DEEP IN AUTUMN'S HEART
A FOX, SLENDER AND ELUSIVE, PRANCED between the rust-orange trees, avoiding the piles of dried shredded leaves and never once disturbing the serenity of the woodland.
Strangely, he wore a golden eye, catching the rays of the late afternoon sun.
Even stranger, he accompanied with him a girl, unassuming at first glance but the onlooker could never have known that she wielded the powers that all of Prythian could offer.
They lingered in the shade of the towering oak trees, leaves crunching under their feet as they danced on the border of the Autumn Court. Tiredness ached their limbs and though a voice inside urged them to keep going, a flow of water teeming with small fish caught their eyes.
They were souls of strong hearts, that much was true. But they grew weary, faebane soaring through their veins and they jumped at every little sound. And sounds were plentiful in the Autumn forests — the woodland was alive with critters and animals and foxes, the cycle of prey and predator a constant in these parts.
It was only a matter of time before these two visitors realised what category they fell into.
Prey or predator.
And by trespassing on Autumn Court lands without the High Lord's permission, the fox and the girl gambled their safety every second they remained on his territory.
· ─────── ·☽𖥸☾· ─────── ·
Deep in the heart of the Autumn Court, Auroria Vanserra awoke with a startle. Sweat drenched her nightgown and bedsheets, her heart threatening to escape as the silence of Ember Hall came rushing in. And two soft words graced her chambers, words that would change everything.
"He's back."
· ─────── ·☽𖥸☾· ─────── ·
A little over half a year had passed since Feyre Acheron came to Prythian shores. A little over half a year since they were all liberated from the clutches of Amarantha, she who perfectly executed the overthrowing of powerful High Lords, but could not even topple this one mortal girl.
And in that time, it had been a process of rebuilding.
Thousands upon thousands of lives were lost during Amarantha's reign of terror — both High Fae and Lesser Faeries alike. What was needed now was order. Stability.
If Prythian had any hopes of reverting back to how it used to be before the usurper queen claimed her throne.
For Auroria's little territory, situated south of Autumn Court, she had spent less time in Ember Hall and more time out there. Out in the decimated villages, out in the manors of High Fae lords. Holding court. Listening to their needs, their ambitions to rebuild. And for those High Fae, holding court took the form of luncheons on the first of every month that, at first, was so suffocatingly tense, each of them hardwired to that cold and aloof shell they all put on to survive Under the Mountain. But, slowly, that shell cracked. Slowly, the lords began demanding once again, the ladies began sneering and gossiping, and their children began running around without a care in the world for what vase they toppled down.
Auroria would rather have that. Broken vases over broken people.
This month's luncheon was held at Smithhouse, the seat of House Napier.
And Auroria would much rather be somewhere else — not only for the dream she had the night prior, but also because its host wasn't Lord Napier at all, who was permanently stationed in the Forest House so long as he held a position within Father's advisory council. It was the Dowager Lady Napier, his mother who was just about the oldest fae... ever.
With her age came the wisdom, the shrewdness, that only few could match — it came at the price of her looks, whose beauty was long-departed and sported greying hair and wrinkles pulled back by her taut bun. She always had a sharp word primed on her tongue, and Auroria wasn't sure she'd ever seen her smile.
Suffice it to say, the woman was as prickly as the rose gardens she loved to garden and a stickler for etiquette, her icy glare unthawing.
The Dowager Lady Napier tended to like Auroria — contrary to popular opinion in court, proven by extravagant presents on her birthday and solidified by virtue of Auroria's kinship with Calix, her grandson.
But-
"Is it so presumptuous of me to expect our Lady Paramount to pay polite attention to that which her people say, Lady Auroria?"
-Not today.
Auroria drew out of her daze. "You must forgive me, Lady Napier. I am a little distracted this morning."
"We've had fifty years of distracted. Time for something new, no? For some more decorum," Lady Napier raised a pointed brow.
"Grandmother, leave Auroria be," Marjorie Napier gently chided, amusement twinkling in her blue eyes, so similar to her brother, Calix's. "I am sure there is a lot on our lady's plate at the moment. Please, Auroria, take this luncheon to unwind."
As the daughter of the second wealthiest family in Autumn Court, Marjorie Napier was a coveted female, with a slender, willowy figure and soft, curling brown hair. It has oft been questioned why Marjorie has not yet wed, but one must only know her discerning grandmother and father to know the answer.
She was sweet and though her smile was shy, she preferred dresses that showed off her womanly figure. As such, Marjorie tended to be a hot topic amongst those of Autumn Court — the subject of carping conversation and raised brows from the females, and the muse of heated gazes and lusting thoughts from the males. It was the midst of summer and the scorching sun was unforgiving even so early in the day, and the neckline of Marjorie's amber dress plunged low past her toned chest, a slit in her skirts reaching her mid-thigh.
"After all those years witnessing Amarantha's brutality, you'd think they'd be able to stomach some skin," Marjorie laughed, as a pair of young ladies passed them, bowing for Auroria and glowering at Marjorie.
"Hush now, girl. Wear these brazen ribbons if you must, but do not take pride in it," Lady Napier chastised. She finished her flute of bubbly wine. "If you'll excuse me. Lady Auroria," the old female dipped into a bow before walking away.
"It's a perpetual battle with her," Marjorie confided, unfazed by her grandmother's cutting words.
"You look beautiful," assured Auroria. "Let them stare."
"You know, I think a few of my dresses are your size..."
Auroria barked in laughter. "Eris would likely string me up, if the High Lord doesn't get there first. Besides..." she licked her lips. "I wouldn't know the first thing about wearing dresses like yours."
"You mean dresses that don't make a female look like a frigid priestess? That's one thing Autumn doesn't have right. It hasn't moved on from the Golden Age of boasting decadence and excess in modest gowns and polite society." She leaned in close, smirking. "Though let me tell you, these males have not the faintest idea of polite."
Auroria bit into a scone as Marjorie continued.
"I mean, you've seen the dresses they wear in Summer or Night. They're so lax about it all, about showing the feminine body, and here..." she sighed, "We're crucified."
A corollary of having a High Lord who has sat in his seat longer than most of his court have been alive.
It seemed the both of them thought the same thing, as Majorie mused, "Maybe when your brother Eris comes to his throne, he'll introduce a new wave of ideals. Fresher. Modern."
Auroria forced herself to bite her tongue.
That was hanging bait if she'd ever seen it.
Or even if it wasn't, she would not dare talk so openly about it. If word got back to her father, Beron would likely treat such forward-thinking as nothing short of conspiracy — he was always suspicious that way. One didn't talk about life after the High Lord's reign, because that would mean he'd have to die.
Likewise, she knew better than to ruminate which of her brothers would succeed their father, even if Eris was the people's — and her own — favourite.
So, instead, she said: "Have you seen Calix?"
"Hm? Oh, I think Junior's running around here somewhere. I'm not sure. He came in quite late last night I think."
"You know he's not eight," Auroria stifled a laugh.
"He might as well be — has never really grown out of that childish immaturity, has he? But," Marjorie dragged the word out with rejuvenated mischief that had Auroria bracing herself, "He would most certainly enjoy you in one of these dresses."
Auroria's cheeks warmed. "I'm gonna go find him," she muttered, choosing to ignore Marjorie's smirk.
She found him in his bachelor apartments, opting to go there when he was nowhere to be seen at luncheon.
"Morning, lazy," she grinned to see Calix's sleepy eyes struggling to adjust to the onslaught of light in the door.
He wore little more than slumber-clothing, his hair a mess and the stink of alcohol stinging her nose.
"Fun night?"
He made some incoherent grunt in response and opened the door wider. "We missed you at Leo Fonseca's party last night."
She stepped inside, and saw the loose undershirt and dark slacks that he'd haphazardly sprawled across his armoire in the early hours he'd stumbled home from a too-inebriated soiree.
Crinkling her nose, she moved them to the side as she sat down. "Well, I knew I was due at your grandmother's luncheon this morning. Just like I knew I'd be a stinking drunken mess like you are now if I attended."
"I'll take criticism from anyone but you, Rorie. One whiff of anything stronger than wine and you're tripping on air," he muttered as he threw on clean clothes. "Was Grandmother's lunch that much of a bore?"
"It was as expected," she said diplomatically.
"Then what are you doing here? You couldn't have let me sleep in?"
She licked her lips. "I... want to go riding."
"So go riding," he said like it was the most obvious thing as he brandished a hand and his curtains drew open.
"Come on, come with me. Like we did when we were younger."
"Will Orlaith be there?"
"No."
"Thank the Mother."
"But I was thinking Willa-"
"Willa is likely in a worse state than I am," he scoffed. "She was dancing on her brother's meeting table. And we all know what Leo's like about his weird prized possessions."
"Just because it's carved into old stone doesn't mean it's anything special," Auroria agreed. "Fine, with Willa out of commission, I need you to come with me."
Calix regarded her curiously. "Why do I think this isn't some random whim of yours? We haven't ridden together in forever."
"Just... do me a favour?"
"Now that," he clapped his together, smiling, "was a mistake on your part. I can call in any favour?"
"Yes," she agreed, against her rational mind. But... she had to see if her dream was a Dream. If... If Lucien was back. "Any favour. But you have to come with me and you can't ask any questions. None at all. Deal?" She extended a hand out.
Calix eyed the hand for a contemplative second, before shaking it firmly. "Deal."
· ─────── ·☽𖥸☾· ─────── ·
"Where are we going?"
"The agreement had only two conditions, Calix. Just two," Auroria huffed. "Come with me and don't ask any questions."
He threw his hands up. "You can't possibly expect me to stifle my Mother-given curiosity."
They'd long tied up their horses at a clearing and now trekked through the edges of woodland at lightning speed, as though Auroria knew precisely where to go despite the two of them never in their years descending this deep into the forests.
"And I don't ever remember doing this when we were younger," he muttered, slapping an overhanging branch out of his face. He wasn't dressed for a hike — loafers were certainly not a suitable match for the unsteady terrain of woodland. "Look, are you okay? Is it that time of the year again?"
Auroria rolled her eyes and contemplated stopping just to smack Calix around the head.
But the pull to a particular part of the forest was too strong, strong enough to eclipse the urge to strike her long-time friend. And mate. Remember, he's your mate. Even if he doesn't know it. Even if he's the most annoying creature to walk Prythian.
A tickle in her core stopped her in her tracks.
She paused suddenly, Calix nearly bumping into her small frame. From the corner of her eye, Calix's mouth opened yet again and she promptly hushed him with a fierce jab to the stomach.
"Shut up," she whispered, eyes flitting around her surroundings.
"And they say female hysteria's a myth..." he grumbled.
He rubbed his lower abdomen, watching Auroria — watched how her ears practically perked up like a sniffer hound's from the stables, watched how her eyes canvassed their surroundings as if trying to memorise it all in one go.
All around them, was much of the same scenery that surrounded them for the past hour or so: red and golden leaves, uneven ground, coarse trunks too wide to make a beeline through, and odd sunspots that danced on the clearing, slipping between cracks from the canopy above. These were the forests situated in the deep vastness of Autumn Court — almost as ancient as the trees in Aspen — and seldom welcomed souls other than the woodland critters that lived there.
"And it is a myth, pig. You try writhing in pain for days. You'd be away with the pixies as any other female," she gritted her teeth, shooting him a piercing look before angling a sharp right and marching towards an inlet of light.
Calix held his hands up in surrender. "Bad mood. Noted."
The rush of water grew louder and louder as they neared... whatever it was that Auroria honed her sights on.
"You still haven't answered my question," Calix pressed.
"And you still continue to violate stipulation Number Two of our deal." She begrudgingly curved her fingers around Calix's wrist, dragging it outwards towards a clearing before them. "That, child, is a stream," she sneered. "We're going to visit a stream."
"Mother, you have gone mad."
Auroria's steps grew lighter as they approached the lining of the trees, as blazes of sun teased the skirts of the thick trees, whose shade the two young Faes hid in. And in a moment of queerness — to Calix's eye, at least — Auroria ducked behind a bush, dragging him down with her. She pressed a finger against his lips to silence his protests.
"This time — and I mean it — shut up," she whispered, her sweet breath fanning his face.
A chill of paranoia crept down Calix's spine. There was not a hint of playfulness in her eyes. "Fine," he yielded. "I'll entertain your delirium."
"You say that as though you haven't been entertaining it for the past hour."
Beyond them, there was indeed a stream — a great rush of water that brought a roar to their ears, branching out in small trickles all around them. It was picturesque, even for the Autumn Court. Meaty fish leapt over the smooth pebbles, rounded by the chisels of the water current, their silvery scales catching the sunlight. And the grass looked heavenly to lay in, thick and undoubtedly warmed by the beating sun, lusciously green as if untouched by a soul — fae or faerie or critter.
Precisely because it was untouched. They were in a hidden clearing of a hidden spot of a dense forest on the southern edges of Court territory. Chances were that the sentries that guarded the border were the only souls beyond woodland animals that saw the place.
Calix looked down at Auroria, and watched the sway of the top of her platinum head and her pink lips, parted. Her small hands divided the shrubs of the berry bush they hid behind, eyes glazed over as she knelt there.
Waiting.
And for a second, Calix contemplated retracting his comment — contemplated calling her crazy once more.
But then, a bright grin cracked across her cheeks, two deep pinpricks of her dimples appearing. "I knew it."
A figure emerged from the shadows on the other end of the clearing. Great fatigue radiated from them and Auroria and Calix watched as the girl all but dashed to the river, dipping her hand in the water and scooping it to her face. To her lips, as she greedily gulped it down. They watched as the girl dipped her toes in the water, the skirt of her dress swishing like ocean waves around her ankles as she swivelled and beckoned over her companion.
And then another came out of the treeline.
"I knew it," she breathed.
A tall stature emerged, with a golden eye and a scar to match, and hair as red as the leaves around him. He would have blended in with their surroundings — he could have looked perfectly Autumn, were it not for the frown that wrinkled his features and the discomfort that stiffened his spine.
"Wait." A disbelieving noise came from Calix. "Is that...?"
Auroria nodded, a gesture as faint as her breath.
She hadn't seen him since Prythian was freed. The second that Tomos died, she winnowed away — home — with the wards dropping once Amarantha took her final breath. Seldom any business was made with Spring; each court set its sights internally and made its own rebuilding their priority.
A stinging sharpness came to the back of her eyes and it took all of her willpower to stop it all from flooding out.
Calix's eyes never left the banished prince. "How'd you know they'd be here?"
That was a question Auroria refused to entertain. She said nothing.
Distant words floated to their ears from the stream.
To Calix, it sounded like the taut conversation of two drained souls; to Auroria, music.
· ─────── ·☽𖥸☾· ─────── ·
"I'll never take fresh water for granted ever again," Feyre sighed, a comfort soothing her aching muscles. Though the day was sweltering hot, the water still cooled her balmy skin, a hopeful gasp escaping her lips to see schools of trout darting in the water, parting like magnets to avoid her feet. "You're right. There's so many of them!"
Oh, if only this stream was near her father's cabin back when she was human, struggling to make ends meet for her family.
Lucien shot her a lopsided smirk. "I'm always right," he told her, bringing his arms up to tie his long hair back.
"Debatable," she hummed. "You know these woods pretty well then?"
"I did. This used to be my territory before I left."
"Your territory?" she asked as she grabbed a large stick beside her to fashion into a spear.
"Vanserra sons are given a territory when they come of age, to oversee for the High Lord and teach them a thing or two about ruling," he said, voice turning tight.
"Who has it now?"
A resonating splash to her left made Feyre flinch back, shielding herself away from the spray of water. Sleeve rolled up as high as he could, Lucien had dived his entire arm in until he was elbow-deep.
He straightened, shot his hand out to reveal a glistening trout flapping aimlessly in the air and sending spritzes of water across their faces.
"Ah ha!" he cheered. "Would you look at that? I've still got it."
She dropped the stick, not bothering to hide her surprise as she moved to hit the flailing trout on the head. She always respected a good hunter. "Well, well. Colour me impressed, Lucie-"
Feyre froze.
Lucien cast her an inquisitive side-long glance. "What is it?"
She stayed silent. Impossibly still.
Extending her being to the surroundings around them, she felt it again. A ripple-
No, two of them. Two active minds, unfamiliar to Feyre.
Strangers.
Led by caution, Feyre hovered a hand over the dagger holstered at the thigh.
"Come out," she ordered loudly, eyes darting straight to where Auroria and Calix were crouched.
Flame roared alive on Lucien's hands, now dried.
"Out of the shadows. Come out."
· ─────── ·☽𖥸☾· ─────── ·
The two friends glanced at each other.
Auroria's heart thrummed in her chest so hard she wouldn't be surprised if it fell out of her chest — not for fear. No. But apprehension. Because he was there. Right before her, his hand engulfed in flame and ready to fire.
And the mortal- No, no longer a mortal. A Made fae. How did she know we were here?
Auroria strode into the light, ignoring the throb in her eyes, constricted pupils that once savoured the dimmed ambience now dilated almost cat-like under the glare of the sun's rays.
Lucien looked like he'd seen a ghost. He stumbled back, a hitch in his breath.
"Auroria?" he whispered, almost afraid to utter her name, and his voice filled with a vulnerability that almost had Auroria's flinty exterior crumbling down. His hands lowered, though he did not douse the flames.
"You're trespassing," she pointed out blandly. Mask of no emotion was better than a bounty of it.
Lucien blinked, hurt flashing across his golden face, before realisation dawned on him. He cursed. "Don't draw," he muttered to the mortal-no-longer. To Feyre Archeron, the revered Cursebreaker.
Feyre's head whipped to the side. "What?"
"Don't draw," he said sharply. "This is her territory."
"But I thought your broth- Oh. Oh." The hand that hovered over her concealed dagger hesitated before shortly falling to her side. Feyre's eyes flicked between Lucien and Auroria, before jutting over to the treeline that Calix still stood in. "Who's your friend?"
Auroria raised a brow. "Cute that you think you're in any position to ask questions, Cursebreaker."
Feyre's glower deepened.
"Auroria, we're not here for a fight. I'll explain everything to you. Just... Hear us out."
"Come over here, will you, Calix?"
Calix shot up, hesitancy in his gait as he peered at Lucien.
"Calix... Napier?" Lucien deduced. "Mother, last I remember of you, you were no taller than a dwarf. How's your sister?" he questioned, though it came from no place of goodwill, if his jibing smirk was any indication.
Calix growled. "And last I remember of you, you've been banished. Do you think the High Lord will take kindly to you being here?"
Lucien stepped forward, voice dangerously low as he said, "Was that a threat?"
"Not at all," he smiled easily. "But dare lay a hand on Auroria and you'll wish you never came back here."
Lucien's hand flexed, as though he were thoroughly contemplating punching the guy. But Calix was right — they couldn't afford to be aggressive. Auroria was Lady Paramount in these parts, and whose proficiency at flame bested his. He paused, and studied the two of them together. "A Napier? Really, Auroria? And what are you wearing?"
As he assessed her clothing with a raised brow, she pulled her riding jacket tighter around herself. One of the most glorious things about being Lady Paramount tucked away in Ember Hall was that hardly anyone dared to question many things about Auroria's decisions, least of all her attire. So if she chose to wear thick, rubber (and often muddy) boots that reached her knees, a high-neck , form-fitting tunic and tight trousers that had her thighs feeling the wind — and what a strange sensation that was! — then she could do so without opposition.
"You don't see males opting to ride a horse with skirts on, do you?"
"I'm surprised Father's let you, is all," he said, noting her defensiveness. "Scandalous for Autumn's standards. How many scathing glares have you received from that old crone Lady Napier?"
Many.
But that was beside the point.
She rolled her shoulders back, brushing aside the irritation that flecked the warmth of her skin at the familiarity in Lucien's voice.
"As you said, this is my territory."
Lucien laughed once — dryly. "Well I'm glad, of the litter, it was you to inherit this corner of the world, Sister."
"Sister?" Feyre echoed, glancing between them and not bothering to hide the look she stole at Auroria's hair.
That word burned in her heart and as she felt the heat of three pairs of eyes on her, she quickly refashioned the walls of restraint and stoicism. She would not cry. She would not show she cared. "What else?"
The Archeron girl did not look inclined to voice her thoughts, but Lucien pieced it together all the same.
"You thought we were together?" he screwed his face up.
"I'm sorry?" Auroria reclined back as if scalded, matching Lucien's disgust.
"You said Beron's sons inherited land!" Feyre said defensively. "You said this was her territory — so of course I thought she was your ex-wife. Forgive me for not knowing you have a sister. You don't necessarily look like siblings..."
"Yes, well, evidently I'm the better-looking one," Auroria huffed to avoid the elephant in the room.
"Lying, now, are we?" Lucien muttered.
She ignored it — as she learned all those years ago to ignore Lucien's sheer incapability of taking something seriously. "Lucien and I are not together and likewise, neither are Calix and I. Now that that enthralling conversation is out of the way, let's address the pressing matter at hand. Mother knows what you're doing here, Lucien. Do you have a death wish?"
"Ever the tactful tongue," he folded his arms.
"You have no leg to stand on," she retorted in a clipped voice. "I'd say strolling into a kingdom that you're banished from — and, might I add, whose ruling family has an unclaimed blood ruby in your name for close to two centuries — is pretty tactless."
His smile faded. "A man has his reasons."
"Really? 'Cause I see no man here."
Brother and sister held each other's glare, ignoring Calix's quiet, affronted "Hey..."
That reason better be a damned good one.
She often thought, as a girl, that Lucien be one of the most cunning of the Vanserra litter. It was just a shame he used those tools for sarcastic wit and juvenile jest rather than play the game of politics that swallowed their family whole. But, as it appears, Tamlin managed to unlock that diplomatic part of him, appointing him Emissary.
Speaking of...
Auroria studied Feyre Archeron, from her golden hair, her pigeon-blue eyes, and the steely determination set on her face, to the ragged and dirtied dress she wore. Unbefitting of the future Lady of the Spring Court.
Curious.
"I hear congratulations are in order," Auroria said. "For taming that beast that is your betrothed."
An unrecognisable emotion flitted across Feyre's face, stiffening. Lucien, too, suddenly became unable to look at her.
"Oh yes, of course." Calix shot them a suspicious look. "What in the world are you doing here, then?"
"If Tamlin's resorted to espionage then he's hired some pretty shoddy spies. You should know that Autumn doesn't take kindly to being spied upon," said Auroria, frowning. "I thought Spring and Autumn be on decent terms. I made sure of it."
"We're not spies," Lucien assured quickly.
"But you are trespassers," she reminded again. "Honestly, one letter from Tamlin and I would've passed approval. Father need not know about it. So why are you bypassing the red tape, Lucien?"
The words were on the tip of his tongue — she could tell. But for some reason, he bit it back and stared at Feyre imploringly.
"I trust her," he told the Made fae.
"I thought you didn't trust your family," said Feyre.
Auroria scoffed.
Lucien dutifully ignored it. "My brothers, certainly. My father, most definitely. But not Auroria. Tell her."
Auroria clenched her jaw; his words were like a stab to the gut and it served only to set alight a furious fire inside her. Years of silence from his end and he suddenly comes out and says this? Dared to appeal to an emotional bond as if it even still existed?
It was only for the fact that they were all trapped in a rather precarious situation that she bit back her venom.
"May I remind you that being truthful with me is your best option given you both have gotten yourselves caught. Or, if you'd prefer, we can do it the bureaucratic way and I can take you both in for questioning before bringing you to the Forest House."
"No need," Lucien said quickly. "Feyre... She'll help us."
"Oh, will I now?" Auroria scoffed.
The gall to presume such a thing!
...Even if it were true.
"We..." Feyre began delicately, "are no longer affiliated with the Spring Court."
Beside her, Calix loosed a breath.
"And because of that, we no longer have Spring's protection or services, so as we travel to Night, we are completely alone."
"Night?" Calix questioned. "Why there?"
But that wasn't Auroria's priority — it was mainly: why?
Because Spring was their direct neighbour to the south; Spring was her responsibility, to ensure that any of their issues did not seep into Autumn.
"This falling out with Spring... Will Tamlin seek retribution if we aid your escape?"
"Likely," Lucien admitted.
"What happened?"
"He sold out his people for Hybern," Feyre said bluntly. "Allied with Hybern and opened his borders to their armies, at the cost of his subjects."
Auroria's blood ran cold.
Her gaze latched onto Feyre, searching for any deceit and finding none.
"You mean to tell me... that Hybern's soldiers are housed in Spring as we speak?"
"They're only in the early stages — sent a few delegates to Spring to sort logistics out. But, by this time next week, yes," Lucien gritted out. "I couldn't- I didn't know how deep it went. I couldn't sit by idle whilst he turns his court inside-out."
"Nothing like treason to make his betrothed and his best friend turn their cloaks together," she said. Feyre's eyes flashed with fury whilst Lucien just looked... tired.
"So why are you seeking refuge in Night, of all courts?" Calix asked once more.
Auroria thought of Rhysand who risked not only his own life — but, importantly Auroria's — to ensure Feyre Archeron survived her trials.
And of course, there were the ridiculing whispers that mocked Tamlin for allowing his betrothed to be swept away every month by Rhysand.
Perhaps Feyre turned her cloak long ago.
Auroria huffed a dry laugh — her dreams certainly cut these tidbits of information out. "I think — correct me if I'm wrong — that our lovely Cursebreaker here has been playing with two fiddles at once."
Feyre cringed at her choice of words.
"I thought the rumours that Tamlin was cucked by Rhysand were a joke, but this..." Calix whistled, shoving his hands in his pockets as he chuckled.
"You do like shaking things up wherever you go, don't you?" Auroria smirked.
"This has nothing to do with me shaking things up," Feyre snarled.
Auroria held up her hands. "Puppy has fangs."
"I'll show you my fangs, alright-"
"Auroria, stop," Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose. "Feyre, stop biting. Auroria gets belligerent when she's-"
"When I'm what?" She snapped, folding her arms. "Because no offence, Lucien, but I'm getting tired of you presuming to know me."
"I do know you, Sister, just like I know how snide you get when things go awry. It's our defence mechanism."
"You don't know me. Not at all. I've lived ten times as long without you as I have with you. Just because we were close when we were younger means nothing."
Lucien's brows furrowed and the hurt rolled over his face like storm clouds, his bright, golden skin muted.
The anger and bitterness that had been left to stew for two centuries barked and pulled at the chain keeping it at bay, a chain that was rapidly deteriorating, unravelling at the links every second Auroria laid her eyes upon her — once favourite — brother.
"I'm sorry," he said in a ghost of a whisper.
Auroria snapped her head towards him, thinking she imagined it, but it was Calix's bewildered exhale that convinced her otherwise.
"I'm sorry I didn't take you with me, Rorie. I'm sorry I'm no better than a stranger to you."
Her mouth turned to cotton and the anger simmered into shock.
Suddenly the sting in her eyes was back.
"You left." It took every bit of her resolve to fight back a tremble appearing in her voice. Her face must have painted a thousand words, for Calix rubbed reassuring circles on her back.
She straightened, inhaling sharply.
No one wants to see your tears.
Don't be embarrassing.
"And you pretended I never existed. So, why, pray tell, should I treat you any different?"
Lucien's brows furrowed, confusion dawning on his face. "Pretended like you never... What do you m-?"
There it was.
The slightest tickle against the edge of her mind, whispering sweet nothing as if to coax Auroria into letting her boundaries down.
Then a prod.
It wasn't the work of a light-footed, sleight-of-hand shadow, but rather that of a baby deer, still trying to find its bearings — and nothing like Rhysand's prowess, where it took all of her strength to repel him.
It could only be-
"Get — and I wholeheartedly mean this — the fuck out of my head," Auroria growled, rounding on Feyre.
Feyre's brows knitted together and the probing sensations in Auroria's mind quickly receded like the tide before a tsunami.
Lucien swallowed his sentence and glanced almost accusatorially at his companion. He ran a hand down his face. "No, Feyre, you didn't-"
"She did. You may be unfamiliar with High Fae customs, Cursebreaker, but it's typically frowned upon to pry into another's mind. Try and violate my mind again and see what happens." Her flames returned, as did the pounding of her heart.
Suddenly, she heard the hollow howling of the winds Under the Mountain. Suddenly, she heard the heavy flap of the Attor's wings. Suddenly, she was in front of Rhysand, exerting every last of her strength not to let him in. Not to betray her court to he who she thought was Amarantha's right-hand mind.
But Amarantha was gone.
And she'd be damned before she fall victim to sacrilegious powers again— in body as well as mind.
Lucien held a hand out. "She didn't mean to. Feyre's new to the whole power thing-"
"Curious that of all powers, you're a daemati, Cursebreaker," she muttered, voice dangerously low. "I wonder what else is rattling inside of that brand-new body of yours."
"We can find out together, shall we?" Feyre lifted her chin, refusing to bow. "And I did mean to."
"Mother above. You two..." Lucien ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "...Sheath the claws."
Feyre continued, unapologetic, "I need to know if you're a threat to us. If you're going to tell your father we're here and if you're going to stop us from reaching Night."
"What? Asking me isn't enough for you?"
"Not when you're being difficult and refusing to be civil-"
Auroria laughed dryly. "You're kidding, aren't you? Tell me this is some jest and you're not actually this proud. Let me straighten some things out for you, Archeron," she stepped forward. Feyre held her stare. "I am no enemy to you, but you're quickly painting yourself to be one to me, for, between us, it is you that trespasses on my land. It is you to attempt to violate my mind. And it is you who has jilted Spring in favour of Night. And I swear to the Mother above, if you've dragged Autumn into your mess, you will rue ever setting foot here."
A silence blanketed the woodland around them — a thick layer of wool that sent prickles of irritation and discomfort to them all. For Auroria was Lady Paramount in these parts, and that title was no mere cosmetic and it did not come without power. In lieu of her father, she ruled supreme and every soul nearby — from faerie to critter — felt the rumble of Auroria's authority.
Feyre seemed almost distant for a moment, wearing a stare that went a thousand miles. She did not even seem to register when Lucien spoke.
"Autumn need not know," he said.
"I am still Autumn, even if you've washed your hands clean of us, Lucien," she reminded, eyeing that girl who had gone quiet and seemingly not present. "I'm risking my father's wrath merely speaking to you, so tell me why I should even entertain the idea of being civil?"
She could see the moment Feyre returned to the present, blinking exhaustion away from her pigeon-blue eyes.
"I liberated you all," Feyre said quietly. Not meekly — by no means did meekness even touch Feyre Archeron. No, she held herself with an elegance, a self-assurance that would have Governess Eden swooning.
But suddenly there, too, was a level of... respect in her words. A respect that smoothed over the jaggedness of Feyre's tone.
"I liberated you from Amarantha and ended her tyranny at the cost of my life. And so I ask you, Auroria, that you let us go. That you turn a blind eye whilst your brother and I peacefully pass through. That you allow us to go home."
Home.
Since when did Lucien consider the Night Court — a court of terror — his home? Or perhaps he was left with no choice but to follow Feyre Archeron to this court that, by all accounts, had been nothing but hostile to a Vanserra. From Autumn, to Spring, and now to Night... Auroria repressed the urge to bring her arms around her brother and take him home. A home that once was his. A home in Ember Hall.
But that was a dream no more possible than the fairytales she used to read as a youngling.
And it was then — when her riding jacket lined with fox fur tickled her chin, when she remembered a time that foxes were her closest friends and would never dare to put them in harm's way, when she thought Autumn Court to be lovely and wonderful, only to have the blindfold yanked from her eyes and realise that foxes were no more her friend than Autumn was a kind place — that Auroria realised the same could be said of her.
When had she become so staunchly loyal to a court that never wholly accepted her?
Sometimes things just... were.
Sometimes logic had no business in matters of the heart.
And if Lucien and Feyre considered Night Court home...
Auroria was nothing if not sympathetic to those who just wanted to know home.
"You're asking me to betray Father," she said.
She tried to read Lucien, but found only conflict writ in his russet eyes.
"You know what that means? If I am caught?"
"Yes," he swallowed thickly and as he drew near, he raised an arm that ultimately fell lax by his side. "I wish things were different."
"I wish things were different too... But he'll do a lot worse to you than he would to me. And to you, Cursebreaker, if he finds out you gained powers from his essence."
Are you really putting yourself on the line yet again?
Yes.
You know they'll never do the same for you, right? taunted the ugly voice in her head.
Auroria bit her lip. And against her better self, against her capacity of self-preservation, and against Calix, who gawked wide-eyed at her, imploring her to say no with the vehement shake of his head, she nodded. Once. Curtly. But a nod, still.
"You may recuperate on my land for a day or two."
Lucien loosed a relieved sigh, his charming smile returning.
Instinctively — and incredibly wary of the fond look dawning on his golden face — she stepped back. "Why are the both of you so weakened?" she asked quickly, avoiding any matter that might result in a hug.
"Faebane," Feyre gritted out.
Calix made a noise. "Tamlin did that?"
"This bitch of a priestess-" Lucien began, whose venom-tipped spiel was swiftly interrupted by Feyre.
"A lackey of Hybern's," she said, shooting Lucien a look. "She was dosing us with faebane."
"One indicator amongst a plethora of others that Hybern cannot be trusted. I have to ask, Sister, how did you know we were here?"
"These are my lands," she said simply.
Lucien's metal eye whirred as if it sensed a lie. Could it sense lies — or half-truths? But its owner remained tight-lipped, opting not to push for more answers where she wouldn't offer it.
"And my borders only go so far. Beyond me are Eris' and Nostrus' territories, beyond them, Virgil's up bordering Winter. The magisters at Belaven Citadel might know of an antidote to faebane, but that is if you want their attention in the first place." Auroria sighed. "So whilst Father or our brothers don't yet know of your presence here-"
"They will," Lucien finished.
"Let's hope we're well into Winter before they detect us," said Feyre.
"I'll cast a ward around the two of you. Predators and fae alike won't be able to smell you. A glamour too, because no offence, Lucien, but even the thickest mind in Autumn will recognise your mug. Stay low. Wait for my supplies before you venture off my territory northward."
Auroria ran a frazzled hand through her hair.
"Thank you, Sister," Lucien said, and it looked as though, especially in his weary state, he might let a tear shed.
Auroria turned her gaze away.
"First, you need to tell me everything about Tamlin and Hybern. I need to speak to Father about shutting down Autumn's border to Spring immediately. We share patrols with them, meaning we inadvertently left a door ajar for Hybern's armies to infiltrate," she released a shuddery breath. "And let's hope to the Mother above that they don't realise this anytime soon."
—
A prickly meeting! It makes sense that Auroria treat them with suspicion, given they are uninvited on her land and given that she still harbours unresolved anger towards Lucien. Similarly, it makes sense that Feyre be cold towards Auroria, a member of the family that Feyre knows to have treated both Lucien and Mor horribly. Of course, she'd paint Auroria with the same brush (lol) as they would Eris.
Do we remember what happens next? Hint: rhymes with 'tattle on rice pake'
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