he should not have cared for what she thought of his personality, yet the words make a small smile form on his lips. "i believe we both chose to think the worst of each other, but it was a ... difficult time, all is forgiven on my end." he could not fault saoirse for her view of him, in the initial stages of their journey he had been quiet and quick to snap. to be thrust into a war he did not understand and still did not comprehend had thrown him, he was so familiar with knowing every single secret that passed between courts. "it is always busy, being a part of his court", the male admits, though his words are laced with fondness. "but this stage of his life is exciting, it's new for all of us — he is the first to have found a mate", and cormac knew they were all thinking he could be the last, for who really knew what the future held? so if alaric wanted him to be by his side for a portion of the festivities then how could he truly turn him down? "me? oh ... oh no, no i do not have anyone special", the male chuckles though it is sheepish, so used to declining women who were merely interested in him because of his standing. there had never been true desire to seek out such companionship, that single night with saoirse had made him rethink. or to think about it differently. the library was a welcome space, a safe center of the lands where the priestesses and other women who have been harmed could gather and live. cormac does not see a valid reason why they should turn saoirse away, given all she has been through. "yes, harm yourself — you asked for my dagger out of the blue, i have to be sure", the blade is passed toward her, curious now to her intentions if not to cause harm. "oh, i did not ... i did not realise", can sense a sadness in her as the hair is shorn, a part of her life being removed. "your father's men will not look for you in velaris, i can assure you of that. strangers are noticed immediately, it is a small city", and yet cormac would not have wished to talk her out of the decision, for it was her own to make. "here ... hand me the dagger, you missed a part at the back", hand is outstretched as he moves to his knees, approaching her. if she desires to make a clean break then he cannot have her walking in to the city quite literally looking like a bear had dragged her.

"as is mine," she assures warmly. saoirse could not explain it, but it felt as if someone was truly looking at and understanding her. "it is rare to be blessed in such a way," the femme muses, tone somewhat wistful. had always dreamed of being swept off her feet by her mate instead of forced to marry for political gain. but dreams of such things had been put away as she grew into her womanhood. some were not meant to find mates, even if they were high fae. "it is easier that way. to be alone." though she is relieved to hear that the male was not in love with anyone, saoirse can understand why he is not. perhaps they were similar in that way ⸻ only resorting to singular nights of pleasure and comfort to tide them over. "you are far too worried," she teases gently, "if i wished to harm myself . . . i would not have asked you to hand me a blade." would sooner disappear into the woods. she'd considered ways when her father made his intentions of marrying her off to the highest bidder clear. now, it was as if the universe was offering her the opportunity of starting over painlessly. "so long as they believe me to be dead they will not come," she states, mostly as assurance to herself. "and they would have to drag me back to spring, even if they did find me. i cannot go back there." not after such blatant treachery and disobedience. she hands him back the dagger, knots forming in the pit of her stomach at the notion of him touching her hair. "thank you." hues fall to the freed tresses splayed along the ground while her fingers toy with the hem of her coat. "my sister will cut her hair, too, when she hears the news of my death." a singular tear slides down her cheek that she is careful to hide from his view.

getting to explore the spring court was akin to something out of a bedtime story, so bright and full of life it went directly into her veins. practically floating as they made their way through airlie felt him by her side the entire time, a source of comfort when she suddenly felt out of her depth or when her dress felt too tight against her chest. the wine she had been sipping in the later hours had produced a giddiness inside of her, touch toward caspian being given much more freely and with less thought involved — a gentle hand on his arm, a brush of her side against his own. when they eventually arrive back to their room the femme is eager to slip her shoes off her fit, sparkling slippers surely worn down to the outer fabric. "i did! oh caspian ... it was so beautiful", turning to face him the femme's dress flares around her feet, eyes wide and alive. his words carry a flirtatious air, one that makes her stomach flip and her thighs tingle. "i would not mind it either, although some of those ladies may have planned a kidnapping if i took up all of your time", playful wink is thrown his way as she grips her tousled locks in one hand, neck slick with sweat from their night of dancing and laughing. "i was ... i was wondering", words are lower now, fingers twirling her dark hair around her hand, "if you could unlace me? this dress is ... it needs to come off, as stunning as it is." she aches for his hands on her skin, to feel his fingers working the ribbons loose from her frame, his much larger one standing behind her as he does so — covering her in his delicious scent.

"i am glad to hear it." he could not deny that airlie fit right into the spring court. such a notion tugged at his heartstrings, though caspian would not allow his own selfish desires to cloud her time here. it was difficult not to love this part of prythian ⸻ to not bask in the warmth and beauty of such lushness. his own lands were devoid of it. a cold, barren place nobody would choose out of pure desire. it was a hard life for many of those who lived in his court, and if given the choice . . . he knows she would choose different. head shakes at the notion of other women looking their way. "you have been the first lady to ask me to dance in decades," admits with a short laugh, nostrils filled with the sweet aroma of her sweat. couldn't deny that was his partially his fault. the high lord took care to make himself out to be formidable and unapproachable. though, it would not matter either way. his attention had been solely fixated on the femme before him. hues trail down to the ribbons laced up her back, throat nearly constricting at mention of his task. it had practically slipped his mind in their festivities, but of course she would need help out of a dress he'd tied her into. "y-yes . . ." he sputters out, throat clearing out of instinct. he moves toward her, hands gently reaching for the place where the ribbon has been tied off. "the dress . . . it's actually quite plain," he admits slowly as he undoes the bow, "but you make it beautiful."

at some point in his life alaric had wished he could be as carefree as the attendees of these events — that he could simply show up and enjoy the wine and antics that followed. but as he grew older he realised that he pitied and disliked those people he had previously envied. their lives were centered around events such as these, their hungry eyes searching for the next bit of gossip to gorge themselves on. dahlia was one of those people, her body created to be sinfully inviting and yet her brain entirely devoid of anything aside from thoughts of pushing herself higher and higher up a ladder she simply could never climb. her presence had surprised the high lord, yet it was aeryn's reaction to her appearance that surprised him the most. was she ... jealous? he could have laughed at such a thought; what could she possibly be jealous of? his mate's words cause his hues to dip toward her face, knowing by her tone and the sharp tug on their bond that the question had been spoken with more than curiosity behind it. "dahlia and i knew each other decades ago, briefly", he adds on, before the red head can interrupt and begin to spread deceit, to make his beloved believe something out of nothing. "oh alaric, do you not remember those times? how could you forget? i, for one cannot." cauldron he wants to shut her up, shove the nearest eligible court member with a dick in her direction. "dahlia ... enough." final word is spoken with sharpness, eyes snapping toward her face — what had once been pretty to him was now disgusting.

there was no denying that the two were polar opposites. in the physical features that aeryn lacked, the high fae before them made more than up for it. dahlia was taller, more curved, and well . . . far more tantalizing than her. when she'd dipped into the icy bath of the cauldron, aeryn was certainly underfed. much of her body had been bruised and weathered. and though she lived far better under alaric's care, she was still rather . . . waifish. certainly not confident enough in her appearance to wear such a revealing dress or flaunt a romantic past with someone else's mate. "it is still so strange to hear fae talk in decades, rather than years," aeryn replies, "to imagine such a great amount of time drifting by." perhaps it had meant nothing to the high lord. though, dahlia's blatant insinuation makes her blood curdle. can feel the depths of her soul grow cold, silver hues flickering to her high lord as he commands dahlia to be quiet. it's confirmation enough that they had been together, whether it was only for a night or an extended period of time was yet to be decided. she knew he had other lovers . . . how could he not ? yet, such notions had felt distant from the present. to actually see one of the women he'd bedded tugged at her heartstrings. grip releases from his arm before smoothing out the corset of her velvet dress. "i agree with the high lord," she grits out, "i believe we've heard enough. one can only handle such a shrill voice for so long." hand moves to reach for the lapel of his jacket, fingers tugging him in the direction opposite of the fiery redhead. "take me somewhere more quiet."

he had wanted her to fail, devon knew it in the way he looks at her now — trying to grasp for anything he could find that would diminish what she had done. so what if she'd gone below the belt? nobody listened to rules and etiquette during a war, it was about winning and only that. for kade to scold her like a petulant child made her temper flare, keeping her mouth shut wasn't an option. "i can't believe this", barking out a laugh devon shakes her head, sweat slick hair clinging to her neck. "you put that guy against me, i won and now ... what? you're gonna toss me over the parapet?" he may be their wingleader but right now he seemed like a child to her, one who's toy had been tossed out of the stroller. "oh, really? you want to talk about parents, do you? because mine have nothing to do with why i'm here. what about yours, wingleader?" her inner self was screaming at devon to shut up, to step back and avert her gaze to the floor instead — but she couldn't. darren would have hated to see her bend so easily, to snap at the smallest bit of pressure applied. the next competitor he chooses is quite clearly way out of her league, a snake in the grass while she was a feeble mouse. turning away from the mat she faces kade head on, "what is your problem? you want me to get fucking pommeled or something?" her voice drops in volume, a hiss from her lips, "i'm not doing it, he'll kill me." so good for kade, he won by playing a filthy game which was ironic given how he chastised her for doing the same moments before.

he chooses to ignore her suggestion about throwing her off the parapet ⸻ uncertain he would be able to curb his desire to do so after breathing life into the idea. if she was smart, she wouldn't continue talking. she'd shut her mouth and learn to answer to the chain of command. but just like her brother, devon just can't seem to help herself. if he didn't kill her, someone else would gladly do it for him with a mouth that big. his jaw clenches at mention of his father. it was no secret that he was the son of general anselm, but kade had not ranked so highly by riding on his father's laurels. no, he had earned his position as wingleader and was bonded to one of navarre's most feared dragons due to sheer grit and willpower. he's earned it all through blood, sweat, and tears ⸻ most of it from the torment of her brother. "respect is earned here. no matter where you come from. and if you live long enough to make it up the chain of command, you will see why it is given to wingleaders by cadets without exception." she would comply with his orders . . . or else. "if it gets you to stop running your mouth, then so be it," he replies, "or you could choose to shut up and watch. the choice is yours, cadet." kade doesn't offer a response to her decision to back down from the fight. at least she wasn't entirely stupid. "you," he points to a particularly muscled woman, "on the mat."

Rune lazuli

Rosaline 2022, dir. Karen Maine

' oh , stop being such a bore ! i've been swimming in this lake since i was a kid , it's safe --- you can just have fun with me for once . '

"you should know by now taunting won't get you your way," he replies while biting back a smile, "and safety is not my concern . . . you wouldn't be within fifty feet of the water if i thought it was dangerous." it was still his duty to protect her, after all. lachlan takes a seat, back leaning against the trunk of a tree with arms folded over his broad chest. "i'm presently content right here."

perhaps it was down to the time he had spent with his close circle of friends, the women inside it who were always free to express themselves in whatever way they chose — but he could sense that there was something inside of inez that was being suppressed, a part of her that she kept beneath the surface. "if that is the truth then i accept it, but if it is not you know i will continue to remind you that the clothing you wear or the ... the pleasures you indulge in privately do not dictate how you rule." evidently the inner workings of her court were more skewed toward the male population, which was confusing given how their current ruler was a female. "people choose not to drink for many reasons", the illyrian explains with a light shrug, "i do not judge a person based on whether they drink alcohol or not. all i am saying though, is that you are very much so experiencing the effects of that delicious wine of yours very quickly." wolfish grin dances along his lips, "i think i could make you yield to me, absolutely. i could have you emptying your mind of every single thought in it aside from ones of me, your entire world shrinking to just the two of us." she was a fiercely determined woman, something gabriel appreciates greatly — would make having her succumb during a pleasurable encounter all the sweeter. "oh there is always time for a fiery debate during sex, high lady. we could argue over how hard i could make you come? how loud i could make you scream? how many loads of myself you could take inside you", devilish words are spoken with an animalistic need so deep inside of him raising its head, sniffing the air and focusing on inez in a second. as her hand slips from the warmth of his gabriel turns his gaze toward her, brows furrowing at the strange motion. "do you ... need help walking?", the male questions, utterly confused by the change. when she explains it the male could laugh at his previous assumption, that the wine had well and truly kicked in after one glass. "we do not need to stay here, inez", words not above a whisper, head dipping toward her own. "who would miss us? you have already been paraded around tonight, surely you can spare a few moments for me?" for us.

there was a part of inez that had been locked away upon her rise to power. in her youth, she possessed such a strong desire to explore all of what the world had to offer. but her obligations to her court as high lady made her put away such childish notions of freedom. it was an honor and privilege to be high lady ⸻ a fact she had been reminded of by the priestesses since she was a child. "our customs are strange to you," she points out, "but i am still the most powerful woman in dawn. it is my honor to serve . . . a choice i did not make lightly. i am not weak." would not admit that she should take the glasses of fairy wine slowly. truthfully, inez needs a distraction from the entire evening and the emotions that the male was stirring inside of her. such matters had always been easy to ignore. a skill she gained during her time in the cloister. but with him it was different. "my, you are very observant," she deflects, unwilling to acknowledge that he is right. suggestion that he could make her bend to his well in any sense of the word makes her skin grow hot. hues narrow as they look up at him. "careful," she warns, "you're still speaking to a high lady." still, the illyrian pays no heed to her words. stomach knots with an unfamiliar feeling as he maps out all the ways the two could argue about the details of their intimacy. "in what world would you and i debate such matters ?" she questions flatly, "unless you are merely offering a hypothetical." gives him a final chance to walk back his words. gabriel knows she cannot go that far with him, cannot even speak of or entertain the idea. head shakes at his question, lips pressing to the glass to take a rather large gulp. "what are you suggesting, gabriel ?" she questions with an averted gaze, "i cannot offer the sort of moment you're looking to receive. i can look past the compliments, the way your hand reaches for mine, and even your foul mouth. but you ask for too much now." can feel her head begin to grow hazy as she takes another sip from the glass. "i . . ." she trails off, lust beginning to blossom in the pit of her stomach before nestling into her core. her arousal, though aptly contained as of late, is palpable ⸻ likely an enhancement from the charmed liquor. "i need air."

alaric had sworn to himself that he would do nothing to pressure aeryn, to make her feel guilt or shame for putting her emotional needs before anything else — their bond was a permanent thing, an ever present link between the pair. his own palm could provide the release he needed until she felt ready. he truly despises the policies of the court, moving around most guests and introducing his mate to them, seeing in their faces how they either could not give a damn or merely viewed her as some sort of oddity. it angered him, causing conversations to end abruptly or his comments to contain few words and even less space to continue on. this court was as much her own as it was his, yet the entirety of this ballroom excluding his inner circle seem to believe she is simply an accessory. a pretty thing hanging from his arm, a source of gossip once the night is over. fools. this was precisely why he prefers velaris over this torture, where nobody looked upon aeryn as if she was different. he spots dahlia a moment before aeryn does, long fiery hair tumbling down her shoulders and a barely there dress adorning her slender figure. their one moment of passion had been decades ago, truthfully a very forgettable event that had consisted of his eardrums being left ringing for an hour afterward. "dahlia", the male offers her a polite smile, fighting the smug one as he feels aeryn's hand tightening against his suit. "it is a pleasure, have you met aeryn yet?" his hues dance toward his mate while the redhead merely nods, stiff and completely bored with the petite femme on his arm. "tell me, alaric ... how are you? it has been far too long." each word elongated, making the high lord want to roll his eyes at such pomp. "happier than i have ever been, dahlia. i hope you are ... fine."

there was no denying that the exchanges between the high lord and his court were tense, to say the least. alaric clearly did not enjoy the banter that came with such events, and their reaction to his mate certainly did not help. many were still apprehensive about the cauldron born fae and her ties to their high lord. the fact that they had not fully accepted the bond would likely stir much unrest and gossip. though, the air changes as the fiery haired femme makes her way over. aeryn eyes over her impeccable physique, and the way her dress leaves very little to the imagination. dahlia. even hearing her name sends shivers down her spine, a sort of envious jealousy beginning to bud. suggestion that the two have history . . . whether that be romantic or not . . . makes matters all the more emotionally confusing. she can feel the threads that tie her to alaric begin to coil and grow hot. and then her mate says dahlia's name once more, and aeryn cannot help but interject. "far too long, alaric," she repeats with repressed bitterness, "how do you two know each other ?" can feel her grip grow tighter around his arm, hues trained on the femme before them. she cannot help but notice the stark differences between the two, and the very real possibility that this woman was alaric's type at one point. perhaps she still is.

considering the only knowledge devon had gained of kade prior to stepping across that parapet was through darren, she guessed the two had known each other. friends? no, the sour asshole didn't seem like the type to warm up to anyone — but what then? it irks her, wiggles its way beneath her skin and lodges itself inside her cells. one thing she knew for sure was that the speech he'd just given her was probably the most bland piece of war propaganda she had ever heard. narrowing her eyes in his direction, the femme made it very clear just what she thinks of his threat. dick. maybe he should sleep out there instead of her, some reflection could be good for his overinflated ego. winning against the male brought her some joy though, enough to completely wipe kade from her mind as she grins widely. her first win. sure, it wasn't completely legit but a win was a win. "excuse me?" whipping around devon's hues find him easily, sweat trickling down her temple. "you just told me that in war you need to win no matter what, i fucking won and yet it's not good enough?" teeth rip at her lower lip, staring him down before letting out a loud sigh and storming away from the mat, nudging her shoulder against his upper arm as she does so. it was embarrassing, being singled out and made to appear even weaker than she was — even when she had a victory he managed to sour it. "fucking asshole, you go sleep on the parapet", femme grumbles under her breath, turning to face the mats with her arms crossed over her chest.

the way she looks at him in response to his threat causes the male to see red. usually, kade was much better at controlling his rage, but pissing him off must be a family trait because both darren and devon seem to be naturals at doing so. hues narrow as she continues to defy him after her cheap victory, jaw clenching to maintain his facade. couldn't she see he was doing her a fucking favor ? the rest of the cadets were far too skilled or large to go against without snapping her like a twig. as much as the wingleader would like to see it, there was strength in numbers. "one more fucking word out of your mouth, cadet," he warns through gritted teeth, "and see what happens." would gladly drag her back on the mat and finish the job himself. one less thorn in his side to worry about. "you'll learn very quickly that where you come from . . . who your brother or parents are . . . means nothing in here. and showing some respect to your wingleader isn't a suggestion, but a requirement." a necessity with chain of command. one he learned very quickly by way of darren. hues flicker over to the rest of the cadet's faces until he singles out a particularly stalky male. "you. on the mat." attention falls back on devon once more. "you want to be good enough ? go ahead." motions to her competitor. "or you can do as your superior demands. your choice."

SNOW WHITE AND THE HUNTSMAN (2012) dir. Rupert Sanders Chris Hemsworth & Kristen Stewart

if darren hadn't come before her devon knew she would have been comfortable becoming a scribe, studying the history of their land and not having to fight for her life at the drop of a hat. what made it worse was kade, breathing down her neck like he was a fucking dragon himself — it made her jaw clench, the way he looked at her, how he spoke to her. "you do know you sound like a pamphlet, don't you? look into your mirror every night and recite that?" words didn't mean to slip out, internal angry response only. but the way his hues skim over her body, entirely unimpressed as she begins her fight ; it loosens something inside of her. she doesn't have the time to respond to his comment on her body, now she's much more focused on the male attempting to shove her down on to the mat. with a bright red face as he straightens up, devon knows she's wounded his ego, the one thing people in the rider quadrant value above everything else. great. out of the corner of her eye she notices kade moving away, his attention on someone entirely different. huffing out a breath that pushes her hair back from her sweat slick face devon clenches her right hand into a fist and bends low, using her petite frame and anger against kade to her advantage and slamming it against the guy's crotch. "fuck yes!" watching another person crumple to the floor shouldn't make her this happy, but to hell with it — the guy's already screaming that it's a dirty win but devon doesn't care. it's a win and she'll damn well take it. "maybe protect the jewels next time, hm?"

the last two years at basgiath college were brutal to say the least. the male endured endless hounding from darren corsas, his wingleader, and hazing from those who knew of his father. to make matters worse, he'd bonded with dorcha. a powerful daggertail with a shadow signet to match. attempts to destroy him and obtain his dragon for themselves were made frequently. now, kade was the most feared rider. so, perhaps it was a little juvenile to be toying with such easy prey. but the male was a glutton for vengeance, and adored taking out petty grudges on next of kin. her words are fairly harmless, though they do internally slice. the speech had been memorized from multiple lectures from his father. though he no longer believed them, it was funny what still stuck. "speak out of turn again, cadet, and you can sleep on the parapet." words are harsh, carrying a force that shows he's not bluffing. would love nothing more than to see her dangle from the stone. chin barely tilts in the direction of her mat as he hears her cries of victory. it was a dirty move, one that he wasn't entirely against. it was customary for winners to proceed with sparring until they lost, but there was no way in hell she'd make it with the other cadets in her squad. "corsas," he directs, barely looking her way, "off the mat. you can spend the rest of the session watching for technique. since you clearly lack it."

"there may have been some ... judgement, from my side", the male admits, which is no easy feat and yet he believes the femme deserves to know. he had assumed she was too prissy and unknowledgeable about the outside world to be capable of holding her own, yet throughout their journey she has begun proving otherwise. what she lacks is no doubt due to her father, not allowing her the freedoms so many were granted from birth. "you can stay as long as you need, there is no rush. normally i spend very little time in velaris, but with alaric and his mate having found one another my presence back home is somewhat required", a more polite term for alaric demanding he remain at home for a longer period than normal to introduce himself, for them all to spend some time together. wonders briefly is saoirse will be allowed to accompany him, if such a thing would be allowed — for cormac has never brought another person to their dinners and nights out together. "if you can put that amiable nature to good use then i am sure you will be a hit with the patrons", doesn't add that her pretty face would garner attention regardless of her attitude. the male and females in velaris were respectful, but they were not blind either. "of course, they are very selective in who they allow inside their space but i have a feeling they will welcome you inside", in many ways she was similar to them, had been treated as if she were nothing more than a doll, a puppet on strings that could be tugged at will by it's master. "my ... dagger?" brows furrow at the request, so at odds with their conversation. "once you promise to not harm yourself", words are delivered with humour, yet have a serious lilt to them as he reaches down toward his side. unsheathing the worn yet sturdy dagger he holds it out to saoirse.

"there has been judgment from my side as well," she confirms, "though, you are not the brooding, pompous ass i thought you were." they had both made assumptions about the other ⸻ sentiments that had proven to be untrue. "my best wishes to your high lord and his mate," she replies genuinely, "i can only imagine what a busy time it must be . . . being a member of his inner circle." though cormac would be in velaris, he would likely be bombarded with festivities and events. saoirse briefly wonders what her nights alone in his home will look like . . . if she would be able to sleep without him a few doors over. "and you . . . ? you do not have anyone special ?" knew he did not have a mate, or their shared moment in the inn would never had happened. though, there were likely other women. perhaps a priestess in the library or someone far more interesting and skilled than saoirse. "i imagine i will be," she muses with a small grin, hopeful that she could find some joy in her little life built in such an unknown place. the high fae is uncertain if she will ever be ready to enter the library and view the women inside. it was hard to imagine her being one of them . . . looking at the reality of her trauma so openly. "yes, your dagger," she confirms with a playful grin before extending her hand out toward him. "harm myself ?" cannot help but snort at the idea, head shaking slightly. "no. it is custom to cut our hair only during times of change . . . like marriage or mourning." she reaches for the hilt, while her free hand grips at her long, blonde tresses. "i have not cut my hair since my sister was born," she explains before pulling the blade against the strands until she is left with a length that falls just above her shoulders. there's a hint of sorrow in her hues as she looks at the fistful of hair. "in case any of my father's men come looking."

"if you deny me a taste of you i think i may just implode, surely you wouldn't wish such an awful death on your husband and mate, would you?" hues widen, such a faux innocent display on his features. could think of nothing worse than being denied her, to crave her so intensely and yet unable to touch her. "my lap will always be your seat, sweetheart. whether i am dried up and have nothing left to give you or not, you'll always be welcomed on my lap." is rather fond of the idea, actually. taking his wife bent over that lovely throne in between her work. morwen does work so dreadfully hard, surely she deserves a reward? lachtna thinks his cock would be the perfect way to relieve the stress of listening to bland high fae whine about their ridiculous issues. perhaps once the thick haze of their frenzy begins to dissipate he may be able to simply sit or stand beside her without wanting to feel her clench around his length, but right now it is all he can think about — every second thought is one filled with debauchery and images of his wife splayed out for him to ravish. "i simply want you, morwen — that is all i desire in this life and the next. for you to be by my side through all of it", knows that he is not an easy man to love, that their journey to this point has been challenging. yet he cannot deny the bond that tugs them close, the thread that has woven them so tightly together; it will surely transcend time and death. "how are you suggest such a thing", hand clasps against his chest, mock sadness upon his face. "the rite is something that will make you happy, is it not? it will make me happy too, for us to be fully mates and married." although he could do without the food, delicious as it smells, the only thing he wants to feast upon is her body. "i love you too, sweetheart." such a word pales in comparison to what he feels for the high lady, yet it is the strongest one to be found. growling against her lips the male's fingers tighten on the hem of her dress. "are you sure that's what you want?"

the thought of death sends a faint shiver down her spine, amused grin faltering for a moment. morwen could not imagine losing lacthna in any sense of the word. she had lost her parents and siblings in a failed grab for the throne. such pain had been pushed aside in the pursuit of stabilizing the autumn court as she became high lady. but losing her mate ? morwen is not sure she could endure such a thing. "no, i would not," she assures, tone playful once more, "you are lucky i am not cruel." she allows her mind to distract itself with the image lachtna has painted. her core begins to ache with that familiar desire while her center wets. the scent of arousal is thick between them ⸻ decadent and mouth watering as it fills her nostrils. the femme cannot help but stifle a moan, grip on him growing more desperate. "i will never leave you," she pants out, "no matter what turmoil may find us, i will remain by your side." can't help but let out a laugh, head shaking slightly to his remarks. though they both wished to complete the rite, it appeared they were making slow headway. "say it again," she coaxes, wanting to hear those three words once more. lips press hungrily against his, head shaking adamantly. "is it possible to want two things at once ?" ⸻ "for you to fuck me against this counter and for you to go sit down so i can finish cooking ?"

"then it is a good thing i do not, isn't it? i haven't believed in my brother for a long time", the femme admits, such a traitorous thought has been present long before rune appeared in her life. "he is only high lord because he was born before me, not because of anything else and if i showed my true power everyone would know that too." and yet she had hidden it away deep inside her, terrified to upset her only sibling and being foolish enough to believe it was the right thing to do. morwen could search her mind all she wishes, the truth will remain and be shown. "is it not up to me to decide how much you deserve from me? how far i will go to ensure that you are safe? that we are both safe?" she would not simply cower and whimper while he was tortured, would not shrink into the shadows and wait for morwen to be finished. maybe the old althea would have done so, would have believed it was the right thing to do; but not now. "my brother has kept my chained for long enough, please rune, do not do the same." words are soft, a pleading tone coating them as she stares toward him. he would understand, would he not? in terms of power, althea no doubt outranked him — could protect him. did he not see that? if he allowed her she could help. "and i ... " exhaling deeply the high fae closes her eyes for a moment, "and i love you too, rune. which is why i will do whatever it takes to ensure she does not touch you." althea knew her value to the autumn court, knew her insider knowledge would be a bargaining chip she could use to ensure his safety. "rune ... " to see him in such distress made a fissure in her heart, brows knitting so tightly together as she reaches out, a small delicate palm brushing against his rough cheek. "it will be okay, i swear it to you."

"that i know to be true." it was clear from the outset that her brother had been hiding away althea out of fear, and that she possessed a sort of power that few could tame. though the high lord and his high lady may see her as something to be hidden and, at its worse, used, rune holds no fear when it comes to althea. he does not wish to possess or control her. only to set her free. "and you would die for me, then ?" he challenges, "you would have yourself killed for my sake ?" cannot even fathom the thought, head shaking adamantly. anything that could happen to the spymaster pales in comparison to what could be done to her. he'd endure torture for the rest of his life if it meant she was safe. would even go as far to break the bond if it would ensure her life. "i do not wish to chain you . . . not even to me," he replies honestly, tone heavy with remorse. such a confession rips through him, breath wavering as he forces himself to look away from her. "you do not know me." if she did, there was no way she could ever love him. it was simply the mating bond overriding her sense of reason and morphing her emotions. "we will protect each other. let's just leave it at that." does not wish to get into a pissing match with her over who would protect the other more. would not ever ask it of her, either. the male nearly shudders at her soft touch, pained hues closing to mask the fear and regret he held so deeply inside. "it is getting dark," he manages to get out, "we should get some sleep."