Five years before Feyre Archeron ever stepped foot in Prythian, another human girl found herself in the Spring Court. But the trials and tribulations of her time Under the Mountain left her with nothing but a certain red-headed High Fae emissary, wh...
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The evening seemed to drag. Dinner was spent with Helion and Clyro, numerous jokes told that you didn't understand, and you ended up spending most of the dinner cradling a glass of fruity white wine. Lucien nor Silas or the other sentinel made an appearance for dinner. You only picked at the food that Helion served you, having little appetite after your conversation with him that morning. Your mind was racing, always falling back to the dark magic that was lingering in your blood. You should have known, you had suspected but prayed it wasn't true. Now you knew for certain, and it uneased you.
"You shouldn't fear it, you know," Clyro said as he escorted you back down to your chambers. "Lord Helion is right when he says that it can be used for more than just evil."
"What makes you think that I can control it?" You asked quietly. "What is to stop me from doing...awful things if it takes over?"
Clyro stopped and looked down at you. "I know what you fear, but you are not like Amarantha."
"How did you know that's what I was scared of?" You asked, blinking up at him. He smiled.
"I have been working closely with Lord Helion for many decades, and have learnt a great many things," he said with a slight mischievous smile, turning to continue the walk back to your chambers. "For instance, I know that your own High Lord is struggling since your return Under the Mountain, I know that both of the made Faes have great futures ahead of them should they choose to accept it, and I know that the emissary of the Spring Court has more that just fire in his veins."
You found yourself outside the door to your chambers, and you turned back to Clyro slowly, brows furrowed. "You said that 'the made Faes have great futures ahead, should they choose to accept it'," you repeated slowly. "Is that me? Am I a made Fae?"
"Well, you were made, were you not?" He said with a small smile.
"So, what do I need to do to accept that future?" You asked hopefully, but Clyro chuckled.
"I may be very old but I do not have all of the answers," he chuckled. You let out a small, disappointed sigh. "Seek out the High Lord. He has the answers."
As he bowed his head and turned to leave you had no doubt which High Lord he was referring to: Rhysand.
Later that evening you found yourself curled up on the couch with a book from the extensive bookcase in your room; it was filled with stories from the war, not exactly a friendly bedtime story, but it kept you distracted and gave you something to do. Despite that, every few pages, the words blurred together and faded out as your mind turned back to everything you had learnt that day. Lucien and the mysterious Jesminda, a hopeful future if you found a way to accept it, Lucien has more than just fire in his veins, whatever that means, and of course the fact that you were harbouring dark magic that may very possibly be the thing that kills you.
"'The Battle of Jurian: An Extensive Insight'," Lucien's long-drawn out drawl read. As you glanced over the top of the book you caught him with his head cocked to the side, reading the title from the spine. "I didn't take you for a historian."
