Wingless Illyrian

Part fourteen

"The cursebreaker returned to the Spring Court with Tamlin, they plan to marry within the next month. They've been trying to keep the news within the Court but with everyone moving around the news has spread. It hasn't been confirmed what power she has received, if any, but Beron is already starting talk about her being too powerful."

Keena sat beside Tarquin with her hands buried in the material of her loose shirt. The colour still hadn't returned to her face after the conversation with Tarquin. 

"What do you suggest we do? Feyre has deserved any power she is granted by the Mother." Tarquin replies shortly. If he had known the conversation would consist of the Mountain he would have kept Keena away.

"Pick a side." 

Tarquin snorted at her short response. "Keena, what would you suggest? If it were to create a conflict?"

"It won't, no one wants to start another war. Everyone is too weak to fight, and too thankful to break the peace. Not to mention that it's not unknown that Tamlin is protective of he believes is his. If he smells that slightest  shift in wind he won't hesitate to lock her away. 'For her sake,' of course." 

"Careful how you speak about the High Lords. Some won't hesitate to punish you for your disobedience." Cresseida sneered. 

"Enough, cousin. Are you sure you haven't met the man, Keena? Your distaste for him is clearly evident." She shrugged her shoulders, sinking deeper into her seat. 

They continued eating in silence. Cresseida never wavering in her glare towards Keena. 

The two had not gotten along in their time together in the house. While Cresseida was a princess, Keena was trained to be a warrior despite not having practiced in so long. Dresses and makeup had never been instilled into her routine. The practicality was never there. 

Keena had only spoken to Varian on the rare occasion. He was usually in the city, or surrounding areas overlooking the armies. 

When the sun set over the city, Keena found herself locking the door to the room, something she hadn't done for weeks. Suddenly she felt all eyes on her as she walked through the house after dinner, everything came crashing back down. All her progress was gone after one bad day. She curled into the small armchair in the corner of the room that she had moved to face the door. A blanket wrapped around her shoulder as the cold creeped into her bones. 

Tarquin had attempted to apologised for his actions, for her having to hear about the Mountain. And despite her saying that the mere mention would not break her. It had. 

Her nails clawed at the shackles that had been gone from her wrist for months, left long red marks. She continued until they were raw and throbbing, matching the pain engraved into her memory. She felt calloused fingers brushing the hair by her pointed ears, causing shivers to erupt down her spine as she fought to keep the cries for help silent. 

They weren't there.

Her knees were brought up to her chest as she wrapped her arms around herself. The locks on her door were still intact, there was no one else in the room with her.

They weren't there. 

Keena did not sleep that night, or the night after. She didn't leave her room to eat food, or read in the silence of Tarquin's office. She remained in the armchair with her eyes trained on the door waiting for someone to come for her. 

Her days were spent in a mindless state of fear. Her mind playing tricks on her. 

She missed her father. She missed Azriel. She missed Rhysand. And as scared as she was of their reaction when she finally returned home, she needed to see them. 

On the third day she finally fell asleep from the exhaustion of staying awake. She woken with a jolt, feeling a pair of icy blue eyes staring her down. Her stomach growled in hunger and yet she still hadn't left the room to eat. The food left outside the door for her was left untouched. 

The sun was beginning to rise over the ocean and yet Keena hadn't seen a moments sleep. Every time her eyes closed she saw her father, Azriel, Rhysand, Mor, even Amren. They were calling for her return, searching every corner of Prythian for her. Over the past few days she could have sworn she saw one of Azriel's many shadows lingering in the corner of a room. And after two months of being out of the mountain, she needed to see them.

In a short breath she winnowed to the outskirts of the Night Court. Somewhere she knew they would find her quickly. 

Tarquin had not seen Keena in days. She didn't come to meals anymore, and the maids had said she wasn't taking any in her room. He knew it was his fault. He should have never mentioned the mountain. It was a touchy subject they had agreed to never mention. His memories were unpleasant, but nothing that compared to her experience. 

He knocked gently on her door, wanting to apologise. He stood there for minutes with no sound emerging from the room. He respected her privacy, but he wasn't going to let her starve herself. 

With a flick of his power the door has burst open. To an empty room.