Evil Elain: This Rose has Thorns

2

           Elain waits atop the rooftop of the townhouse, the house in which she stays now since Feyre and Rhys live in their riverside estate. While Feyre adores her sprawling mansion, Elain loves the cozy, colored home she shares with Cerridwen and Nuella.

         A night breeze whips at the hem of her blush-colored dress and Elain wraps her arms around herself, warding off goosebumps as she waits for Azriel. It's perhaps her favorite thing, when Azriel sweeps down from the skies and scoops her up. While they fly over Velaris, they exchange calm conversation, quite ironic to the chaotic mess of butterflies swarming in Elain's stomach.

       But tonight, it is not Azriel who emerges from the dark to fly Elain to the House of Wind, but Rhysand. Elain's worn smile only wavers for a second before she greets Rhysand.  And snaps up her mental walls.  She never fails to appreciate Feyre's insistance on learning the practice.

        "Good evening, Elain," Rhysand says, extending a hand to her. She- as always- smiles before wrapping her arms around his neck and allowing herself to become perched in his arms.

        "Hi Rhys."

            He takes off and attempts to make small talk while they fly over the shimmering lights of Velaris. But Elain's mind is far from images of the flowers Rhysand compliments or anecdotes of Nyx. Her head swarms with shadows and hands, dark hair and hazel eyes. The fae lights dotting the streets morph into the exact shade of Azriel's eyes and the shadow casted over the mountains looks remarkably like black hair and, far away, a male laughs and Elain nearly tumbles from Rhysand's arms as she twists, swearing it was Azriel.

        Rhysand lands in the House of Wind and Elain pecks a kiss on his cheek in polite thanks before facing the dining room, open to the night.

          The black, obsidion table is decorated with honey rolls and spiced dipping sauces of many varieties. Magical lights flicker around the room, their light catching on a diamond hanging from Amren's ear as the small female speaks with Cassian.

         "I guess we're late," Rhysand murmurs before gliding towards a beautiful Feyre who is attempting to feed Nyx a bottle. "Darling, you know he takes after his father and prefers the-"

          Feyre throws a glare at Rhys and he laughs as he takes the babe from his mate.

          A sharp cry of laughter draws Elain's attention to the door where she sees Nesta enter, arms entwined with Emerie and Gwyn. Elain has met Emerie and Gwyn only once and while she is happy that her sister finally has friends, Elain can't help but wonder what these three girls possibly have in common. Emerie, with her calm and polite aura, and Gwyn, who can only be described as a giddy mess of giggles who never stops talking. And then there's Nesta...

           Elain, wringing her fingers, walks towards her sister, mentally rehearsing her greeting. She is no farther than three feet away before Nesta seems to finally notice her approaching.

           "Nesta." she says, backing out of the much nicer and warmer greeting she planned.

            Gwyn and Emerie stay wrapped around Nesta as her sister smiles. "I'm glad you made it."

            "There's not much else to do in Velaris," Elain lies.

           Nesta gazes at her sister, seeming to choose very carefully what her next words will be. Luckily, Elain's attention is quickly diverted as shadows began skittering across the wall. Darkness cascades the ceiling and Elain's heart jumps into override.  Elain turns in time to see a leather-clad Azriel gracefully land on the balcony, his boots echoing on the floor. The lights of Velaris silhouette his back, making him a shadow given life.