Keir

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Since I had the garden to myself, I lounged on the couches near the river, varying between staring at the water and reading one book or another. After reading one paragraph twenty-three times I gave up and brought the quill and writing paper down into the garden.

It had been ages since I had written anything at all, be it poems, short stories or my diary. My fascination with poetry had been very frowned upon by my mother, this went as far as taking all the writing utensils from my room in our castle, the house at the campgrounds as well as forbidden all our servants to get my anything of the sort ever. 

I started with writing out a few letters, it was scribbly but readable. I went on describing the river, using as many words as I could, next came the Flowers Elain tended to every day until I had the whole garden. 

When it felt safe enough, I set my quill on the paper and just wrote. The words poured out of my finger onto the white sheet, my hand never pausing, spilling everything I felt onto it. 

I sat there, hunched over the table for what felt like forever, only stopping when it got too dark to go on.

Before me lay stacks of filled paper, drying in the setting sun. I blinked at them, realizing what I had done. There were steps behind me, still in the house, but not for long. As fast as I could I gathered up the paper and threw it into the river, the ink not at all dry, disintegrating into dark blue-purplish blobs.

I turned around, two figures coming into the garden.

Feyre looked at Mor, then me: "Did you find home okay."

She looked like the High Lady of a Night Court I didn't and never wanted to know. Her lips were painted bloodred her dress barely covering her, but that wasn't what made me almost step back and bow, it was the cold, cruel gleam in her eyes.

One blink and it was gone, replaced by concern.

"Yeah, Amren brought me, where were you?" my gaze fell on Mor.

She wore a white dress, her lips the same red as Feyre's, her hair pulled back, clenching and unclenching her fists. I realized my question had been stupid.

"Is everything okay?" my voice was small, I had never seen my friends look so solemn.

Mor dragged a hand over her Face, Feyre rubbing her forehead: "No, everything is not okay."

They sat down beside me: "Your court date has been set, a week from now. And it'll be held at the Court of Nightmares."

I looked at Mor, who had her face still in her hands: "Why?"

Feyre must've heard the fear in my voice, for she took my hand: "Oh, Meira... We wanted to tell you before, but Rhys said it would only make you miserable. There's nothing you could've done and how could we have sent you back, our friend, to a life where you had no choice about yourself.

Keir, Mor's father, has been stirring for a while, the Court of Nightmares isn't enough for him anymore, he wants the Night Court under his control. Our intelligence says Eris, High Lord of the Autumn Court is readying for war, to aid Keir. The Illyrians have, until now, supported Rhys, but your father is a powerful male. He has made us an ultimatum. Either you are given back, or the Illyrians back Keir as well."

A pit opened in my stomach. How could he? How could he put possessing me above loyalty to his High Lord? He was the one always preaching about the honor of war, there was no honor in treason. Tears welled in my eyes, but I squared my shoulders: "Then I'll go back."

Feyre sighs: "That won't change anything now. He wants Rhys to admit he made a mistake in 'taking Meira from her family, from her rightful place'. This isn't about you anymore, it's about principles and the way the Illyrians, as well as all Fae males, sometimes think about females. Giving you back now won't change anything, it will give those brutes a free pass for anything they want to do with their females. All progress we made would freeze, for eternity."

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