A Storm of Flames and Deceit

12. Such Conversation

"Leave this place, Fergus," my tone is scathing. "Autumn has no place for you or your tyranny. We needn't concern ourselves with the demands of a man who lacks the power to issue anything more than petty, misplaced threats."

Fergus doesn't seem off-put. "Return my daughter to me," the silhouette says simply. "Allow me to extract her power and I swear on whatever bond you shall want to claim, she may return to you permanently, and I will never threaten her again. Insurance of her safety at the measly price of her power-"

"You won't have it," Nephele speaks up, stepping forward as she still clutches my hand desperately.

"I wasn't speaking to you, child," the silhouette seems irritated by the interruption. "I was speaking to the High Lord."

"Her High Lord warns you not to speak down to his High Lady," I cut in, so angry I could burn the wind itself. "Nephele alone dictates her autonomy and- by that extent- her power. The bargain remains between you and your daughter, and I will simply sit back, gladly knowing that she would never give you what you seek."

"Then she will die for it," the silhouette replies. "And that death will not only be on your hands, but it will be in vain, for when I capture her power Fireling, I'm turning that power on all of Prynthian, starting with Autumn."

The storm dissipates immediately into nothing but the ruins of our study, shredded apart by threats of the war to come. I turn to Nephele, her eyes still wide with terror, dialed to the spot where the shadow of her father once stood. Her gaze then flicks to me, her face so fallen from what it had been back at the palace when she had heard of my affections. Now, only terror churned in those storm cloud eyes, her mouth dropping open again.

"Nephele-"

"I'm fine," she interjects quickly, offering a wobbly smile. I don't buy it for a second- certainly not as her breathing picks up, her chest heaving the slightest bit as if she were catching her breath. As if she forgot how to breathe. "Seriously. I'm fine. It's not like I never thought I'd see him again. Really, it's my own fault for-"

"Nephele," I interrupt her softly, bracing her shoulders. "Breathe."

She shuts her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. I brush her hair off her neck as she tries to get her lungs back on rhythm. As she tries to get her heart to slow back down. When her eyes open again, they're glossy and lined in red as she gazes up at me. "Eris..." she trails off, the word breaking somewhere in her throat.

I pull her into my chest, letting her wrap her shaking arms around me. Letting her bury her face into my chest until she stops panicking. Letting her break in my arms until she can face it.

"It's okay, Sweetheart," I whisper, stroking her hair. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you." It's a promise, as good as any vow I made when we got married, a contract signed with my life if that's what it takes. I repeat the promise mindfully, rubbing her back soothingly.

She pulls back abruptly, looking over her shoulder, tugging my hand. "We should go," she stammers. "What if he-"

"If he wanted winnow here, he would've instead of sending us that message," I tell her delicately, cupping her cheek. "He's not coming now, and he'll be sorry if he ever does."

"We can't stay here," she says, looking away.

"No," I agree. That much was true. Whether Fergus can get to us here or not, I know staying here tonight would eat at Neph until she lost sleep. I know I certainly won't be sleeping tonight. "We'll move all the affairs we can to the treehouse for the week."

"By the cauldron, what on Earth happened in here?" Mother's voice cuts through the air. I had forgotten that her and Helion had both slept here last night, too drunk to winnow home.

Nephele turns them, sniffling, and mom's instincts kick in as she wraps her arms around Neph, holding her like a mother holds a daughter. Helion looks across the room in silent bewilderment. It's possible I've never seen him stunned to silence. "Fergus," I say simply, bending down to inspect the slight puddle of rainwater on the floor. "He sent us a message."

Mother exchanges a look with Helion over Neph's shoulder, a look of deep concern before they look at me. I haven't a mind for their pity presently. "Helion," I raise to my full height. "Have you ever seen a spell like this? Something that could allow Fergus to... project himself through wards."

Helion glances at my mother again as she holds Neph, weighing his words. "Projection spells are uncommon," he says quietly, bending down to inspect the puddle. "In short, it is possible to project oneself through wards if that person untwines their destiny and declares it in the direction of his target of projection, but it can be quite dangerous."

"How so?" Mother asks.

Helion hesitates. "When you untwine your destiny in favor of another one- a destiny you know and desire- if you do not fulfill that projection in the manner that you declare, you can parish," he explains quietly, looking nearly sick. I imagine the death he describes is a few steps past excruciating by the cringe in his disposition.

"He wants to rob me of my power. To have it as his own," Nephele says, pulling back from my mother to face Helion. "Could he do that? Could a person really claim the power of another as his own?"

Helion hesitates again, looking between me and Neph, seeing how we were more than just Delia's daughter in law and son. We were High Lord and High Lady. "Such conversation is dangerous," he explains. "Forgive me- Rhysand advised I avoid speaking of it as long as the Archeron sisters live. Their power so sought after. In the wrong hands, this sort of information could be terminal for Prynthian."

I stew impatiently. "Does Rhysand also suggest to you when you should wipe your ass or do you make your own judgements every once in awhile?" I retort.

"Eris!" Mother looks scandalized, but Helion laughs grandly.

"I don't know how I ever forget that it is fire that runs through your blood, boy," Helion chuckles, nearly fond of I didn't know any better. If I had it in me to care presently. "There are ways to extract power. Brutal, cruel ways. But in those processes, the power will so rarely go willingly. When it enters its next host, it is liable to resist, corrupting whatever the power the host already had altogether."

"And if the transfer goes through?" Neph asks quietly, her hand finding mine. I give her a reassuring squeeze. "If the power accepts the host."

Helion shrugs uncomfortably. "You saw Feyre Archeron," he laughs. "The power would then have a tendency to build upon itself into more. Feyre was only human when the power took to her. It was enough to make her immortal- a powerful one at that. If someone who was already immortal was drawn into power, who could say if that power would ever limit itself?"

Neph's hand clenches in mine. "We'll talk about this later," I assert then, looking over Mother and Helion. "We should get everyone of political significance out before we bring in more guards to the palace. This is hardly the place to discuss such delicacies."

Nephele lays her head on my shoulder gratefully, seeming to sag in relief at the prospect of cutting this conversation. "Take her home," Mother tells me. "I'll handle everything here. I'll get everyone out as quietly as possible."

"Yourself included," I respond, glad for Helion's subtle but indicative nod. He would make sure of it. "Thank you, Mother."

"Write to me soon," she says in response. "I want to help however I can."

I nod in response, leaving them as I walk Neph up to the winnowing platform, taking her home.

A/N:
I know I usually post chapters together, but I'm in between drafts on how I want the next chapter to go. The next chapter should be out pretty soon- I just figured I'd go on and post this one.