for the wedding. Wedding. Eris froze. “Wedding.” Ambers searched the room to fall on a figure splattered with scarlet ichor. Beron seemed so still. Even the dead were not this still. “Yes. Your wedding.” “My wedding?” Eris heard his voice, but he did not quite register it. “Do I need to get your ears cleaned, Eris?” The heir did not enjoy the sound of his name on his Sire’s lips. “You will not be like your younger whore brother. Fucking around with other males. A fucking disgrace to this family. If he had not renounced his title, he would have been banished.” Beron leaned over the desk, his fists pressing against the wood. 

“You. Will. Not. Disgrace. This. Family. You will be married two weeks from now.” His father knew about Kollyns. But not Cerridwen. Not about his… 

Eris cut the thought off. Beron did not know, otherwise, they would all be dead. “Go. Your new wife will not appreciate blood all over her white dress. See a healer. Leave.” A hand lazily dismissed him. As if he had not just torn apart his son’s back. As if the boy was nothing more than dirt. Eris, however, was gone. It was only because the shadow wraith slipped into his mind and compelled him to move. He stumbled from the room. Outside, Kollyns’ pushed off the wall. He did not touch Eris as they walked away.