𝙳𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚎(𝙰𝙲𝙾𝚃𝙰𝚁)

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

song of the chapter: bad idea by girl in red

"darlin, you're so pretty it hurts"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

         I had been circling the Archeron estate for at least ten minutes now. Rhys had asked me to deliver his latest letter to the human queens, since Az was otherwise occupied trying to infiltrate whatever nasty defenses they held around their palace.

        I hadn't been able to stop thinking about our conversations. None of it had been pleasant, every syllable from her mouth barbed and vicious.

      We'd sent word yesterday about precisely when to expect me. So when I knocked on the front door, it was a matter of a heartbeat before it was yanked open.

      The sharp movement told me that Nesta had been waiting. Yet with my magic cloaking me, Nesta Archeron and her unnervingly perfect face saw nothing but thinning patches of snow on the muddy lawn and the sloping drive cutting through it, the cobblestones gleaming with streams of melting ice. She casually opened the door for me to pass.

       The housekeeper scuttled into the immaculate foyer to confirm for herself that no one was there, but Nesta merely informed her that she was going upstairs and not to disturb her for an hour.

        The housekeepers eyes thinned to slits as the young mistress strode away—and I kept my steps quiet as death as I eased around the aging woman, then up the stairs as well. My wings added a hundred pounds to me, so stepping quietly had always been difficult.

       I was focusing hard enough on keeping silent, on keeping my wings tucked in tight so they didnt rustle anything, that I barely took in the heavy, pale purple gown.

      The gown was tight enough in the bodice to show off her slim waist, the fitted sleeves displaying her slender arms. A thinner build than Feyre and Elain—discounting the generous breasts that I glimpsed as Nesta reached the top of the stairs and turned left.

      I quickly looked away, feeling my face go a bit red. I'd never once looked at anybody like that before.

      For all the world, Nesta was merely trudging to her room, perhaps a bit grumpy and groggy. But as soon as she entered the spacious bedroom, bedecked in velvets and silks of varying shades of blue and silver, and shut the oak door a moment later, the heavy, slow posture vanished.

      Along with my cloaking.

     A blink was her only tell of discomfort or surprise. I tucked my wings in to make myself seem smaller.

"You're ten minutes late," she only said, moving toward the far end of the room, where a fire crackled against early spring's chill. Where the sound of the flames might cover their voices. Clever girl.

"I was busy," I said quietly.

       Busy circling the house because I was compiling a list of choice insults to throw her way, responses to an invented argument.

"Here I was," Nesta said, a pillar of ice and steel beside the hearth, "thinking I heard you flapping around for ten minutes. It must have been a pigeon stuck in one of the chimneys."

        I just stared at her, speechless like an idiot. She stared right back at me, her deep blue-grey eyes meeting mine.

"How is my sister?"

"Busy."

A flicker of her throat. "So busy she cannot deign to visit, it seems."

"Feyre has been quite busy—with the situation with Hybern and outside of it."