#tsts

Poor Mugsy is traumatized :(

(Chp 11)

Okay so my drawing tablet broke so im back to traditional art for a while, but here's a little TS&TS mini comic of Sarche and Larhu having character development lmao

I wasn’t gonna post any art on my tumblr, BUT…fun fact, before I started posting on AO3 as a writer, I was a crazy reader and would even do fanart of fics I read! I stopped doing fanart and posting digital art because I got busy with work. Now I mostly do personal traditional paintings and from time to time work on my fanfic!

Read on ao3 here.

Chapter 35: Reeds

Shock rang through Elain for a steady, pounding moment. Then panic hit her in full force.

“Vassa !” she screamed, the sound echoing throughout the forest. But she knew her friend could not hear her. What was she doing, wasting time screaming? Vassa needed her.

Elain did not allow herself the opportunity to get scared. Instead, she took a deep breath and dove beneath the surface. 

It was dark, much darker than she anticipated, and the water warped everything, twisting and blurring it; even her Fae eyes were having trouble adjusting. Reeds and algae and other underwater growth tried to tangle itself around her limbs. Still, though, she kicked her legs as hard as she could and swam down, relying on Vassa’s faint, quickly-fading scent in the dense water to guide her toward her friend. 

The lake was incredibly deep, far deeper than it looked from above the surface. The deeper she went, the less she was able to see, until finally she could not see anything at all. But then, as if she’d subconsciously willed it, her hands began to glow, fully illuminating the underwater scene before her. 

And what a horrible scene it was. For several dozen feet below her, swimming rapidly in the other direction, large as a ship, was a monster of the worst kind of nightmare. It had the head of a shark and the body of a giant octopus, but to simply describe it as such would be an injustice to its grotesque horror. Bubbling warts and boiling blisters coated the monster’s gnarled skin, which was composed of scales and the color of dried blood; teeth long as her forearm and sharp as daggers protruded from massive, mythical jaws; its tentacles were the width of a tree trunk.

And clutched within one of those pockmarked tentacles, unconscious and pale, was Vassa. 

Elain wouldn’t let herself consider that the Queen was anything but unconscious - of course it was temporary, of course she would be fine - and instead devoted all her energy to stopping the horrendous creature before her. 

The monster either hadn’t noticed Elain’s presence yet or didn’t see her as a threat, because it continued to swim downward, quickly and one-mindedly. But what was it swimming toward? Elain wondered, for the only thing at the bottom of the lake was the bottom of the lake , right? 

Right?

She’d rather not find out, she decided, and raised her hands. A second later, a burst of blinding white light burst forth from her fingertips. 

It missed the creature by an inch, instead crashing into the rocky surrounding with a loud boom. Taken aback, the creature spun around. Its beady eyes narrowed when it saw Elain. It was definitely aware of her presence now. 

However, to her surprise, the sea monster didn’t veer toward her, instead continuing its descent downward, though there was a significant increase in its speed. What was it doing? What did it want with Vassa? And what the hells was at the bottom of the lake that it so desperately wanted to reach?

Well, whatever it was, the creature would never reach it, Elain thought, a snarl forming on her pretty face. Not if she had anything to do about it. Her hands began to vibrate with righteous light and pure, unfettered power. 

This time, her magic hit the monster square in the middle of its scarred dorsal fin.

An eerie, piercing shriek sounded throughout the cave, reverberated through the water and pounded in Elain’s ears with unnatural intensity. She smiled grimly - she had hit her target. 

But her magic hadn’t killed the creature - it had only harmed it. And from the way it turned slowly toward her, its gruesome visage twisted into a deadly expression, she had also angered it greatly. 

With an almighty snap of its sharp and unnervingly long teeth, the monster changed course and made a beeline for the Seer instead, Vassa still entwined in its tentacled grip.

That’s right, Elain thought savagely. Come and get me, you ugly bastard. She threw her magic at the creature once again, missing by an inch. She shot again. Direct hit to the chest. Still, the monster kept coming. The magic instead bounced off the creature’s scales and ricocheted against the wall behind her, shards of rock exploding through the water. The scales that coated its skin appeared to be made of something impervious to her magical prowess.

Panic threatened to crowd her focus, but she wouldn’t let it. She wouldn’t succumb to the fear, no she would not. Because Vassa was her friend, and she was Elain Archeron, and she may not be perfect and she may not be wholly good but she was a damn good friend and she would not be the reason this kind and good and fair queen died. She would not do that to the people of Vassa’s court. To the realm. 

She would not let her friend go. 

The monster was close now, too close. So close she could smell its rancid, rotting flesh; a smell she had only encountered one other time, when she’d been in the conservatory and -

Elain Archeron closed her eyes. There was no time to connect the dots.

Focus , she thought, a stillness washing over her. Breathe . 

She opened her eyes. The creature was nearly upon her. It opened its wide jaws in preparation, and then -

Her magic hit the monster in the dead center of its wicked, beady eye.

An explosion emanated from the depths of the ponds; emanated from the small, brown-eyed female who held the power of worlds within her palms. It filled the pool with a blinding, scorching white light. One second the creature was wide-jawed and dangerous; the next, it was lifeless, its glittering eyes empty and unseeing. Its tentacles flopped uselessly in the choppy wake.

And Vassa, still unconscious, red hair bobbing eerily around her face like a halo of writhing snakes, began to float upward. 

Elain swam and kicked with all her might, reaching her friend in a matter of seconds, ignoring her need for air  - Fae did not have gills, after all, and her energy was quite nearly drained after that massive use of power - but she did not allow herself to rest. Through sheer will and determination, she forced her mind to steady itself. Then, with two hands cupped beneath her friend’s armpits, Elain dragged the queen upward.

Before she reached the surface, she glanced down once more at the depths below. Despite the visual difficulties she’d experienced just minutes before, she could now see perfectly to the bottom of the lake; it was that clear. Almost as if her magic had cleansed the water of all darkness and impurities. 

Then she saw it. An object, lying in the center of the lake, wildly out of place, clearly left for her to see. For her to understand .

Comprehension hit her in the chest like a silver arrow. 

Her eyes widened in terror, but she’d wasted too much time already - there was no time to dwell on the horrible realization she’d just had. Instead, Elain tightened her grip on Vassa and kicked toward the surface with all her might.

No breath had ever tasted as sweet as the one she took when breaking the surface. For a brief moment, she gulped down the night air, savoring the coolness of it, reveling in the expansion in her lungs. 

With some effort, she heaved her friend's soaked body onto the bank of the pond and crawled out after. Then she knelt beside Vassa. The queen’s lips were blue, a stark contrast against her pale skin and the dark red hair plastered against her scalp.

“Wake up, Vassa,” Elain said. She shook her shoulders, softly at first before increasing in intensity.

But the queen did not move.

Shivering and trembling all over (and not just because she was soaked to the bone), Elain bent over and pressed her head to Vassa’s chest. 

Silence answered her. 

“No,” Elain said aloud, sitting straight up. “No,” she repeated, baring her teeth. She was shaking Vassa’s shoulders with absolute vigor now. “No, you can’t, you can’t,” she told her friend, her voice breaking like the waves against the Pentalos shore. But breaking wasn’t an option, not when Vassa needed fixing and only Elain was there to put the pieces back together - the pieces that she herself had caused to fall apart in the first place - 

Elain began alternating between chest compressions and plugging Vassa’s nose while she breathed air into her mouth, just like she’d seen her father do years and years ago to a young stable boy who’d nearly drowned in a pond. The worker boy had been fine, but he hadn’t been beneath the water for nearly as long as Vassa. He hadn’t been snatched by a monster so horrible she’d never even imagined something like it could exist.

“Vassa, wake up,” Elain begged, still pressing her palms desperately against the queen’s soggy chest. Tears began filling her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “Vassa, please, you have to wake up, come on, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

Still, the queen did not stir.

“ No! ” Elain cried out. “Vassa, please !” Tears were now dripping down her cheeks in earnest.

She had to fix this, she had to, but Vassa wasn’t waking up, which could only mean she was -

Clarity hit Elain like a punch to the gut. 

Slowly, hands still trembling, she removed them from her friend’s body. She accepted that was what Vassa was now: a body. Accepted that the Vassa that lay before her was nothing more than a fresh corpse.

But not for long. 

Elain had never before summoned her magic in such sequential, back-to-back occasions, nor in such substantial amounts. She’d never been so drained, so exhausted in her very bones. 

But somehow, at the same exact time, she’d also never felt more alive; never felt more dangerously and intrinsically powerful. Never felt more sure of herself and her abilities.

She closed her eyes and rooted herself in place, allowing her magic to rise within her like the tide.

By the time she returned her hands to Vassa’s chest, they were glowing like the bleached moon that watched them from amidst the starlit sky. 

Elain poured every bit of her remaining strength into her magic. She poured and she poured and she poured, and she did not stop, not even when her vision went spotty and her head started to swim. She did not stop until she felt Vassa shudder beneath her.

The queen gave a great, heaving cough, water sputtering from her throat. Her blue eyes were scared and confused, her breaths were long and ragged, and her heartbeat was weaker than it should have been. But she was alive, she was blessedly and beautifully alive . 

Gasping for air and shaking herself, Elain collapsed onto the damp grass beside Vassa. Instinctively, she curled against her friend’s newly-warmed body. Vassa clutched onto her skin like a lifeline. 

“ Elain ,” the queen rasped, sounding scared and confused and awed, all at the same time.

“S’ okay,” Elain managed to respond, her voice nothing more than a hoarse, tired whisper. Her head was starting to spin ominously; sleep was calling to her in earnest. But there was something she needed to tell Vassa first, something wildly important, something that couldn’t wait -

“What the hells happened?” a voice shouted, shattering the thick quiet of the night. She tried to sit up and see who it was, but she could barely keep her eyes open long enough to make out the trees encircling the clearing, let alone move into a sitting position.

“ Elain! ” Someone else screamed. A pang went through her chest. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know who that was; she’d recognize her sister’s voice in death. And besides, she could taste the thick panic emanating from Nesta.

“Holy fuck, do you feel that?” another recognizable voice said, sounding stricken. “What is that?”

“Vassa!” That was Lucien, she was nearly sure of it. He must not have left for the Autumn Court yet, she thought dizzily, breaths growing deeper and slower. 

Her vision was now going black, the sweet lull of unconsciousness impossible to deny much longer. She knew it was only a matter of seconds before she succumbed to inevitable exhaustion, but just as the thought crossed her mind, someone knelt beside her and grabbed her by the shoulders.

The touch was all too telling. Rough and demanding, yet heart wrenchingly gentle. Panicked, yet incredibly controlled. A contradiction in and of itself. It was the only touch in the world that could give her the strength of will to force her weary eyes open.

It was him. Of course it was. Of course it was , and he was just as perfect as ever, his kind and handsome face gazing down at her with an expression so worried, so abject, that it must be love. And he had come for her. Just like before. Just like he’d sworn he always would. A thousand centuries, he’d said, that first afternoon in Rosehall. A thousand centuries, and he’d come for her every time. 

Did he know she would do the same? Did he know there was nothing she wouldn’t do and nowhere she wouldn’t go to ensure his safety? To keep him by her side, where he belonged?

This was the last coherent thought Elain had before she closed her eyes and let sleep swallow her whole. 

***

Azriel had lost count of how many times he’d thrown Truth-Teller at the same spot of the tree trunk. He was sure his shadows were keeping count - they were the ones fetching the dagger each time, after all, and had impeccable observation skills - but he wasn’t interested in knowing. 

He’d been standing in the clearing for several hours - the same clearing with the same lake that had swallowed Elain and Vassa and then spit them out. The same lake that used to hold a monster, though Rhys had seen to pulverizing the thing’s carcass two days ago.

Two days. It had been two days, and both Elain and Vassa had yet to wake up from whatever stupor they were both stuck in. Suffice it to say, it had been 48 hours of inexplicable agony for the shadowsinger. 

While the healers insisted that both women would be fine - that their bodies were recovering the best way they knew how, and they’d both wake up soon enough - Azriel knew he wouldn’t be able to relax until Elain opened her big, brown eyes and smiled at him. Only then would the knot of terror that had wedged itself in his chest unloosen. Only then would he stop throwing Truth-Teller at the same spot of the same godsdamn tree trunk.

A shadow curled up to his ear, telling him what Azriel had scented the very same moment - he was no longer alone in the clearing.

“Care to share why you’re here?” Azriel got straight to the point, not bothering to turn around. He didn’t feel like talking right now, and Cassian knew it. He didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Not until Elain woke up. 

Not until he knew she was going to be okay.

For whatever reason, a memory from centuries ago, from when he was just a child, flashed through his mind right then. It was a conversation he and his mother would have nearly every time he was forced to leave Rosehall:

“I’m scared, Mommy,” he’d say.

“That’s okay, darling,” she’d reply. “That doesn’t mean you can’t be brave, too. Fear and bravery go hand in hand.”

Fear and bravery go hand in hand, the words echoed.

Gnashing his teeth, he threw the dagger yet again. It missed the center by several inches.

“It’s nice to know some things never change,” Cassian commented as Az’s shadows retrieved the knife.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Whenever you’re stressing over a woman, your technique gets sloppy.”

Quick as a snake, Azriel threw the dagger right at his friend’s face.

“And slow ,” the Illyrian General added, intercepting the dagger with obnoxious ease and tossing it back to Azriel by the hilt.

“Say why you’re here or leave me alone,” the shadowsinger said, his voice deceptively calm. He threw Truth-Teller again. This time, it hit its target perfectly, quivering in place afterward.

Cassian sighed heavily. “I came to get you,” he said.

“I’m on guard duty. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re going to want to come for this.”

“For what?” Az asked despite himself, glancing back at his brother. The long-haired Illyrian was watching him carefully. Too carefully.

“The healers said she should be awake any minute now.”

Azriel froze. “What did you say?” he asked in a deathly quiet voice.

Cassian regarded him carefully, then gave a tentative and strangely encouraging smile. “Elain is about to wake up, Az. I figured you’d want to know.”

He took in the news. He processed it. And when the truth finally sunk in, the Mother herself couldn’t have stopped the wide smile from blossoming across his face. He didn’t even care that Cassian could see. He didn’t care at all.

She was awake, and that was all that mattered.

***

Someone was calling her name.

Elain , the voice said, soft and sweet.

She didn’t know where it was coming from. Above her, behind her, inside of her - it didn’t matter. It was there all the same. 

Seer , it sang, tempting as a siren. Kingslayer , it cooed, like something from a nightmare.

What do you want? Elain asked, sounding braver than she felt. 

What I’ve wanted from the very beginning , the voice taunted. This time, it was clearly coming from behind her. She turned - there was no one there. 

But then the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she just knew whoever - whatever - was speaking to her was right behind her, truly this time, and then the voice whispered a chilling question directly into her ear - 

Elain Archeron opened her eyes.

After a few blinking, blurry moments, a striking golden head swam into focus.

“Took you long enough,” Mor murmured, grinning down at her, but there was an odd strain to the blonde’s smile. 

“How long have I been out?” Elain croaked. Hells, her throat was on fire. She sounded like a male bullfrog.

“Two days,” Mor said apologetically. 

Grimacing, Elain accepted the glass of water the other female offered her, gulping it down in a single swig. Mor refilled it for her once, then again, then again. Several glasses later, Elain finally set the glasses aside. 

“Where is everyone else?” she asked, her voice sounding semi-human now.

“Waiting for you,” Mor answered. “Are you ready?”

Elain blinked. “Ready for what?”

Mor raised an eyebrow. “For the inquisition,” she answered ominously. “Everyone has, oh, about a thousand questions for you and Vassa.”

She hoped the blonde couldn’t see her heavy swallow. 

Five minutes later, Elain once again found herself in the grand atrium, seated at the long oak table. There had been a flurry of hugs and kisses and thank the gods you’re okays when she’d first arrived - Azriel had even embraced her in front of everyone, albeit quickly - but now everyone was staring at her expectedly, waiting for her to begin telling her story.

However, she had a few questions of her own first.

“Where’s Vassa?”

“Still asleep,” Nesta answered. “The healers say she’ll be waking up any minute now.” 

Elain nodded, unsurprised. She didn’t know how to explain it, but she already knew that Vassa was and would be perfectly fine. Like she could sense her friend’s wellbeing as much as she could sense her own now. 

“How did you know we were in trouble?” she asked.

“We heard the explosion,” Lucian answered. 

“It was hard to miss,” Jurian said dryly. 

Elain bit her lip and glanced down. “Oh.” 

“Tell us everything,” Feyre said, her voice quiet but commanding. “From start to finish.”

The Seer was silent for a long moment. What was she to tell them? The truth - or only parts of it? How could she give them the entire story without disclosing the full scope of her powers?

She wished she could have spoken to Vassa alone before this bloody interrogation. She was sure her friend would be more than willing to keep this secret if asked, especially since Elain had just saved her damn life. Though, of course, had Elain not so foolishly suggested a midnight romp in the woods, her friend mightn’t have needed saving in the first place. 

“Elain,” Feyre said quietly.

“Give her a second,” Azriel snapped. “She just woke up, for gods’ sake.”

“It’s alright,” Elain replied after a moment, rather breathlessly. The shadowsinger had just defended her publicly, and it filled her with enough confidence to answer her sister’s question - though with some key details omitted. 

“Months ago, Vassa and I talked about swimming in the lake out in the woods. Vassa used to go there all the time before - ” she cut herself off. It wasn’t her place to talk about the queen’s trauma with Koschei. “Anyway, tonight, we decided to actually do it. But moments after we jumped into the lake, Vassa was pulled beneath by - by a -” she broke off, barely restraining a shiver. “I don’t actually know what it was.”

“You were attacked by a luska,” Feyre said. “I recognized it immediately when Rhys disposed of its carcass.”

“A luska?” Elain repeated. “What’s that?”

“A giant half-shark, half-octopus hybrid that can travel at breakneck speeds and change colors to match its surroundings,” Feyre answered readily. “Despite its massive size, it can warp its body just so that it can worm into small crevices, underground caves, rugged seabed, shallow water - you name it. Luskas are incredibly dangerous. Hardly anyone survives an attack from one, let alone kills one.”

“How do you know all this?” Nesta asked, sounding slightly awed. “I’ve never even heard of one until two days ago!”

“I read about it,” Feyre answered.

“Impressive,” Nesta remarked.

Feyre went slightly pink; compliments from Nesta were as precious as they were rare. 

“Well, what happened next?” Lucien asked impatiently. His eyes were noticeably bloodshot; he looked like he hadn’t slept in days. 

Elain hesitated for just a second. This was the part where she’d have to tell some selective truths.

“I dove in after her. I swam down, deep into the lake, where the monster was dragging her away. I started just - just screaming at it until eventually it changed direction and headed toward me. I truly don’t know why I thought that would help, and I certainly don’t know what I was planning to do when it did notice me. I just knew I had to do something.

Then, when it started coming at me in earnest, I was so sure it was going to swallow me whole, but suddenly there was this huge flash of light and it just… died .”

“It just died ?” Cassian echoed hoarsely, his normally bronzed visage rather pale. “But how did it die?”

“I’m not sure,” Elain answered, semi-honestly. Just because she knew she had the gift of life didn’t mean she understood how it all worked. “I got lucky, I suppose,” she finished with a lame shrug.

“It wasn’t luck that defeated the luska,” said Feyre quietly. “It takes an incredibly powerful being to defeat an ancient monster like that.”

“What are you implying?” Jurian asked. 

“You think someone else was down there with them?” Mor asked, eyes wide. 

“It’s the only logical explanation,” said Feyre. Her grey-blue eyes met Elain’s wide brown ones. “Did you see anything suspicious? Do you remember anything strange?”

She thought again about the object she’d seen lying on the lake floor, grateful at that moment that Azriel had taught her how to keep up her mental shields all those months ago.

“No,” she answered. “No, I didn’t notice anything like that.” She was proud of herself for maintaining steady eye contact with her sister the whole time, her face even and open, not feeling guilty in the slightest. Some secrets weren’t meant for more than two people, and what Elain had seen at the bottom of the lake - well, that was a message just for her. What difference would it make for them to know about it?

“She’s lying,” someone said quietly. 

Her head spun around. It was Lucien who had spoken. He was leaning forward slightly, a dark, foreboding look in his one good eye. 

And Elain didn’t need to use her seer powers to sense that everything between her and Lucien - everything between her and everyone - was about to change.

“It wasn’t someone else who defeated the luska,” he said. “It was Elain.”

___

A deep, resounding silence followed Vanserra’s declaration. 

Everyone around the table looked puzzled, as if they weren’t comprehending what the red-haired male was suggesting. Even Azriel, who knew perfectly well that Elain was capable of defending herself against the creature, was having trouble comprehending the turn the conversation had taken.

“Are you suggesting she took down a luska…with her seer powers?” Nesta asked, frowning in confusion.

“No,” Vanserra continued, an awful bite of impatience in his voice. “Her other powers. The ones she’s been hiding.” 

Azriel blinked. A strange numbness was spreading through him.

“Stop,” Elain said, her perfect pink lips barely moving; there was a wild, frozen look about her. 

“What are you talking about?” Feyre asked.

“She has far more magic than just seer magic,” Vanserra said through gritted teeth. “But that’s not important right now. Keep going. What happened next? What happened to Vassa?”

“Back the fuck up, Vanserra,” Nesta snarled, silver flames burning in her grey-blue eyes. “You don’t get to decide what is or isn’t important right now. ” Her fiery gaze turned toward Elain. “What the hells is he talking about, Elain? What other powers?”

When Elain didn’t say anything, Vanserra spoke again.

“Tell them,” he said. 

Across the table, Elain let out an unintentional noise, like something a wounded animal would make. “Lucien,” she said, her voice raw, “ stop. ”

“ No ,” Vanserra said fiercely. “This isn’t something you can keep a secret. Not anymore. Not now that this has happened. Tell them the truth .”

The numbness in Azriel continued to spread, joined by a ringing in his ear. Vanserra couldn’t possibly be talking about…there was no way Elain would have told him about her…

“Elain? Is there something you want to tell us?” Mor asked quietly.

The middle Archeron sister remained silent, though she rather tellingly clasped her hands behind her back.

“If you don’t tell them, I will,” Lucien threatened.

Her brown eyes went wide, and everyone could scent the rise of her panic. “Lucien, please .”

Lucien, however, seemed undeterred, something fiercer than anger crackling through him. “I swear to the gods, I will,” he said, baring his teeth. “ Tell them. Now. ”

The look she shot at the red-haired male could only be described as betrayal. “Fuck you,” she hissed, angry tears shimmering in her eyes. But then she turned to her sisters, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. 

Bravery and fear go hand in hand, his mother whispered to him again.

“It wasn’t someone else who defeated the luska.” A deep swallow worked its way down her slender throat. “It was me.” 

A deep, resounding silence echoed in her confession’s wake, leaving everyone reeling as they processed what most of them were hearing for the first time. 

Azriel, however, was reeling at a very different realization.

Vanserra knew about Elain’s powers? How? Or, more precisely, why ? Because of course Elain had to have told him; no one else besides himself knew. Not her sisters, nor their mates. Not Vassa. Not any other member of the Night Court. 

But Vanserra knew. Vanserra . Before any of the others, she’d told him this significant secret. And as to the answer of why…well, it must be because she trusted the Autumn Court princeling. Because she cared about him. 

Even though a small part of his brain knew that Elain had trusted him first, had told him, Azriel, before anyone else…he couldn’t focus on that. All he could think of was how big of a deal she’d made when first sharing her powers with him. How he’d made a fucking bargain vowing to keep the truth of her powers quiet. 

But apparently she trusted Vanserra enough to not only tell him about her magic, but to tell him without requiring such similar promises be made. 

He could feel Elain trying to catch his gaze; like always, he was hyper aware of her presence, of her every move. But unlike always, he had no desire whatsoever to look at her. 

Something worse than shame, worse than guilt, was coursing through his veins. He felt played. Deceived. He felt like the biggest fucking idiot on the planet. He felt like cutting off all of Vanserra’s hair and stuffing it down the High Fae’s throat till he choked. 

Mostly, he felt like his heart was breaking, though he knew that couldn’t be quite accurate; he didn’t have a heart to break, you see.

There was nothing else for it but this: she did not trust him. And right now, he did not trust her, either.

And in that moment, and for a shameful amount of moments that followed, he resented Elain Archeron for it.

Before anyone could say anything, the doors to the room were thrown open. Through them, wearing a tartan dressing robe, her red hair wild and untamed, a look of queenly determination in her bright eyes, was Vassa.

This meeting is over, she announced. I need to talk to Elain. Alone.

***

Elain sat on a velvet chaise in Vassa’s quarters. No tears ran down her cheeks; no passion fueled her spirit. She wasn’t even angry; not even toward Lucien, who’d betrayed her secret. In the wake of the revelations revealed in the throne room, all she felt was empty.

“You may leave us now,” the queen told her handmaidens. They bowed and left the room.

Vassa let out a great sigh. Slowly, she made her way over to the opposite chaise, dropping down into it with the weariness of a woman half-a-century her senior. 

Finally, the queen looked at Elain. 

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly. 

“No,” Elain replied in a rasping voice. She was the furthest she’d been from okay in a long, long time. “But that's not why you want to speak to me, is it?”

“No, it’s not.”

They were both quiet for a long time.

“It’s time I tell you what I should have told you a long time ago,” Vassa said. 

A spark of something flared in Elain. For weeks now, all she’d wanted was for Vassa to be honest with her. Now, though, on the tail-end of losing one of her own, most valued secrets…did she really want to know what Vassa had to say? Secrets were weapons all their own -  was Elain ready to face the potential blaze of ruin the sharing of this secret could ignite?

Unbidden, her thoughts turned to another secret, one she’d just gained - and one she still hadn’t lost. One that was, for now, only hers. She thought of what she’d seen; thought of the teasing, taunting message left there. She could see it so clearly, even now, lying on the rocky lake floor, crisp and newly-trimmed and blood-red in color, its perfectly full petals swaying delicately in the current.

She thought of the question the disembodied, reedy voice had whispered into her ear, during what she was not quite so sure was a dream anymore:

"Did you like the rose?" 

The spark in her turned into a steady, flickering flame. 

“Do your worst,” Elain said. “I’m ready.”

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