#poor beans

It had been a compromise that allowed Arina to dance. She’d study in the palace, would accept the tutelage of the heir to Day Court himself, and in exchange Arina could dance at court. There was some thought Helion might take her as a bride, given the strength of Arina’s magic. She didn’t possess the glowing heat of the sun like Helion Spell-Cleaver did, but her command of the wind was such that more than a few lords had made offers for their own sons while Arina was still a little girl.

She was marked for the heir of court and both her and Helion knew it. Had expected it, even, though there was a sadness to him every time some joke was made about Arina coming of age. Helion was her friend when she was old enough to have a lover, it had seemed only natural to start with him.

But Helion didn’t love her and was marked by some heavy, aching sadness every time his father brought it up. Arina and Helion. Helion with the sun, Arina with the wind. They’d restrengthen a failing court, breathe new magic into a lineage rife with inbreeding. Day Court was hardly the only incesteous court. They were all that way. Only a mated pair could subvert the machinations of the royal families and Arina and Helion were very much mateless.

That all changed when Aututmn came to visit. Arina scattered at the first sight of those red banners, climbing to the tallest spire of the palace to watch far above the clouds. Using the wind to drag clouds towards her, she was a ghost, unseen by Beron Vanserra and his brood of seven. Beside him, his wife didn’t smile at all, though her face was inclined towards the moody sun, as if she hadn’t felt the warmth on her face in centuries. With seven children, perhaps she hadn’t. Beron must have been at her day and night. 

Only the eldest looked up, as if he sensed he was being watched. She was too high in the air for him to truly see her, but when his lip curled upwards, Arina was certain he knew someone was hiding. As if he’d known what was waiting for them that night, when her father found her, breathless and irate.

“Come down,” he ordered, his blonde hair graying at her temples. Arina’s mother had always been considered the great beauty of Day Court. Her father had changed all that. She’d withered to nothing, that beauty diminished with each passing year until she’d eventually died, leaving Arina alone with the man before her. At least Helion would never do that to Arina. They were friends, lovers, and she thought they’d be good parents in a few centuries when they couldn’t escape those expectations. But Helion made no demands and had never raised an angry voice. Arina was satisfied with that. 

Helion didn’t want her to stop dancing.

Draped in shimmering gold, Arina let her father lead her into the dining hall. Helion sat beside his father in white, a crown shaped like the sun adorning his head of onyx hair. He was ramrod straight, amber eyes looking at anything but the family seated at the table just beside them. Beron Vanserra’s eyes found her first, a rich, muddy brown set in a handsome, if not pale face. 

“The future Lady of Day?” he murmured, standing up as her mother presented her. Arina dropped into a curtsey.

“Yes.” Helion said it so tonelessly, so devoid of emotion. 

“Arina is quite the dancer,” his father, Phobos, added. “Perhaps after dinner we might cajole her into taking off her sandals and putting on a show.”

“I would like that,” Arina told the High Lord earnestly, eyes slipping to his wife. She, too, was sitting straight as an arrow, her eyes firmly on her hands. Rich, auburn hair cascaded about her face and despite the heat, she wore a heavy, velvet dress of the richest purple.

“We don’t let our ladies dance in Autumn,” Beron told her, drawing her attention back to him. “You would be quite the novelty.”

“Good thing she resides in Day,” Helion’s voice snapped, earning a dark chuckle from one of Beron’s sons. Arina couldn’t help but look, recognizing the amused male as the same who’d known she sat in the spire tower. The whole world narrowed for a moment on this person, this male with fair skin and amber eyes. Shoulder length auburn hair cut around a truly handsome face, even if it was etched in a sneer. Full lips, carved cheekbones, and a jaw that could cut through granite would have made him the sort of male that Arina would have wanted, had he not looked at her like she was beneath him.

Trash.

Her heart was thudding loudly in her head, even as Beron continued to speak to her. The male was paling, leaning back in his chair as if he wanted to escape her. She did, too. Wrenching her hand out of Beron’s grip, Arina stumbled back a step before she was all but knocked off her feet by a snapping force slicing through her body. Her hand flew to her breast as she gasped roughly.

“Arina?”

It was Helion who drew her back to reality. The entire room was utterly silent. All eyes on her, panting as though she'd run a marathon. The male she’d been staring at had risen from his chair, his alarm fading as she blinked. She didn’t dare look him in the eye, not as Helion came towards her. He offered her a warm hand. Pulling her to her feet, Helion’s expression slackened for a moment, his face ashen.

He whipped around to look at the male, now seated at the table. He could scent it. They would all be able to by the end of the night. “I’m going to be sick,” Arina told him, wobbling on her feet. Helion turned back, catching her just as the world slanted sideways.

Just as everything went dark. 

She woke to the sound of soft voices. “I don’t care about mates.” That was Helion.

“He has a claim, his father–” That was her father.

“Fuck Beron Vanserra. I’m not handing her over to fucking Autumn—”

“Then you’ll fight a blood duel. Is that what you want? To fight the heir to Autumn Court over a female that doesn’t belong to you?” Phobos’s voice was reasonable, even if the circumstances were not. 

“I can’t…father, please be reasonable. Arina is…Arina is everything to me.” 

Both males laughed.

“I think we both know that isn’t true, or you would have married her a decade ago. You’ve been putting this marriage off because you don’t want it. Eris Vanserra is willing to marry her. Let her go. She belongs to him—”

A snarl silenced whatever Arina’s father had been about to say. Eris Vanserra. First born son, heir to Autumn court. She knew of him in theory, knew of his reputation. Cruel, cold…he’d left a female to die in his own woods because she wasn’t a virgin. What would he make of her? Arina lacked her virginity a million times over at that point. He’d be reasonable, she decided. He’d want her to reject the bond, would want a bride made solely of Autumn, not polluted by Day Court.

Arina was so sure that when she rose from the little white settee in his fathers office, she was smiling. 

“I want to talk to him.” Arina interrupted the conversation breathlessly, her head still pounding. The bond in her chest writhed, pulled taut by the other end. By him. He was looking for her.

They just needed to have it out, be reasonable. Arina knew from her studies the bond wasn’t the end all, be all.

Helion sat beside her, taking her face in his hands. “Please don’t. Arina, I…”

But his father and hers were watching and Helion could not even convincingly manage to fake love. 

“I’ll take you,” her father murmured, extending a golden hand towards his daughter. She’d inherited his coloring and little else. Everything else came from her mother.

“An alliance with Autumn would be incredibly advantageous,” Phobos added. “I’ve been trying for years.”

Helion’s eyes slid to his sandals. Arina reached for his hand, squeezing softly. It won’t come to that.

Eris would be like Helion, she reasoned she left, her hand on her father’s elbow. “The lords of Autumn are not like Day,” he began to explain, his sandals clacking loudly on the marble beneath them. “They have different expectations of their females. Go in there, lower your eyes, and do not speak unless he asks you to.”

“Father–”

“I mean it, Arina. You know his father’s reputation. Do as he asks.”

He all but shoved her towards an arching bedroom door. Eris yanked it open before her father could knock, his eyes wild when he realized who was on the other side. Arina drank in his buttoned up green jacket and his fitted black pants. Not one inch of skin was visible save for his broad hands and his neck. 

“Lord Vanserra, my daughter, Lady Arina.”

Lady Arina. No one called her that. Arina dared to look up at him as she righted her spine, heart hammering. There was a pull between them, begging her to touch him, taste him, smell him.

“Leave us,” Eris ordered, gesturing for Arina to step inside. The bedroom was small enough, though it overlooked the ocean which put it at a premium. Arina took a breath, drinking in the smoky, woodsy smell of him. Sandalwood and flame rolled off him richly, though she doubted he was aware of it.

Eris had his back to her for a moment, hands fisted at his side.

“I was thinking–”

“I agree,” she interrupted breathlessly, ignoring her father’s caution. “I know how to break a mating bond. I could do it right now.”

Eris went utterly still, his mouth slack. 

“What?”

Arina hedged a step closer, ignoring the want coursing through her. “I know they want to make a political alliance out of us but it’s crazy—”

“It’s smart,” Eris replied, though his eyes were glassy and faraway. 

“We don’t have to be their pawns. We can break it, it’s easy–”

“NO.”

Arina blinked, skittering back when Eris came towards her. He pinned her against the door, hands bracketing her body. “No. I forbid it. We’ll be married the night we return to Autumn and you’ll accept it then.”

“I…”

“It’s foolish,” Eris interrupted, eyes searching her own. Taking a breath, Eris added. “Mates supersede whatever arranged marriage you had. I intend to accept.”

“And what about me? What about what I want?” she dared to ask. Eris’s eyes dipped towards her mouth.

“I don’t believe anyone has ever cared about that,” Eris replied with a sneer. “So this should be very familiar to you. You’re merely trading one heir for another.”

“Eris—”

He shuddered. “Yes. Just like that,” he agreed, pressing the length of his body against her own. “If you break the bond, Beron will merely drag you to Autumn anyway. You will not like how he gains your compliance.”

Holding a lock of hair in his hand, Eris brought it to his nose and inhaled. 

“And you? Do you intend to replicate your father’s brutal tactics?” she asked, trembling at the thought.

“This is a political marriage, Arina. I don’t intend to think of my wife at all, outside of heirs and my bedroom…so long as you don’t give me a reason to.”

“And if I don’t want to be your good little wife waiting for you in your bedroom?”

He pushed closer, letting her feel the hardened length of him hidden just behind his pants. “You don’t have to lie when I can smell your want. This can be easy, Arina.”

“I don’t want you,” she whispered.

Eris pulled away, adjusting the cuffs on his jacket. “Well you have me, regardless if you want it or not. That’s the joy of mates, after all. Perhaps if you hadn’t made such a show of it, we could have had a different discussion.”

Arina swallowed her tears. “I hate you.”

Eris only shrugged. “I don’t think you loved Helion very much.”

Something her father said slithered through her mind, clashing with her meeting with Beron. “Will I have to stop dancing?”

Tears threatened to spill and Eris knew it, was watching her so very carefully. This was leverage she’d just handed over to him. If she had to go, Arina wanted something that he couldn’t touch.

One thing that was just for her. 

“Accept the bond, and I’ll find a place for you to dance.”

Arina took a breath. “Okay.”

And Eris exhaled his own. She turned for the door she was still pressed against, hand on the knob when he lunged again. Face impossibly close, his breath sweet against her face, he asked,

“Why you?”

“I…”

“Mates are equals,” he added.

“And of course, you could never have an equal, right?” she snapped furiously. Eris ignited all at once, his whole body writhing, living flame. He was terrifying like that, molten heat that looked as if it might consume everything—consume her, if she let it. Arina closed her fingers into a fist, sucking the air from the room before he realized what was happening. She didn’t budge, still able to breath, as his flame shuttered and gasped, desperate for oxygen. She was his ruination in that moment, his perfect foil. 

His eyes went wide, knees slamming to the ground before her in a subversion of the submission he expected. She only watched, letting his grasp at her until his lips were blue. Only then did Arina relax her hand and allow him to suck down a loud breath of air. 

“Wind?” he choked. 

Arina crouched before him. “Did you really think they gave me to Helion because I was pretty?”

And Eris, eyes blazing and defiant, stared right back. “Beautiful.”

He was so vicious, she thought, rising back to her feet. Eris, too, stood until he was towering over her. “You will be a wildfire in Autumn.” She didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. 

And she certainly didn’t want to find out. 

ERIS:

 He was following her. In Eris’s defense, he’d begun to follow her the moment the bond snapped. Ripped out of his chair when she’d crashed to the floor, caught only at the last second by Helion, Eris had tried to go with her. 

Mate. That’s my mate.

She’d damned them both with her wide-eyed terror. He could have headed things off had she remained silent, might of kept the secret and moved up his plans to assassinate his father. Beron knew, now, and Eris had a weakness that could be exploited.

Arina. 

She was moving through the dark of the palace. It was her last night—he’d heard her make tearful goodbyes to Helion, who had sworn there would always be a place for her. How did it feel, Eris wondered, to lose two females to the same court? He’d seen his mother watching the heir to Day Court when she thought no one else was looking. Helion was no better, slinking around, hoping to catch a glimpse, a moment he might speak to her.

Helion would cause another bruise if he wasn’t careful. 

Arina, draped in white, slid into the priestesses' temple, unaware he was haunting her steps. Centuries of tracking in the Autumn forests made him a creature of silence. She wouldn’t see him unless he willed it. Eris had been following her around all week, trying to get a sense of his soon-to-be wife. His mate.

He’d been certain he wanted her the moment he saw her. Arina, with her cascade of sunlit blonde hair and her warm, golden skin. Arina, who had danced for Autumn Court while his father and brothers watched like she was made of the very air he breathed. Eris had gritted his teeth, reclining in his chair like a spoiled prince when all he really wanted was to bash in the eyes of every male leering at her. 

But it was Arina’s power that made Eris’s knees shake. The magic that coursed through her veins, that had driven him to his knees while she watched with cold fury. Mates were equals.

They could reshape all of Autumn with magic like that. The sooner she offered him something to eat, the better. Eris didn’t like the way his father watched her, like she was something to play with.

Something to touch. 

Inside the dark temple, Arina slid off her sandals. There were no priestesses left in Autumn, no more temples were people worshiped. It had long been abandoned by his father, who wanted to be the only deity their people looked to. Hips swaying slightly, she padded over bare marble floors, past rows of golden pews, to the altar. Arina slid to her knees, head bowed in whispered prayer.

Reaching for a match, Eris watched her light a candle. He understood what she asked for. Safety, in this new marriage. Safety from the brutality of Autumn, from the violence of the Forest House–from a mate she did not want. 

But Eris wanted her, more than anything he’d ever wanted in his entire life. She saw him as an adversary but Eris saw her as an ally. She didn’t understand, having lived her life dancing and laughing and basking in the light. Autumn was cruel and Eris had been bathed in it his whole life. He, too, wanted to feel the warm glow of the sun on his face. They’d be forced underground but Eris thought Arina couldn’t be dulled so easily.

And he didn’t want to see her dimmed at all. 

Arina stayed for a long time, leaving Eris content to watch. Whatever she thought, whatever fears she had, she didn’t vocalize them. She merely sat in that temple until her candle was shuttering. Eris could have reignited it for her, could have been that light in the encroaching dark, but he didn’t think she’d appreciate it. 

She passed right by him without even knowing, sliding back into her shoes. Arina didn’t go to her room and every guess Eris made afterwards was wrong. No beach, no runaway attempt, no tower, no pegasuses. She went to the library. He had a memory of her father bragging about Arina’s studies—she’d been tutored by the heir of the Day Court and thus had the education a future High Lord’s wife might need. Eris hadn’t cared too terribly much given Arina wasn’t expected to govern but his father had been pacified. 

It was there, among the towering shelves unlit in the dark, that Arina broke apart. Eris stilled when he heard that first, breathless sob. Clutching the edge of the table, her hair falling like a curtain in front of her face, Arina wept loudly in what he assumed was the only place she felt safe. 

Eris almost made himself known, if only to reassure her that she didn’t have to be afraid of him. That he wanted this…a selfish thing given he was demanding she leave her home, her friends, her family. What was he even offering? An eternity of being dangled like a piece of meat over his head? A tool Beron would use to keep Eris firmly in line and aligned with his goals? She could see how nervous and flighty and pale his mother was. Why shouldn’t she expect the same treatment?

So Eris left her there, giving her the privacy she had expected when she walked in. It was a small thing, worth nothing at all given that walking back to his bedroom put him on the path to a confrontation with Helion. 

“You could end this,” Helion said by way of greeting. Eris smothered his hatred of the male lounged against a pillar.

“So sure, are you?” Was all Eris could think to reply without outing his mothers secret. Helion ought to know that when the High Lord decided something, the rest of them could only obey. 

“Arina is special,” Helion told Eris, turning his vision red for a moment. 

“Is that why you married her? Oh, wait…” Eris shoved past Helion, vibrating with fury. He didn’t want another male telling him about his mate. He didn’t want to know what Helion had done with her and to her, unaware she belonged to Eris. Just another thing Helion had put his hands on when he had no right, another thing Helion had inadvertently hurt because he was cowardly. 

“You know why—”

“I don’t know a fucking thing,” Eris snapped, slamming his door shut before Helion, the utter and absolute moron, made a declaration anyone could hear. Eris knew all too well why Helion would balk at marriage, would drag it out for decades, centuries even. Waiting on a female he could never have. Helion had condemned Eris’s mother one too many times, had subjected her to the worst of Beron’s impulses when before, his father had been content to leave her alone. 

Put a target on Lucien’s back and now Eris never got to see the one brother he’d liked even after Beron sank his talons into them. Lucien had just been nice, and Beron had been uninterested in his bastard and too focused on the other six of them to really do much about Lucien.

Which left the youngest to Eris. Eris claimed all of the moments a father might want, had he been a good male. First steps, first words, first kill. Eris had taught Lucien to hunt and track, how to fight and had even once helped a very young Lucien get his first female, though it had resulted only in a rather chaste kiss. His younger brother had always been too soft for the Forest House, offering up a daisy timidly by way of courting. 

All things Helion might have wanted.

All things Eris had, for all the good it did him.

Raising Lucien, spotty and strange as it had been, had taught Eris the kind of male he wanted to be, should he ever escape Beron. How he might raise his own sons, if he ever had them. How he might treat his own wife. There was privacy in his chambers, places he didn’t have to always be his fathers man. 

Eris didn’t sleep that night as he ran through it all in his head. Maybe it would have been better to let her break the bond, but Eris was selfish. Miserably, and utterly selfish. She’d never want him, even after he became High Lord and things were safe again. He knew they’d never be able to unring that bell.

So Eris woke and dressed himself in the customary red and white that his people married in, knowing Arina would wear gold and white. They’d come to a compromise—she’d be married in Day, but mated in Autumn and her family was allowed to come and enjoy the feast and a night in the Forest House. Only one night. Beron had been exceptionally clear that Phobos and his son were to leave the next morning. As if it mattered, given when Eris stepped from his bedchamber that morning, his mother was hurrying through the halls, her hair mussed, her lips stained. 

He didn’t dare look at her or acknowledge her presence at all. Hands clenched to fists, Eris joined his bride in the dining hall looking every inch the furious, spoiled prince of Autumn. He was too focused on his mother and Helion to consider what Arina saw when he strode in, his red cape fluttering just behind. Only when he dropped into the chair beside her and reached for a goblet of wine at the crack of dawn, did he dare glance over at her. 

Fuck.

Her hair had been swept off her face in some soft, pretty updo twisted against the nape of her neck though soft wisps of that sunlit blonde had escaped, framing her truly ethereal face. Eris couldn’t breathe as he faced her, drinking in her long, dark lashes and the grassy green eyes painted with shimmering gold. Her full mouth was the loveliest shade of pink and something iridescent had been dusted over her cheekbones, her collarbones, her neck…Eris blinked. She wore an off shoulder gown of white with ribbons of sparkling gold that faded into a cape of sunlight just behind. 

She was studying him, too. Did she like him? He suddenly felt foolish in the prince's crown and his jacket buttoned to his neck. All wrong, in comparison to the princess of Day. The same female he’d seen in the tower a week before, peering down like a goddess surveying her subjects. Eris cleared his throat with some sense he was being watched.

“You look nice,” he lied. She looked like the sun personified, like every wild daydream he’d ever had come to life. His entire body was tight, was desperate to see what was beneath. He just wanted to touch, was too tempted to pull her into his lap and snarl at the rest of the room if they dared to look at her.

“Thanks.”

Arina’s clipped voice dragged him back to their present reality. He might want her but she did not want him. It cooled some of the lust in Eris’s stomach. Too late, he remembered a similar dinner with Morrigan and a similar conversation. The only difference was their mutual lack of interest. Eris was very interested in Arina. 

She said nothing else for the remainder of breakfast, of which she ate very little of. Eris was watching like a hawk and when she set her fork down, having spent the better part of an hour pushing food around her plate, he couldn’t help himself.

“You don’t eat?”

“Don’t worry about what I do and don’t do,” Arina snapped. The sound of her breathless, aching sobs bounced through his skull again, filling his chest with misery. Eris nearly touched her then, only didn’t because his father, at the table nearest to them, was watching. 

“More for me, I suppose.” He reached over her, drinking in her soft, citrusy scent, and forked a piece of meat off her plate. Arina watched, wide-eyed, her pretty mouth hanging open. Perfect. Eris pushed the food against her tongue, almost laughing at her spluttering.

“Did I distract you?” he murmured, brushing his fingers over the exposed skin of her shoulder. Beron was still watching, his expression utterly devoid of emotion and yet Eris knew exactly what bothered his father about all this. Not that she was Day Court or he suspected she was more common than Phobo’s had let on, but that Eris had a mate. Mates were rare, almost impossible things to find. They superseded everything else and all other ties were irrelevant. Mates were only loyal to each other…supposedly, anyway. Beron was jealous his son had what he believed, by rights, ought to have gone to him first. 

And Eris knew eventually he’d be punished for this moment, for this sliver of happiness. Beron would try to drive a wedge between them, to prove the famed bond of mates was merely a myth. Eris didn’t let himself dwell on that, not while Arina angrily chewed, her cheeks a furious red at having been caught wanting him.

Bolstered, Eris practically floated through the rest of the meal. He didn’t hear the speech her father offered though he did see how tight Arina’s body had become, how she looked like prey cornered when her father turned his eyes onto her face. Eris didn’t like it either, leaning a fraction closer in warning. Don’t look at her. 

And then it was time. Arina stood, wobbly like before and Eris put his hand on her back just in case she was going to faint again. Praying she kept it together, if only to spare her a marriage in his home away from her family, Eris did not stop touching her as they walked to the temple.

Arina didn’t ask him to, either. In fact, as Eris led her down the aisle while the rest of his family and her court filed in behind them. 

Arina balked at the steps until Eris put his hand on her elbow. She turned, looking up at him with wild, terrified eyes. He didn’t know what to say, what he could do to fix this moment. It was such a violation and he knew it, a betrayal of the bond between them. He merely tugged on that cord between them, hoping it felt reassuring and not aggressive.

I’ll protect you. Walk up the stairs.

And fuck, but Arina did, kneeling before the priestess just as he did. She spoke the words alongside him, clasping his hand, head bowed. Eris tipped her chin at the end, eyes searching her own for a moment. She looked so scared. He blinked only once, swallowing any promises he might have made in front of that room of strangers.

His father was watching. He would expect Eris to react only with want. There could be no affection—if Beron thought Eris capable of love, he’d find himself tied up in the dungeons again.

He kissed her quickly, smiling with cruel amusement the entire time. Like it was funny to him. Like her mouth didn’t taste like sugar, like her lips hadn’t made his skin buzz and hum with anticipation. She looked up at him with too much unguarded vulnerability and Eris hated himself for the way he was looking back.

Arina reached for the back of his neck, holding him close for a mere moment. “I will always hate you,” she whispered.

Knife in his heart, Eris swallowed his feelings. “I don’t care what you feel about me, wife.”

And that was that.

ARINA: 

Do nothing to displease the High Lord.

Those had been her fathers parting words. As if Arina hadn’t already choked Eris to the point of passing out a mere week before. Eris had said nothing at her fathers whispered words, his broad hand warm against her back. She hated how handsome he looked in his white and red jacket and the fluttering cape just behind. He was still coming, would be at the feast in which she fed Eris and cemented the bond between them.

Ensuring her compliance, just as the High Lords of both Autumn and Day would be. Arina’s heart pounded. She’d spent the night in the library, crying and raging in equal measure, while reading through the books on mating bonds. On the frenzy. She’d hoped there might be some way around it, that she wouldn’t lose herself for days or weeks to some primitive part of herself she couldn’t fight.

And Gods, but Arina wanted Eris. Kissing him had been a mistake given how funny he seemed to find it but she’d been wrecked the second his mouth covered her own. It had been chaste and utterly polite, washing that scent of smokey sandalwood and a cool, spiced wind. Eris smelled like he lived outdoors in the best way and Arina wanted to lick the taste off his body.

Eris offered Arina his hand just outside the steps of the Sun Palace. Panicked, she took one last look around her, her stomach tied up in knots. Would she ever see it again? Would she ever see the sprawling marble and the spiraling towers? The library, the water, the city just below. She didn’t realize until he squeezed that everyone else had already winnowed away and it was just her standing there with him, holding his hand like a lifeline.

Stupid, to trust him twice and yet Arina said, “I’m afraid I’ll never see this place again.”

She wiped a tear quickly from her face. 

“You will,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft. Arina twisted to look at him, daring to hope that maybe this male wasn’t as awful as she thought. 

“Swear it.”

Eris’s expression was unreadable. He gazed down at her with hot amber eyes before looking around him. He was so out of place here though she couldn’t quite pin down how. Would she always seem that way in Autumn? 

“Is this the wedding gift you’re asking of me? Something I would have given you already?”

Arina hadn’t expected him to give her anything at all.

“A wedding gift?”

“It’s custom, in my home, for a male to give his new bride a gift.”

Arina’s heart pounded wildly in her chest. “You got me something?”

“I got you something,” Eris agreed softly. “I intend to give it to you tomorrow…unless this is what you’d prefer.”

Arina swallowed. This could all be some little game of his, some trick that hurt her. “You’ll let me come back?”

“You’re princess of Autumn now,” Eris murmured, reaching out his other hand to brush stray hairs from her face. “The same rules that govern me now govern you.”

She nodded.  I’m choosing to trust you. Don’t make me regret it.

“Ready?”

“No,” she whispered, though it didn’t matter. Eris swept her up in a soft winnow, the crushing darkness blotting out the humid early morning sun. She hadn’t been prepared for Autumn, even as the chill seeped through the swirling, rib-crushing air. For a moment, Arina said nothing at all as she gazed at this new place.

Home. The air smelled like him somehow, less heady but still crisp and rich. 

Eris prowled towards the Forest House, the sprawling palatial estate that seemed to stretch in every direction, carved into the very land itself as if it had sprung from the stone and soil. Arina couldn’t take her eyes off the vibrant forest that surrounded it on all sides. She could see the color of Eris’s hair, his eyes, his skin reflected from the russet tree trunks, the ruby red leaves, the mossy greens. 

She didn’t realize he was watching her while she studied, standing in the late afternoon gloom, a soft rain beginning to mist over her skin. There was nothing like it in Day Court—when it rained, it did so with violence, drowning with it a vicious humidity that sent everyone scrambling indoors. Even winter was just a little too warm, the water just right for swimming during solstice itself. She’d sworn she always loved that. Would have staked her life on being a creature of heat.

Her eyes shuttered for a moment as she drew in a crisp breath of air. She didn’t want to like Autumn. She didn’t want to find it beautiful, to feel a connection to the creaking tree limbs that reminded her of her own aching bones. Arina wanted to take off her sandals, to pad against the grassy moss until the forest swallowed her whole. It called to her, singing a song she’d heard only in her dreams.

Arina, Arina, Arina, the rustling tree tops chanted. Join us.

A hand gripped her shoulder. “I hear it too,” Eris murmured, pulling her from her trance. Arina swallowed hard, not pushing him away when she knew she should. She was still staring at the swaying trees.

“How do you shut it out?” she murmured, unsure if she wanted that.

“You don’t,” Eris replied simply. “Come on. I’ll take you to our room.”

Arina didn’t want a room. 

She took one last look at the beckoning forest, whispering her own silent promise.

I’ll be back.

She understood why he wanted to show her where she’d be sleeping. It was a suite of rooms all interconnected. Two bedrooms, two bathing chambers, with doors that locked between a large living space. She didn’t have to see him at all unless he required her. He could merely come into her room, do his duty by her, and leave again. If Eris had females in his own bed, Arina might never know. Perhaps it was better that way.

It wasn’t done in Day. Before the Lady of Day had passed, Phobos had shared a chamber with her faithfully. She’d halted in the doorway when she saw her trunk of things perched on the wood floors, understanding implicitly why she would have to sleep away and hating it all the same.

“Come with me,” he murmured, having laid out the expectations for their marriage. Arina followed after him, back to his bedroom. It was a near match for her own, with the large bed framed in cherry wood and draped in black—though her bed was covered in gold–save for the two doors that led outside. Eris pulled them open, revealing a brick paved patio and, a mere twenty feet from that, the same woods that whispered her name.

“This is yours,” he said, knuckles skimming the back of her neck.

“Even if you’re occupying it?” she dared to ask. Eris’s eyes flashed with heat. 

“Especially if I’m occupying it.”

Of course he’d say that. She’d walked right into it. 

“About tonight—” Arina began, immediately regretting her words when Eris stepped closer, his body a whispers breath from hers.

“Have you been touched before?”

“Yes,” she told him defiantly. “Many times.”

She expected him to rear back with revulsion or express disgust. She couldn’t figure him out. One minute he was the spoiled, sneering prince of Autumn and the next the hot, intense male burning before her. 

“Good,” Eris breathed, reaching for her face to hold her in place. “As have I.”

“This is…this is just the bond between us,” she said. 

“Sure,” Eris agreed, sounding very much like he would like to argue. 

“It means nothing to me. The frenzy will fade,” she added pointedly.

“Of course.”

He was so obnoxious. She was trying to craft an agreement between them, one that dealt with the inevitability of their wedding night without making him think she was going to be his sweet, docile wife. 

“Once I give you an heir, I don’t ever want your hands on my body again,” she snapped, trying to impress upon him how little he interested her. 

“Mmm,” Eris agreed noncommittally. 

She opened her mouth to argue but time was up. Eris stepped away, dragging away the musky, aroused scent of him. She could still smell it burning in her nose, crisper and darker than before.

A knock on their door was their polite reminder that it was time to finish what they’d started. It would be no mere wedding night. Arina swallowed her panic.

“Will we remain here for…” She couldn’t make herself say it.

“Only tonight,” Eris replied, hand back on her back. She was starting to think he was touching her to keep her steady and Arina couldn’t pretend she didn’t appreciate it. 

“Is the palace underground?” Arina could help but ask when he led her back into the open halls. There were windows here, breaking up the herringbone cut floors and the paneled walls but once they rounded the corner it was torches that lit the way and hot fire that warmed the interior. 

“Yes,” he agreed. “Only a few are allowed rooms above ground.”

“Like us?”

Eris’s mouth quirked at the sides. “Like us,” he agreed. “Favored courtiers and the High Lord’s family reside up here. It’s ranked, of course, and if you infuriate the High Lord you might find yourself moving lower underground. Servants and staff are at the very lowest level just above the dungeons.”

“Dungeons,” Arina repeated, catching the way Eris winced.

“Yes. Dungeons.”

She didn’t ask a follow up question on that regard. “Could you be moved?”

Eris stiffened. “I suppose if I died.”

She hadn’t expected that answer, either. Was everyone so intense in Autumn, or just merely the man she was mated to? There was no way to tell and no one to ask. Huge, carved doors were yanked open on either side by two guards dressed in blood red uniforms. 

Inside were windows, at least. Arched and pointed on two sides, the windows allowed for the moody outdoor light to pour inside though the space was made warm and lovely by an overhead chandelier and a massive fireplace just behind the High Lord’s seat. She didn’t think this room, with the glossy wood floors and its lovely painted carvings against the wall, was typically used for this purpose.

“This is the throne room,” Eris murmured, hand still on her back as he led her in. They were the last ones in which made finding their places easy—she was seated directly beside the Lady of Autumn and Eris was almost across from her as his fathers right hand man. Apt, she supposed. She could see Helion at the far end of the table, dressed in a white coat and pants–that was a sight Arina had never thought she’d see of the Day Court prince. He was the only one with a facial expression that matched her own pounding fear.

Horror that matched her own. It was too late to stop what was coming when Arina had already willingly married him. Even if she’d rejected Eris in front of his entire court she’d still be his wife. He could merely force her to comply, could lock her away until she did. It was better to finish what they’d started that day in Helion’s throne room.

Platters of every food Arina could imagine lay spread across the table. Eris could eat nothing until Arina made something for him and whatever she offered, he would be required to put in his mouth. What did he like? The part of her body that was more animal than fae purred at the thought of pleasing her mate. Of feeding him. 

Eris sat in his large brown chair while Arina remained on her feet. Their gazes held for a moment and Eris, with a crown of burnished leaves set atop his auburn hair, inclined his head in a sketch of a bow. Permission. Arina swallowed hard, walking around the table, past the High Lord himself, to reach for Eris’s plate. She could see his hand in his lap, tapping a nervous beat on his thigh. 

She nearly dropped the plate on the floor when Eris ripped on the bond. Hand outstretched for a piece of dark meat, something she didn’t recognize but assumed he liked, Arina turned her head to look at him. Eris didn’t react at all, his face one of cool boredom. She ignored it for the lighter version. Nothing. 

Arina was careful, balancing meat and vegetables with a small, bright piece of apple pie that made his mother sigh with pleasure. Anything he didn’t like got a rip on the bond and anything he did was given no recognition at all. It frustrated her, this fussiness. He couldn’t just be grateful she was serving him at all, when hundreds of eyes were staring at her.

Watching. 

Waiting. 

With shaking hands, Arina set the plate before Eris before sitting beside his mother. The Lady of Autumn reached for Arina’s wrist, holding it tightly. For one solitary second, Arina saw Eris hesitate and thought he was going to call this whole thing off. He’d realized the absurdity of this whole thing. His father watched the closest, judging his son on some metric Arina couldn’t fathom. His wife, too, reached for her husband's hand and Arina wondered if they didn’t wish this was them. Mated, along with being married. Beron was cruel and still she’d remained with him unbroken for over five hundred years. There must be some love somewhere. Perhaps he was kind with her, in his way. 

Eris lifted his fork and took a bite and that was it. Arina felt the cord strengthen in her chest, shimmering gold with each bite he’d taken. One was enough, though. She knew that with certainty. Eris cleared his whole plate while the table watched, their conversation picking up when they realized he wouldn’t be jumping over it and rutting her for their amusement. Whatever beast lay beneath Eris’s fine clothes and jewels was very carefully put away and would not come out.

At least for now.

“Congratulations,” Eris’s mother told Arina once they were lost beneath conversation. Even Eris was speaking, talking directly to his mother. “I always wanted a daughter.” But Arina had a mother, even if she was dead now. And she certainly didn’t want Eris’s mother. The woman had raised him into the smirking, sneering creature before them. Arina, who had been taught manners, bowed her head.

“Thank you.”

His mother opened her mouth to continue the conversation but Eris had risen abruptly, his eyes burning against her skin. Oh, Gods, she thought with horror. Not now.

There was some amused chuckling that died to nothing when Eris took her plate, still empty, and began putting exactly what she’d fed him onto it. He couldn’t be serious. Even his father seemed surprised by the display, brows pulled forward to watch this little display. Eris walked to her, setting the plate before her with unnecessary closeness.

“You’ll need this,” he murmured, mouth against her ear. There was more laughter at Arina’s expense but his point had been made. Eris, who’d been frustrated she wouldn’t eat breakfast, would not watch her skip another meal. He nodded after sitting, ignoring his fathers look of amusement.

“Eat.”

She wanted to tell him no. Wanted to remind him that no matter what he believed, marriage wasn’t ownership. They were being watched by two courts and so Arina only smiled, ignoring the way Eris blinked rapidly, and took a bite. The food was perfect, rich and well-spiced and it was strangely nice to share this with him, though she couldn’t explain why. Only that she was eating what he’d eaten and in that moment, if felt like he’d made them equals somehow. She was certain he hadn’t meant to, had only wanted to exercise a little power in that moment and still it had softened unwillingly.

Or maybe that was the want that was quietly slithering through her veins. Arina shifted uncomfortably, turning her gaze back to the Lady of Autumn. “There will be time to get to know each other,” she murmured, nose wrinkling as if she could smell it. “Perhaps for now, it might be better if I took you back to your room…to avoid a scene?” Arina glanced back to Eris, watching her every move like a predator. When she stood he grabbed the edge of his chair, forcing himself to remain seated. Still, his eyes burned against her back as his mother walked Arina out, lingering only long enough for Helion to stand abruptly, cutting off their path.

“Lady,” he said to the Lady of Autumn, eyes lingering for just a moment before he turned to Arina. “You always have a place in my home. With me,” he added pointedly, well aware Eris would be listening. Arina fisted her hands at her sides, nodding against the tears threatening to spill. She wanted to hug him so badly. He was still her friend—he had always been her friend. 

Saying anything or worse, hugging him, was tantamount to rejecting her mate before his whole court. So Arina let the lady lead her out without a word.

Back to Eris’s room.

It might have been a prison.

ERIS:

One day, Eris swore he was going to hit the prince of Day Court in the face for the shit he continued to pull. There was no doubt in Eris’s mind that his father was going to be picking apart his mothers every action now that Helion had dared to stand in front of her, to look at her so openly, so knowingly. Only his mother would pay for that.

And Arina, who’d been trembling and scared, had looked as if she might dissolve into tears at his words when Eris had all but defied his father to feed her. Undone in one selfish moment by the guilty heir to the Day Court throne. Eris knew he regretted not marrying Arina, that he blamed himself.

But Eris would have demanded her regardless if she’d been Helion’s wife or not. And Helion would have handed her over, would have yielded yet another thing he loved to Autumn. Eris would take it all—he’d keep Lucien, too, once his father was dead and his brother could return. And if Helion ever thought to step foot on his door for his son and his lover, Eris would greet him with the point of his sword. Helion would atone for the damage he’d done even if Eris had to make him.

He flung open his bedroom door stupidly expecting her to be waiting inside. Arina had her own room, one she could lock. It was the way of things in Autumn and Eris hated it. He wanted her beside him—and he would have her. Crossing the sitting room, Eris ignored the way the fire roared at the sight of him. He pushed open her door with a sickening crunch where Arina stood just inside, still wearing her wedding dress. No servants—she was unpinning her hair all on her own. 

He paused at the sight. Half of the golden locks were falling down her back, the rest still trapped by whoever had expertly put them away. She stared, eyes huge, hands frozen by her face. He wasn’t fucking her in here. Not tonight. 

Not ever. 

Closing the distance between them, Eris swept her up without a word and walked her out. He slammed that door behind him with a finality that made his blood sing. Mine. You are mine and I am yours. 

Arina was the only allegiance Eris had ever truly felt. He had his family but Eris had never had something that belonged wholly to him and something that he, too, could belong to. Above all else, Eris knew as he set her atop his bed, that he would have gone to war for her. 

She reached back for her hair and Eris knew that whatever words came from her lips next would wound him. He swore he wouldn’t take them personally, that she was merely frightened. He had ages and ages to show her what he’d meant when he’d put that plate before her—when he’d made her his wife. 

She rose carefully, still pulling pins from her hair. Eris began unbuttoning his jacket. “This is nothing,” she breathed, his beautiful little liar. “It is only the bond. I want you to acknowledge that.”

Eris said nothing at all. He wouldn’t give her this. She waited, still pulling lock after lock of hair down, the pins clattering to the floor. He got his jacket off when she looked at him, face framed by golden waves. 

“Eris,” she pleaded as he shook his head.

“You’re my wife,” was all he could think to say. It didn’t feel real. 

“We are nothing,” she tried again, firmer this time though he could smell her arousal in the air. The bond was riding her hard. 

“Okay,” he said, ripping his shirt off his head before kicking off his boots and his socks. He knew she heard his disbelief. 

“This won’t last.”

“Sure.”

“Eris–”

“Say it again,” he panted, his self control shredding before his very eyes. She’d begun unbuttoning her gown with trembling fingers and already his knees were buckling.

“This won’t–”

“My name,” he breathed, falling to his knees when her dress pooled at her feet. She was in nothing at all beneath it and Eris was certain he’d never seen a more beautiful sight than Arina’s naked body. Eris could barely breathe as he reached for her slim thigh, running his hand up over her leg. “Say my name.”

There was nothing but silence for a moment. He didn’t dare look up just in case it was her hatred that was looking back. Running his lips over the skin, Eris resigned himself to her words. It meant nothing to her, a tragedy considering how much this bond meant to him.

“Eris.”

Whatever leash had been holding him snapped. Eris surged upwards, burying himself between her thighs with ravenous, near feral hunger. This was the bond, he decided, because Eris had never tasted anything better than what lay between her legs. He liked to eat pussy and always had—it was his reputation in the Autumn Court among a group of males who seemed to feel it stole some of their power, to get on their knees before a female. 

Eris had always thought differently. Grabbing one of her legs to sling over his shoulder, he buried himself against her until his face was coated in the slickness he suspected had been there since before they’d ever accepted the bond.

Since they’d met. 

Arina moaned over him and when he looked up, he saw she was gripping the bedpost to keep herself steady, one hand on her breast. Eris was competitive—was he better than Day Court? He wanted to know those things, was obsessed with what she liked, what it would take to please her. Hips rolling in his face, Eris licked and sucked, driving his tongue into her body to chase the sweetness that seemed to pour.

Arina whined, running her fingers through his hair and tugging, urging him on. He couldn’t stop, not when he was so turned on he was practically bruising himself in his pants and not when she was practically begging him not to.

“Eris,” she pleaded, speaking his name like it was something holy. Something special. “Eris, please—”

He’d forgotten a ward. Arina came apart with a moaning scream, holding him tight against her as she rode his face. The whole palace would know what he was doing. It was just as well, he decided. Let there be no confusion as to what he’d done to this wife this night. No lingering doubt to his father that he would continue on the Vanserra lineage.

Eris rose to his feet, unfastening his pants as quickly as he could. He wasn’t going to get her into the bed the way he’d been imagining. He had her half atop it before he was buried to the hilt, holding her legs until she wrapped them tight against his waist. Her heels digging in his ass was permission enough to keep going, though her flushed face and panting breaths were a close second. Eris gripped her by the neck as he began to thrust, forcing her eyes on his face.

“This will never be nothing,” he snarled, letting his snapping hips punctuate his words. She was so impossibly tight, so wet and soft and perfect that he could have come from that alone. “You are my mate.”

Arina nodded, arching her back. His fingertips had to be bruising her skin where he held, dragging her roughly into him. He liked to fuck like this, liked his pleasure edged with pain. When he squeezed at her throat, Arina moaned. His mate liked it, too. Eris chased after each soft sound of pleasure that slipped from her throat until sweat poured down his back and his body ached from the need to come.

He needed to fill her, to get her used to having him, taking him. For one moment he let himself imagine her swollen, pregnant with his young. Eris snarled and Arina came again, clenching so tightly he could barely move at all. He suddenly pitied Helion–had he fucked this female, mate or not, he’d have been on his knees begging her to marry him regardless.

He came with a ripping violence, like some force pulled that orgasm out of him when in reality it was only her. A lifetime of waiting, of wondering, of quietly wishing he wasn’t alone now lay before him. Everything had been leading up to the panting, sweaty female half spread across his bed. He felt special, though he couldn’t admit it. Eris felt seen, for the first time in his life. He collapsed, gathering her against him to push them both up against the pillows. He needed to catch his breath, if only for a moment, before he took her again…and again…and again. 

Cuddled against his body, one leg thrown over his waist, Arina pressed a tentative kiss against his chest, her hand sliding over his stomach to touch the copper colored hair that trailed beneath his navel. He groaned softly, remembering his ward. It took half a second to get it up. His father might appreciate once or twice, but a night of it would see both Eris and Arina punished. 

She exhaled a breath, fingers still exploring his body. Eris laid himself out, letting her run her hands over his thighs, his shins, up his stomach and chest and down his arms and hands. 

“Just the bond,” she breathed, so clearly reassuring herself. Eris swallowed the hurt and disappointment at her words, letting her straddle his hips.

“Whatever you say.”

He woke with her in his bed, face stuck to his bare chest. They’d been at it for most of the night, stopping for water and apparently sleep. Eris didn’t remember falling asleep at all and wondered if he’d come one last time before collapsing into a dark, dreamless abyss. He was holding her tight against his body and untangling her took effort. His cock stirred to life all over again when the blanket slipped, revealing the vast expanse of her bronzed, unblemished skin. He wanted to lick it.

He needed to see his father before he left. He had permission to go and yet Beron would have thinks he wanted Eris to do even while he fucked his new wife. The sun wasn’t quite up and Arina was dead to the world, giving Eris a moment to dress and slip out.

His father was waiting in the dining hall just as he always was, staring at the day’s reports over a plate of food. When Eris strolled in, immaculate and unbothered, Beron’s eyes flicked upwards. He knew his father could scent the sex on him. 

“Good night?”

“Great night,” Eris agreed with a savage grin. Sitting at his fathers right hand, he waited for Beron to dole out a task.

“In a week, Hybern is sending one of their generals to Prythian.”

Eris blinked. “What?”

Beron, who had been alive for the first war, set down his parchment with a sigh. “They want to rebuild relations between our two lands. I admit I am…skeptical.”

“She’s coming here?”

“To Spring,” he amended. “I wouldn’t let Hybern within an inch of our borders. Not after what they did the last time.”

Eris had been a boy when they’d fled, barely older than ten. He knew the stories, though. Hybern had unleashed hell in Autumn, raping and pillaging and destroying at their leisure. His own mother had very nearly been ripped apart by his vicious, terrible beasts though his aunts had not escaped the same, terrible fate. 

Eris blew out a breath. It wasn’t even an ask to assure his father, “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” Beron agreed. “I want your eyes on whoever she brings with her.”

Eris nodded. “Of course.”

“Train your wife to work a room,” he added after a beat, his face slipping for only a moment. Eris saw the simmering rage just beneath. What had his mother endured, he wondered? What hell had Beron foisted upon her for Helion’s fuck up? “She wears her every emotion on her face.” He understood what Beron was saying. Males were allowed to beat their wives, often into brutal submission. Beron had never taken such tactics until Lucien was born and he realized his wife didn’t love him the way he’d loved her. In retrospect, Eris couldn’t possibly see how his father hadn’t realized that. Maybe Beron had never physically hit her, but he’d also never been particularly kind, either. 

“I intend to,” Eris lied. He’d put his hands on Arina over his dead body. He rather liked how she was, besides. Eris had to believe that Arina could be reasonable, that she wouldn’t do something that would jeopardize the safety of his home, his people.

Of him.

Still, as Eris walked back to his bedroom, he had a bad feeling about all of it.

ARINA:  

Eris’s wedding gift was a house. Specifically, a house overlooking the sea in one of Autumn’s biggest cities, Alsfeld. It was one in a series of gifts, each leaving her more confused and angrier than the last. He’d gifted her a sleek, smoke gray puppy she’d named Apollo and did genuinely love. A ring with a red ruby cut in a pretty diamond shape that seemed to glint gold beneath a bright, Autumn sun. It was a match for the one he wore on his own hand—three red rubies set in an otherwise unexceptional gold band.

He’d given her a tiara, a crown, and a pretty circlet she wore most days, denoting her princess of Autumn. Eris had found exceptional pleasure when he’d seen the golden cold pressed against her forehead, cut nicely through her hair. 

Clothes and shoes, baubles and trinkets. Fundamentally, it was a reminder that Eris did not understand her. He might know what she wanted when he fucked her, but he didn’t understand that she didn’t want pretty trinkets and status. What Arina wanted was a quiet space to read, preferably in the woods he kept her out of. 

In between the bond, which was riding the pair of them impossibly hard, Eris seemed hell-bent on giving her an education of his court. It was miserable, a reminder that she didn’t belong. She’d reminded him more than once that he’d promised her a place to dance, her words always silenced by a bruising kiss. 

They were gone only a week, though Eris swore they would return just as soon as they met with some foreign dignitary in Spring. It seemed Arina would get to see Prythian like she’d always wanted, if nothing else. Eris had ordered her to dress in red and as a first test of what her defiance might offer, Arina put on blue instead. Eris hadn’t realized until she stepped into the throne room, his face paling at the sight.

Everyone was dressed in that same bloody hue. Beron blinked only once, seated at the top of his throne, eyes flickering to his son. Eris couldn’t say a word, could only snake his arm around her waist. Arina smothered a smile. Good. Let him squirm. 

“Do you want to chan–”

“Nope,” she said quickly. Loudly. Eris only nodded, taking a deep breath. 

“No one says anything without my permission,” Beron warned the room. Eris’s siblings were ramrod straight, unadorned with weapons, all draped in the same finery as Eris. Berons wife, seated politely on his thigh, stared down at her children with severe eyes. This was important.

Arina didn’t care. 

Eris took her to Spring wordlessly, ignoring the want that was still coursing through them. He was going to whisk her straight back to that seaside palace, was going to trap her inside like his mother so when they arrived in the ivy covered palace, Arina immediately took off.

She was looking for Helion. 

Draped in the Day Court white, Helion was chatting up some pretty Spring courtier with a brazen smile. It all fell apart when he saw her. Unconcerned who saw, Arina all but launched herself into Helion's arms.

“You smell…you smell rough,” Helion teased by way of greeting, his face buried in her hair. “Are you well?”

“I’m managing,” she assured him. “I miss you.”

“I should have married you,” Helion said, pulling her away further from the open, marble checked floor. Half hidden in shadow, Helion touched her face. “I’m so sorry.”

“He would have taken me anyway,” she replied, blinking back a tear. “And…and he’s not awful.”

That was true, at least. Eris was odd. Intense and mocking in equal measure, sometimes she thought he actually liked her. Wanted her. He kept her worked up enough that each night she fell asleep tangled in his limbs and woke in his arms. She didn’t hate that. And she’d catch him watching her at times as if he was trying to memorize every little bit. 

And sometimes he’d say something so cutting it reminded her it was foolish to trust him.

“We could leave,” Helion breathed, hand around her waist as he led her further into the shadows. “Right now. I’d—”

“You’d what?” Came that familiar, mocking voice. “Tell me what you’d do.”

Eris was just behind, his face alive with rage. Helion rose to his full height, matching Eris. In that moment, Arina sensed there was more than just her lingering between them. Some old fight was just beneath the surface, prompting Eris to stare him down, to dare him to finish things.

“It’s fine,” Arina breathed, pressing her hands to Eris’s chest. “Everything is fine. I’m not leaving.”

Eris didn’t look at her at all. “If I see you so much as look at him again, there will be hell to pay. Do you understand me?”

Helion snorted but Arina, who’d never heard Eris speak to her like that, only nodded. “Okay.”

Helion’s disbelief lingered in her mind as Arina scurried away, leaving Eris behind. Without realizing, without meaning to, Arina slammed into the solid chest of the High Lord of Autumn.

“Embarrassing,” he hissed. “Everything about you has been an embarrassment tonight.”

And that was it. He strode away, leaving Arina feeling miserable and humiliated. She’d wanted to exercise some control, to prove she could do what she wanted and in the span of five minutes had been made to feel like a spoiled, angry child.

Eris caught her a moment later, hand back on her body though he didn’t speak to her unless he was introducing her to the courtiers from other territories. Arina smiled and nodded, didn’t dare to step even an inch away from her new husband. Just beneath his careful mask was a male who was brimming with anger. She meant to just ask what had happened between him and Helion.

Amarantha was the General from Hybern. Holding court with Tamlin, the High Lord of Spring, she smiled and danced in an ugly black dress that did nothing for the bone white of her skin. 

They were introduced by Beron. Amarantha’s eyes fell on Arina for a moment, so black she couldn’t see the whites of her eyes. Arina reared back, held in place by Eris. 

“What a pretty little wife,” she murmured, brushing sharp, blood red nails over Arina’s cheek. Eris’s fingers dug into her side though he nodded, accepting the compliment when Arina found she had nothing to say.

“Enjoy my party,” Amarantha murmured, eyes slithering towards the handsome High Lord of Night. 

Beron was stolen away by an urgent looking Tamlin, though what they said, Arina couldn’t be sure. She needed to fix things with Eris.

“Will you dance with me?” she asked him, catching him off guard. Eris looked down at her and she fully expected him to tell her no. To punish her for Helion when in truth, Arina would never have left. She merely wanted to negotiate this marriage differently. How did she tell him that? 

“Yes,” he agreed, taking her hand and leading her towards the dance floor. Soft music played from a gathered quartet and Arina was pleased, when Eris took her hands and body in his own, that he was more than an accomplished dancer. Eris was good. 

Mouth parted, she caught his warming delight. “Didn’t expect this, hm?”

“No,” she admitted, stepping a fraction closer. “Most males are so…boxy.”

Taken by surprise, Eris laughed. “Boxy, hm?”

“Yes,” she agreed, thinking he was impossibly handsome like this. Guard down, mask peeled away, this was Eris Vanserra. She only got a glimpse before he pasted himself back together and yet that small look was enough. “I was thinking…if you want, of course, when we return home I could teach you—”

“Return home?” he breathed, as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. Ah, right.

“To the seaside estate,” she amended hastily. A flame was burning behind his eyes though if it was good or bad, she wasn't sure.

“Teach me to dance?”

“So we could dance together,” she murmured, feeling stupider by the second. Held in his arms and spinning beneath a beautiful chandelier, the moment was almost romantic. 

“I’d like that,” he whispered, lowering his face to brush a kiss over her forehead. “Tell me what else you’d like.”

“Something to read,” she said, as if the words had been pulled out of her. Something sparked in Eris’s gaze, as if he was remembering something he’d only just forgotten.

“I’ll show you the library.”

“A library?” 

Eris opened his mouth, but tinkling against a glass stopped whatever words were coming next. It halted their steps as well, drawing their attention to the general at the front of the room. Eris still held her, tucked agaisnt his chest, as serving staff came by with trays of bubbling champagne. Eris grabbed two, one for him, one for her. Everyone had one. This was a toast. 

Amarantha also held a glass, raised before her with a smile. “I know the history between our two lands has been fraught. After tonight, all that is over. Let this mark a new chapter in our combined history, one where old foes become allies and friends. I am looking forward to a future where we can count on each other…where we keep each other safe.”

There were appreciative murmurings. Arina didn’t disagree with the message, though her eyes slid to the High Lord of Spring again, and the handsome, red haired male just beside. She frowned. His skin was darker, his face almost familiar. Like the whispering caress of a memory she couldn’t quite place. 

“Lucien,” Eris whispered in her ear. “Banished from Autumn. He resides in Spring.”

“What—”

“To friendship,” she said, raising her glass. The rest of the room murmured in agreement before taking a swallow of the strangely sweet liquid. Arina choked on the taste, expecting drier bubbles. Eris, too, went stiff. It took her a moment to understand what was happening. Something gripped at her stomach, sluicing through her veins. 

Siphoning away the magic that had always just been there. Amarantha, with her glittering eyes of coal, watching with a hungry smile as the rest of the room exhaled and groaned, their powers taken. 

“Oh how delicious,” she purred when she realized all seven High Lords had taken a drink. “I did not think that would work so well.”

“Eris-”

“Say nothing,” he whispered, holding her so tight she could barely breathe. Her magic, once a furious, screaming wind, was little more than a whispering wind. Had they truly believed the cackling witch before them had meant her words? She’d come unarmed, without guards and they’d been so desperate to believe Hybern wouldn’t hurt them this time.

“Back to your little hidey holes,” she told them with a wave of her nails. “I will be around to collect what’s mine…to bring you all home.”

Arina watched, horrified, as several males from Summer attempted to take her down. Holding the power of the other seven, she merely cut them apart, slashed to bloody ribbons before they got close enough to touch her.

Laughing like it was funny, she swept her gaze over the rest of the room. “Anyone else?”

No one moved.

“No? Aw…you’re no fun.” And that was that. While there was no escaping for Spring, Arina and Eris left with his family in a winnowing wind that left Eris breathless when his boots slammed to the ground. He wasn’t the only one. His brothers seemed pale and his father was held up by his trembling wife.

“Throne room,” he ordered, his eyes sliding to Arina. 

Hell was coming, though Arina didn’t know the manner of the making. Not until the doors closed behind her and Eris’s mother caught her by the arm while Eris continued forward. Unbuttoning his jacket, he eyed two guards approaching.

“Ten, do you think?” Beron began, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up as he accepted a whip from one of the guards. Arina, too late, realized Eris was being punished for something.

“I trust your judgment,” was all Eris said, sinking to his knees without looking at her. 

“Beron,” Amera Vanserra began but Beron held up a hand. 

“You know the rules,” he snapped. Did he truly mean to vent his frustration over Amarantha onto his son? Eris bowed his head and Arina, unable to stand the thought of Eris being harmed, ripped out of Amera’s arms.

“You can’t—”

“Twenty,” Beron said with a relish while Amera grabbed her again. Eris dared to look up at her, his anger plain. 

Stop talking.

“Does anyone else want to offer Eris additional lashings for the embarrassing display his wife offered us this evening?” Beron asked. Arina couldn’t breathe. This was her fault? Eris looked back at the ground, arms held by either guard so his back was utterly exposed. Rippling muscle tensed as Beron unfurled the whip. 

Beside Arina, his mother shook silently. This was not the first time it had happened.

When that first slashing crack hit his perfect, fair skin, Arina swore it would be the last. She didn’t let herself look away, counting alongside her mate as he spoke each new strike out loud through clenched, gritting teeth. Eris didn’t cry out though she could feel his paint burning bright through the bond. 

Twenty seemed impossible, seemed to stretch through an eternity. Amera released her when that last one hit, splattering blood all over the floor. Arms released, the only thing keeping Eris from falling on his face was Arina. She caught him, careful not to touch the open wounds on his back.

“Without your magic, I suppose it will heal twice as slow,” Beron, dripping with sweat, snarled. “Next time its your fucking wife.”Eris nodded, letting her pull him to his feet. 

“Get out of my sight!” he roared at all of them, his fury threatening to swallow them whole. “Your antics have been the literal death of this family!”

“I’m sorry,” Arina breathed, helping Eris out. The moment the throne room doors slammed shut, she wasn’t the only one.

“Here,” Tanwen murmured, sliding his eldest brother's arm over his shoulder. On the other side, Connal grabbed the other. Cadmus put his hand on Arina’s back, leading the five of them through the palace silently. 

A servant was waiting when they arrived, holding a steaming bowl of water and strips of cloth. “How often does this happen?” she asked, unable to stop the cascade of tears falling from her eyes.

“He would have punished Eris no matter what,” Cadmus told Arina as his brothers laid Eris against his bed. “For Amarantha…or you. It wouldn’t have mattered.”

“How do you stop him?”

“You don’t,” Tanwen said hardly. “You merely weather it. You’ll learn.”

“And Amarantha–”

“One problem at a time,” Cadmus said gently. He was the only one of them with Beron’s brown hair. He could have been his fathers twin and she wondered if that had made him harder or softer as a result. All three looked down at her, a strange mix of the High Lord and their mother. 

“Call if you need anything,” Connal told her before sweeping out. Arina blinked, wiping tears from her face.

Eris groaned when she put the cloth against the criss crossing wounds over his back.

“I’m sorry,” she wept. Eris, who had agreed to let her teach him to dance and to show her the library, had taken twenty silent lashings on her behalf. When had he negotiated that? “I’m sorry.”

Eris caught her wrist, holding so tight it bruised. Blood painted fingers stained against her skin. Eris looked up, his terror plain.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice anguished and small. 

“I won’t,” she swore. 

Arina would stay.

ERIS: 

When Eris awoke, it wasn’t in his own bed. His back, once a raging inferno, was now merely stiff and bruised, still healing but on the mend. For a moment, Eris had forgotten he was married, mated, and everything in between. Beron’s whip was an all-too familiar occurrence for Eris to think this time particularly unusual.

Groaning, he turned from his stomach to his side, surprised to find his beautiful, blonde wife curled up beside him. Tear tracts over her cheeks told him she’d been crying for most of the night. Over him? Eris would have endured fifty lashings if it kept her from feeling Beron’s wrath. They were in her room and he wondered, absently, how she’d managed to get him over here.

Her nails were caked in blood, piecing together his missing hours. She would have brought him back, likely with help from his brothers. Would have cleaned him up, carefully monitoring his wounds for infection. All the things his mother did if she could and things he just hoped for if he was on his own.

Eris reached out a shaky hand and brushed a stray piece of hair from her face. Her eyes flew open, rimmed red and swollen. How much sleep had she gotten. “You’re awake,” she breathed, rising upwards before he could stop her. Arina carefully rolled him back to his stomach, looking at the wounds on his back.

“How are they?” he asked, not daring to crane his neck. Everything still hurt.

“Healing,” she whispered. “In a week this will be a memory…”

She sniffed, fresh tears sliding over her cheeks. “I’m sorry. Eris, I’m sorry, I–”

He groaned, reaching for her. He’d been so angry with her all through the party at Spring. For running to Helion, throwing herself into his arms like she loved him. For her defiance, for all of it. And then he’d been scared. Beron had promised to punish her and Eris’s hatred was refocused where it had always been. Right on his father. He’d agreed to take those lashings before he’d ever known Amarantha was going to steal their magic.

“It’s fine,” he managed, inhaling the citrusy scent of her hair. “You didn’t know.”

He could forgive her for this. It was her anguish, her vulnerability, that made Eris think so. Maybe if she’d been unrepentant…or he’d woken alone. But Arina had taken care of him when no one ever did, not so openly. And maybe he was stupid, foolish certainly, but he still wanted her. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again, sliding down the bed to look at him. “I…”

Eris waited.

“I’ll do better,” she finally told him, fingers stroking over his cheek. It wasn't the declaration of devotion he’d hoped for, but Eris thought maybe it was a start. 

“I know you will,” he said. “How long have I been out?”

“Just a day,” she grimaced.

“What?”

“The Hybern General, she…” 

Eris forced himself upwards. He was Autumn’s General. His home would need him.

“What did she do?”

Arina was sobbing again, arms wrapped around her body. “She went to Rhodes. She…her army they…destroyed everything,” she managed to choke out. Arina’s home, the place he’d sworn he’d take her back to. Gone, in a day. “She’s moving downwards, she’s coming for us, too.”

“Was anything spared of the solar courts?”

Arina wiped her eyes. “Night was. They say the High Lord has allied himself with her but I don’t know if that’s true.”

“What happens when she takes territory?” Eris whispered. He needed to get her out, to put her on a ship to the continent—

“They go to her court,” Arina whispered, her face so, so pale. Eris stilled. 

“Where is that?”

She was shaking her head back and forth, as if she couldn’t bring herself to say it. 

“Beneath the mountain. She…she’s hollowed it—”

Eris’s furious, bellowing snarl interrupted Arina’s words. The mountain was sacred, was a symbol of peace, of the Goddess’s favor. To hear it had been carved open was affront to even Eris and certainly to Arina, who had prayed for safety before she’d been married. 

Grabbing his sword and ignoring the ache in his body, Eris turned to his wife. His mate. “You will stay right here,” he told her, adopting the coldest, most authoritative tone he could. “You will not move. You will wait until I return and you will do whatever I tell you to without question or complaint. Do you understand?

“She bit her bottom lip but nodded. He allowed himself one last look at her, deciding that, if this was all the time he’d be granted, it was enough. It could sustain him for what was to come. He betrayed none of his emotions, too aware that she was compliant only because her defiance had gotten him injured. That willingness to listen might fade. 

He needed to be careful. She was still something he could lose. 

Eris was still buttoning himself up when he stepped into the dining hall. His brothers were waiting just outside the door, sweeping in after him. Beron didn’t acknowledge that Eris had been missing at all. Sitting in his usual spot, his father looked old. Tired, even.

“Phobos couldn’t hold her off,” he began by way of greeting. “And neither could Thesan. She’s coming south for Winter but they have so many younglings, I…”

Beron, who had a plan for everything, had never been at a loss for words. “We cannot hold her back.”

“We rally—”

“Did you hear me?” Beron snarled softly, sweeping his breakfast dishes to the floor. All four of his sons winced involuntarily. “She has our magic–my magic. I have an ember left, hardly enough to fight a war with Hybern. Dawn and Day have been decimated and Night had allied alongside her. The four of us aren’t strong enough to take on the might of Hybern…we just barely won last time and we had the continent and the fucking humans…” Beron trailed off.

“What would you have me do?” Eris asked, projecting nothing but strength. He was his fathers man, always had been. Beron looked up at him. 

“This family hasn’t survived as long as it has by being weak. You think I don’t know what they say about us? Two faced, fox-like…the other courts have forgotten where we came from but the Vanserra’s never have. Autumn never has. We will do what we always have to survive.”

Eris was going to be sick. Beside him, Cadmus shifted. “You mean–”

“We’ll surrender,” Beron spat. “Spare our land and our people the worst of her devastation. Hide anything that has value. Bury it deep in the forest. Leave what’s expendable. We’ll bide our time for now. That bitch is bound to have a weakness.”

Eris bowed his head in agreement, signaling defeat to his brothers. In some ways, there was wisdom to Beron’s plan. Why give her a reason to destroy their home, to kill them all when waiting her out and killing her quietly was so much more effective? It felt like cowardice, all the same. 

“There can be nothing but compliance when we leave,” Beron warned the four of them. “It will be up to you to keep this court in line.” Beron’s eyes fell on Eris. “I will kill anyone who jeopardizes the safety of this court.”

Eris nodded. “I understand,” he said with a cruel, unfeeling smile. Purging Autumn of some of his fathers worst courtiers might have given him joy any other day. Today, though, it terrified him. Arina was impulsive, was reckless…was young, not even a century old. Winter wasn’t the only place that had children to consider. Autumn, too, had several. All easily destroyed by someone with the will and inclination. He didn’t believe Arina would ever harm someone intentionally, but he did think she wouldn’t consider the implications of her own actions fully, if she thought what she was doing was moral or right. 

The morning was spent doing exactly as his father ordered. All four of them buried anything of value—mostly treasure—and left the rest behind. Eris ignored the way his body ached, the way his wounds threatened to rip themselves open with each new movement. Sweat slicked over his skin and by the time he returned to his bedroom, he knew he had mere hours before Amarantha descended. 

Arina was right where he’d left her. “Pack your things,” he told her, dragging a trunk from the closet into their shared living space. A week. That was all he’d been given. It wasn’t enough time to get to know her outside of the sex he’d had. 

Arina rose from the couch she’d been sitting on, a vision in the prettiest gown of navy he’d ever seen. She truly did look like an Autumn Court princess. “Where are we going?”

He winced as he said the words. “Under the mountain.”

“Eris–”

“What did I say about arguing?” he snapped, unable to stand her horror. Arina went utterly still as he approached. “If there was another way, I would…but there isn’t. So you will pack your things and you will join me.”

“Or what?” she whispered, green eyes blazing with defiance. Eris grabbed her by the back of the neck, kissing her roughly. Arina kissed him back, at least, teeth sinking against his bottom lip so hard he tasted blood. He growled, not from anger but the arousal flooding through him. Tongue stained, he pushed into her mouth, falling back to that leather couch in a tangle of limbs. 

“You’re a bastard,” she whispered, letting him pull her into his lap, dress ruched around her hips. “Why not fight?”

“And risk ruin like Day?” he retorted hotly, mouth on her neck, her jaw, her ear. “We’ve already lost, sunshine.”

“At least we wouldn’t be—Eris, please—cowards.”

He had the head of his cock teasing against her, rubbing against her wet cunt. “How many of Autumn Court’s children are you willing to risk?” he asked as she rocked her hips. Her eyes flew open, her heart pounding in his ears. “Our own?”

And without waiting for her to respond, because Eris knew the answer, he thrust himself into her body. She moaned softly, his sweet, softhearted mate. She didn’t belong here among the rotten Vanserra’s and yet Eris could not give her up. 

Arina slid her fingers through his hair, forehead pressed to his own. There was nothing to say, not as they took this angry, desperate pleasure. He’d have her, he told himself. He wouldn’t be alone. She might be reluctant and angry but she’d have him, too. 

Arina broke apart with a lovely sort of violence, dragging him with her just as she always did. She was his ruination, his perfect foil. Wind and fire, equally matched in all things. Where Eris was furious and cruel, Arina was soft and sweet. He could not do this without her. 

He would not. 

“I hate this,” she told him, head on his shoulder, body still holding his own. Eris stroked that sunlit hair. Arina looked like Autumn, though he’d never noticed it until that moment. 

He hated it, too. “There is no other choice.”

Arina dressed in her finest dress, a deep blood red and the circlet he’d given her as a mating gift, his ring on her finger. Drenched in his scent, there was no mistaking what was happening between them. Eris, still sore, still aching and privately scared, kept his hand on Arina’s back as Amarantha and her army strolled into Autumn. He had not been prepared for the horror of it all. Her guards swept through the palace, looting whatever they could get their hands on and destroying indiscriminately. The servants were rounded up, chains placed on their necks, their wrists, their ankles. His father watched, his horror concealed well. Beron might not be the most forgiving High Lord but no one, not even the High Lord of Autumn, wanted to see his people rounded up.

“What do you mean to do with them?”

“Don’t you worry about it,” Amarantha purred, looking over the royal family with glittering interest. Gone was her ugly dress, replaced instead with the creeping scaled armor of Hybern.

General. This was the woman who had barely escaped death in the last war. They’d let her go and now…and now she was marching away the lesser fae and Eris didn’t think he’d ever see any of them again.

“What a pretty family,” she purred, eyes locked on the Lady of Autumn. Beron’s fingers curled to fists though he didn’t dare move less he damn his wife to some unknowable hell. “Maybe the prettiest in all of Prythian.”

Her hand reached out to brush under his mothers chin. She didn’t flinch, head held high. Every inch the High Lord’s wife. His father put a protective arm around his wife, drawing her closer.

“I can’t wait to see you Under the Mountain,” she crooned, eyes sweeping over Beron’s sons. Her eyes lingered on Arina, cocking her head. “I think we’ll have a terribly amusing time.”

His fingers dug into her hip though his face was cool, a mirror to his brothers—his father. They smiled those same, cruel smiled. As if this were just a normal day in Autumn. Eris didn’t dare let himself think of what he’d have to do to keep his family safe. Not just his mate, but his brothers, his mother. 

Eris could see it all on Amarantha’s face. This was just a game.

Eris knew all about that.