Twenty Lashes

elain pt. i

When you're nice, you're not bullying people. But when you're kind, you stand up against the bully.

- Daniel Lubetzky

Cosmic Love -- Florence and the Machine

Elain had to be honest with herself. She hadn't asked to join Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, Nesta, and Azriel because she was interested in the restoration of the Spring Court or to see Tamlin's flowering lands. She had joined them because she knew Lucien would be in attendance to the Spring Court negotiations and while he may not have had any political standing, he liked to be in the know about the goings on of Prythian. It was the courtier in him, emerging and rising to the surface. Elain knew this because somehow, she knew him .

And maybe because she'd eavesdropped on a meeting and had heard Feyre say that Lucien would be in attendance. But that was neither here, nor there...

Nesta had been the only one to display any visible signs of apprehension, but before she could open her mouth to protest Elain accompanying them, Feyre had declared it a "good idea."

Elain had even observed Rhysand giving her an appraising look. He clearly approved of her decision to take her fate into her own hands, for he had shown no signs of reproach at Elain objecting to being coddled.

And they left.

She didn't want to admit it, but perhaps her eagerness to see Lucien had been born of Azriel and Gwyn's newfound courtship. Long ago Elain and Azriel had dispatched their affections for one another. It hadn't been easy to admit that their attractions had been born of loneliness and desperation rather than a desire to be with the other. There had been tears upon the farewell to what might have been, a sting of envy when she'd seen Azriel's fingers laced with Gwyn's. Perhaps there had even been an overindulgence of alcohol to numb the aching of her heart the night she'd noticed everyone seemed to be paired off except her. But it was easy to overcome eventually. It didn't hurt that she and Gwyn had become something of fast friends. She'd arrived in Elain's garden one day and started listing off flower genuses and their various uses with an easy manner that was indicative of someone who had known Elain for years.

Elain felt a little guilty for going to The Spring Court without her. It had been one of the places Gwyn had disclosed to Elain she had wanted to someday visit.

They're supposed to have an impressive variety of flowers and plants. Some that require little to no watering. The greenest leaves you've ever seen.

And, yes, Elain admitted to herself, the emerald-leaved-trees were stunning and the flowers were flourishing but she could only think about seeing Lucien.

And as they approached the manor — in shambles but with an apparent effort to restore it — he came into view, leaning lazily against the space beside the double entry doors that were peeling with paint. Lucien.

He wore a pine green jacket with gold embroidery that complimented his fiery hair, tied back at the sides and displaying the sharp, elegant planes of his face. Of course, Elain had known him to be handsome, he had always been strikingly beautiful. But had Lucien always made her heart thunder like this? With every step nearer to the manor, her chest seemed to tighten.

And when Lucien's eyes swept over the Night Court and landed on her, she felt the phantom thread between them go taut.

And she wondered, did he feel it too? That invisible string that tied them together. The one that had appeared the day she tumbled from the Cauldron and his eyes had met hers.

The way his gaze flickered for just a fraction of a second suggested that perhaps he did... Or perhaps he was simply surprised to see her. Which would be reasonable, seeing as she hardly ever left Velaris.