House of Wings and Roses

Chapter 6

They didn't make it to the ballroom.

A shrill, cut-off scream sent ice through Quentin's blood. The marble tiles beneath him began to rumble under the weight of hundreds of running footsteps, walls ricocheting with panicked calls and questions. Fae in long, glittering ballgowns whipped by in a flash of colour and movement out of the corner of his eye. Another scream. Something acidic seared his nose—a man had doubled over beside them, heaving up the contents of his stomach. From terror or from poison, Quentin didn't know. Didn't care.

He whirled to face Florian, mouth opening with shock, but the other fae was already moving down the hall, weaving through the fleeing crowds with his face set into something so cold it sent shivers down his spine.

"What are you—" Quentin started, having to jog to keep up with his long, predatory strides.

The red-haired fae barely cut a glance towards him, bending suddenly to pluck something from the floor. A sharp of glass glittered between his thumb and forefinger, smeared with blue—

Quentin's throat closed over.

"Saffice," Florian confirmed, flicking the shard away distastefully. It clinked against the tiles, shattering swiftly under the heel of a bronze-haired fae that hurtled past them. "They're here. Must have come from the tunnels."

"You mean humans?"

"What else would I mean?" The other fae hissed, turning on his heels to pin Quentin with a glare that almost withered him on the spot. "Get out of here. Take the route through the forest—don't touch the paredions and stay on the trail. If you hear something calling to you, no you didn't. I'll get a message to you when I can."

Quentin opened his mouth—to speak, to protest—but nothing got past the blockade in his throat. His arms hung rigid at his sides, silver eyes widening with a mix of fast-flowing emotions.

"What— what will you be doing?" He finally got out, features pale and frightened.

"Whatever needs to be done. I'm the heir of the court, Quentin. I can't leave my people," he said, voice cold and heavy with responsibility. In the same breath, he spun around to grab the hand of a young fae and hauled them up to the window. He murmured something to them, quiet and concerned in a way Quentin had never seen before. Florian, he was beginning to realise, was not the carefree, sly-eyed fae he had grown to know. Loyalty ran like gold in his blood. It lit his eyes with fire so bright it burned.

"You'll die." Quentin said. A fact.

"Perhaps." Florian gazed at him levelly.

"I won't let you."

"And how, my dear, do you think you will stop me?" His tone was flat and cruel, devoid of any warmth.

Quentin drew in a breath.

A moment, a glimpse, flashed through his head.

His father knelt before him, tone set with cruel anger. "You're selfish, Quentin. How could you rule when your heart is so fixed on your own desires?"

Quentin had sobbed, had slid to his knees on the smooth white tiles of the dining room. "I'm not selfish, dadda, I promise!"

But he was right. Quentin was selfish.

So, incredibly selfish.

He looked up at Florian, taking in the sweet neutral expression of his features, the concern in his gaze, knowing he would most likely never see it again.

He exhaled. A decision had been made.

"Florian, my love, listen to me. I command you to leave the building. Do not engage with anyone, do not speak, and do not use your powers on me. Do not put yourself in harm's way." Quentin's voice quavered, interrupted by hiccupy sobs. Tears slid down his cheeks, leaving salt on his lips. "Go to the forest route as fast as you can. Please, Florian." Honey-sweet gold coated his voice in magic-fuelled compulsion, leaving the other with no choice.

The pure betrayal in the emerald of Florian's eyes was breathtaking. His lips parted, then closed. His eyes were like open wounds, so raw and helpless that Quentin's heart lurched with guilt.

He watched as Florian took the first step towards the door. Then another. With a final, lingering glare of such intense hatred that it froze him on the spot, the red-haired fae disappeared into the twisting wilderness outside.

Safe. That was all that mattered.

Quentin dragged his gaze away, heavy and numb.

"Quentin?" A small, sweet voice whispered whispered from an alcove. He hastily wiped his eyes and turned around, spotting Astoria crouched down in the darkness. She shook like a leaf, weak and trembling. "What's going on? Mamma fell over an' then Ma told me to run, so I did, but I don't think she was moving. Quentin, do you think mamma's dead?"

He gently tugged her by the wrist, ignoring her question with stinging eyes. "Come on. We have to get out of here."

"Where to, mister?"

Quentin raised his eyes to the dark, wild mass of oak and vines stretching across the horizon. "Where else? The forest."

—
Author's Note

Very rushed update hahah! Will be editing later.

C'mon, you didn't really think I'd let them stay happy, right? ;)