A Court of Curse and Roses; acotar

𝕱𝖎𝖗𝖊

Rosehall is glum with stillness when we winnow back.

A newfound quiet has seized hold of the manor. There are no chirping birds and no gardeners snipping at the roses in the garden. Not even a spring breeze whispers throughout the halls.

Outside the windows of the foyer, I can see that the sky is a cloak of intolerant clouds. Thunder rumbles in the near distance. I try to forget the heat of the Summer Court and the cries of the war that still grip my heart.

"Where is everyone?" I ask as I turn to Tamlin. He looks exhausted, deep lines crease his forehead as he glances around the foyer.

"Many fled to the other Courts when they heard of the attack," he says and pulls off his sheath of daggers. He lets out a tired sigh. "The rest I have sent away to the eastern territories, as far away from this bloody war as possible."

He looks away from me and turns to Jurian, "You are welcome to stay as long as you need. The room across from Persephone's is made up for you." Tamlin tells the human before he stalks out of the foyer.

His footsteps fade down the hallway, followed by the slamming of a door and Jurian turns to me.

"Hungry?" The general asks. His tone is jovial despite the purple that has collected under his tired eyes.

"Cold," I reply and wrap my arms around myself, my wings tucking into my side to preserve heat.

He watches me, his expression vague, and motions for me to follow after him. He guides the way to the library. He is strangely accustomed to Rosehall. He must have been here before.

I curl up in an armchair as he lights the fire, his hands making quick work of it. The fire rages to life and I peer closer at the human. His hands are calloused and scarred; blood and bruises across his knuckles.

"What happened to your hands?" I question, not flinching away from curiosity.

Jurian sits in the other armchair across from me. He examines his tanned hands with nostalgic eyes.

"When I was resurrected, I had to learn how to use my body again. That included learning how to fight," he flashes me a sensual smile, "Amongst other things," he adds.

I ignore the tone and frown, "You were resurrected?"

Jurian watches the fire. His eyes narrow.

"Fifty years ago I was torn to shreds by the evil Queen Amanthra, kept alive by an eye and a finger that she wore as jewellery," Jurians scowls. "The King of Hybern resurrected me using the Cauldron and now, here I sit, waiting upon his every word like a lapdog,"

I turn toward the fire. I ponder over his story, not entirely knowing what to say to this human's dreadful life. A log snaps and I shudder as the sound reminds me of the snapping of fae bones yesterday. I sense Jurians eyes on me and I look up.

"Why haven't you used your wings?" Jurian asks, his brown eyes gleaming with curiosity.

I shift my back, my wings moving as I do, and try not to blush with embarrassment. Is it that obvious?

"It's a long story," I say, turning back to the fire.

"We have time," Jurian says. He tucks his long legs underneath him and leans forward with his head in his hands. He blinks at me, waiting patiently.

And so I sigh, "I had my heartbroken. I winnowed here by mistake and when I awoke, the mating bond snapped into place. Tamlin tells me I'm a seraphim. I'm trying to survive this war so I can kill the man that broke my heart," I look up at him, "Pleased?"

Jurian smirks wide, "We are alike, you and I," he says and leans back in his chair, "What a shame it is that I leave tomorrow,"

Disappointment hits me.