Eblis survived years of torment in the hands of Hybern, an enemy continent disrupting the peace of Prythian and the Human Realms below it. She suffered things many wouldn't be able to handle, and lived in the shadow of it's king for five fear-filled...
The speckles of yellow light in the dark were inviting, and suddenly so were the columns of smoke that blew smells of roasting spices and juicy meats. She hadn't eaten all day, she realized.
Just a few more moments.
***
The next day, the sun shone bright and early over the snowy world, a cacophonous silence resonating from the mountains and the houses. Indeed, everything seemed still after the blizzard of the night before.
She'd spent forever on the balcony, letting her shadows wisp out into the wind and skittering over the town right up until Azriel had beckoned her for dinner, which had been a quiet affair.
Now the shadows remained tucked away inside of herself—hidden beneath a dress of deep maroon. While pulling the dress out, she’d finally seen the third one Jaquelin had designed for her.
It wasn’t the metal Queens’ dress she had seen, but it had been based off of it. Instead of gold and yellow castings, she’d seen silver and the monochrome black of a beetle's carapace as well as a deep blue of the ocean. Pure white fur capped long sleeves that would’ve drifted behind her like a train, the dress a subtle and elegant warrior armor. The neckline was dusted in glittering stars.
It was gorgeous; even more so than the previous one she’d seen. And she wouldn’t wear it.
While Eblis favored the satin maroon, Feyre had dipped into a dress of the deepest plum, the shoulders pointed like armor while the rest was loose and feminine. Rhys had gone back to pure black, but with hints of red to accentuate his mate.
Amren wore a thickly woven outfit that was akin to the one she wore the day before, though instead of crushed seashells hemming the fabric, she'd gone for rabbit fur—something of a nod to their host. Mor, on the other hand, had slimmed down similar to Eblis into a dress that hugged her figure yet drifted out into a translucent train like a fog.
The Night Court made its way to the meeting room first off, not even bothering with food. It seemed other High Lord's had the same idea.
Winter, their host, was already seated along with Dawn and Autumn, the three courts talking quietly. Given that Tarquin and the Summer court had already left, they only waited on Tamlin.
Everyone settled into their seats, talking about their recoveries and rebuilding of their courts. Eblis remained against the wall, staring down at the clear ice that was the only thing stopping them from plummeting to their death on the sharp peaks—all but the winged Illyrians and Peregryns, who'd most likely grab who they could.
And, with a startling thought, Eblis realized that she would have to be saved as well.
Her wings were entirely shredded and unfit for flight even on a sunny day, but she knew it wouldn't stop her from attempting to. She'd only flutter around uselessly like a butterfly whose wings had been touched. Utterly fragile.
Azriel whispered her name and she jerked away from the spiraling thoughts she'd been falling into. When she turned to the male, startled, he had only looked away and towards the entrance door.
It was too late when she realized that it had been her own shadows warning her of Tamlin's arrival, not Azriel. She did not know why they reacted—
Tamlin walked through in a tunic of blistering yellow, hot like the sun on a cloudless day. And, right on his heels, was a female.
She was pale as Kallias with hair just as dark as Helion's, and an outfit fit for the Autumn court with leaf patterns in varying shades of tangerines and ochers. She seemed to have no single court to belong to—except for Tamlin's.
Eblis met eyes with the newcomer, finding a striking pair of fresh spring pupils to clash with her violet ones. The female nodded, a soft smirk on her lips—and Eblis returned it with her own.
She wiped the expression away quickly, surprised with herself. Eblis flicked her eyes to judge everyone else's reactions, but no one seemed to notice the exchange—except for Azriel. He eyed her quietly, saying nothing to her relief.
"I am Patrasche, nice to meet everyone," the newcomer said, smiling widely. Tamlin smiled back dumbly, and Eblis felt something stir in her stomach.
The room watched her arrival with hawk’s eyes, the message clear. Patrasche was a spy.
Tamlin spoke before anyone else. “Patrasche has replaced Lucien’s place as my right-hand. She’s lived in the Spring Court since she was young, and I met her during—” he paused, sending a sharp glance towards Feyre. “I met her at Calanmai. She is helping me rebuild.”
Amren’s nose curled. “Your orgy holiday is grossing. Get rid of your pet.” Eblis sent a surprised glance at the blunt words, but the High Lord’s seemed to agree silently.
“She will not,” Tamlin began, steadfast, “be chased from the room. She is with me.”
She tapped against Rhys's mind with a mental talon, and the male only gave a rumbling response to let her know that he saw it too.
Patrasche waved and smiled and greeted everyone that she could, seeming for all the world like an innocent fae female who could fit into any court simply because of her charm. Eblis could admire that, at least.
She was barely paying attention as Rhys opened the meeting and debriefed everyone on the information of Hybern—guarded information with no certain clues given the spy’s presence—her eyes watching Patrasche avidly.
The female finally met her gaze.
***
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