#writevswrong

The guilt that should be there. He was right, I lost him on the battlefield. The one right outside these castle walls. Yet I wasn’t haunted, broken. Why did I not feel broken because of this?

Was it anger that pushed the guilt away? Was it happiness? Either way, I did not want to think of Cassian again. The bastard commander chose his fate, I should be able to choose mine.

I approached the magnolia bedframe where Cindra had laid out two choices. “Thank you for your kindness, Cindra,” I meant every word. She didn’t run from me when I turned into a Gryphon and nearly killed her. She didn’t judge me when I showed up naked and crying for Eris. She didn’t laugh, when I thought her and Eris were…gods, what foolish thoughts plague me.

“Pleasure is all mine,” she flashed a mischievous smile, “it finally gives me a chance to be a woman again.”

“I guess wearing armor all the time would do that,” I acknowledged, attempting to stifle my laughter. I liked her. She was fierce and unapologetic, a fighter.

Cindra bowed her head, guiding me to my options. “I think the metallic one is best but just incase you don’t want to feel too glitzy, here’s another in emerald. You looked gorgeous in the linen option when you first arrived.”

“The one I ripped?”

“Yes. But you still looked good. You have a body, flaunt it Gryphon.”

With a raised brow, I chuckled, “so, it was you, who picked the low-cut dress out?”

“It wasn’t me,” she contested as her eyes bulging, “it was given to me by the Lady of Autumn.”

I reached for the metallic gown, her first choice. Still not believing Eris’ mother picked out such a revealing dress. Why on Prythian would she?  

Cindra had to help me into the copper and gold ensemble. It was form fitting, very, very form fitting. I examined the swooping neckline that connected to the dangling straps off my shoulders. From the beaded bands, a cascade of golden Ombre material fell to the floor. Slits in the fabric revealed my sparkling sleeves. 

She laced up the center of the shimmering bodice with velvet ribbons, making sure my breasts were pushed up more than they have ever been. I blushed at the provocative neckline, by the gods…if I moved wrong I might just fall out.

“If you move wrong, you will fall out,” Cindra warned, finishing with an elegant bow just beneath my cleavage. Her eyes dancing from the sight of me, “just you wait until you see this!” she squealed, dragging me to the mirror. She had me close my eyes while she adjusted the cathedral length train; smoothing out the ripples of fabric. Cindra whispered, “okay, open them.”  

I obliged, not able to recognize myself. Not in a bad way at all but that I looked new—whole. I felt like a star that had fallen from the sky. A walking sun in the land of darkness. Black and blue attire did not do me justice, I decided.

The long sleeves hugged my skin, cut into perfect diamonds that attached to two golden rings on my middle fingers. I looked closer, noticing the rings were engraved in a language I did not know. Bands of perfection.

Pearls and garnets were sewn onto the straps and the train…well, the train had much more material than I originally thought. There was even a bit of swooping fabric that connected the straps. The only open section of the train or cape—whatever it is—revealed my nearly bare back.  

A thin, see-through material covered majority of my spine and ribcage. Looking from my shoulder and down, I self-consciously studied the scar I had received from Tamlin. You couldn’t notice such a hideous flaw in a gown like this.  

Cindra motioned for me to sit at the sunstone vanity. “Do you prefer the golden ribbon with pearls or the copper ribbon with garnets?” She held both of the options up, her brows snapping together as she tried to decide what would look best.

“Pearls, they’re my favorite,” I uneasily shifted in my seat. I wasn’t used to this type of luxury without a price. I wasn’t used to being dolled up by someone else or even attending a ball, not since my time with Ronan. But it was different then, a fight for survival.

My palms grew sweaty as I thought of the amount of people who would be in attendance tonight. How many of them saw me bare before? On the day Beron forced me to have a walk of shame through the throne room.  

She dropped the burnt orange ribbon on the table, “duly noted.” Cindra released my hair from it’s prison of a bun. The cascading waves of gold and brown were amplified by the dress. “So…” she began, weaving the ribbon through my long locks, “he’s quite the High Lord, huh?”

I turned into a column, stiff and heartless, “is this your version of small talk?”

“I was never very good with easy subjects,” Cindra scrunched up her nose, cackling at my resistance.

I swallowed hard, feeling the overwhelming sense of sisterly conversation that I’ve never experienced. “You want to know why I’m here, don’t you?” I questioned, knowing the answer before she could speak.

She shook her head, her mouth twisting, “that’s not—no, no.” Cindra stopped braiding my hair, “yes?”

I pursed my lips to the side, feeling the truth unravel before I could stop it, “I had run away from my family. That’s when he found me, Eris and his brothers.” I dragged my fingers against the countless options of earrings she set in front of me. “I ended up here, afraid and broken.” I chose the dangling pearls that would accent the others on my gown and in my hair. “He saved me. Then he saved me again and again without ever asking for anything in return.”

“Were you here during the war?” Cindra finished my hairstyle with two small braids to keep the ribbon in place. She tucked the velvet strings, displaying my pointed ears.

I saw my reflection, the fae side of me that I couldn’t hide. As a habit, I almost redid my hairstyle, afraid of the past haunting me if I did not cover my ears.

Cindra slapped my wrist before I could do any damage. She attached the dangling pearl earring, careful not to poke my neck.

I knew she was patiently standing by for my answer. Maybe that’s what the Autumn Court is known for? Patience. Or maybe Cindra and Eris knew I would speak if given time.

“Everything,” I replied quietly, feeling the anxiety wash over me. I took a deep breath, noticing that Cindra had stopped, she was waiting for me to either fall apart or keep going. I didn’t want to hide anymore, whether that was from bodies of water or my ears. “He saved my life and Cassian’s,” I finally finished, exhaling the past that threatened to ruin my future.

Cindra added the other earring then went to the wardrobe for some shoes. She hollered over her armored shoulder, “where is this Cassian?” She fetched the low heels, noticing a hair that was out of place from across the room.

I peeked up beneath my long lashes, her fingers working effortlessly as she waited for my reply. “I don’t know,” I responded, knowing that was the truth. I didn’t have a clue of his whereabouts. I hadn’t thought about it much.  

She released her hands from my hair to apply a rosy balm to my lips. Her eyes glimmered with hope and anticipation, “I guess this is perfect timing then.”

“Timing?”

“Well, I do not see Cassian here or your family from the Night Court. I only see you and him. It seems like fate, that’s all.”

I didn’t know what to say, a mixture of feelings clawing to get out.

“I’ve only just become his guardian and I can already see the effect you have on him. I just hope that as he nurses your broken heart back to good health, that you will not break his in the process.” She kneeled before me, slipping on the pair of silky heels.

My jaw tightened as Cindra’s words sliced into my core. I raised to my feet, quickly retying the deep-v bodice. Desperately needing to breathe before I exploded, I needed this off—I needed out.

She was right, he was mending my heart but what about his? Was I hurting him by being here? Was I taking advantage of him and his kindness? Or was this different?

Was there something else?

Cindra stopped my trembling hands with hers. She had to redo the bodice, this time giving me a little breathing room. “For what it’s worth,” Cindra mumbled while stepping away.

I stared up at the guardian, searching for a sign of hope. My flames quickly curled around my fingertips before sinking back into my flesh. Please say something…anything…

“You will break his heart either way in this dress.”

Mikayl stood waiting outside the castle gates, a beaming smile at the ready as moonlight glimmered off the strands of his hair. “You’ll do amazing, Cin.” He took the heavy pack from me, releasing it to the charred wheat field.

I could hardly look at him, not without tears resurfacing. “Save the bullshit. You and I both know I don’t deserve this,” I shook my head. Disgusted, disappointed, despicable…all the d’s you can think of. That’s me.  

“You do,” he lifted my pointed chin with his bandaged knuckle, searching for the confident woman he knew was buried within. “Prove yourself if you have to, but despite what you’re hearing or seeing around the court—you’ve earned this.”

I needed to switch subjects or he would never drop the inspirational speech. “Will you wait for me?” I fluttered my lashes at him.

“Probably not,” he teased, jabbing me in the ribs.  

Trying my hardest to not wince, I quipped, “you really think you’re something else, don’t you?”

Mikayl’s voice softened, his loose knuckle brushed against my jawline, “I’ll miss you.”

“I won’t,” I lied, a smile already breaching my lips as his neared mine.

“That was painful,” he whispered, his warmth touched the corner of my mouth.

I exhaled heavily, he knew my weak spots. “Or was it well deserved?” I faltered, swallowing hard.

I didn’t care who was watching, if he didn’t stop soon…

“Definitely,” he mumbled against my lips. “I’ll see you soon, Cin. Promise.” He pulled away, smile faded and a line of sunlight building in the corner of his eyes.

I didn’t want to say anything more in fear of ruining this—us. The last thing I needed was Mikayl to ignore me too. I kissed him one last time, letting my love pour into him. I pressed myself against his torso, wrapping my arms around his neck as I hoisted myself up.

Mikayl’s firm hands gripped the bottom of my thighs, a soft moan exchanged between us. “Is this how best friends say goodbye?” he asked, gently nipping my lip before pulling away.  

I couldn’t resist, not when the set-up was too beautiful. “Yeah,” I breathed, hopping down from his hard body. “Make sure you give Wilamis a sloppy one when you leave him for duty,” I taunted, bending down to retrieve my things before walking through the metal gates.

I knew he was watching me walk away, I knew because just before entering my new home, I looked back too. A friend, a best friend, a more than friend…whatever we are, I missed him already.    

The castle was different than I imagined. I always thought it would be made of gold and marble, that’s what I get for believing a drunkard’s tale. Every window was stained with history, every tapestry masterly crafted. I hadn’t realized I fell behind until the servant cleared his throat.

“Sorry,” I mouthed, picking up my pace till I was in range of him again. The boy of about fifteen or sixteen looked too thin—sickly, even. Maybe they focused their resources on the soldiers? Either way, it didn’t mean someone should go unfed, especially children.

I knew very little about my High Lord, the eldest Vanserra. One, he is the most ruthless Vanserra to date—the man killed his own brothers for cauldron-sake. Two, he was an enemy of this court until his father was butchered by the prisoner he tried to escape with. And three, he saved my life.

 I stood at the High Lord’s door, adjusting my armor before going inside. I could hear him through the plank of carved wood, cursing his way across the room.

Why am I even surprised? Not only am I protecting a High Lord who had to save me, but an insane one at that.  

“Come in!” he yelled before I could knock.

I dropped my hand, letting the metal clank together. Opening the door, I held my breath, awaiting my fate. “My lord,” I dropped a knee, bowing my head to him.

“What’s your name?” the High Lord demanded as he studied the mess of parchments on his desk.

I stood quickly, closing the door behind me and stepped forward. I couldn’t remember any of the trials regarding High Lord etiquette. “I go by Cindra,” I replied, feeling the sweat drip down my wounds. I grinded my teeth as the stinging persisted.

“Ah…” he finally perked up, probably finding whatever map he was looking for. Amber waves flowed to his shoulders, the tips of his ears poked out as he bent back down to review an older map of the Autumn Court. “You have something to say, so ask it,” he mumbled, eyes blazing as he found his target.  

I felt my shoulders relax as my burning question sputtered out, “wh, why did you choose me?”

The High Lord glanced up, his brows knitting together, “those markings look fresh, have you been attacked outside of the tournament?” He returned back to the parchment, dunking a feathered pen in a canister of crimson ink.

“I don’t deserve this position,” I ignored his query, feeling a blush coming on. It would be a little awkward to explain that I was about to take down my lover in front of his castle. “I fought like a coward. How could you make me into your guard?”

This snapped him out of his task, “hostility is no way of thanking your hero.”

“I should have died,” I argued, feeling another bead of sweat sting an open cut on my shoulder blade. Laryd used mini daggers to weaken me before attempting to puncture an organ. “It would have been better than becoming an outcast.” How no one saw these daggers, small or not, baffled me.

He set the map aside, scratching the sides of his auburn beard, “why do you want to die?”

“I never said that.”

“You just did.”

I clutched my fists in an attempt to channel all my anger into my palms. My jaw tightened with every passing word, “you’re infuriating.”

“I’m your High Lord, guardian,” he snapped, standing to his full height. “I chose you because of your morals and your ability to take a punch.” The High Lord leaned over his desk, pressing his palms into the mess of maps, “this court has fallen, I will not let a corrupt guardian stand beside me.”

“But—”

“—do not prove me wrong. Now, if you don’t mind,” he flicked his hand towards the chamber door, motioning me to leave.

I bowed, studying every crack in the floor. What have I gotten myself into?  

 Eris:

After my ungrateful guardian left, I stared out the window, hoping I was looking down the same crack Nesta had once followed to the sea. I had none of her belongings, nothing to hold of hers. Only memories, whether they were moments of happiness or pain, I wanted to remember everything.

Our goodbye took place days ago and no matter how many hours I spent focused on other things, my thoughts always came back to her. Advisory meetings, council meetings—nothing truly held my attention for very long. Nothing except for her.

Gods-damn it, what has happened to me?  

You need to rest, Eris. The voices sung to me, clawing at the insides of my brain.

I didn’t bother searching for the monster, he was surely hiding in the shadows somewhere in this room. “You must be lonely if you’re visiting me so soon, Ronan.” My eyes flashed to the edge of the woods, thinking I saw a familiar face.

How will you protect Nesta if you can’t even take care of yourself?

A grumble built in my chest, a sneer at the ready, “I’ve already told you. So, let me tell you again. She is safest with Cassian,” my voice dropped, the pressure of emotions too great for me to bear, “with her family.”

The figure I saw, the familiar face, turned out to be nothing but a haunting from the past. The girl I had once loved when I was too young to know the feeling. It was the only relationship I had to compare anything to.

I diverted my eyes back to the sea, not feeling a pang of guilt as Nesta’s memories suffocated me. Maybe in time, Nesta would only be a distant memory but even as I thought of it, I knew that was a lie.    

A steel feather. A fault of a son. All come crashing into one.

I rubbed my beard, a growing habit. “By the mother above…” I groaned into my calloused hands.  

A last breath. A life lost. All will happen at a cost.

A light in the dark. A darkness in the light. All will be clear in a fortnight.  

I stood to my feet, turning from one corner of the room to another and another and another. “As I have said, as I will continue saying, she is in the safest court in Prythian.” My eyes turned white, unleashing rays brighter than the sun.

He wasn’t here. Not in the shadows, not in the light.

Don’t be so easily fooled Eris, it’s unbecoming.

I rolled my eyes, feeling the light drain from them as I headed to the canopy bed. I needed to sleep, maybe then Ronan would leave me be. What a ridiculous thing to hope for.

Goodnight fool.

I stared at the copper and crimson tassels on the corner of my pillow for what felt like hours before my eyes grew too heavy to keep open. I was half afraid that Ronan might reappear, half afraid of what nightmares awaited me. Either way, I would find out soon enough.

Standing in the hall of my parent’s chambers, I listened. I knew all too well what might happen now that they were behind closed doors and lacking an audience. 

“You have tested me one too many times, Natara. In front of our guest no less.”

My mother’s voice sounded frail, hopeless, “my love, if you harm her in any way, Rhysand will attack. They will destroy our home.”

I nearly swore under my breath; a dreadful feeling penetrated my focus. I couldn’t breathe as the hand of pain gripped my heart, squeezing and releasing. I shook off the sickening stir of agony, caught in between saving my mother and whatever was attacking me.

My father’s disapproving tone continued, “are you saying he’s more powerful than your husband? Than your High Lord?”

“No, my love. I only wish to—”

The sound of his hand meeting her cheek reverberated against the walls. She knew better than to scream for help, it only made things worse.

I ignited; hand on the copper knob.  

Then I heard it, the guttural scream. It echoed in my ears, down to my heart. My blood vibrated with rage as I winnowed away. I left my mother to fend for herself, to survive hit after hit. How could I forgive myself? Now that I was stronger, faster than my father—but I needed this court to not turn on me either. I needed him to die without his blood on my hands.

The scent of magnolias pulled me from my inner thoughts. Foul odors of the dungeon were so strong they normally invaded the black mist by now and yet I smelled none of them. Not the blood, not the vomit or shit. None of it.

My senses heightened as I saw Aedin choking Nesta against the wall. If I didn’t play this right, I would only endanger her more. Overreacting showed I cared, it unveiled too much—a weakness. Those with a weakness are not meant to be High Lord, my father’s favorite lecture came to mind.  

“Is that anyway to treat our guest?” I asked without emotion.

Aedin peered over his shoulder, baring his teeth, “Eris…”

“Release her,” I replied, crossing my arms to hide the growing tendrils. Control yourself to control your flames.

Aedin turned away, facing Nesta once again, “the next time, you won’t be so lucky.”

I dug my nails into my palms, feeling the warmth spread. Inhaling sharply, I reminded my brother of my power, “she’s claimed, Aedin.”

“I didn’t see your brand,” he snapped, pulling his hair back into a low bun.

I knew Nesta had ripped at his hair, scratched him wherever she could. It was nothing compared to the damage I would inflict on him later.

Glancing to her bare shoulder, I glamoured her skin with my marking. “Why don’t you check again?” I followed the path from her shoulder up to her gray-blue eyes, watching as firelight threatened to cascade down her cheeks.

Don’t cry, don’t falter, I pushed my thoughts toward her. I didn’t know if she could hear me, if she was like her sister or not. I only hoped she had enough sense to remember what I told her in the throne room.

Nesta’s eyes caught mine before turning to face the wall. Her back trembled as she held in her sobs; I dimmed the flame low enough that he wouldn’t notice her shaking.  

Aedin’s eyes narrowed at me, not trusting a single word. As he squinted to observe my burn mark, I wanted to snap his neck. To hear the noise, the satisfying sound it would make.

“You know what happens to those who touch what is mine,” I shrugged, feeling the fire sink back into my skin. I pushed open the prison door, “or should I remind you…?”

After Lys was brutally murdered, I went to Aedin—pummeled him close enough to death that he didn’t mess with me ever again, that was until now. I studied every step he made back to the exit, listening to each footfall until he was back on the main floor.

As I turned to face Nesta, I could feel my stomach drop. This was my fault, finding her in the woods. It was me, the monster of flame and ash, who doomed her.

“Are you alright?” I asked, feeling the dungeon’s chill sink into the marrow of my bones. I studied her neck, at the bruises that were beginning to develop. If she were still human, she would have been dead.

Nesta didn’t say a word, how could she? Why would she when this was my mistake? They would have killed her in those woods if I didn’t take her prisoner. But is this any better than death?

I examined her spine, her skin stretched over each bone as if she hadn’t eaten in weeks. She must be freezing, hungry…broken.

“I’ll be back,” I promised, moving away from the wall to winnow. She remained quiet, her hunched shoulders still shaking. I needed to be quick, in case Egan decided to make his move next.

I submerged into the shadows, winnowing to my chambers. Coils of fire were back, I could feel the leashed anger wanting to break free. Despite wanting to shove my brother off the tallest balcony, I knew she needed warmth, comfort—not a savage.

A small pile of clothing and her fancy Illyrian boots waited on my bed. I had planned to give them to her later, after checking on mother but obviously that was a mistake. I focused my energy on the rising flames, I had never felt so out of control of my abilities until now.

Winnowing back to the cell, I extinguished the fire as much as I could. My mind wandering down a blackhole of regret.

I knew it was wrong, I shouldn’t have taken her. I could have led my brothers on a different path somehow, convinced them we needed to go deeper into the Night Court forest. Yet there I was, lost in her scent. Not the cinnamon, vanilla or whatever the cauldron she used as perfume. Magnolias, the same scent that drowned out the filth in her cage.

I set the items halfway between us, not daring to go closer. Nesta turned uneasily on her heel, her face a strange shade of green.

Here it comes…

Fire curled between my fingers, the agony that clawed in my chest nearly had me on my knees again. I hadn’t realized I was shaking, that guilt and rage and heartbreak could all be felt at once.

Nesta’s dirty hands grabbed her stomach, her face paling. She almost slipped as she raced to the nearest corner, throwing up whatever had remained in her system. Her palms formed into fists, digging them into the stone wall until they bled.

I diverted my eyes to the sconce, commanding it to dim once again. I waited, watching and listening as she fought an internal battle I would never know or come to understand.

The woman of steel had finally found a gap, a breaking point in her foundation. The look she made over her shoulder was not of anger but of hopelessness. Until she caught the sight of my glamour. She glared at the circle of tendrils, hating every curve.

I slid down the wall, taking a seat next to the door so no one could enter without seeing me first. Whoever was coming next, I was ready. I listened to the footfalls and miniscule conversations the guards made. I stared at the darkest corners of the cell, waiting for someone to winnow through the shadows. If they came after her, if they touched her…

“I belong to no one,” her hollow voice tore into me.

Swallowing any lingering emotions, I replied, “I know.” I sunk back into my head, into thoughts that only destroyed me further.

Mother. The sound of my father slapping her only made things worse. I couldn’t protect her and Nesta at the same time. Just as I couldn’t protect my brother and Lys from this family. Defying my father, not torturing Lucien’s lover…

I sparred with the memories of Lys being shredded by my father’s wolves. Her unearthly screams until nothing but the gurgling noises of full bellies and Aedin’s laughter.

Nesta’s raspy voice reached me, drawing me once again to the present, “then why…?”

Leaning my head back to stare at the dripping ceiling, I responded, “it’s the only way…”

A hissing noise woke me from my slumber. Flames reacting to the sweat that now covered my entire body. Scrutinizing the decadent velvets hanging over my bed, I felt the same tension gripping my heart. Pain increasing at whatever was squeezing and releasing my organ.

“I’m going mad,” I mumbled, “absolutely mad.” I shoved the blankets off of me, stumbling to the bathroom as I attempted to restrain the mess of orange and yellow coils. I was in control once, I could and would be like that again. I glowered at myself in the mirror, silently cursing the emotions away.

I splashed the cool water against my face, instantly drying from my natural warmth. “She’s safe, now that she isn’t with you,” I said aloud, reminding myself that Nesta is better off—she’s at peace. My jaw tightened as I braced my arms against the quartz counter, “she will live a long and happy life. Without you, she will always be free of pain.”

“Who might that be?” Cindra stood behind me, towel in hand.  

I opened my palms, signaling for her to throw it. She winced on the release, shaking her head in self-loathing. “No one to concern yourself with, guardian,” I replied coldly, wiping my face and hands out of habit.  

“That’s fair. What’s on the agenda today, my lord?”

“A royal visit.”

“To another court?” She excitedly asked, attempting not to smile.  

I turned away, studying the lonely copper tub. Another everlasting memory invaded my vision. The corner of my lips twitched as I saw Nesta, the girl afraid of still water, standing mesmerized by the patterns of fire she could blend together.

“No,” I finally replied, a smile spreading as I remembered our kiss, “a farmer and his son.”

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His amber irises dimmed as he stared at the steps below us. “It was only a dream,” he replied as if he was just now realizing it.

The High Lord struggled to swallow his truth, his right hand gripped the carved sunstone arm of his throne. I knew it was to stop the slight tremor that had begun to develop; to remind him that he was here now. Lifting his head to face the awaiting villagers, he shut himself off—like a switch of some kind.

I bent down, afraid my voice would carry through the silent hall. “My lord…?” I whispered before the burly blacksmith made it to the speaker’s mark. He never told her and she left. Now, he finally has the courage to do it and it’s a fucking dream. He’s going to go mad if he keeps this up—cauldron, I’ll end up mad if he continues like this.

Raising his hand in apology to the awaiting crowd, he cocked his head to face me. “It’s alright, Cindra,” the High Lord’s mouth formed a straight line—a pathetic smile, “I’m fine, truly.”  

“Liar,” I hissed at him, it hardly made an effect though. Standing up straight, I quickly went back into position beside him. I bet he didn’t know that I also felt the sting of her absence. That I too grew close to the Gryphon.  

Bitterness threatened to sink its teeth into me. It wasn’t her fault that she left, it wasn’t even his. It was fate. The violent twist of fate the Lady of Autumn had warned me of.

  Weeks had blended into months, I never again caught him smiling or laughing. Every ounce of joy had evaporated from him after she left. He wasn’t rude by any means; I think he was just…broken. A sword without the hilt, a bow without a string, an arrow without the fletching and so on.  

I watched his every move –yes, I did that before as his guardian, but even more so as his friend. There were times that his gaze narrowed at the wall or floor, lost in memories of her—them. I would have to nudge him back to the present, he would mumble his thanks and continue on as if nothing happened.

When I first became his guardian, he was cold and a bit of an ass. In time, I realized he had everything pent up for so long that when he finally felt something for someone—he wouldn’t be able to turn it off like he had in the past. When you open the flood gates, you should expect a raging river.

Except Nesta’s like the ocean. His love for her endless.

And the poor bastard had no idea how to handle it.

Tickling my bare back, Mikayl whispered, “how’s he doing?” We had locked ourselves in my chambers, tangled within the sheets since the moonrise. Silver trickled through the cracked window and onto Mikayl’s starlight chest. Bits of moonlight, of all shapes and sizes bounced off his bare torso and onto the stone walls.    

I pressed my cheek into his chest, watching my finger as I traced the lines of his abuse. I would find the women that tortured him, that stole his innocence. They had heard sun-faes were experienced lovers, walking sun-gods of Prythian. A kind of fae that would grant all their wishes and darkest desires.

If he resisted, he received these. Mikayl never told me what weapon could cause such harm. Maybe he didn’t think I could handle it—or maybe he just didn’t want to remember. My fingertips shakily glided over the jagged scars on his stomach, afraid they still might hurt after all these years.

They locked him up for weeks until the day he finally broke free. He ran, kept running until he made it to the Autumn Court, a place that loathed his kind entirely. That’s when I found him, naked and wrecked in my father’s barn.

He had made it to the second level where the hay was kept, passed out from exhaustion. Mikayl had flinched awake when I was covering him with a blanket; scared of me and the scratchy wool, I assumed at the time. He smelled of fear—looked it too. I don’t remember exactly what I said, I only knew once his silver eyes caught mine, that I was hooked.

Despite the many years that had gone by, how fine he seemed to be on the outside, I could never forget what happened. Those women, his torturers, they would see war for the first time. They would see crimson hate. I’d watch as their disgusting counterparts perish and…  

“Cin?” he asked gently, tapping his smooth thumb against the top of my spine.  

I swallowed hard, realizing I sunk back into the bloodshed portion of my mind. My bad. “I worry about him. I caught him the other day outside her door, just staring at it. It was like he was too afraid to go inside. So, I opened it for him...”

“Did he go in?”

Sighing heavily, I glanced up to see the eyes I had fallen in love with. I swear I could see galaxies colliding within them. “I think it was too much for him,” I bit the inside of my cheek, wondering if I should have just let the High Lord stare at the door all night. It probably would have been better then to watch him wince as he surveyed her room. I’m talking a full body wince, like he ran into an invisible wall.

Mikayl’s forehead puckered as he went deeper in thought, he scrunched his lips to the side before saying, “you feel guilty, don’t you?”

Pausing my wandering fingers, I asked in a hushed tone, “is it that obvious?” Of course, I felt guilty. I felt terrible. This is why Mikayl and I kept our voices down, gods-forbid the High Lord hears us laughing or, or our moments of pleasure. I didn’t want to rub our happiness in his face.  

“When one of you mopes, the other one is soon to follow,” Mikayl chuckled then immediately stopped. He became really serious, unusually serious. “You shouldn’t feel guilty though—not to disregard your feelings. Obviously, you feel the way you do because you feel…um…well you feel…” he bit his tongue, hoping the action would somehow conjure up the right thing to say.

I teased my sun-fae, as I had done so many times before, “you’re a fae of too many words, Mikayl.”

He grinned, the dark room illuminated in his golden light. Mikayl kissed my temple before continuing, “I can show you what I am good at.”

I followed his gaze to where the sheets lifted, a section just below his waist. Wanting to speak but it was too late, his silky hand slid down my side and past my bum. Even worse, he slowly dragged his fingers up the insides of my thighs. By the mother above…

Part of me felt a pang of guilt for this; wanting him constantly. Especially after what he experienced. I know it was a long time ago but time does not erase all wounds. I didn’t want him to think of me like those women. I knew he didn’t, but I was still scared.

He told me once that this was different, on every level and in every way. I knew what he meant. I knew because I had others, women and men but no one compared to him. No one else ever would.  

“I love you!” I blurted, my eyes widened as I realized that I didn’t sound smooth at all. For cauldron sake, could I be anymore awkward? I’ve been wanting to tell him for years. Even on the day that I found him in my father’s barn, I knew then that I loved him and here I was—yelling it in his face.  

Mikayl’s entire body froze beneath me, his metallic skin blazing like a newborn star. “Why would you say that?” he uttered, his eyes hesitantly wandered to my lips then back to tear into my soul.

My heart plummeted, a sickening feeling stirred in my stomach, “Uh…well, I…you see…” I couldn’t speak; my body still aching for him. I said what I felt, what I’ve always felt for him and now I’m not so sure if that was a good idea. My mouth fell open, still attempting to say something. Just say something—literally anything would be better than fumbling like an idiot.

A sly smile threatened to break me, his golden lips taunting me with every word, “I was going to tell you first, you know. Came up with a whole speech and you blew it. You stole my thunder.”

Too shocked to think of a comeback—let alone speak. I slid off of him, adjusting beside him. The sheets caught on his mass, unveiling my breasts.  

Mikayl beamed, his golden hand pushing up my dropped jaw, “way to ruin it, Cindra.”

“I ruined it??” I snarled, my eyes bulging further with disbelief as I raised my hands. How dare he say that.  

He nodded, pressing his lips together to stifle his laughter. Mikayl’s silver irises traced down my neck and collarbone, darkening to aged iron as he prepared himself for what was to come. While observing me, his tongue swept across his mouth.

Until he saw the necklace.

The one I always refused to take off no matter the circumstance. His hunger didn’t fade, it only grew. Focusing on the gift he gave me during the night of the ball, he was finally distracted.    

I punched his stomach—hard. Hearing him grunt painfully, I snorted, “that’s what it felt like, you ass.”

Back to serious, Mikayl. All signs of laughter and silly tricks were gone as his fingers followed down the necklace chain, all the way to the star bursting between my breasts. “I told you what this means in my culture. What it means to me.” He swiftly pinned me on my back, pressing his lips against my treasured necklace, his heart thudding wildly against my flesh. “You have,” he kissed just above the pendant, his lips carefully trailing up my chest. “You are and you will be the only one who will wear this.” He hovered above my lips, not daring another kiss until he said his peace, “I love you, Cin.”

“Was that your speech?” I breathlessly replied, devouring every inch of him, “didn’t you think of practicing beforehand?”

The sun-fae’s chuckle boomed against the walls, quickly hushing as he pressed his mouth into mine. “I can make it up to you, if you’d like?”

“As you should,” I playfully growled, sounding less fierce than I wanted. My lips caught his clean-shaven cheek before he pulled away.

Mikayl grabbed the soft sheets, raising them over his head. He winked his goodbye and then disappeared beneath the layers of cotton. I could see his body glowing brighter the farther down he roamed.

“Wait—” I interrupted his pursuit of pleasure.

The sheets rose, unveiling his naked body. He wiggled his brows when my eyes caught his, “is something wrong, Cindra?” He nearly purred my name—purred! “Are you not up for another round?” he taunted, unveiling his shiny teeth.  

Feeling jittery all over, I forced myself to be serious. I needed to be. “You don’t have to make it up to me or, or even do this if you don’t want to. I hope you never feel that way. I don’t want you to think that you don’t have a choice or that I expect this.” My mind and lips were moving so fast. I swear if there was some form of competition in speaking too much and too quickly, I would win.

A slow and deadly smirk rested on his metallic lips, “you’re adorable when you think too much. You know that, right?”

I scoffed, taking a feather pillow and smacking him across the face. Dramatically, he fell on his back. I crossed my arms and huffed, watching as he raised back to his knees.

Mikayl crawled back to me, his muscles flexing—destroying me—as he moved closer and closer until he was back on top of me. “Aw, is someone angry?” His honeyed voice turned back into a whisper, “did I make my queen, upset[LC1] ?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

Cursing him beneath my breath I attacked him. His defensive positions were no match for my wrath. Or so I thought…he pressed his weight into me and I was confined back onto the mattress. Damn him and his burly arms and those silver eyes…and, and…I felt the warmth surge between my legs.

Mumbling to him, “my starlight,” we launched forward, lips smashing—tongues sparring. Smooth hands slid up my body, wanting more and more. I pulled away, just to confirm one last time, “are you sure this is okay? That you want to do this?”

Mikayl peered down at his swollen staff then at me, “my head, my heart and even my cock are saying yes. I think you’re just trying to avoid orgasming first.”

“Mikayl Oriens!” I couldn’t form anything else to say—I was too damn speechless to fight him. Swiftly I took the second feather pillow and smacked him across the face. This time the fabric couldn’t handle the impact; hundreds of feathers rained down on us.  

“Yes, my queen?” his eyes danced with laughter as his lips brushed against mine.

I plucked a gray feather from his hair, shaking my head at the fae who made me feel like I finally found a home. “I love you, Mikayl. More than the sun and moon. More than the sky and mountains.”

“More than your father’s sword?” he remarked, pointing to the intricate hilt by my nightstand.  

My nose crinkled up as I quipped, “now you’re just asking too much.” For revenge he tickled me with the nearest feather, threatening to continue until I gave in. Giggling so hard that I could hardly breathe, I finally agreed, “yes, yes—I love you more than my father’s sword!”

Mikayl leaned over, patting the hilt of my blade, “sorry, Elanthra—looks like she loves me more.”

“You named my sword?”

“Have you not?”          

 After we consumed one another, he held me to his chest. Limbs tangled, our bodies crooked to fit one another perfectly. He stayed up for as long as he could; discussing what our future would look like now that I’m the High Lord’s guardian and he the Lady of Autumn’s. A future we could finally have now that we both assigned to the same location.

Twisting in his arms, I watched as his eyelids grew heavier and heavier. I made him promise things he would normally never agree to. This included the following: naming our first born after a monster that lurked in the Autumn woods, taking a trip to the human lands and trick them into thinking that he was actually the king of all faes, having an official marriage ceremony only as a trick to getting Nesta home, and swearing off sex for the next sixty years.

He sleepily laughed at that last part, knowing me and himself too well. Though he did like my idea of an official marriage ceremony. Mikayl nuzzled his nose into my neck and said, “I could finally bring you to my home.”

“I’ve never been to the Day Court.”

“Not that one.”  

I didn’t think anything of it, he was probably talking nonsense because I kept him up till almost dawn. As he fell asleep, I continued to wonder what it would be like. A future with the sun-fae I had loved for so many years already.

This started out as a friendship, then became more and more until he asked me one night to lie with him. He said he was worried that he would catch a fever in the barn, that his light would cease to exist if he became too cold. Our banter went back and forth until I realized how much I wanted to join him. That despite our friendship I wanted him—much more of him.

I asked if he was sure, after everything that happened, would he really want someone in his bed so soon? He laughed, saying it had been four years—four very long and trying years of being friends with me. Mikayl outstretched his hand, it was the first time he seemed nervous in front of me.  

Pushing back his shiny hair, I remembered our first time. The electricity, the light. My skin erupted in gooseflesh at the thought. Even more so when I realized that I still felt the same way then as I do now. I swept my lips across the top of his head and snuggled even closer. “Goodnight, my starlight.”

On the verge of sleep, I heard the High Lord’s voice through the door, “don’t…”

His nightmares were nothing new, those had started up again. He never told me what they were about or who they involved. I always wondered if it was about Nesta or not. I mean, I wouldn’t be surprised at this point.  

“…fire, use fire…” the High Lord muttered, then snarled. I could no longer hear him clearly, nothing but the sound of his agony. A broken and startling scream ripped through the stone walls.  

I hurried out of bed, pulling the sheets to wrap around me. Grabbing my sword as I rushed to his aid; something was wrong. Normally he would go silent after a couple of minutes but his thunderous roars made me wonder if he truly was being attacked. I quickened my pace, crashing through his door with my blade at the ready.

The High Lord was covered in fire, a casket of flames. His back arching as he thrashed in pain.  

“My lord!” I yelled over and over in an attempt to wake him. I even threw a pillow at his face but no such luck. The pillow burned to ash before it could touch his skin. “Fuck, fuck…”

“Watch out, Cin,” Mikayl warned, sliding to a stop by the bed. He reached for the High Lord—

“—don’t!” I pulled at his arm, shaking my head as I cautioned him, “he’ll burn you.” Not only would I lose the High Lord, but Mikayl too. I didn’t want to choose, but in a way, I already had. I always chose him—would forever choose him. We had to find another way to save the High Lord.  

He shook his head, “I’m a sun-fae or have you forgotten,” Mikayl chuckled, reaching into the flames.

I pushed his arm away this time, still not wanting him to risk it.

“Fire doesn’t burn me,” he displayed his metallic arm, completely unmarked. Mikayl effortlessly taunted me, “now, if you don’t mind, it’s up to me to be the hero for today.” Reaching back through the wall of orange and yellow tendrils, he shook the High Lord. On the first shake nothing happened, so, Mikayl continued until amber eyes flickered open and the flames retreated.

The High Lord gasped for air, as if he were being yanked from water or something. Whatever the nightmare may be, I knew he was drowning—awake or not. He looked at us in shock, almost like he didn’t think he would see us again, “do you hear them screaming too?”

Feeling Mikayl’s hand intertwine with mine for support, I asked, “no one’s screaming right now. It’s, it’s just us here. Are you alright?”  

He was broken, I knew that…but this? Nearly losing him in his sleep from either visions of the war or of Nesta—I didn’t know. I was used to other soldiers having these types of nightmares but not a High Lord. Then again, I had never met a High Lord before him.

What if time just did this to everyone? You either grew cold and heartless or cracked and went off the deep end. Possibly a bit of both.

I gulped as I gave the High Lord a quick once over. He looked wrecked—somehow more than usual. How was that even possible? Then a sudden realization made the room spin, the bile rise. If the High Lord died, it would be my fault. I would die. They would kill Mikayl since he was a witness. Dead, dead and dead. Everyone dead. The end.

My lord’s panting slowed, the building sweat still sizzling off his speckled skin, “no…no I’m not.”

“Tell me what I can do, what we can do,” I begged, clutching Mikayl’s hand for even more strength.

Amber eyes darted to me then Mikayl—mother above, they mirrored the emptiness of the burned Autumn fields. “Nothing,” my lord replied solemnly, his head dropping as he chewed on the inside of his lip.

With that being said, he winnowed away. Not telling me where he was going or how I could find him, protect him. Shit.  

Mikayl fastened his arms around me, his muscles flexing against my back, “he will get through this but it will be his way and on his time.” His lips swept across the back of my head, starlight arms tightening for reassurance.

“But I want to help. I, I—he needs our help.” I felt the tears build in my eyes; I’ve cried maybe a total of four times since my father’s death. It wasn’t a deep infatuation with my lord or anything like that, it was the helplessness I felt—the frustration that drove me insane. The understanding that my lord, one of my closest friends, could no longer see the light in this world.  

“He has it but it doesn’t mean he wants our help right now.”

I twisted my body, pushing my head into his chest, metaphorically digging towards his heart. “But we’re so helpful,” I cried into him.  

“You’re the most helpful,” he agreed, brushing his thumb against my chin as a sign to look up. When I did, Mikayl planted a soft peck on my cheek. “Time heals all wounds, Cin.”

“Does it?” I asked, not only asking for my lord but also for him. Even if he said yes, I would still hunt the bitches down who tortured him. Like hell they’d make it another hundred years in this life.

“Time and love—will heal all wounds.”    

We retreated back to my room, knowing it would be pointless to wait for the High Lord to return. He wouldn’t be back anytime soon. I used to hope he winnowed to see Nesta when he had these nightmares—he never said yes or no. I eventually stopped asking.

Closing the door behind us, I thought out loud, “do you think Nesta is happy? That her and her,” I didn’t want to call him her mate; I hated him. He ruined their happiness. I know she was happy here, I saw it. She only left because of that ridiculous letter.

Mikayl shrugged as he quickly responded, “if they were up for it, she could have a lot of fun with both of them.”

I slapped his arm. A threesome—of Nesta, the High Lord and the bat…?

…not a bad idea but still! It’s the principal of the matter.

He drifted back towards the bed, stretching his muscular arms above his head. “She has two very different men who love her. What part of that would be easy for her? What part of their pain, her pain of trying to decide, would make her happy?” He yawned, raising the covers so I would hop beneath them.

Before crawling in, I sipped from the goblet of water. After all this physical activity, I would be dehydrated by sunrise. Gazing out the window, I realized the sun was already on its way up. “But she has decided, she left us, Mikayl.” I copied his yawn, cursing him for keeping me up so late and climbed into bed.

“You enjoyed it, which is why you keep having me come to your room every night.” He grinned, reaching for the water and taking a hearty sip as he thought to himself. “Did she choose? I thought you believed our High Lord pushed her away? Or that fate interrupted their love story? Now are you switching opinions again?”

Glare in full force, I sneered at my love, “stop using my words against me.”

“Then stop talking…?” he suggested, dramatically crying out as I pinched him.

“YOU!?”

“ME!?” He mimicked my high pitch voice, trapping me within his grasp so I could no longer pinch him. “I love you, Cindra—now go to sleep.”

“You go to sleep,” I muttered, pretending to be mad when really, I only felt an infinite amount of love and happiness and hope.  

I stood on the shore, the same one I’ve dreamed of since waking up from the autumn war. The place where salty waves and thick grains of sand meet the endless rows of aspen and red maple trees.

Inhaling the salty, crisp air, I felt myself surrender. “I love it here,” I admitted, catching his fiery hair out of the corner of my eye.

Eris stepped forward to be beside me. Concentrating on the crashing waves, he asked, “is this the view from my window?”

“Yes,” I replied, the curve of my lips enlarging. I wouldn’t be able to explain it; why seeing an infinite amount of blue mended my broken heartstrings. It just did. 

He stole a peek at me, “it’s breathtaking,” he agreed.

I turned away, drifting along the shoreline. The hem of my dress soaking into the frigid waters. I willed the fire from within to coil around my toes, just as he had taught me in the copper tub.

“I can tell you have something to say.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, I bent down to pick up a defective obsidian shell. “I hate that you read me so well,” I remarked, gently brushing my fingers against the ribbed edges.

Eris caught sight of another black shell, one in perfect condition. “I thought women loved a man who picked up on little details,” he implored, handing me the sea gem.  

I analyzed the two shells, both so beautiful—whole and broken. Commenting on the rarity of finding two onyx shells, I finally answered him, “I cannot speak for all women, we’re complicated creatures.” I admired our findings one last time before releasing them back to the ocean.

“As long as you admit it...” he joked, rubbing his untamed beard as he waited for me to slap him.

“Miscreant.”

“Siren.”

We stopped only once so he could roll up his pant legs. He raised his hand, inviting me to step further into the sea. I reached for him, letting him guide me to where the water came up to his shins. Releasing his hand, I lifted my dress up. In hopes that I would avoid further restrictions since I was much smaller than him.

His legs wrapped with fire, extending all the way up to his thighs. As did mine. “So, fireheart, tell me your tale of woes,” Eris commanded, a signature smirk in place.

His term of endearment made my knees weaken. This was merely a dream and he was only a figment of my imagination. So, what did I have to lose? “Only if you hold your judgement till the very end,” I requested, turning to face my friend.

Eris nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. He raised to his full height to let me know that he was ready. He was taller than I remembered, broader in the shoulders as well.  

I recited my story, even the moments I was sure he already knew of. Every fear, every event of shame and all the broken pieces of my history. I let him see me. The decent and the ugly.

Starting with my father, his failures that had damaged me so deeply that I intern failed my sisters. That Feyre, the youngest, turned into our provider as I let us rot in hopes father would do something—anything.

I smiled as I spoke of Elain’s gardening skills and Feyre’s paintings. Both so talented and all I had were my books. I told him I saw the world in the novels I read but I wanted more. I wanted to experience life outside of our human village—maybe travel to the different continents one day.

These precious pieces of someone else’s adventures that I clung to, in hopes that I too would write about mine, had been my light at the end of the path.

That was until she killed the wolf. The day everything changed.

I could no longer read due to the trauma—to my shame—that haunted me. I didn’t know that she couldn’t read. I didn’t know that she suffered in silence as I berated her out of guilt. I did not deserve happiness after all I had done to my sisters, that much I knew.

It felt easy speaking to Eris, maybe that was why I unloaded all the weight of regret, my “tale of woes” onto him. The only sign of emotion, a flicker if you will, was when I told him of what Tamlin did in the woods. When I moved the material of my dress so he could see the tips of the jagged lines; I saw his amber eyes ablaze.  

When I was about to ask him what was wrong, he beckoned for me to continue.

I obliged, thinking nothing more of his reaction.

From explaining my experience in the cauldron as Ronan’s queen of death to what it felt like to emerge from hell. Why tubs and cauldrons scared me to my wits end. So much so that I had to bathe with buckets out of fear of seeing Ronan, afraid the whispers would drag me back to him.

I recounted our time in the copper tub, the one in his room. The day Eris forced me to step into it, to face my fear since I most likely smelled of piss and rot. It was when he taught me how to light up in the darkness, to catch fire, that I finally felt whole. Safe.

I backed up, forgetting an important piece of my past, the part that led me to him. Of what happened in Velaris. How I nearly killed everyone and not just once.

When he found me in the woods, I had lost my way in body and soul. I didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin but he taught me how to control my magic—he gave me a second chance at life. I would have died in that forest if he hadn’t found me. Not from the trolling predators of the night but by myself. The string of sanity that was splitting, that’s what would have done me in.    

Clearing my throat, I reached farther. I plucked out every bit of me for him to see.

As a human I felt things deeply, locking the emotions away without difficulty. But now, every feeling had amplified. I cried a lot, that was the worst part of it. That sometimes I couldn’t stop; how I begged the universe to make it stop.

I clenched my fist, digging my sharp nails into my palm. “When you stopped me,” I faltered, unable to meet his eyes. “When you split my being. My, my power—whatever it is,” I crooked my jaw to the side, this was harder than I thought. This wasn’t real and I could barely get the words out.

His mouth twisted into a grimace as he focused on the sea foam, “if it meant your survival, that you would live another day…” those burning, amber irises flashed to me.

“Eris…”

“Don’t. You do not need to apologize to me, Nesta.” His voice heavy, thickening with emotion, “I would rather lose you to him than to death. At least I would get to see you again. I would see your smile and hear your voice. You would get to live happily ever after, as they say. That is enough for me.”

I couldn’t tell him what happened between Cassian and me. How we fought like wild animals every day or that we broke up in an alley only hours before I arrived here. I couldn’t bring myself to say it.  

There was a lull in conversation as we both regained our steel composure. I didn’t realize we had walked all the way to the border between autumn and spring. Seeing the transition, the blending of the two courts looked unbelievable.

My mouth had opened, my compliments unable to reach my lips. Cream roses and maple trees intertwined effortlessly. A buzz of magic filled the air, the temperature rising. A beautiful sight, but my eyes always went back to the yellow, red and orange trees of this court. I focused on the pop of gold that sprouted between the dense tree line.

Red didn’t scare me—scar me—like it had before. I couldn’t understand it. How my fear of dark water and crimson didn’t cripple me anymore. It doesn’t mean I wasn’t still affected to a certain degree but I could do it; I survived. I guess I have him to thank.  

Eris’ voice floated to me, enraptured me, “I would never judge you, whether for your past, present or future.”

My brows knitted together, holding my breath, “how could you not?”

“How could I judge you when I’ve killed my own brothers?” he scoffed, running his fingers through his windswept hair as he scrutinized the oncoming set of waves.

I closed my eyes, knowing he felt the same pain as me. “It’s not the same,” I replied with a burdensome heart, clutching the linen fabric of my gown.

“No, it’s worse,” he corrected me. “I’ve done some very cruel, awful things.” Eris didn’t continue, instead he sucked in his bottom lip and bit down as he debated what to say next.

A larger wave knocked into us, his body blocking me from a direct hit. “You will tell me in time. When you realize that I too, will not judge you.” I shook my head at the fire wielding High Lord, “you saved me, you fool.”

“It was merely a wave,” he sassed, “I think you would have been able to handle it, Gryphon.”

“You know I’m not speaking of the crashing waves.”

“I could not save Lys, barely saved Mor and Lucien. I am not worthy of being called a savior, Nesta.” He scratched his bearded cheek, opening his mouth to confess, “monster’s do not save people, they damn them.”

“Then why did you, the so-called monster, save me?”

He didn’t speak while his eyes searched mine. Pupils flaring as he shifted forward. I could feel the water luring back towards the open sea. The flames around our feet connecting with one another.

“If you are a monster,” I felt myself edge closer, my heart beating erratically, “then I am as well, Eris Van—”

The smallest noise distracted me. I turned my head away, scanning the edge of the Autumn woods. It was not a noise of the sea or the rustling of leaves.

 Flames enraged, my eyes glowed white as the door creaked open. I slid off the bed, rushing towards the intruder.

“It’s me, it’s me!” the guardian shouted, her hands above her head in surrender. “Cauldron be damned, y, y, you are horrifying,” she sputtered, her face fresh with a sheen of sweat as she took in my mid-transformation stage.

The sun had barely made its way to the horizon, the sky still dark with fading suns. “What are you doing here this early?” I demanded, forcing the fire and onyx talons back into my skin and bones.

Cindra’s eyes caught on the busted seams of my bodice, “I’m sorry for the intrusion but I needed to speak with you before my lord was up.” She pointed to her breasts, then to me as she surveyed the ceiling.

Flustered, I held my ripped gown up. If anyone did ever create magical clothing so I could transform back and forth without being naked, that would be wonderful. “About?” I yawned helplessly, turning my head into my bare shoulder to not be rude.

“Your chambers are ready.”

“What?”  

“The High Lord,” was all she said, venturing into the dimly lit hallway.

I glanced to Eris, he was still in a deep slumber. It wouldn’t hurt to look, I told myself. I followed the guardian out of the room, down the hall and to the last door on the right. “He has me on the same floor as him?” I observed with a hushed tone.

Cindra’s eyes widened with worry, her hand tightened around the copper doorknob, “unless you don’t want to be. I can see what other rooms are available, if you’d like.”

“No, no. It’s fine. I just…” I stopped speaking, my head and tongue not able to connect as she pushed the door open. My heart unable to comprehend the beauty within the massive stone walls.

The room had a similar layout to Eris’ except there was a large balcony, facing the rising sun. A jeweled leaf ceiling made of sunstones, carnelian and citrine, intricately fell into a chandelier made of faelights. The warm, shimmering lights grew brighter as I walked through the doorway.

My jaw slacked as I looked to the bed. The posts were made out of magnolia trees, all connecting together to form a frame for the mattress. The branches held hundreds of blooms, ranging from white to pink and purple. I could barely breathe as I stepped further into the room—my room.

Throat throbbing, tears threatening to form.

To the left was a cabinet, blue like the bird eggs from the human realm. The stained glass was formed into the Autumn Court’s signature red maple leaf, one on each panel. From there I looked to the opened doors, the view…

With watery eyes I stepped forward, seeing straight to the ocean I had been so fond of.  

“How do you like it?” Eris whispered from the doorway.

I turned wildly, feeling as if I might explode with so many different emotions, I didn’t know what to say. Cindra had left at some point, possibly retrieving him as I stood in a daze.

Eris was heavily relying on the wall to keep him upright, his complexion not as ghostly but his bandages were soaked red.  

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” I croaked. I raised my hands to my throat, horrified by the sound I had made.  

He unleashed a smile despite the pain in his voice, “I wanted to see your reaction.”

Retreating towards the blue cabinet, I sniffled, “it’s beautiful.” I opened it slowly, unsure if I could handle another surprise from him. It was filled with books. My own private library of sonnets and star-crossed lovers. Amber droplets were in full attack mode as I brushed my fingers against the novel he had once read to me.

“I’m glad you like it,” he breathed with great effort while treading closer and closer.

I shut the cabinet doors, my body aching from such a gift. A treasure I did not deserve. “You shouldn’t be walking, let alone standing,” I attempted to nag him but all I could hear were the whispers singing his name.

Eris stood beside me, a pillar of steel, as his voice strained, “I’m tired of being in bed. It makes me feel weak.”

“You are far from weak,” I scolded him, still failing at keeping my cold demeanor. It didn’t sound like a reprimand. It was more like a whimper, a pathetic little cry. My eyes bored into the floor, I counted as many cracks as I could—wishing for my emotions to flee.

He tilted my chin up with a fiery knuckle. Admiration and light increasing with the passing seconds, “then take a walk with me?”

I bit my lip till it nearly bled so I would not weep. I didn’t want to cry in front of him, I wanted to smile. He deserved that at the very least. “You present this room and then ask me to leave paradise?” I chastised him with a devious look.

Eris shrugged, the muscles in his jaw feathering, “you can always come back.”

I knew what he really meant. I was always welcome here in his court for however long I wanted. A room with a view that had brought me great joy despite the pain I once endured. An escape from the Night Court, from the monsters of my nightmares.

I moved to his side, unleashing a smile made of affectionate starlight. Tenderly wrapping my arm around his, I asked, “where to?”     

Cindra shook her head, motioning me to lay all the way down. “You’re acting like seeing you naked would somehow get me hot and bothered. Have you forgotten about my sex god? His name is Mikayl, he’s a sun-fae.”

Between Cindra and Nesta’s comments, I was bound to lose my mind. “I’m trying to be respectful,” I remarked, writhing in pain from barely moving my shoulders.

“Being respectful is letting me protect you,” she argued, ripping the stained shirt off my chest. Cindra then untied the leather laces of my pants, she looked away as she pried off my trousers.  

I stared at the ceiling, feeling completely incompetent. The tension in my voice heightened as she inserted my feet into the pant legs, “you did.”

“After you were stabbed,” Cindra contended, her eyes averting once again as she slid my pants up.  

I raised my head a bit, tightening my jaw as I lifted myself. A wave of mini daggers attacked the hole by my heart. “Forgive yourself, guardian.”

“I have failed you,” she stated, loosely tying the leather cords. Cindra’s lips puckered to the side as she thought of how she could get my tunic on with little to no movement.  

The corner of my mouth twitched, “yes, multiple times.”

“Hey!” Cindra yelled in my ear as she lifted me to a seated position.

The door opened then. Nesta stood still, glancing between Cindra and I. Her brows pulling together at the compromising position before she averted her attention elsewhere.

Nesta bit the inside of her cheek as she sauntered towards us. “My apologies,” she whispered, setting the tray of food beside Cindra on the bed. She turned away, her spine lengthening as she headed for the door.

“Actually, I must be going,” Cindra smiled at her, releasing me back to the bed. She retrieved all of the used clothes and dirty bandages. “But you should stay,” she gave me a quick side glance, “it seems that he needs twenty-four-hour supervision.”

Nesta peered over her shoulder, her eyes focused on the porcelain bowl of mush.

Cindra retreated, swiftly closing the door behind her.

I still wasn’t fully dressed. At this point I didn’t want to be if it was going to be this much of a challenge to get changed. I ducked down, wincing from the pain, as I caught Nesta’s piercing eyes. “She’s only my guardian,” I assured her.

Nesta turned devastatingly slow to face me. “And yet she failed at protecting you,” the viper snapped before scanning my body. A rosy tint came and went when her eyes met mine again.

“She wasn’t given a choice,” I replied, noticing her body language shift as she paused halfway between the door and my bed. “I think I might need some help…” I attempted to rise to a seated position, swearing as I fell back down.

She hurried to my side, her hands pressing into my back to help me up. I shakily exhaled, the task of moving three inches wore me out. I leaned my head onto the carved headboard, observing the enchantress reaching for the tray. Though she was no longer touching me, I could still feel the whisper of her fingers. Shivers quaking through my entire body.

She didn’t speak as she brought the large bowl to my lap. Too focused on not splashing the steaming liquid onto me.  

“Would you believe me if I said that jealousy looks good on you?”

Nesta’s words caught fire, “I’m not jealous.”

I pursed my lips, attempting to not give wind of my jab, “whatever you need to tell yourself.”

“Prick,” she muttered beneath her breath as she handed me the stew. Nesta scooted the chair closer, strands of her hair falling from her braided bun.

I wondered what she would look like with her hair down. I’m not sure if my heart could take it.

“Witch,” I smirked, taking a hearty sip from my spoon. It was the most disgusting thing I had ever tasted in my life. I think I would have preferred to be stabbed again, honestly.  

Nesta’s hands brushed the non-existent dust from her dress, “how is it?” she inquired.  

“You should be happy you’re an emissary and not a cook,” I laughed at her open mouth, her increasing blush. “It’s rubbish,” I reported while finishing the rest of the bowl. Despite my protesting stomach, I relished in her speechless replies. It meant that she was finally taken aback by my words as I was by hers.

 Nesta had cleaned, cooked and organized everything in my room. She thought I was asleep. That I had dozed off by the third hour of her restlessness.

I didn’t want to sleep, in fear that she would be gone when I woke up. I listened to every noise she made. Whether it was her exaggerated sighs or the notes of her otherworldly hymns. I had never been so fascinated by someone before.

Not by Lys. Not by Mor.

I shifted my body, tired of laying in the same spot. I bit down on my tongue, trying not to make any noises while I moved. A foolish attempt…she heard me.  

“What do you need, Eris?” Nesta crossed the room, her hands dangling by her sides.

I scrunched up my nose, unable to fathom what I could possibly need besides her being here. She must have known that. Maybe this wasn’t about me though; she was different here. Not in the traumatized way like before but…there was something else.

Nesta scratched her chin on her shoulder, “I need to make myself of use. Is there an errand that must be done? I can’t possibly cook you another meal after this disaster.”

“A distraction,” I remarked, “what do you need a distraction from?”

Nesta returned to the empty chair beside me. She bowed her head so I could not read her emotions, her voice barely audible, “everything.”

I covered my hand on top of hers. I could feel the heartbreak with every letter, each shallow breath. “I could always use a woman in my bed.” My husky voice was meant to ravish her—to snap her out of her wandering mind.

Nesta’s head shot up, glare in full force. Coils of fire replaced her icy irises.

“You wanted a distraction,” I laughed, too hard and for too long. Scarlet stained my new bandages, patches of black spread across my vision as I hacked away. Shit. I raised my hand, covering my mouth as I continued coughing.  

Her eyes saddened, the fire diminishing within them as she wiped the blood from my lips with a napkin. “I’ll get the healers,” she insisted, letting go of me.

I grabbed her hand, smearing my blood onto her soft skin. “It was just a cough,” I swore, signaling for her to come back to me.

She didn’t. Instead she walked away towards the bathing room.

“What are you doing?” I called to her, thanking the mother above that she didn’t go to the healers.

“You smell like a horse’s backside,” she yelled over her shoulder.

I could hear her filling a basin with water. “How refreshing to have you home,” I admitted, feeling the fading embers within spark into a raging fire.  

She didn’t correct me, not a word. Maybe she didn’t hear me? Maybe I scared her?

Nesta in all her enchanting glory retreated from the bathing room, a soft glow radiating off her skin. She carefully moved across the room, pulling a sponge from the pocket of her Autumn attire. The emerald linen brought out the specks of turquoise in her eyes.  

Carefully resting the bowl on the nightstand, she didn’t take her seat on the wooden chair. Instead she sat beside me on the bed. Leaning over, she dipped her hands into the steaming bowl. Nesta squeezed the excess water from the sponge before lightly pressing it against my bare chest.

I didn’t break her concentration, not even when my thunderous heartbeat threatened to kill me. She had never touched me like this before. I, I didn’t want her to stop.  

She was hesitant at first, too nervous to drift towards my bandages. Nesta dunked the sponge again before moving the porous substance lower and lower. I could see the slight tremor of her fingers as she approached the brim of my pants.

Cauldron be damned, I felt myself sink. The merciless stir of my cock made me hold my breath. Now I was the one who needed a distraction.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” I revealed a secret, one I had never shared with anyone.  

“It seems you’re getting better, back to your pessimistic self.” Nesta attempted to be cruel, but her voice was too soft for it to be an insult.

I covered her hand with mine, putting a stop to her endless touch. My breathing deepened, a surge of pain rattled through my wound. I could not go on like this. I could not drown alone without first telling her of my regrets.

I observed the beautiful creature before me. The same woman who was tortured, beaten and almost raped because of me. “If you had never wished to see me again, I would not have thought ill of you.”

My words sliced into her, her body stilled. She shook her head, the initial shock wearing off, “how could you say that?”

“After all that I have done to you,” the lump in my throat rose, restricting my airways.

Nesta tightened her grasp around the substance, water soaking my belt line. Her attention remained on the sponge, on my gentle touch, “you found me when no one could. You cared for me when I could not care for myself. You protected me when I was defenseless. You taught me how to control a magic that terrorized me.” She guided our hands, dragging the golden material against my scar of claw marks, “so, I’m not sure what you speak of.”

“I tracked you in the woods, I slapped you whether it was to save you or not—I, I hurt you.” Lines of silver trickled down my face as I opened my mouth to cough away the building emotions. “It is because of me that you endured every pain this court had to offer. If I had just led my—”

“—I will not regret our time together, Eris.” Nesta interjected, her trembling voice grew cold as she held back her emotions. She glanced up, licking her lips, “will you?”

“I regret the damage I caused you, that is all.”

“If you had not slapped me, they would have killed me in the forest. If you had not undressed me in front of this court, they would have touched every inch of me. If you had not told Ferron to use fire to torture me, he never would have released me.” Nesta choked up as she regarded me. Spirals of fire released from her hand to mine, burning the sponge out of existence. “If you had not pushed us off the balcony, they would have killed you in front of me.” Her eyes diverted to our entangled flames, to the replay of our descent to the battlefield. Nesta’s voice quaked, “I cannot watch you die too.”

I studied our flaming figures fall, the power it took for me to winnow us away. It wasn’t my wound that stung now. I didn’t know how I was able to winnow with faebane, I just knew she didn’t deserve to die because of me. I too, could not watch her die.

Observing her intense gaze of our intertwined fingers, I replied, “thank you.” Unable to say what had been locked within since the moment I saw her. “Thank you for seeing more than a beast in fine clothing.”

“You are no beast, Eris,” her iridescent skin grew brighter and brighter. The caress of our flaming figures capsized within our hands as her grin expanded, “just a lord of fire and delayed wit.”