Beyond the Books

Unworthy of Feeling

Character: Lysander
Book: This story does not take place in any of my fanfictions.
It is set shortly after my additional short story The Past They Pretended to Forget

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Warning
This story contains some graphic images of self-harm. Do not read if this is going to be triggering or disturbing to you.

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Two days had passed since Estelle woke following the incident in the torture chamber. She'd only left her room once, to find something to eat in the middle of the night. Lysander knew because he'd heard her.

He'd followed her down the stairs and into the kitchen, and when she paused what she was doing to clutch at the edge of the counter, he ushered her into a seat and fixed up a plate of food for her.

That was the first time his sister had offered him some semblance of a smile after returning home. He hadn't seen any hint of warmth in his father's face. He doubted he would for a long time. What his father and sister had gone through together... Lysander knew only what Azriel had shared, and he was certain that what he had kept to himself would remain a secret for good reason.

Seeing the wounds left behind on his father and sister filled him with an insatiable rage, but Lysander couldn't act upon it. None of them could. Not Nyx, not Corbin, not Cassian... None of them. Rhysand had commanded it. Seeking revenge could spark a war with the Illyrians. Besides, there wasn't much they could do anyway. Estelle had killed five out of the six people responsible.

Still, it was all Lysander could do to refrain from hunting down Ze'ev and spilling his guts when he heard Estelle creeping around her room and saw his father limping down a hall. Azriel's leg had been shattered almost irreparably.

Madja and her healers had spent hours piecing the bone back together. Azriel wasn't supposed to walk on it, though he ignored those orders. He was more worried about his wings than his leg.

Lysander loosed a heavy breath, raking his fingers through his hair as he mounted the stairs. He'd spent most of the morning with Estelle until she asked for some alone time. After that, he'd gone out with Nyx and Corbin for an hour, then spent the rest of the afternoon sitting downstairs in silence. The stars were coming out now, which meant it was an acceptable time for him to go to bed.

He reached the second floor and paused beside Estelle's bedroom. No sound came from within. Lysander hesitated, then knocked lightly. A moment passed before she offered a muffled admittance. Lysander pushed the door open and slipped inside.

Estelle lay with her back facing him. Lysander's breath caught at the sight of the scars criss-crossing the central tendons of her wings. Madja had healed the wounds fully and Estelle hadn't lost the ability to fly, but the sight was still awful.

Anger and guilt curled in his stomach. They'd tried to clip her wings with chains. He hadn't been there to stop it. Lysander crossed the threshold and joined Estelle. She glanced at him, but didn't sit up.

"How are you feeling?" Lysander asked. A few of Estelle's shadows drifted onto his arms and curled around them.

Estelle sighed, brushing a short dark curl out of her face. "Better, I guess."

"Nyx and Corbin asked about you."

"Nyx spoke to me through his daemati powers," Estelle replied. The corners of her mouth tilted up. "He and Uncle Rhys are going to the Spring Court tomorrow."