M

We had been mated for years now. 

I could still remember the day as if it were yesterday, the ceremony surrounded by our family, by laughter and music and too much wine. 

Cassian had cried, Mor had refused to stop dancing, Amren had been insufferable, and Rhys had given Azriel a look that said everything words didn't need to. 

It had been perfect. Warm. Loud. Full of love.

I had thought, standing there with his hand in mine and our bond singing between us, that life could not possibly get better than that moment.

I had been wrong.

Because loving Azriel wasn't a single perfect moment—it was thousands of small ones. 

Quiet mornings. Late nights. Stolen kisses in hallways. His wings wrapped around me while we watched the stars. The way he always reached for my hand without thinking. The way he said my name like it meant something.

Our life had been happy. Truly, unbelievably happy. 

But every happy story has a thorn in its side.

Ours came three years ago, on a quiet night when we had been lying awake, talking about the future in soft voices and half-formed dreams. About what our life would look like in another hundred years. Another five hundred.

About children.

We had decided then together, smiling, excited, a little nervous, that we were ready. 

That we wanted a family. Something more. Someone who was both of us, someone to love, to raise, to watch grow in a way we never could.

Three years later, we were still waiting. Still hoping. Still trying. Still pretending every month that this time would be different.

Immortality had never felt like a curse before.

But sometimes, when the house was too quiet and Azriel thought I was asleep, I would hear him sigh into the darkness, and the sound would break my heart in a way no blade ever could.

The soup had gone cold.

I hadn't noticed when it happened, when the gentle simmer had faded into stillness, when the thin wisps of steam had disappeared into nothing. I just kept stirring, slow, absent circles of the spoon through broth that no longer moved unless I forced it to.

Once. Twice. A third time.

I had added the same herbs four times now.

The kitchen was quiet in that heavy, almost suffocating way, the kind that pressed in on your ears and made your thoughts louder than they should have been. 

Outside the tall windows, Velaris glowed softly under the evening sky, lights flickering like distant stars. 

It should have been beautiful. It was beautiful. But I wasn't really seeing it.

I stared straight through the glass, through the city, through everything, lost somewhere far deeper in my own mind, in the endless spiral of thoughts I couldn't seem to escape.

Three years. 

Three years of hope. Three years of disappointment carefully hidden behind soft smiles and quiet reassurances.

Three years of pretending it didn't hurt as much as it did.

A faint brush of cool air stirred the loose strands of my hair, followed by the soft, familiar whisper of shadows slipping into the room. 

They curled along the counters, drifting with quiet purpose, lifting a spoon, adjusting a bowl, nudging a jar back into place as if trying to keep the world moving when I could not.

Even they knew. Even they could feel it.

"Do tell," a low voice murmured behind me, warm and gentle and far too perceptive, "what's on that pretty mind of yours?"

I didn't startle. I never did, not with him.

Strong arms slid around my waist, pulling me back into a solid, steady chest. 

Azriel's presence wrapped around me just as surely as his wings sometimes did, grounding, anchoring, impossible to ignore. His head dipped, resting in the crook between my shoulder and neck, and I felt the slow inhale he took, as if memorising me, as if reminding himself I was real.

Always real. Always here.

"Nothing," I said softly, turning my head just enough to press a gentle kiss into his dark hair.

The word felt hollow the moment it left my lips.

His grip tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me that he wasn't fooled.

"Don't lie to me," Azriel murmured, voice quieter now, edged with something softer. Something knowing. "You never lie to me."

I swallowed, my fingers loosening slightly around the spoon as it stilled completely in the pot.

"I'm just thinking," I admitted.

That at least, was the truth.

I felt his breath leave him in a slow exhale, warm against my skin, before his hands shifted, guiding me, gently but firmly, until I was turned in his arms. 

The spoon slipped from my grasp entirely, forgotten as I found myself facing him.

Looking up at him.

Those hazel eyes, soft and deep and endlessly patient searched mine like he was trying to read every thought I hadn't said out loud. Like he already knew what he would find.

Like he always did.

"I told you," he said quietly, one hand lifting to brush a strand of hair away from my face, his knuckles grazing my cheek in a touch so tender it almost undid me, "stressing about it won't help."

He didn't need to ask what I was thinking about. He knew. Of course he knew.

My chest tightened, something fragile and aching twisting painfully beneath my ribs. 

For a moment, I tried to hold it in, to keep the words where they belonged, buried deep where they wouldn't hurt him.

But Azriel had never been someone I could hide from.

"Azriel..." My voice faltered, softer than I intended. I looked down, unable to hold his gaze any longer, my hands coming to rest lightly against his chest as if I needed the contact to steady myself. "It has to be me."

The words felt heavier spoken aloud. Realer.

"I mean—" I let out a small, shaky breath, my fingers curling slightly in the fabric of his shirt. "It's been three years. Three years of trying and hoping and waiting, and nothing has happened. Not once."

Silence stretched between us, thick and fragile.

"It's my fault," I whispered, the truth I had been circling for months finally breaking free. "It has to be. There's no other explanation, Azriel. Something's wrong with me."

His hands stilled where they rested on me.

For half a heartbeat, I thought he might let the words sit there. Might let me believe them. But then—

"No."

The word was immediate. Firm. Certain. I looked up, startled by the quiet intensity in his voice.

Azriel's gaze had sharpened, all softness edged now with something unyielding. His hands came up to cup my face, forcing me gently but undeniably to look at him. To really look at him.

"That is not true," he said, each word deliberate, steady. "And I won't let you convince yourself that it is."

"But—"

"No." Softer this time, but no less certain. His thumbs brushed beneath my eyes, as if he could already see tears that hadn't yet fallen. "Listen to me."

I stilled.

"You are not the problem," he continued, his voice dropping, turning quieter in a way that made every word feel more important. "This—whatever this is—it's not something to blame on you. Or on me. It just... is."

My throat tightened.

"But what if it is me?" I asked, barely above a whisper. "What if my body just—can't? What if I'm the reason we don't—" My voice broke slightly, and I had to force the rest out "—we don't get to have that life?"

The life we had dreamed about.

The one we still talked about in softer moments, as if speaking it too loudly might shatter it completely.

Azriel's expression softened then, the sharpness fading into something infinitely more painful. Something full of love.

"If that were true," he said quietly, "then it still wouldn't be your fault."

My breath hitched.

His forehead rested gently against mine, his wings shifting slightly behind him, as if they itched to wrap around us both.

"You think I love you because of what you can give me?" he murmured. "Because of the possibility of children?" His thumb brushed my cheek again, slower this time. "I love you. Just you. Exactly as you are."

The words settled into my chest, warm and heavy and almost too much to hold.

"I would choose you," he went on softly, "in every lifetime. In every version of this world. With or without anything else."

My eyes stung.

"And we are not giving up," he added, voice steady once more. "Do you hear me? We are not done trying. Not now. Not ever—not unless you tell me you are."

A tear slipped free before I could stop it, tracing a warm line down my cheek.

Azriel caught it instantly. "You are not alone in this," he whispered.

And for the first time that night, for the first time in what felt like a long time, the crushing weight in my chest eased, just a little, beneath the certainty in his voice.

Beneath him. Always him.

Azriel's POV - 

It didn't take a genius to notice the difference in my mate.

I had spent centuries reading people, studying the smallest shifts in expression, the quietest changes in tone, the things others missed entirely. It was what made me good at what I did. What made me dangerous.

But with her... it had never been a skill I needed to rely on. I just knew.

I saw it in the way her laughter didn't linger as long as it used to. In the way her smiles came easier for others than they did for herself. 

In the quiet moments when she thought no one was looking, when her gaze would drift, unfocused, her thoughts somewhere far from whatever room she stood in.

And I felt it.

Down the bond. That unbreakable, unrelenting tether between us that carried every flicker of emotion whether she meant it to or not.

Hope. Disappointment. Guilt. That was the one I hated most.

The way she blamed herself.

It was subtle, so subtle no one else would notice. But I did. I noticed every hesitation, every forced reassurance, every time she said "maybe next time" with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

And it killed me.

Because there was nothing I could do to fix it. No enemy to fight. No information to gather. No plan to execute.

Just time. Just waiting.

Just watching the female I loved more than anything slowly start to dim beneath the weight of something that was never hers to carry alone.

"What could you possibly be brooding about now?"

Cassian's voice cut through my thoughts, dragging me back into the present.

Back to the cool night air. Back to the familiar stretch of Velaris's rooftops beneath us. Back to the bottle in my hand that I didn't remember pouring from.

Cassian lounged beside me like he owned the world, one leg dangling dangerously over the edge of the roof as he tipped the bottle toward my glass, filling it without asking. He stretched back on his hands with a careless ease that only he could manage without actually falling.

Rhys sat across from us, quieter, more composed but his violet eyes were sharp, observant. Watching. Always watching.

The three of us. Like we used to be.

Before responsibilities had piled higher. Before titles had weighed heavier. Before life had become... more complicated.

"I'm not brooding," I muttered, knocking back the contents of my glass in one swallow, welcoming the burn if only because it gave me something else to focus on.

Cassian snorted. Rhys didn't even bother hiding his unimpressed look.

Centuries of friendship had stripped away any chance of convincing them otherwise.

"Right," Cassian drawled, dragging the word out as he leaned his head back to look at the stars. "And I'm the picture of restraint."

"You?" I shot back dryly. "Restraint has never been in your vocabulary."

He grinned, unbothered. "And yet here I am, showing incredible patience while you sit there pretending you're fine."

I exhaled slowly through my nose, jaw tightening as I looked out over the city instead of at them. Velaris shimmered below, peaceful, untouched, everything we had fought to protect.

It should have been enough. It was enough.

"Just..." I started, then stopped.

The words didn't come easily. They never did. Not like this.

Cassian shifted beside me, the movement quieter now. More attentive. Rhys leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. Waiting.

I dragged a hand through my hair, the motion sharper than intended.

"We've been trying for a child," I said finally, the words rougher than I liked. "For a while now."

Silence followed. Not awkward. Not surprised. Just... understanding.

Cassian's grin faded. Completely. Rhys's gaze softened, though the sharpness didn't disappear entirely, it never did.

"How long?" Rhys asked quietly.

"Three years."

The number hung heavy in the air between us.

Cassian let out a low whistle under his breath, shaking his head slightly. "And she's taking it hard."

It wasn't a question.

I huffed a humourless breath. "She tries not to."

But I saw it anyway. Felt it anyway.

"She thinks it's her fault," I added, my voice quieter now, edged with something I couldn't quite hide.

Something dangerously close to anger. 

Not at her. Never at her. At the situation. At the helplessness of it. At the fact that I couldn't take that weight from her no matter how much I wanted to.

Cassian swore softly under his breath, pushing himself up so he was sitting properly now, no longer half-sprawled across the roof.

"That's not—" he started, then stopped, running a hand down his face. "Gods, Az..."

"I know," I cut in, sharper than intended. I closed my eyes briefly, forcing myself to rein it back. "I know it's not her fault."

But knowing didn't change what she felt.

Didn't stop the quiet guilt that crept in when she thought I wasn't paying attention. Didn't stop the way her shoulders would tense just slightly every time someone mentioned children.

Rhys was still watching me. "You've told her that?" he asked.

"Yes."

"And she believes you?"

I didn't answer. I didn't need to.

Rhys's expression shifted, something heavier settling behind his eyes.

Cassian let out a slow breath. "Females..." he muttered, not unkindly. "They'll carry the blame for things that were never theirs to begin with."

I glanced at him.

He shrugged slightly, softer now. "You know that. Doesn't matter how many times you tell her otherwise. It's going to take more than words."

"I don't know what else to do," I admitted.

The words felt foreign in my mouth. I didn't say things like that. Didn't admit uncertainty. Didn't admit defeat.

But this was different.

Rhys leaned back slightly, considering. "You're already doing it," he said after a moment.

I frowned faintly. "Doing what?"

"Staying," he replied simply. "Showing up. Not letting her carry it alone, even when she tries to." His gaze didn't waver from mine. "That's what matters."

I looked away again, back out over the city. It didn't feel like enough. It didn't feel like anything close to enough.

"She thinks I'll resent her," I said quietly, the words slipping out before I could stop them. "If... if it never happens."

Cassian's head snapped toward me. "What? That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" I murmured.

Because I had seen the doubt in her eyes.

Felt it. Felt the way she sometimes pulled back just slightly, like she was bracing herself for something that would never come.

Rhys's voice was calm when he spoke again. Certain.

"Then you remind her," he said, "as many times as it takes, that you won't."

I swallowed, my grip tightening slightly around the glass in my hand. "And if it doesn't happen?" I asked, quieter now. "If... this is it?"

Neither of them answered immediately. For once, even Cassian didn't have something ready.

Rhys was the one who spoke.

"Then it doesn't change the fact that she's your mate," he said. "That she's your family." A pause. "That she's enough."

The words settled heavily in my chest because they were true. They had always been true.

I exhaled slowly, some of the tightness in my chest easing, not gone, never gone, but... quieter.

Beside me, Cassian nudged my shoulder lightly. "And for what it's worth," he added, a faint smirk returning, "you two are stubborn enough that I wouldn't rule anything out yet."

A quiet huff of breath escaped me, almost a laugh. Almost.

I stared out over Velaris again, the city glowing beneath the night sky, and let the silence settle around us.

This time, it didn't feel quite as heavy because no matter what happened—I wasn't the only one carrying it.

And neither was she.

A/N - We're starting off with some backstory and getting into the heavier emotions first, I really wanted to show how deeply this affects both of them. Even with all the sadness, Az being so soft and reassuring with her in her POV just makes me melt :(

I also wanted to include Azriel's perspective because there's no way this male would silently go through all of this without Cassian and Rhys eventually noticing. The rooftop scene felt very "brothers having an emotional intervention but pretending they're still cool about it" xx

Cassian trying to be supportive while also being Cassian was extremely important to me!!

Thank you so much for reading <33

Azriel’s POV:

I’m sitting in a beautiful garden, wings lazily draped over the oversized armchair I’m sitting in, made especially for Illyrians. The lovely female smiled as she placed my plate down in front of me: creme brulee tarts, something I had been craving since I returned from my mission. I hungrily eyed the golden layer of hardened caramel on top, looking forward to the satisfaction of breaking through the crunchy layer and into the delicious vanilla custard underneath. 

“Thank you,” I said with a smile to the kind server, and watched as she walked away before picking up one of the tarts. I brought it up to my lips, an almost painful anticipation filling my chest. I was just about to bite into the tart when all of a sudden, I heard this agitating, grating voice, and I was smacked in the face with something soft. 

I peek one eye open with a gasp, only to spot a vicious, hangry monster readying itself for another attack on my face with the soft object.

Your POV:

“Azriel!” You smacked him in the face with a pillow for what felt like the millionth time now, and still this overgrown bat wouldn’t wake up. A part of you knew he was doing it on purpose to piss you off, though. His shadows immediately scattered as you smacked him again, going to settle in different corners of the room.

Clearly, Azriel was going to get no support from them in dealing with you. One of them hung around you, though, curling around your fingers despite its master's obvious suffering.

You finally let up and tossed the pillow aside. “Azriel~” you whined, plopping your torso down on him, feet still firmly planted on the ground by the edge of his bed. He lay on his back, “sleeping,” but peeked an eye open when you lay on him. A small smile appeared on his face, seeing that he was getting to you. “Wake up, Azzie,” you droned. “I wanna go out for breakfast, and everyone else is doing something else.” 

That seemed to get a response. “Wow, so I’m just your backup?” he asked, offended, voice still groggy from sleep. 

“No, I’m justifying why I can’t go with anybody else before you try to suggest it.” You stood up straight again and took a seat on the edge of the bed next to him.

He sighed, propping himself up on one elbow, and cleared his throat before talking. “What are the others doing?” 

“Well, Rhys and Feyre are busy with Nyx, and I’m fairly certain they wouldn’t have slept last night because Nyx was getting fussy yesterday, Mor is out with some male she met at the bar, Cassian and Nesta are definitely fucking, though they’re trying to be quiet. It's not working. And Elain isn’t great company. She doesn't talk much, and I get bored.” You ended with a laboured exhale. 

Azriel chuckled. “Sounds rough.” 

“Plus,” you said in a tone that suggested you’re sucking up to him now. “You’re my bestie!”

He narrowed his eyes at you as if questioning your claim. However, the Spymaster of the Night Court stood no chance against your pleading puppy eyes. He grumbled, “I hate you so much,” as he sat up. 

You beamed, throwing your arms around his neck. “I love you, Grumpy McGrumperson,” you declared, then got off the bed. “I’m going to wait outside. Be ready in five!” you announced before you started walking towards the door. 

Azriel dragged a hand down his face, sighing deeply. 

“By the way,” you continued from the doorway. “You’re paying.” 

Azirel groaned loudly, plopping backwards till his head hit the pillow. 

Azriel doesn't often pray.

It's not so much a practice that many Fae engage in, but a lifestyle that few adopt and leave the many out of. Azriel is not an extremely religious man, but he's praying to whoever wants to listen to him- be it the Mother, the Cauldron, hell, even a human god - that no one is awake when he gets home.

You're snoozing against his chest, one of his hands under your knees while the other curls around your back to support your weight. You'd dozed off on his shoulder down by the bank of the Sidra and he's sure that he would have had to be a vile, cruel man to wake you. Instead he'd scooped you into his arms, walking at a steady pace and shielding you from the chilly night air with a blanket of his shadows that were all-too delighted to swarm your sleeping figure. They adore you, and Azriel feels a phantom pull at the corner of his mouth that he doesn't indulge in, instead readjusting his hold to tuck you further into his chest.

You let out a sleepy sigh against his neck, face burrowing there like a heat-seeking missile. Your breath fans out over his neck and down his chest, warming him and chilling him all at once. He nearly stumbles in his path, suddenly overcome with the privilege it is to be able to do this- to hold you, to feel you, to love you, to carry you to bed when you doze off on his shoulder like he makes you feel safe.

You're newly mated but taking it slow. You haven't made him food yet, and he doesn't want you to, because he wants to savor moments like these. Moments where you're leaning into his touch not because your body tells you to, but because your heart does. You'd gazed up at him earlier and told him you'd seen a black cat roaming the streets outside of your job earlier, and you'd thought of him. You'd said it so sweetly, 'It made me think of you- I think it was you coming to say hi to me, wasn't it?'

His heart had nearly beat right out of his chest. Your pretty eyes when you'd said it, your pretty voice, the way you'd leaned closer to him until your legs were brushing his were all so much to bear that he'd almost stopped breathing. This tender sweetness isn't slow to him, it's not boring or excruciating or anything else that Cassian has described not bedding Nesta as, and he's more than happy to take his time with you if it means carrying you home after date nights by the river.

The only problem is, he can't take you home. Not to your apartment; you're already starting to shiver despite his shadows which means it's too cold to walk you the length of Velaris, and he'd wake you if he flew. The distance between your apartment and his residences has never been an issue due to his wings, but the last thing he wants to do is wake you, so he carefully treks up towards the River House and prays for an empty foyer.

What he gets, of course, is his entire family awake and alert.

If they'd known he was going out on a date earlier, they hadn't said anything. But Morrigan had looked long and hard at his attire, and Amren had scathed about the cologne he'd chosen, griping about how she hated special occasions because 'the boys switch their stenches'.

He ascends the staircase as steadily and gently as possible, his senses on overdrive as you breathe against him and he tries scoping out the environment simultaneously. It's rather hard to focus and so he takes a deep breath, sending a shadow to open the french doors in the garden and stepping into the seemingly empty space.

Damn his family- they'd been too smart to sit within eyesight.

They're bunched up on couches and chairs to his left and his right, eyes widening and filling with glee as he carries in a sleeping woman. There are shadows clouded around your face that keep you shielded from the bright lights of the foyer, but Rhysand throws out a hand anyways to dim them.

"Well-"

"Don't." Azriel and Cassian speak in unison, two brothers going head to head as Azriel tucks you tighter against him, "She's asleep, and she will stay asleep. We can talk later... I will talk later. Just- let her sleep."

"I'm expecting her for breakfast." Rhys warns, and Azriel will be sure to smuggle you out before the table is set should you wish to escape the chaos.

"She's pretty," Feyre breathes, her eyes glittering, her and Morrigan craning their necks to catch a glimpse of your face, but everyone keeps their voices low and no one protests as he heads for the stairs. Azriel can sense that they very much want to, but he thanks the mother at least for their respect as he stars up the stairs, shoes tracking wet footprints against the carpeting that he's sure will be magically expunged by morning.

He lays you in his bed with reverence. He can't believe he gets to put you there- it doesn't matter to him that your clothes are on or that your hair had gotten frizzy against his shoulder, that your fingers are cold to the touch or that your breathing is starting to thicken in soft snores. You couldn't be more beautiful to him than like this: peaceful and safe in his bed.

He backs away and surveys you like a masterpiece. He nearly forgets to cover you, but his shadows drag his thick duvet up around your shoulder as you turn on your side, nose pressing into the pillow Azriel is sure smells like him. Then he remembers he's getting in with you, and dazedly wanders to his dresser to get changed. He opts for a respectable amount of clothing instead of his usual briefs, and tears prick at his eyes when you roll into his arms the second the bed dips beneath his weight. You let out a hum- a sound so groggy yet satisfied that it thrums in his ribcage, playing at his heartstrings like a harp. He found you. You found him. He gets to do this for the rest of his life.

ERIS

An entire week passed.

Eris spent every night waiting long into the night for her, hoping against hope she’d appear. She never did. Each passing night only deepened the panic and concern that plagued him.

Training had become unbearable, watching her go through the motions like she no longer cared. Gone was that fierce determination and grit. What was left in its place was a female even worse off than the version of her he’d first met.

It was worse because now he had the knowledge of just how much she could brighten a space, fill his day…hold his heart.

The mating bond raged in him. That bond, that damned bond—the one he’d spent so long ignoring, assuming it was more manageable that way—only made itself more known. He walked around constantly feeling like the air was being squeezed out of his lungs and that his heart was being sliced apart, slowly.

She’d made herself practically unreachable—and not just physically. He felt the emotional distance, the wall she’d built around herself—like a blade to his chest.

A blade to his chest would’ve hurt less.

Eris felt helpless. He yearned to help her, but had no idea how he could. He didn’t even know what was wrong. What sort of mate could he be if he couldn’t even tell what was wrong with her?

Old anger flared again, reminiscent of the early days after meeting her. This time, it wasn’t directed towards her, but at the situation. But Eris quite literally felt angry with the world nowadays. It didn’t help that he was constantly on edge, irritation flaring in him at his inability to be useful.

Every time her gaze passed over him like he wasn’t even there, a physical ache went through him. He’d experienced so much in his centuries alive—enough to leave scars—but nothing left him feeling as raw as this had. The absence of her in his normal routine hadn’t helped matters either.

He knew there were parts of her he didn’t know, hadn’t been privy too, but he also knew this version of her was wrong. Amidst all of this, he still felt the nagging worry that he’d caused all this. That his inability to control his selfish desires had scared her off, pushed her away.

Left with no answers was dangerous for Eris, especially as a male that thrived on certainty.

That bond pulled even more taut as the days passed, like a string pulled far too tight. He halfway wondered if it was capable of snapping in half. It only furthered his agitation.

Though he managed to mask his rising panic well—with his usual cool indifference—it wasn’t enough for everyone else that surrounded them to quickly notice something was amiss.

One morning he said her name as she passed, itching to reach out and touch her, something. She didn’t bother to slow or even glance at him as she walked by—the most concerning part being that it seemed like she hadn’t even heard him.

Whatever world she’d been pulled into, the horrors that lurked within, had trapped her, causing her to retreat to a place that he couldn’t reach. The incident had made his jaw tighten and hands ball into fists beneath his folded arms.

One morning, Cassian finally broached the subject as it neared a week of complete silence from her.

“Is something the matter?”

“Other than it being scorching out today?” Eris drawled, unimpressed—and very unwilling to divulge.

“For a male who wields fire, I’d assume you’d be fine with a little heat.”

Eris cut the Illyrian a glare, both at him pressing and the double meaning to his little comment.

“He won’t ask, so I will,” Azriel cut in, having joined them just as Cassian voiced his previous comment, “Did you say something to her?”

Eris knew irritation flashed on his face, flames likely sizzled in eyes at the insult.

“How easy it is to assume I’m the one at fault,” he sneered.

“Answer the damn question,” Cassian bit out.

Eris’s anger flared, but he reined it in, dropping his crossed arms and standing straighter.

“I have as little knowledge of what’s troubling her as you do,” Eris answered stiffly, “Unless you know something I do not.”

Both males’ protective anger seemed to bank then vanish entirely as it morphed into wary confusion.

“We just assumed…”

“It’s been no secret that you and she seemed to be…acquainted,” Azriel hedged, cutting Cassian off.

Eris snorted, but didn’t answer.

“I don’t know what you’ve done—”

Eris was seconds away from shooting a derisive look towards the shadowsinger but the male continued.

“But I’ve never seen her more alive than she has been in these last few months,” Azriel finished.

He faltered at that, the harsh edges of his irritation softening just slightly. To know that he’d had such an impact on her…

Eris studied the males, contemplating what to say when he finally settled on, “I truly do not know what’s wrong and I find myself…troubled by that fact.”

Cassian looked over to where a group of the females had gathered around the water ewer, chatting as they got a much needed drink. Nesta was among them, a serious look on her face as she listened to something one of the priestesses was telling her, nodding in answer. The General of the Night Court turned back to him before speaking.

“I think the most important thing is not to give up on her. Wherever she’s retreated to, she’s going to need your help climbing out.”

Which was exactly why Eris found himself sitting under the moonlight again that night—night seven of this. He’d never intended to give up on her, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was a fruitless effort. Even worse, he feared she’d never return.

He sat staring at the archway that led to the stairs like he could will her into existence. He could almost picture her walking through it, that sly smile on her face, the barely contained amusement blooming over her features as she took in his presence. Something in his chest twisted when he was only met with silent night air.

He missed her greatly—and he didn’t know what to do with that fact.

Stiff from hours of sitting, he finally stood, deciding to call it a night. He couldn’t force her to meet him or even talk to him. He looked around the shadowy space, sighing deeply, resigned as he winnowed back to the Autumn Court.

Maybe he’d try again tomorrow.

He had no way of knowing that only moments after he’d departed, a lonely, broken priestess had just cleared the archway into a dark and empty training ring.

•••

You were the most horrible person alive.

The lone thought cycled through your head in the week that’d followed. The days of your past and present bleeding together—when you’d feared Eris to be no better than Finneas—were long gone. Though you no longer thought the Autumn male to be anything like the one who’d destroyed your life, something still held you back.

You weren’t even sure if you were okay. You didn’t quite know what you were, truth be told. You’d fallen into a state frighteningly similar to how you’d been in your early days after arriving at the library.

The nightmares still continued—all pertaining to that final night with Finneas. It sent you to a dark place of despair with worrying speed.

You hadn’t intended to punish Eris, to push him away and avoid him, but you hadn’t wanted him to see you like this. You were too ruined, too imperfect for someone like him to care about. If he knew the horrors that lived in your head—what had happened to you—he’d never look at you the same.

So as the nightmares continued hounding you, you pulled further into yourself and kept on ignoring Eris. Ignoring everyone. Gone was the female you’d felt like you’d started rediscovering. All the hope and joy you’d once felt seemed to have vanished. You pulled further into yourself, narrowing your world back to just you, alone. After all, you could only count on yourself.

Your days had turned into the monotony of training, returning to the library for your work and crawling into bed. You skipped services, you skipped dinners most evenings and you definitely didn’t venture up to the roof to meet Eris.

He’d probably forgotten all about you anyway. You’d likely only been a way to pass the time. Whatever had been between the two of you was only meant to be short lived, you were sure. You never had figured out why he’d been so taken with you and for so long.

You’d been foolish to think you ever deserved even a modicum of happiness.

As dark circles started reappearing under your eyes and your spirit plummeted even more, you found yourself feeling like you were drowning again. Finneas’s words echoed in your head, along with your other doubts.

Maybe he’d been right when he’d said no one would love you or want you. You were but a shell, so broken that some days you felt like you were made of nothing but jagged shards of glass.

It was Clotho that noticed your deteriorating mindset, first.

You were busy placing books on the cart one afternoon, four days after you’d stopped meeting Eris, when you heard the familiar sound of a pen scratch.

You’re quieter than usual.

You shrugged, picking up another book and placing it on the cart. You were organizing the books by levels so it would be easier when it came time to shelve them later.

“Just tired is all.”

You waited for her enchanted pen to stop moving.

Your eyes tell a much different story.

You let out a long breath, a strand of hair fluttering out of your face in reaction. You had no idea where to even begin on what you truly felt. Clotho wrote again.

We are never meant to traverse life and its challenges alone. Sometimes it’s a blessing to let another person carry some of the load.

Clotho was dangerously close to the truth of what Eris had become to you lately. Even if there were still parts of you he didn’t know, he’d provided stability and familiarity—comfort—in a way you hadn’t been expecting.

Somehow, over the months, he’d started filling the lonely cracks that had been gaping open in your chest for far too long. Nightly meetings with him had even seemed to chase the nightmares away at one point. He’d become a constant in your life as you’d begun to grow and heal. A lot of that had come from your own determination, but he had played a significant part in who you’d started to become.

“Sometimes people disappoint you,” you finally spoke aloud.

Which wasn’t fair to say. Eris had done nothing to make you question that—certainly not in the ways Finneas had. Even if you’d been the one to pull away from him—in fear, hopelessness and despair—you still missed him. He’d snuck into your life so craftily that you found you now missed the place he’d so easily occupied. This last week had stretched on endlessly while you’d walked around with an aching hole in your chest.

This hurt felt different from the types you’d experienced before though. Instead, this felt like an intricate part of you had gone missing, the dull ache only growing as the days passed.

Clotho seemed to be studying you from under her hood. For a concerning moment, you were afraid she could read all your vulnerable thoughts. The enchanted pen wrote again.

Is it others that frightens you? Or yourself?

“If I didn’t know you were High Priestess, I would think you were my counselor,” you mumbled.

A breath of amusement fluttered from beneath the hood as the paper returned to her to continue the conversation.

It has been nice to see you full of life lately. Whatever—or whoever—has caused that deserves to have a place in your life.

“Maybe,” you answered, noncommittally.

Even if she wasn’t daemati like the High Lord and High Lady of this court were, Clotho always seemed to possess an unnervingly excellent ability to read individuals. She’d always been able to when it came to you. You knew she meant well and cared about your wellbeing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain the raw feelings you’d carried with you this week.

For once, thoughts of Eris and Finneas intertwined for a different reason, though it hadn’t been unusual for the past and present to bleed together. But now, the stark differences between the males were more apparent.

Eris was the present, potentially a future, the male of such unexpected kindness and good intentions hidden beneath a deceptively cold face. Finneas was the past, the male who had actually possessed such cruelty beneath a friendly face.

Even still, the hesitancy and apprehension remained in you.

Sometimes, the heart knows before you do.

Your mind filled instantly with images of familiar amber eyes, pale skin, a curtain of red hair—of a male with such a sharp mind and keen talent of perception. One who had a unique sense of humor, tinged with arrogance and snark, yet who concealed a compassionate, good male, beneath it all. The very same male that, at first glance, seemed cold and calculating—unfeeling—but who had instead spent time with you in the most vulnerable of ways, even sharing pieces of his dreams for his court with you.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you finally answered, placing the last book on the cart, “I better get busy returning these books. I’ll see you later, Clotho.”

With that, you left the High Priestess, pulling the cart of books behind you as you went, her advice echoing in your mind and heart as you went.

That night, Gwyn found you in front of one of the fireplaces of the library—where you once regularly found yourself when you couldn’t sleep.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

You started, not having heard her approach.

“What are you doing here?”

It was late, close to midnight by your guess. Far too late for Gwyn to typically make a visit.

“I had Azriel drop me off. I wanted to find you. May I?”

She motioned to one of the comfortable velvet chairs that sat in front of the fire. Specifically the unoccupied one right next to you. You nodded and she took a seat next to you.

“You wanted to find me?” you prompted.

“Yes.”

The pretty, freckled face of your friend was tight with concern and you had good sense to know where this conversation was heading. But she didn’t launch into demanding an explanation or prying questions like you’d anticipated.

“I’ve been worried about you.”

You shrugged halfheartedly, peering down into your lap.

“I’m fine.”

Gwyn was silent for a moment before answering.

“I used to say the same thing as well—in that exact same tone.”

You bit your lip, tears unexpectedly springing to your eyes. Just her confession alone had something unraveling in your chest—the knowledge that you weren’t the only one who’d been in this same place.

The truth was you weren’t fine. The past had ensnared you again but in a new and bigger way, making you afraid to live again—to have a future. It was doing its best to convince you that you didn’t deserve one.

“I recognize drowning when I see it,” Gwyn said so gently that your eyes squeezed shut, willing the tears away.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen you cry before, that wasn’t it. You were just so tired—of the shame, the fear, the thoughts that kept your head too loud. You’d been foolish to believe healing and making positive progress meant this part was over.

“I thought I was finally okay,” came your broken whisper.

You hadn’t known what would come out when you finally allowed yourself to talk about this. You’d kept it locked up inside of you all week—the storm of emotions only gaining in strength rather than disappearing. You hadn’t expected that to be the first words off your lips, but you knew they carried so much truth to them.

Gwyn didn’t comment and you took the invitation to continue.

“I was finally stepping out of the shadows and into the light for a change—quite literally,” you huffed a humorless laugh, “I started waking up looking forward to the days ahead instead of dreading them. I no longer felt that heavy weight that once seemed to try to pull me down. I felt like I was capable of…anything. But perhaps I was fooling no one but myself.”

Your friend was contemplative in her silence, not rushing to agree or to reassure you, letting your feelings and words settle in the air between the two of you. You were so emotionally fatigued you weren’t even sure what you wanted anymore.

“Did something happen? With Eris?”

Her pleasant voice filled you with such comfort, reminding you of all the times she’d spent helping you in the past. But the mention of his name sent a dull ache through you. The male had become so deeply tangled in emotions surrounding a situation he had no knowledge of. While that was no fault of his own, it only made things more confusing for you.

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”

“Well, at least that covers everything,” Gwyn responded wryly.

You exhaled a half laugh, her attempt at humor making you feel lighter for just a moment. You heaved a deep sigh, knowing Gwyn was someone you could trust and were comfortable with being vulnerable with. After all, she was your friend.

“He didn’t do anything. He didn’t do anything at all,” you answered her earlier question.

“Well…” she hesitated, “It has been rather jarring to notice how the two of you went from rather familiar with each other to impersonal almost overnight.”

Your eyes slipped shut again, guilt flooding you.

“That was all my fault.”

Again, she waited for you to continue, not filling the silence with unnecessary commentary. You toyed with the edge of the blanket that was folded neatly and resting over the sidearm of the chair.

“When I first met him, I didn’t trust him,” you stated simply as you finally turned back to face her.

Both of her copper brows rose in surprise.

“You see, the male— with my past—”

You cut yourself off and took a steadying breath. Even if you didn’t intend to share your entire history with Gwyn, just sharing this was difficult enough.

“I unfairly assumed his intentions were the same. I only expected the worst because I had been taught to be on my guard in all the wrong ways. You know how he is—how he appears. That didn’t help matters.”

Gwyn’s lips twitched in answer, like yes, she was more than familiar with the front Eris showed the world.

“But somehow, that changed. I found myself more intrigued by him and less frightened. You remember how I told you about the time he found me on the roof? Well, those nightly meetings became something I looked forward to. I don’t know if it was just the company or what, but somehow we formed this—”

You paused, searching for the correct word.

“Understanding,” you concluded.

“So what changed?” came her soft inquiry.

Images of that last night with Eris flashed behind your eyes—his vulnerability as he told you what he wanted to accomplish as High Lord, the way he’d looked at you.

“Last week, after the last rooftop meeting with Eris, I started having nightmares again. It was like being back there, living through it once more. My head got…loud again. I—I can’t explain why I pulled away, from him, from everyone.”

“You were scared,” she said.

She made it sound so simple, but in all truthfulness, it rang the most true.

“He scares me,” you admitted softly.

“He does or what he represents?”

Your brow furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Safety. Happiness. Closeness. Is that not what you’ve felt with him?” she asked, ponytail shifting as she tilted her head in curiosity.

She wasn’t analyzing you, but merely questioning, assessing where your head was while simultaneously allowing you to come to your own conclusions.

“It is not unusual to be haunted by your past—I still live with memories of my own. But it’s not fair to yourself to let it hold you back in life. I know what it’s like to live with shame of what you’ve survived and the fear that happiness doesn’t last for long. For far too long, I held myself back from embracing all life had to offer me. I don’t want to see you make the same mistake.”

“It seems safer to rely on only myself though.”

For you had started to trust Eris, rely on his companionship. Old habits made you fearful that something so precious could easily be taken away. Especially now that you were beginning to realize just how much you cared about him.

“Is that fair though?” she asked, “Rather than try and fail—you would take the safe road? Is it living to take the safe road?”

You didn’t have an answer for her. Gwyn’s words were firm, but heartfelt as she continued.

“The male in your past wins if you let what happened to you continue to have this power over you. The pain will always linger in some sense, but it becomes more manageable over time—easier to live with. It’s a matter of learning how not to be swept away with it when it sometimes does return.”

She reached out, grasping one of your hands in both of her own.

“I realize I have no knowledge of what you endured, but what I do know is that I’ve watched you grow and change—in a positive direction—so much over these last few months. Words cannot describe how proud of you I am, for all that you’ve already accomplished. That female is still within you—she’s always been in you—she’s just buried right now in uncertainty.”

A tear finally slid free and you let it roll down your cheek as her words sank in, a balm to all the fears you’d been harboring throughout the past week. Blunt honestly came slipping from your lips in a whisper.

“I think—I think I found myself caring about him in a way I never expected.”

A small smile played on Gwyn’s lips like she wasn’t all that surprised by the revelation.

“I think he’s also seen more of me than I’ve shown anyone and that became terrifying too. I’m afraid he’ll see me differently when he eventually learns about my past.”

Gwyn’s features softened as she listened to your fears.

“While frightening, that sounds like a risk worth taking, don’t you think? Especially if he’s someone you’d like to remain in your life.”

You knew she was right, even though your heart pounded at the thought of being so vulnerable. But he had shared things with you, perhaps it was only fair you finally returned the sentiment.

Gwyn let you ruminate in the silence, turning over everything in your mind as she gave your hand a squeeze before pulling away.

“Tomorrow’s a brand new day. I think it’s time for that strong and fierce female we’ve come to know to make a reappearance, don’t you think?”

Her smile was bright as she stood, making you feel lighter than you had all week. Between Gwyn’s words now and Clotho’s from earlier in the day, resolve settled over you—determination to once again fight for the life you wanted to live. One that came with all the good and bad.

As she bid you farewell—letting you know she’d see you in the training ring in the morning—you knew what you needed to do. Pushing up out of the chair you’d been settled in, you headed to the stairwell that led to the roof.

What you hadn’t expected was to find it completely empty, devoid of the presence that knew how to fill a space. Your eyes were met with only shadows as they roamed the darkened training ring.

The other thing you hadn’t anticipated was the disappointment that settled deep within your chest—or the realization that you couldn’t bear losing him.

•••

ERIS

Once again, something had changed. But this time, it was for the better.

Eris watched her put all her determination and energy into training the following morning. She completed her warmups early, did them harder, faster. She hit all the marks in the sword lessons of the day, her footwork precise, her body perfectly aligned with every turn.

She pushed herself hard through the hours long lessons and by the end of it, she was panting, hairline soaked with sweat as she pulled off the jacket of the leathers she normally donned every day now.

He couldn’t help the relief that flooded him to see her will returning, but something like sadness tugged in his chest momentarily. He hated feeling it, but it gnawed at him that he hadn’t been able to help her—couldn’t pull her out of whatever had been bothering her.

She fanned herself, her face sweaty and flushed as she retrieved a drink of water. He tried not to be too obvious as he watched her every move, assessing to make sure that somehow she truly was doing better.

She flashed one of the priestesses—Deirdre, he recalled—a pretty, bright smile in response to something the female had said. His heart stuttered at the reappearance of the smile that had gone missing for over a week.

While a hint of that smile lingered on her lips, her eyes flicked his way, holding his gaze. Her face turned a shade more serious as something charged hung in the air between them—oddly similar to that instance when he’d felt the mating bond snap into place.

The spell was broken by Azriel calling his name, pulling him into a conversation with the shadowsinger—one that had Eris’s back turning to the females. When it wrapped up a few minutes later, Eris was surprised to turn and find her waiting for his attention to free up.

Up close, he realized that while her demeanor had improved, there were still dark smudges under her eyes, shadows lingering within the gaze that peered up at him. He could tell the difference between her behavior as of late and now, but even then he knew she wasn’t fully alright.

“Tonight? Same time?”

The sound of her soft voice was music to his ears. It felt like he hadn’t heard it in centuries. The hope that bloomed in him at this turn of events sent his pulse skittering.

“Yes—of course.”

She merely dipped her chin in a nod before turning to leave.

The day passed dreadfully slowly and Eris found himself closest to fidgeting than he ever had been. For someone who knew how to handle unease and anticipation, without displaying a single indication of what he was feeling, he was struggling with the skill today. The minute he was free of his duties back home, he escaped to his chambers, winnowing to Velaris practically the moment his door closed behind him.

Despite arriving a tad earlier than usual, he was surprised to see her sitting in the middle of the training ring, cross-legged. She was back in the pale blue priestess robes, her hair loose and fluttering gently in the warm summer night. Her head turned as he approached silently, head tilting up to look at him.

Wariness lined her features, a sort of defeated look about her. Her eyes weren’t empty as they had been previously, but he could see the exhaustion in them—an exhaustion that wasn’t physical.

“There’s something I want to tell you,” she said, hesitation thick in her words.

“Alright,” he said, sitting down next to her, so close that their shoulders almost brushed.

Her fingers tapped nervously against her leg before she caught herself, curling them into her hand. His eyes took in how her nails dug into her palms. She took an audible breath—her chest expanding with it—and blew it out slowly. Eris waited patiently, though concern tugged at his ribs, right at that strange place that seemed to wait for her.

“Five years ago, I was brought to this library.”

Eris’s spine stiffened and he automatically sat up at the severity in her voice. He hadn’t known what to expect by her greeting, but he hadn’t considered it would be this—that she would be sharing the story that had impacted her life so greatly.

“Rhysand found me in the alley behind Rita’s, bleeding, half frozen, left for dead.”

Anger, nothing but pure anger flared through him, followed by an overwhelmingly sickening sense of horror at what she’d just said. She gave a humorless laugh.

“I probably should start at the beginning.”

Eris only tensed further, irrational protectiveness flooding his senses as he tried to prepare himself to hear a story that he knew had to be incredibly difficult for her to share.

“Five years ago, I knew a male by the name of Finneas. He was beautiful—practically perfect—the kind of male that one could only dream of. I think I fell in love with him from the first moment I laid eyes on him.”

Eris scolded himself for the momentary envy that slid through him, oily and wrong—especially at such an inopportune time. But something in him still reacted to hearing her talk of another male in such a way. He inhaled through his nose quietly, trying to rein in the absurd reaction that he had no control over.

“You see, I used to own a bookstore—here in Velaris. It was my dream to own one, ever since I was a child. I didn’t own it long, just over a year, but the short time I did have it are some of the happiest moments of my life.”

Surprise filled him at the discovery of this piece of her history, a brief smile appearing. Somehow it didn’t surprise him to know that she’d once owned a bookstore. It seemed that no matter where she’d been in life, she always managed to end up surrounded by books. He made a mental note to ask her more about it at a later date.

“He came into my store one day and the rest was history. Unfortunately.”

The last word sounded like it came with much regret, the weight to it so heavy he felt the air around them shift with the severity of the moment.

“He told me he was the son of a lesser lord and that he was estranged from his parents—though I’m still to this day unsure if that was the truth or another one of his lies. He claimed the aristocratic world was far too formal to hold his attention for long. Thinking back now, I realize I truly knew little about him or his life. I don’t even know where he hailed from—whether it was from Prythian, the Continent or even other faraway lands. All I knew was that he was a handsome High Fae male with the palest of blonde hair and striking green eyes and had a penchant for traveling. I’d always assumed he had ancestry from the Spring Court. I don’t even know if his parents were alive. Guess that should’ve been my first warning, huh?”

Eris felt a sense of dread creep over him as she spoke, not entirely knowing what to anticipate, but knowing it couldn’t be good. He didn’t speak, his eyes focused wholly on her as she spoke, though her gaze stayed elsewhere.

“At first he was charming, so incredibly charming. He said all the right things, complimented me endlessly and just showered me with attention, appreciation and even gifts. It was overwhelming in the best of ways—I thought I was the luckiest female alive.”

“I take it that didn’t last long,” Eris rasped, a statement more than a question.

She shook her head, a halfhearted exhale escaping her—one that sounded like it was meant to be a self-deprecating laugh.

“No, it did not,” she answered, “But, thinking back, I feel like it was a distraction of sorts—a sleight of hand, if you will. His attempt to preoccupy my attention so I would never anticipate his true intentions.”

She nervously tucked a piece of hair behind an arched ear, attempting to steady the shaking of her hands. Eris noticed every small movement, his chest aching at the sight. He resisted the urge to reach out and take her trembling hands in his broad ones.

“It didn’t happen quickly—the changes. In fact, it was so subtle I didn’t even realize it when it was happening. It seemed to be a series of strange moments, ones where he acted oddly. But I kept brushing them off, explaining them away.”

Eris didn’t know whether he should let her talk or say something, but the question came out before he could stop it. If anything, at least it proved that he took this incredibly seriously and that she had his full attention.

“Such as what?”

She shrugged, glancing over at him quickly before looking back towards her lap.

“He’d start criticizing me over the strangest things—what I wore, a decision I made about the store. I figured he was just strongly opinionated. Then it escalated in frequency to the point where I was second guessing myself and my abilities.”

Her robes rustled as she shifted into a more comfortable position.

“Then came the possessiveness and the irrational jealousy. He’d make me feel guilty if I had other plans with anyone other than him. He’d get irrationally angry if a male was even kind to me, automatically jumping to the conclusion that he was flirting with me. Then he’d turn around and accuse me of being far too friendly with them. Little by little he narrowed my world until it was only him in it. I trusted him and relied on him, I even thought I was in love with him.”

His jaw clenched but he kept on listening.

“I don’t know how it really started. I know there was a distinct moment it began, but in the plethora of bad memories, I don’t remember it. You think I would recall what led to it, wouldn’t you?”

It was a rhetorical question and he didn’t answer, just waited, tensely, as that sense of dread grew, positive he knew exactly what was coming.

“The first time he hurt me he gripped my wrists so tightly that I had bruises for days. He slammed me into a wall with such force, my teeth rattled. I was left with a knot on the back of my head after that incident.”

Her voice was so small, so quiet, filled with so much shame. Eris wasn’t sure he was breathing. The female that had been made for him—the one that the Mother had tied him to—had experienced such horrors so similar to his own, to what his own mother had endured. That quiet place that only answered to her seemed to roar again, fury and agony entangled.

Amongst those reactions laid a sense of astonished awe at the irony of it all. Every iota of him loathed that she had to experience even a fraction of the sort of physical abuse he’d been subjected to, but in the same breath he knew that those shared tragedies allowed him to understand her far more deeply than she realized.

Another realization struck him. That deduction of his—when he’d first noticed how she’d flinch around males—had been absolutely correct. She’d been on edge for far longer than she should’ve been—always anticipating a strike or explosive anger because of invisible scars this piece of shit had left on her.

“Besides his words, his fists were his favorite way to hurt me,” she uttered, beginning to sound detached, “But of course I was naive and a damn fool for thinking things would eventually improve.”

“You were never a fool for thinking you could trust someone that was supposed to care for you,” he said, perhaps a tad sharper than he meant to.

Her eyes lifted to his again and he didn’t think his chest could ache any more than it did in that moment. In the moonlight, he saw the deep pain etched into her face. That haunted look had returned to her face, mixed with grief, despair and regret. Whatever his own expression beheld apparently gave her the strength to continue her story.

“He always apologized—every time, actually—said he was sorry and it would never happen again.”

“I take it that was far from the truth.”

Eris barely bit back the grimace at his inane and very obvious question, though she didn’t give him any grief for it. She pulled her legs to her chest as if trying to shrink herself, make herself less vulnerable in this situation as she continuously exposed herself.

“You would be correct,” she said flatly, “I’m sure you can guess what the rest of the story is like. The brutality continued and I learned to become smaller, never too much, fearful of upsetting him or triggering his anger. I thought I didn’t deserve any better. I lived in such a state of constant fear that it’s a wonder that didn’t kill me before he tried to.”

Every muscle in his body tensed in reaction. He heard her take in a shuddering breath as she prepared to voice what he assumed to be the hardest part of her story. Without even thinking of what he was doing, he laid his hand—palm up—on the ground between them. She’d once offered him reassurance in a small touch, he could offer her the same courtesy.

The motion caught her eye as she glanced down and saw his silent offering—support, strength, and comfort in the gesture. All to let her know she wasn’t alone, not now or ever. One hand fell from where she gripped her legs, reaching out for his hand, her fingers just barely curling around his.

“One night he went too far,” she breathed into the night air.

Eris felt the pain in every syllable. His fingers twitched against hers.

“Similarly to what led to the first time he put his hands on me, I don’t recall what led to this night either. All I remember was pain and paralyzing fear.”

He squeezed her fingers gently in silent encouragement, giving her the needed courage to continue.

“Rhysand said I had a black eye, broken nose, busted lip, several broken bones—including a few ribs—and a massive head wound that had left me so bloody and broken he later admitted that, at first sight, he’d been terrified I was already gone.”

Wrath raced through his bloodstream, nothing but pure wrath. High Fae were harder to kill, yes, but he also knew the strength they had. If that brute force had been taken out on an individual…it would very much leave them in a state just like she’d described. His eyes closed briefly—not only to settle the intense emotions swirling in him—but because of all she’d just revealed.

He couldn’t bear to imagine the female sitting in front of him—the same he’d seen display such fierceness and strength—reduced to nothing, physically and emotionally.

“Finneas left me for dead in that alley behind Rita’s. That’s where Rhysand found me. He healed me as best as he could before he brought me to the library—where others like me resided. Ones who experienced such unimaginable horrors. This is where I’ve been for the last five years.”

There was still one question that nagged him, that he knew he needed the answer to. If only to calm the rage that made his blood boil.

“What happened to him,” Eris snarled through clenched teeth.

“Rhysand hunted him down and looked into his mind to see what he’d done—to avoid me having to relive it by telling him. Then he killed him.”

Eris was of the mind to consider the male lucky because with the way he was feeling, he knew he would’ve done the same thing if he was still alive and breathing.

As he studied her, in the aftermath of sharing all that she had, he realized how much of it made sense now. Her reluctance around males, the confidence that had been shredded to pieces, the haunted look in her eyes that first night he’d found her up here. That was why she’d looked like a frightened animal when he’d unintentionally startled her.

It was also the explanation as to why she’d been in the library for so long. Not because she was weak, as he’d once assumed, but because her life had been so brutally interrupted that rebuilding it was no simple matter. He’d been an asshole about it—questioning why she was still living there—all because he was furious at fate.

He had just opened his mouth to apologize for that encounter, once again, but apparently there was more she felt the need to share.

“I started having nightmares again last week. It pulled me back into such a dark place that I felt I could no longer maintain the female I thought I was becoming. I was terrified of you seeing me like this too, afraid when you inevitably discovered the truth you’d see me differently or think me foolish for allowing this to happen to me—”

He said her name so sharply that her eyes instantly flew to him. She’d been staring at where their hands were still loosely connected as if he was the only thing grounding her in reality.

“The only way I see you is as a female who finally decided to take her life back after some asshole tried to crush her spirit,” he said vehemently, “You are not lesser for what you’ve had to endure, you hear me?”

She managed a small nod, tears finally flooding her eyes. That tugging pain in his chest returned as the tears began to fall down her cheeks.

“I think I knew for a while I wanted to tell you, I was just so scared that when you knew the truth…you’d leave too. I was forced long ago to believe that I could count on no one but myself—that getting too close to people would only end badly.”

The painful truth was that she had no idea just how much he understood that sentiment. All the instincts he’d been pushing down for months swelled again and this time, he didn’t ignore them as gently he pulled her into his arms.

He found himself surprised at the gesture because this wasn’t how he usually offered reassurance, but then again it was rare he offered it to begin with. With her though—with her, it felt natural as she fit perfectly in his arms, against his chest. His arms settled around her, one broad hand flat against the center of her back, thumb brushing soothing strokes back and forth.

The tears weren’t the dramatic sobs he’d half expected, but more quiet. As if something within her was fracturing but rebuilding stronger—a healing of sorts. More than a small part of him hoped that even sharing her story with him would go a long way in her healing.

Her arms stayed bent against his chest, pressed between both of their bodies as her own expelled all the pain and grief of the last week—and likely far longer. Between quiet gasps of breath and sniffles, he felt her fingers tangle in the lengths of his hair, as if they’d always belonged there. He said nothing though as he sat and held her, content to be there for as long as she needed.

If only to let her know that she’d never have to be alone again.

•••

You didn’t know how much time passed or how long Eris sat holding you in his arms. You felt so incredibly raw and exposed, bordering on feeling shameful and embarrassed by not only your past, but your reaction to it.

You briefly thought about apologizing for your dramatics when the rumble of his voice in his chest made you pause. But it was the words that stopped you cold.

“I’ve been tortured by my father more than I care to admit.”

You stiffened, the words clanging through you with such strength you struggled to make sense of them. Slowly, so incredibly slowly, you pulled out of his arms. His grip loosened as you sat back to look up at him.

His face gave nothing away, the tenderness and concern of earlier completely replaced by cold indifference—distance. His mouth was set in a straight line, jaw tense, eyes devoid of any of the warmth you knew they’d been capable of in the past. Of mere moments before.

“What?”

Your voice absolutely cracked around the word. You couldn’t explain why, but it felt like a fist had reached into your chest and ripped your heart out, straight through your ribs, the pain and panic that flooded you, instantaneous and irrational.

“As you’ve probably gathered, my father isn’t a pleasant person. I’ve long known what sort of creature he is.”

His touch slid from your body, the loss of the comfort and warmth leaving you cold—almost as cold as his confession had. He rubbed his jaw nervously, the first time you’d seen him so ruffled, if you were honest.

“I understand what you’ve endured more than you realize,” Eris finally said, anger flashing in those amber eyes.

You gasped softly as flames sparked to life in his eyes at the first sign of his anger. You’d halfway noticed it and dismissed it earlier, too focused on getting what you needed to say out. But now, you could see the golden flames sizzling in his eyes. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath before opening them again, the flames having vanished as he reined his emotions in.

“I understand because my father is exactly the same kind of male as the one that hurt you.”

You once didn’t think you could take anymore pain, that nothing could hurt worse than the suffering you’d survived. But somehow, this was a new kind of torture. You wanted to scream, cry, howl in reaction to what Eris was telling you, you hurt so deeply for him.

You knew how horrible it was to experience what you had, so to know Eris had far too much experience with similar things—things that nearly broke you—almost shattered you into a million pieces.

“Do you recall how I mentioned Lucien once got along with the lesser faeries of Autumn?”

You merely nodded, still unable to find the words to say.

“Unfortunately, he fell in love with one of them—Jesminda. My father—” he sneered at the word, “—took it upon himself to display just how much he disapproved of his son falling in love with a female not good enough for a High Lord’s son. He had her executed in front of Lucien.”

You gasped, horror making you recoil slightly.

“Beron also delights in putting his hands on my mother—and me.”

His jaw worked as he looked away from you. Your heart pounded, unable to process fully what he was saying.

“Myself? I can deal with that. But my mother?”

Barely restrained fury rippled his body.

“She deserves none of that,” he said, voice so cold you had the good sense to know that one day he would make the High Lord of Autumn pay for his actions.

“Eris.”

His name seemed to rip from your throat. His gaze had gone distant as he’d stared out across the darkened training ring. At the sound of his name on your lips, his eyes slid to yours.

“What do you mean he tortures you?”

His answer was so blunt it made you want to vomit on the ground you sat on.

“He’s been known to dose me with Faebane—to keep me weakened and slow the healing—then inflict pain on me, leaving injuries that take twice as long to heal. The reason why differs between him wanting information from me to pure enjoyment, depending on the day.”

A broken sound escaped you. He must’ve seen how pale you’d turned, how sick you probably looked in response. He ran a hand through his hair—the first time you’d ever seen him do such a thing, his fingers tangling in the lengthy strands. He looked as rattled and off balance as you felt, the emotional maelstrom of the night seemingly taking a toll on both of you.

“I’m sorry. I probably should be more tactful while telling you such things. You’ve already experienced enough of such horrors.”

“There is no nice way to phrase things like this,” you whispered.

“No,” he murmured, eyes meeting yours, “There isn’t.”

“I am so sorry,” you breathed.

It wasn’t pity you were expressing—after all, you knew you’d abhor pity as well—but sheer understanding and empathy you were trying to convey.

“I shared this because I wanted you to know that I understood. Especially the part about not being able to rely on others.”

You opened your mouth—to say what exactly, you didn’t know—but he continued, as if he knew how much at a loss for words you were.

“I learned long ago that relying on others was dangerous.”

Your face tightened with concern, the ache within you spreading. You knew what that was like—the fear and hesitancy that came with putting your trust in someone enough to depend on them. But Eris was also a male positioned to inherit a throne, you could only imagine how much deadlier his circumstances were, in comparison to your own.

“The world I was raised in values power more than anything. Affection becomes leverage. Weakness becomes entertainment. The only person one can count on is oneself. Which was why you came as such a surprise.”

You blinked, surprised. You didn’t miss how Eris appeared like he wished he could take the words back—like he’d said too much.

“Me?”

“Yes,” his voice was rough, gravelly, “I think, with you, I started to learn what trust looks like—what it should look like.”

You realized he had done the exact same thing for you, without you even being aware. Gratitude towards the male in front of you rushed through you like a gentle caress. Your eyes traced the pattern of the splattering of freckles across his cheeks before your eyes returned to his amber gaze—where it was already steady on you.

“I’m sorry for what you had to endure,” Eris murmured, “But I’m very glad I met you.”

You didn’t break his gaze as you answered.

“I am too,” you whispered, not wanting to break the precious moment, but adding, “And I, too, am sorry for what you endure, Eris.”

You knew words wouldn’t be able to soothe the hurts caused. You didn’t even think you had the appropriate words. So you did what he had for you earlier in the night, laying your hand on the ground between the two of you—palm facing the sky—giving him the option to reach out for you if he wanted it.

His eyes dipped to the gesture and a beat later, his warm hand covered yours, fingers lacing through your own. It didn’t make things better, didn’t erase the horror either of you had experienced. But as you leaned into him, your head gently resting against his shoulder, his hand interwoven with yours, you realized just exactly what it was.

It was an, I see you.

•••

ERIS

“Tell me about your bookstore.”

Though life continued on after the night he’d bared his soul to her—after she had to him—he was still shaken after hearing her story.

He watched her differently now during training sessions, understanding the importance of taking back the power, building her strength and resilience after such horrible circumstances had tried to knock her down permanently. It hurt every part of him so much to hear what sort of brutality she had endured—from someone she thought she could trust, too.

He watched her carefully when they were alone up on this rooftop, just as he was tonight.

He hadn’t initially planned on sharing about his own grievances—hadn’t wanted pity. But somehow, the words had come tumbling out. It was odd how she always seemed to put him at a sense of ease without even trying.

She’d offered him no pity though—just mere understanding and her presence. Somehow, that night, a solidarity had formed between them during their shared tales and the quiet moments in between.

Once, a few nights after their conversation, he could tell she had been hesitant to ask what lingered on her mind. They hadn’t spoken much of his own set of circumstances and he’d appreciated that she hadn’t made a big deal of it. But still, she asked.

“You’ll tell me if it happens again, won’t you? I refuse to let you deal with that alone,” she’d said with such determination, her chin titled in defiance, shoulders straight, that he couldn’t refuse her request.

“I will,” he’d promised.

He’d meant it too.

Beron was never one for predictability. There were some periods he went months—even years—without resorting to brutal tactics to keep him in line. Sometimes, it happened more often in a shorter timespan. Currently, it’d been a while since he’d borne the brunt of his father’s wrath.

But Eris knew when the inevitable came, thoughts of her would be the only thing to get him through—and as much as every fiber of him wanted to protect her from such cruelty, he knew he’d keep his promise to her. He’d come to realize she was much stronger than he’d initially assumed.

Now, tonight, under the full moon, he sat, once again playing chess with her.

She moved her knight forward toward the center of the board and his eyes sparked with knowing. His gaze scanned over the chess pieces, spotting the damning move plainly. He wondered if she did, too.

She’d positioned all her pieces in the middle of the board like he’d taught her to and had also prioritized moving only some of her pawns out early—a common strategy as it wasn’t wise to advance them all too quickly. After getting her knights and bishops in play, she’d begun to make the more tactical moves.

His eyes roamed the board and saw all her pieces carefully positioned in a way that had his king trapped. He saw the exact move she could make to checkmate him.

But he hadn’t spoken now in an attempt to distract her, but out of mere curiosity. The little piece of her history that he hadn’t known had stuck with him, intrigued him.

She smiled faintly at the pleasant memories he was sure surfaced.

“It was just a small shop,” she brushed it off with a modest shrug, “It was a place of peace at one point. Then again, I think I’ve always been happiest if I’m surrounded by books.”

He smiled at the sentiment—one he shared wholeheartedly.

“You still have fond memories even with him so entangled in them?”

Her shoulders stiffened and he bit back a curse. It had been careless to ask such a thing—even more so in the tactless way he’d done it. But then he watched her instantly relax again, as if she’d begun realizing that she wouldn’t shatter into pieces every time the horrible male of her past was mentioned. He studied her as she worried at her lip, studying the chess pieces. He wasn’t sure if she was actually focusing on the game or her answer to his question.

“Yes, I do,” she eventually responded, “Because my love for books is something so grand that no one has the power to take that away from me.”

His chest warmed again—it’d been doing that a lot here lately, annoyingly so. The very present bond still very much hidden inside of him had become harder to disassociate from.

“I’m happy to hear that,” he murmured.

“Isn’t it ironic though?”

“Hm?”

She laughed, pushing strands of her long hair over her shoulder and out of her way.

“That even here, I somehow managed to end up surrounded by books.”

He was sure that amusement showed on his face because he’d had the same thought.

“What did you call it?” he asked.

“Don’t laugh,” she pointed at him seriously.

He arched a brow.

“I promise I won’t.”

“Under The Stars Bookshop.”

He blinked at her, the irony enough to make a short burst of disbelieving laughter to escape.

“You said you wouldn’t laugh!” she huffed, exasperated, “I know, it’s a little on the nose, but I liked how it sounded.”

“It’s not that,” he grinned, “It’s just…rather appropriate, don’t you think?”

His gaze tilted upwards to the opening of the training ring, the stars twinkling bright, high above them.

“You know, since you’ve become rather acquainted with the stars, lately,” he quipped.

“Is this your way of calling yourself the moon to my stars?” she teased.

She said it so playfully, but the question settled between them, making him pause. In a way, she had become like the stars, shining in an immortal life—his life—that had become so dark. She, herself, had emerged from darkness with a light that refused to dim, no matter how much the world tried.

It reminded him of the warmth in his chest that had only grown stronger in her presence as of late.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “Something like that, actually.”

“It is rather interesting how the threads of life seem to weave together so seamlessly, isn’t it?”

That internal thread seemed to flutter in response. As he watched her return her gaze to the chessboard—likely contemplating her next move—realization dawned on him slowly. The truth washed over him, undeniable. His eyes followed as fingers tucked loose strands behind her arched ear.

These nights of companionship hadn’t been out of duty or obligation—even if they’d initially been born from that. They had continued because he’d enjoyed them. Because, somewhere along the way, he’d begun to look forward to them. The temporary absence of them had left him at a loss—affecting him far more than he cared to admit.

He pushed the thoughts down, tucking them away. Close—too close to something he couldn’t afford.

Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own.

“How are you? Has it been a good day today?”

He’d fallen into the habit recently of checking in with her—questioning if it had been a good or bad day for her. It settled something inside of him to know the good days far outweighed the bad.

“It has,” she smiled, “I think it’s about to get even better though.”

His mouth quirked to the side.

“Is that so?”

“Oh, yes,” she answered, nonchalantly, moving her bishop in just the precise move his knowing eyes caught earlier, completely trapping his king.

“Checkmate, Eris.”

She was beaming so brightly that he couldn’t help but smile back at her, pride welling in his chest. She radiated excitement and joy at finally beating him.

“Well deserved, I do believe,” he bent his head in recognition, the smile still lingering on his face.

She was resetting the board, putting the pieces back on their rightful squares when her soft, hesitant comment floated into the air between them.

“What about you?”

He cocked his head in confusion.

“What about me, what?”

“Is it a good day for you?” she bit her lip as she looked back up at him.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew by the look in her eyes, the things she said—and didn’t say—that she was concerned for him. He wasn’t purposely trying to brush her off, but he knew there wasn’t much he could say to soothe any of her worry due to his own circumstances. It was what it was.

“It’s always a good day when I get to see you,” he crooned.

She huffed a laugh, shaking her head. But she was persistent and didn’t give up—not that he expected her to.

“I’m serious, though.”

The smirk tugged at his lips.

“So am I, priestess.”

“Eris,” she gave him an exasperated look.

He didn’t think he’d ever tire of hearing his name on her lips. It was hard to believe not too long ago he didn’t care if he ever did or not. Curious how drastically some things could change.

“You’d let me know if there was anything I could do for you, right? I mean after all you’ve done for me…”

“Your company is more than enough,” he assured, falling serious for a moment.

She didn’t look entirely satisfied with the answer. It was strange, he had to admit, to have someone care so deeply they were offering up more than they even had the capacity to give—all in the name of compassion.

“You know what could make my day better?” he prompted.

“What?”

He jerked his chin towards the wooden pole where the ribbon hung from. He knew she’d been avoiding it. In fact, she hadn’t even attempted to cut it since before that black hole of despair had nearly swallowed her again.

A few more in the class had managed to cut it, though she and a handful of other priestesses were still left. She just scowled at his silent request.

“I hate that thing,” she muttered.

“You’ve never struck me to be a quitter,” he drawled.

Anger sparked in her eyes. Good. Strong emotions were typically the best motivators.

“Because I’m not,” she shot back.

“Then why haven’t you cut the ribbon?”

He sat back, folding his arms across his chest as he studied her. Her lips pressed together as her own arms crossed—more in a defensive and protective way than his change of position had been.

“I can’t do it—I’ve tried.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” he pressed.

As a result, something in her seemed to snap.

“I’ve failed at too much in my life—protecting myself, ignoring what was right in front of me before it was too late, not being able to heal. This is just another thing I’ve failed at. I can’t even be a good friend to you! At least not in the way you have been to me.”

Her chest heaved, breath fast and uneven, clearly overwhelmed from the torrent of emotions that had just struck her.

“I need you to listen to me,” he said so quietly that her shoulders stiffened in response.

It was the deadly quiet, severe voice he used as a courtier—the one that let others know he meant business.

“You have not failed at anything in your life. You have not failed me. But right now, the only mistake you’re making is not letting yourself have the opportunity to prove yourself—and others—wrong. The tragedy here is you giving up on yourself, nothing else.”

She was quiet, teeth worrying the corner of her bottom lip as her gaze avoided his. He knew well enough that she was processing his words though.

What if I can’t do it?” she asked, voice so small it made his previous stern demeanor soften considerably.

No, she wasn’t a female who gave up easily. But she was also a female that had been beaten down by life far too many times. Even though she had shown remarkable bravery and determination in the time he’d known her, he knew it wasn’t unusual for her to doubt herself and her capabilities too.

“I did this,” she motioned around them to the training ring, “So he wouldn’t win—I can’t let him win. I was so tired of being weak and afraid. But I can’t even do something as simple as cutting a damn ribbon.”

She watched warily as he stood, brushing off the legs of his finely tailored pants. Rounding where the chessboard lay, he slid a hand under her arm and pulled her to her feet—not roughly, but with enough strength and ease that she knew he was serious.

“Come here.”

She followed after him silently as he led her across the ring to in front of the wooden beam. He paused there and pointed to it.

“You are not doing this because of him. You’re not doing it for me. You’re not doing it for Cassian, Azriel, Gwyn, Nesta, Emerie or any of the other priestesses. You are doing it for yourself.”

She stayed quiet, watching him as he spoke to her—to the soul that was still fragile despite the progress she’d made.

“This is only a small part of what you’re facing. It’s a challenge but it’s not impossible—and I know you realize that too.”

Her head turned to peer back at the ribbon—the daunting truth dangling before her. He took in her profile as she did so. His stomach clenched as the dangerous truth that’d struck him earlier once again attempted to claw its way to the forefront of his mind.

Instead, he did something unusual. He didn’t think twice about it as his hand lifted and he gently grasped her chin in his thumb and forefinger, turning her face towards him. He’d rarely been so bold in touching her. Once, he’d been apprehensive of startling her. The last time he’d touched her was that night they sat in the moonlight, their hands connected as their own personal histories tangled in the air between them.

Her eyes met his, her lips parting in surprise at his unexpected gesture, but she did not look afraid.

“He will never win because you’re far stronger than you give yourself credit for,” Eris whispered, “The moment you picked up that sword—the moment you stepped into the training ring—the moment you made the decision to no longer fear, that is when he lost.”

She stared up at him, utterly silent. The look of vulnerability and trust that shone in her eyes was enough to undo him completely.

“You once chose to fight for yourself—to take back your life. I want you to see it through.”

He didn’t intend to do it, but his thumb brushed her jaw lightly—just once—before his touch fell from her face. His gaze remained steady on her even as the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, playful.

“For what it’s worth, I believe in you.”

A beat passed, the air between them taut as their gazes remained locked. She seemed to turn over his words in her mind. He was the first to break the connection, eyes dropping away as he cleared his throat. He stepped away, momentarily, walking to the weapons rack. He pulled a sword free, carrying it back to her. He held it out towards her for her to take.

“Why don’t you try to cut it, and we can walk through it step by step? Maybe then we can figure out—together—what’s holding you back.”

She watched him curiously, newfound determination in her eyes. Still, she reached out and took the blade from his hands. As she settled it in her grasp, she finally responded to him. He didn’t expect the words that followed though.

“It’s okay to believe in yourself too, Eris.”

His eyes met hers once more, quiet acknowledgement in them—letting her see his appreciation for her belief in him, even when they’d been discussing her. A slight dip of his chin was all the response he gave before he stepped backwards, prepared to observe.

“Now, show me what you’ve got, priestess.”

•••

One test remained.

Months ago, you’d left the library for the first time in five years. You’d begun exceeding in your training, you’d even beaten Eris at chess—though that wasn’t something you’d ever expected to do.

Now, you stood in front of the ribbon.

You knew Eris was present—could sense him nearby. But for the moment, all of your focus was trained on the strip of white.

Flashes of all the horrible things that had led you to this moment appeared in your mind. You saw all the times Finneas had struck you, the times you felt you’d never heal from wounds so deep, the female you’d once been.

Never again. You owed it to yourself to leave that version in the past—to thank her for leading you here, all while acknowledging she wasn’t who you were meant to be forever.

It had been a dark place you’d emerged from the day you’d set foot in the training ring—but what you hadn’t realized then was it had marked the beginning of something new. While those experiences would always be a part of your story, that broken version of yourself no longer defined you. New images replaced the ones that flashed in your mind.

The group of females you’d spent countless hours training beside, through rain or shine.

The pride you’d felt when you’d mastered your first combination of sword movements.

The joy on Gwyn’s and Clotho’s faces as your life began to take new shape and you’d begun to thrive.

A male who had once put you on edge, only to become a familiar and welcome presence in your life.

Red hair and a scattering of freckles across a pale face. The way amber eyes brightened ever so slightly when a smile graced his lips. Soft chuckles. Laughter. Encouraging words that had been shared many a night.

Mostly, you remembered the feeling of power that came with each accomplishment, especially when you’d thought it impossible. You’d approached numerous hurdles such a way, healing and training being the two biggest.

But somewhere along the way, you’d learned you could do these things for yourself. Had been encouraged by such an incredible group of individuals—all who were standing and watching you take this step.

Varied encouragements were spoken aloud to you from your sisters, Gwyn included.

“You can do it,” she said to your left.

“You got this,” Nesta added, tone serious but genuine in her own encouragement.

“We believe in you!” Emerie chirped, excitement tinging her voice.

For what it’s worth, I believe in you.

The words floated through you like a phantom wind—as if he were right next to you, speaking the words aloud.

With a deep inhale, you lifted the sword—ready to face the ribbon once and for all.

•••

ERIS

Eris could feel it in his bones that today would be the day.

A few nights ago, they’d run through all of her positionings and movements, and had broken it down to each minute movement. He hadn’t been able to detect anything amiss—she was hitting every mark perfectly.

Deep down, he wondered if it was a mental block and not one stemming from her physical form. He’d noticed in that period, when she’d almost fallen back into the pit of despair, that she’d stopped attempting to cut the ribbon at the beginning and end of training as they all had been doing.

Perhaps mentally she had thought she wasn’t capable of it.

But Eris knew she could. He’d known it before she’d proved it to him that night—when he’d watched the way her movements had flowed as smoothly as silk, as easily as waves of the sea.

In the days since, the rest of the females left had faced the ribbon and cut it. Now, it was her turn.

She stood before the white ribbon, her blade in hand. Concentration was etched deep on her face. Every muscle in her body was taut, primed for the strike. She stared down the ribbon like one would their opponent.

He stood on the edge of the ring with Azriel and Cassian, his arms folded over his chest as he watched. The other females were gathered around her, in solidarity, already figuratively cheering for her as if she’d already cut the ribbon. Clearly they had just as much belief in her as he did.

Similar to the way she’d joined training, she was the last one who’d yet to cut the ribbon. Though she may be last, she wasn’t any less important. Her accomplishment would be just as impactful as everyone else’s—especially to him.

She lifted the sword in both hands, held near her right shoulder as she took in the white ribbon that fluttered before her.

Time seemed to slow as the sword left her shoulder. She stepped forward, her weapon arcing through the air a heartbeat later. As it approached the ribbon, her wrist turned slightly, angling the blade perpendicular to the hanging fabric. In the last second, she twisted her body just slightly, adding power to the cut.

The sharp blade cut cleanly through the middle of the ribbon and Eris watched as the bottom half fluttered to the ground. A symphony of cheers broke out around the training ring as she realized what she’d done.

Overwhelming pride filled him as he watched the way the females ran to hug her—the last sister to finally achieve the title of Valkyrie. Her expression of shock made a smile tug at his lips.

He’d always known she could do it.

It was Gwyn who bent to the ground, picking up the scrap of ribbon, tying it across her brow—just like every other female in this ring had been crowned in their victory. He saw the female’s teal eyes shining with delight even from where he stood.

“Valkyrie,” the red-haired female whispered.

She smiled brightly as fingers touched the silk on her brow. The joy that lit her entire demeanor made something in him sing, glowing so brightly in answer that the words came unbidden to the forefront of his mind.

His mate.

The words clanged through him in a way not unlike the way the mating bond had. It was the first time he’d truly acknowledged who she was to him without any sense of anger, hesitancy or fear.

He was proud to call her his mate. In fact he was even prouder to be her mate. The truth from the other night returned with an undeniable force as he gazed upon her celebration.

He was in love with her.

She finally turned his way, her eyes catching his, a small huff of laughter escaping her—as if she couldn’t believe the reality. Then she did something he didn’t see coming.

His mate rushed from where she’d been across the ring and launched herself into his arms.

She threw hers around him as she hugged him tight. The force of her impact caused him to stumble half a step backwards but he exhaled a small laugh of his own as he wrapped his arms around her body. He knew everyone was staring but he couldn’t be bothered to care as he stood there, holding the female that had been created perfectly for him.

His equal. His mate.

She had done it.

•••

The fire in you lasted for days, to the point you felt like you floated through the world. There was such lightness to your steps—to your entire existence if you were honest.

You hadn’t needed the ribbon test to prove that you were capable or were worth it. You hadn’t needed the validation that you were as much of a warrior as your sisters, but accomplishing it had proven something to you.

Fear no longer gripped you. The empowerment that you’d felt in the months of training—all the friendship and support you’d found along this journey—had gotten you to this point. You’d never imagined you’d be a female that felt so strong, so certain about her place in life, but here you were.

You weren’t completely healed, no, but this had shown you that healing was far more achievable than you’d once thought it to be.

You showed up every morning for training, genuine joy in your heart and an eagerness to learn more—to push yourself harder. It was made even better knowing Eris was there. Often, lately, nightly discussions turned to training—positions and movements—now that your knowledge had expanded enough to have conversations on the matters.

Training didn’t cease simply because everyone had now cut the ribbon, thus earning the title of Valkyrie. Cassian, Azriel and Eris still had much to teach you—throwing everything they had at you. There was still much to learn, they'd said.

And all the females had been eager to learn more.

Life, while remaining busy, seemed to fall into an effortless routine. Training in the mornings, your normal job of assisting Clotho, priestesses services and nightly rendezvous with the heir of Autumn. You had begun seeing your counselor again, eager to utilize the services once more, motivated more than ever to continue the journey of healing. There’d even been some brief talk of one day soon leaving the library, if you chose to.

While your future still seemed to be up in the air, it was comforting to have stability in your every day routine—the privilege of being able to rely on familiar things.

Such as Eris.

It had been odd, recently, how you seemed to light up from within every time your eyes landed on him. When he was around, your heart seemed to sing. A smile would find its way to your lips at the mere thought of him.

So it wasn’t unusual when you had found him on the roof as per usual. But today had been a tad different. You’d felt an unexplainable pull upwards—a desire to ascend the steps a few hours earlier than you usually had. Following that instinct had come with the pleasant surprise of finding Eris already waiting for you.

The two of you had been out here since sunset—Eris having winnowed the both of you to the exact spot he once had for the both of you to watch the sunrise, so long ago. The daylight had softened into hues of pink and orange as nighttime rapidly approached.

As the sun slowly slid beyond the horizon, the sky became painted in vibrant shades of orange that bled into golden yellows, a soft pink blurring the edges where the sunset met the quickly fading blue of day. You and Eris sat in companionable silence as the darkening sky overwhelmed the last of the sunset, the dazzling palette finally surrendering to night.

Late nights with Eris, as of late, had come with more variety than ever. Some involved chess games, others came with sitting and talking as usual. Occasionally, both you and he would grab a sword and you’d get to practice your newfound skills while sparring against him. You’d come to look forward to those instances the most.

The stars were finally winking into existence when you broke the comfortable silence.

“Living doesn’t seem as hard anymore,” you mused aloud.

You hadn’t meant for the sentiment to slip out, but something about the peace that surrounded the two of you—that filled you entirely—left you feeling more honest than normal.

When you looked over at Eris, you found him already studying you, as if digesting your statement.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he eventually responded, earnestly.

“Taking it a day at a time helps, I think.”

You turned back to the starry sky, your eyes full of wonder at the sight. It was strange, yet remarkable, how the world seemed to hold much more beauty and brightness now that you felt lighter. It was as if your eyes had at last opened to all the world had to offer.

When Eris didn’t answer, your gaze slid back to him at your side. You found him still staring at you, as if he hadn’t torn his eyes from you for several minutes. Your heart fluttered at the intensity in those amber eyes. They seemed to swirl with so much emotion that he didn’t know how to convey.

“What?” you breathed, curious about his attention.

He seemed to be turning his answer over in that sharp mind of his, lips pursing slightly as he pondered. Mother help you, your eyes definitely caught that tiny shift, and you quickly dragged your attention away from that particular distraction.

“You look different these days,” he observed, “Calmer. Steadier. Happier.”

“I think I am,” you smiled, feeling that sense of contentment settle in your chest again, “And you? Are you happy?”

For all your happiness, you weren’t exactly sure why you felt such a need to know that he was okay too. He wasn’t one to speak much about his own grievances—nor did he want pity, which you understood well. But you also knew he was aware he could talk to you if he ever needed to. You believed his initial promise to tell you if anything changed.

You took that as a good sign that it hadn’t yet. Mentally, you sent a wish to the Mother, herself, that she protect him. Eris had done so much for you—he deserved peace and happiness as well.

You expected a teasing smile or a snarky comment in response to your question. Instead, his face remained carefully neutral, though you saw softness in his eyes. That intense fluttering sensation returned, stronger this time.

“I think I’m the closest to experiencing happiness that I’ve ever been.”

His normally deep voice, tinged with the smoothness and easy charm of a courtier and heir, was softer now, roughened around the edges. Truth laced his every word. The honesty of the moment surprised you so much that a teasing remark slipped from your lips for a change instead of his.

“Well of course, I’m delightful,” you parroted his teasing remark from a long ago training session.

He laughed, realizing it as well. The smile remained on his lips as he took you in.

“You’re definitely different than the female I first met.”

“You’re different than the male I first encountered,” you teased, smile faltering for a moment, “For a while, initially, I had far too much fear that you were just like…him.”

While you’d acknowledged he’d forever be a part of your history, you no longer felt the desire to say his name. It was a little thing, but not naming him gave you the ability to bury him—leave him behind—like he’d always deserved to be.

“I don’t know whether to be insulted or concerned,” he replied dryly.

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head at your past self.

“Well for one, he was a lord’s son—you’re a High Lord’s son. You both had that same intensity. And it didn’t help that you walked around with such a cold demeanor that one might’ve thought you hailed from the Winter Court. Not to mention, from the moment we met, it seemed like you took an unusual interest in me. It was unsettling at first. It made me think perhaps the same pattern that happened with him was repeating itself.”

His amusement from a moment earlier vanished, face tightening in concern and regret.

“I apologize—as it was never my intention to make you fearful of me.”

But the truth had eventually made itself clear. Eris had never been like him. Eris had been the one to show you what it meant to trust again—something so precious after it had once been ripped from you. The realization hit hard enough that you couldn’t contain it. You knew you needed to tell him.

“You could never be like him, Eris. Or your father for that matter.”

You didn’t regret the last part that slipped out, unvetted. But the surprise that lit his face made your unexpected declaration that much more worth it. You had the feeling very few had ever said such a thing to him. Deciding to push your luck, you made sure he knew the depth of your sincerity.

“You’re a better male than they’ll ever be.”

Eris had never been one to be vulnerable, easily, you’d learned. So it surprised you when he actually responded to the declaration of his character.

“I appreciate you saying that,” he said, quietly.

It wasn’t overly exposed, but you picked up on the sincerity.

You and he had been sitting shoulder to shoulder since he’d winnowed the both of you up here, but now he shifted, stretching his legs out. One booted foot drifted toward yours, nudging it lightly—almost imperceptibly—before speaking again.

“I’m proud of you. You’ve come a long way.”

Your chest warmed at the compliment, one corner of your mouth tilting upwards.

“I’m proud of myself too.”

You turned contemplative, finally deciding to voice something that had been turning over in your mind for weeks now. It had been even more persistent lately—ever since you’d cut the ribbon. Your gaze momentarily turned back to the sparkling night sky.

“It’s strange. It almost feels as if I was always meant to cross paths with you.”

You turned back to him, fully prepared for him to scoff at your silly comment, perhaps even laugh it off. Instead, you discovered he’d shifted closer to you—closer than he’d been a moment ago. Your voice gentled even further as you found the bravery to continue your line of thought.

“Almost like fate or the Mother willed it. I think—” you paused as you gazed up at him, “I think I was always meant to end up here.”

Something flickered in his eyes—perhaps an acknowledgement of sorts. It was there and gone too quickly for you to decipher. You forgot your desire to a heartbeat later when his eyes dipped to your lips.

“Yes,” he whispered, “I believe you were.”

He was close enough that you could count every single freckle that dotted his skin. He was beautiful—you’d always thought so. Even when you’d been unsure of him, it had been something you couldn’t deny, down to your very core.

The pull that tugged you forward felt similar to the one you’d felt earlier when you’d found him on the roof. It was oddly akin to the one you’d subtly felt around him all along. You didn’t spend energy on it as you closed the distance, your lips brushing the warm ones awaiting yours.

Something exploded in your chest, a mixture of happiness and golden light that you couldn’t see but could sense. You felt gentle fingers brush your jaw as hesitancy faded into certainty and the kiss deepened.

A sense of rightness settled over you the moment your lips had connected to his. It came with a sense of belonging—as if you’d truly found where you were meant to be all along. As your hands found his chest, fingers tangling in the ends of his long locks, you felt something tug at your rib—almost like the foreign object wrapped around it—before it settled deeply into your heart.

Much too soon, he was pulling away, but was clearly unable to resist leaning back again as his lips met yours a second time. His hand finally cupped your face in his large palm, touch so tender against it that it made you melt further into the kiss.

You couldn’t stop—didn’t want to stop—as his tongue swept into your mouth, a soft sigh escaping you. One hand slid past the curtain of his hair and curled around the back of his neck. His skin was so soft—as soft as his lips beneath yours.

Your mind was a haze of bliss as lips parted and met repeatedly—a series of kisses tumbling one after another. He tilted your head ever so slightly as he gave you one last lingering kiss, enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

He pulled away so achingly slow—though that may have been due to how you missed his lips already. It took a moment for your eyes to flutter open and you found the familiar amber gaze waiting for you.

Realization slammed into you—as if you’d known all along but was just catching up, your soul just now clueing you in. Your gasp was quiet, though not dramatic, nothing but pure surprise filling you. You weren’t sure what your face conveyed, but it was as if he knew exactly what was happening.

Questions seemed to flood your mind, dangle off the tip of your tongue, but they suddenly seemed less than important. His hand still caressed your face, his thumb moving in the barest hint of a stroke across your cheek.

“You’re right where you belong,” he murmured.

In hindsight, it was so obvious. The ease and comfort he’d always provided you. The protectiveness you’d been feeling towards him. The inexplicable intrigue—that tug. All the pieces fell into place in an instant as your eyes remained on his.

Somewhere along all the nights spent together you’d fallen in love with Eris. All this time, you’d been falling in love with him.

A plethora of small moments, interwoven perfectly, had led you here—led you to the very training ring you sat above right now. An intrinsic part of you had always known—always recognized him, it seemed.

A soft, fond smile spread across his lips as he watched the realization dawn on you fully. For the first time in a long time, you felt whole. As you leaned forward and kissed him again, the thought came to you, unbidden.

Borne out of darkness, you’d found healing, growth and most importantly, your mate.