A Court of Flame & Shadow - Eris x OC

The Field

By the time they left the forge, the moon had begun its descent. It was raining still, softly, more mist than drops. The village was eerily quiet. They walked in silence until the sun rose and only stopped for an early lunch on the bank of a river. Lucien kept looking over his shoulder as if expecting something to jump from the bushes behind them.

"I feel it too," she said softly. "Like the quiet before the storm."

They finished their food quickly and kept going south-east, leaving the river behind. The last leg of their journey was an open stretch of land, and far, far ahead, green trees – the Spring Court border. They were a few yards in when she recognized it – the muddy flatland she'd seen in her dream, that first night in the forest. It had not been Eris lying face down in the bloody mud, a silver sword with Beron's sigil in his back. It had been Lucien.

Before she could turn towards him to warn him, they heard the wet thud of hooves behind them. She didn't have to look to know there would be two black horses, and there was no time to turn around as an arrow whizzed past them.

They were exposed. There were no trees to hide behind as they zigzagged through the field. The mud seemed to clutch at her feet as if conspiring with their pursuers to anchor her in place. She tried to free her foot from a deep pool of muck and her too-big boot let go with a wet squelch. She didn't struggle when she felt the other one slide off a few steps later. She could run faster without them. The sound of hooves was getting closer and an arrow sliced through the air, narrowly missing them.

"Father is quite displeased with you, little brother." A booming voice carried on the wind. It was one of the twins.

The other laughed. "That's quite an understatement. He will be livid with fury when he gets our message. Hells, he might even come down here himself to punish you." They had to get over the border. Fast.

"I'm surprised you two had the balls to come here by yourselves," Lucien yelled over his shoulder, before grabbing her hand and ducking behind a boulder. There was the metallic clang of an arrow on stone.

"Roderic is busy taking care of your friend. We can't have the folk thinking it's alright to help a rebellious prince and his fugitive harlot."

Lucien's eyes were wide as he looked at her, the color entirely gone from his face.

"Go," she hissed at him.

"But–"

"I can take care of myself for a while. Glynn can't. Get him out of there." She squeezed his hand and in her other one a small flame appeared, shaky but bright.

Lucien gave her a small nod and took out his hunting knife, pressing the handle into her hand. "They'll have an even bigger advantage at close range. Don't let them get near." They had a significant advantage either way – close up or from far away, magic or physical. Vel only pressed her lips together and gave him a tight smile. Lucien continued. "They cannot winnow, never could." That was something she could work with. He let go of her hand and, in a blink, he was gone. Her fingers curled around the handle of the weapon he'd left behind. Without his presence, the fire flickered and died. Her power was waking but slowly, too slow. She prayed she could hold out until he was back. The horses were getting closer.

She squeezed the knife tight enough that her knuckles grew white. A breath, two, three, the snorting of horses, the thundering of hooves. She would not go out without a fight. Vel willed any sliver of available magic into a thick blanket of darkness, enveloping her, rolling out over the field from her spot behind the boulder. Sweat beaded on her brow. She was panting as her body fought against the Faebane. Two forces pulling against each other at her core.