Rhysand's demanding voice in Azriel's mind had him rising before the sun. He rolled out of bed, stretching his tired muscles, watching himself in the mirror as he dressed. Was it really such a short time ago that he had laid in this bed, unable even to move, and asked to touch her face? That she had sat and read aloud to him? He hadn't know then what that feeling was, and since he had learned, he had barely let himself touch her at all. You would never do anything to willingly hurt her, Cassian had said in the cabin.....was keeping away from her like this protective or was it detrimental? No. What she didn't know couldn't hurt her. He looked at his hands, recalling what her pain had done to him. His enemies could certainly hurt her, and they already had. With that thought moving him, he left his room and met the others in Rhysand's office. He would go back to autumn court to find out more about weapons and who was purchasing them. And why. It could be a days long process. He stood in the kitchen for a moment, sipping his drink before leaving. Cass met him at the door. He must have looked worse than he thought because his brother stopped him with a hand on his chest.
"She's safe here, you know."
Azriel studied him. He knew she was, he knew this was the safest place she could be, but the image of her blood pooling beneath her on the carpet kept finding it's way back to his mind. He shook it away. He needed to focus. He nodded. "I know." He left without violating her privacy again though he desperately wanted one last look.
Talia woke slowly, feeling the light grey of the almost-risen sun against her closed eyes. She lay like that for a moment before the events of the night before flooded her memory and her eyes snapped open. She sat up, placing a hand over her side. She could feel that the wounds had healed but she was sore where the arrow had pierced her. They had intended to kill her. She was night court by blood. Rhysand could now call it a direct attack on his court. What would be next? She groaned, placing a hand over her tired eyes and slowly laying back down. She wished she wouldn't, but she replayed the moment over and over again in her mind when she was hit and the lights went out, and then when Azriel somehow found her in that invisible crowd. Had she called out for him? She knew she hadn't.
The rest was a blur of blood and pain until the moment the others arrived and he had kissed her. Kissed her. Right on the head like a child. Or a lover. She grimaced. That wasn't a mystery she wished to solve now. He had saved her with steady, tender hands, and that's what mattered. She ran her own hand over the place his lips had been anyway, wondering if it looked different than the rest of her unkissed skin. She eventually crawled out of bed and dressed, quickly realizing that she wouldn't be able to train due to feeling weak and sore. She told herself over and over that that was okay, that she had experienced a trauma she needed to recover from. She managed to eat breakfast without seeing anyone and slowly walked to the library. She half hoped she would run into the shadowsinger, to make sure they had made it back safely, to see if his eyes still looked the way they had the night before.
The air of the house had changed. It was tense. Court to court conflict was exactly what the king wanted, and now Rhysand would have to guard his lands from both sides. Maybe it wasn't her fault, per se, but it was because of her existence. The thought made her head ache. She sat at the desk in the small library but couldn't focus on any of the words before her. After a while alone, she could hear Nesta's feet coming up the hall. She entered with a plate in one hand, picking up a pastry and taking a bite, setting the rest before the healer.
"I sensed you needed these." She said, smiling.
"Thanks." Talia took a bite. She had needed them. And she had needed to see Nesta's smiling face, to know the Illyrians had returned. She got up to sit by her friend near the window.
"You're taking it easy today, right?" she asked. Talia nodded, her mouth full of frosting and jam and sweet bread. "Then let's go see Gwyn. She's worried about you but her boss has her keeping busy."
Talia nodded again and they walked out together. They chatted down the halls about the days ahead, Nesta told her that Cassian said they had found the autumn court men the night before and successfully sent a message. Talia knew what she meant and shuddered.
Talia asked if they were back now and Nesta told her they had left again that morning but her mate hadn't said why. So Azriel had left then, too early to squeeze in a goodbye, off to do a job he had been successful at for centuries but still a tiny pit of worry grew in her middle.
She didn't want him gone. Flirtations and soft eyes and forehead kisses aside, she wanted him there where she was. An emptiness grew in her. Was it the same she had felt in the high lord when she arrived? A hopelessness? She chose not to dwell on it as they entered the large library, waving to Clotho and hunting down their priestess.
Talia could feel worry in Gwyn as she looked the healer over. She was rushing about in the stacks but stopped to hug them both and make sure all was well. Talia returned to her room to rest after lunch, her heart heavy with the kindness of the females. She pondered again what Rhysand had told her.
You're father was night court. Was. She assumed that meant he was dead. She was an orphan, then, alone as she had always felt. This place, this family wasn't really hers. Hers was gone. She felt sadness in her heart even though she had hated the male that had abandoned her and her mother. It would have been nice to know that someone related to her was out there. Maybe he had family, maybe she had siblings. It should make her curious, but dread framed it. Maybe she liked this loneliness, maybe it suited her best. She fell asleep wrapped in it.
She came to on the forest path, panting already. She stood and tried to walk forward. The scar in her leg cried out to her in pain and she fell, placing a hand against it. It wasn't a scar at all but the gruesome open wound they had left her with on the floor of the dungeon. She looked at it in shock as blood dripped down her bare foot and into the wet earth. "No no no" She whispered as she watched her blood continue to pour out without healing. Suddenly, she saw out of the corner of her eye the end of an arrow protruding from the right side of her body. She touched it to be sure and blood again covered her hand. She was trapped by her own inability, by her own weakness. He was out there, trapped just the same. He wouldn't be coming for her this time. The earth moved up to meet her before she could realize she was falling backward. She could see the leaves rustling in a cool breeze above her. She wouldn't make it in to the light, she wouldn't find him, she wouldn't save the girl. Her eyes closed and she felt herself slip away into crushing darkness.
Talia fought her eyes open, confused. The sun was still up, casting long shadows through her room. Her hands shook with anxiety, the dream leaving her feeling empty and helpless. What time was it? She crawled out of bed, hoping that by some chance Rhysand was in the house. He owed her some information. She walked to his office, the phantom ache in her right leg haunting her. The door was cracked and she peeked in, seeing him at his desk. She stepped back and took a deep breath. She hadn't thought much about what to say.
"Come in, Talia." He said from inside. He had heard her approach. She carefully pushed the door open and entered, leaving it open behind her.
"Hi." She said. She felt small, like she was supposed to be something else now that he had told her she was night court but she wasn't quite there yet.
"I was hoping we would get a chance to talk." He said with a small smile. She nodded, unsure how to proceed. "You have questions, I'm sure, about your father."
She nodded again. "Who was he?"
"His name was Cormac. He was a soldier for my court, but he died under the mountain. He left a mate but no children." He shrugged. "That's all I really know."
She frowned. "Then why would my mother have been banished because of me?"
Rhysand was under the mountain 26 years ago. He didn't understand it either. "I wish I knew."
She sank back into her chair. She wasn't sure what else she was expecting but she didn't feel satisfied.
"Amren can help me find out more about your mother. She has more knowledge in those spells. Until then, we just have to wait."
"Okay."
"Just keep studying and training for now. I know Cassian has some work for you." She nodded and thanked him as she walked out.
Days passed. She spoke with Cassian, she read, she recovered and worked her way back to being able to train with Gwyn and Nesta, Cassian sometimes joining them. Every night, Talia found herself wandering to the main level to see if Azriel might return. Three nights passed and then four and she felt darker and darker without him. Her dreams were intense and bloody and she avoided sleep when she could. She knew he must be fine or everyone at the house wouldn't seem so relaxed. Standing in the great hall, she remembered turning from him and walking away feeling like she might never be able to leave again. This felt the same, only she had no power to call him back and no justification for the need. The morning of the fifth day, she was walking to the dining room with her breakfast when she heard voices inside. Three male voices. Her pulse quickened as she listened.
"....we can track them from the shore, but they are meeting in The Middle, neutral territory." Azriel sounded perfectly normal. Relief buckled her knees
"And it's just these bombs they are selling?"
"No, there are others they named but I don't know what they are. They don't have another drop planned for several days."
"I need you in Windhaven. They claimed to have seen another of the beast we found." Cassian's voice. Her heart sank as she recalled the deep claw marks in Azriel's armor. Another threat to deal with. The door opening startled her. Azriel stepped out and leaned against the frame, crossing his arms.
"Eavesdropping again?" He asked, grinning. She tried to not to stare, attempting to recall if she had ever seen him like that.
"I wouldn't have to if you guys would speak up a little." She retorted, frowning, playing along. Cassian and Rhysand walked out the door past him, nodding a greeting to her that she returned, and leaving them alone.
He kept his smile. "You look well."
She smiled back. "And you...." She looked him over for the first time. He had two deep cuts on his left arm that looked like they were healing and another on his lower leg that still oozed blood down the front of his leathers. "...you're hurt." Her frown was genuine this time. She placed a hand on his chest and pushed him backward into the dining room and down into a chair, casting an annoyed look over her shoulder where the other two had disappeared. Had they not noticed? She set her plate down on the table as he pulled her hand from him.
"It's okay, Talia." He looked like he might laugh and her frown deepened. Being near her brought a piece of him out that he had forgotten, and he had been glad for the conflict that send him back to his court.
She knelt and looked at the cut on his leg. "Why aren't these healing?" She laid a hand on his leg and the cut closed up the rest of the way. She stood.
"Ash. Autumn court uses it in everything. It slows the healing process as you know."
"You fought with them?" She asked, still standing and crossing her arms.
"Why do you think I came back?" He asked, grinning again. "I'm supposed to go with Cass." He stood and pointed down the hall.
"Oh." She felt her face fall against her will. She had hoped they might get to talk.
"I'll be back tonight." He said, passing her to leave. It sounded like a promise.
She worked the day away, even going into the city with Nesta and Feyre for supplies. Feyre assured her Velaris was safe but she found herself jumping at shadows and flinching at noises. She hated that about herself, she never wanted to portray fear. She kept telling herself that it was okay to feel anxious after what happened, that she was allowed that. That no one would treat her lesser because of it. And she looked in every face for a connection to her father, wishing she didn't care. She only wanted to belong somewhere and Rhysand telling her she did didn't feel concrete enough. By the time she got back to the house she felt drained and snuck to the kitchen for a cup of tea. She took the steaming mug out on to the terrace. It was a full moon so bright she swore she could see the color of the treetops as they blew in the soft wind. She didn't care that he would see her waiting. She was beyond caring what he saw. That forehead kiss had sparked something in her and seeing him earlier that day had fanned whatever flame it lit. She could have died. She wasn't going to waste any more time, she was going to do what she wanted to do and she had already steeled her heart for his rejection should it come, knowing it wouldn't cut a new wound but only deepen the one created by her own self doubt. She stewed in her determination while she awaited his promised return. To her surprise, Rhysand found her first, walking to sit beside her on the bench she had chosen near the edge of the terrace.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" He said.
She turned to him briefly. "Daria said the same thing to me about day court."
Rhysand smiled and shifted positions. "Did you agree?"
"To his face I did. But it's not like this." She kept her eyes on Velaris below them.
He was quiet for a moment but she sensed he had something to say. She was too worn to pull it out of him. "Several other courts have written about you." She nodded and looked down at the drink going cold between her hands. "I don't feel it's safe to send you alone now, and I don't feel it's safe to deny them." She nodded again. "So I'm going to call a council of the high lords here in Velaris. And if they want to see you work, then fine, but it will be with my rules in place and under my protection." He leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees. "Sooner rather than later after what happened at solstice."
"Autumn court will be included, I assume."
"Under heavy guard." He said. "I can't leave them out. The king wants us divided, so I have to at least try and prevent that."
She looked back to the city. "You said soon. How soon?"
"I'll send the invitations out tomorrow. I wanted to speak with you first." He looked to her then, always considering her wishes and concerns before making decisions that involved her. It caused a lump to form in her throat, being held in that regard by a male like him. She swallowed it.
"Of course, Rhysand. It sounds like a fine course of action."
He nodded. "Then I'll tell them two weeks from now. I don't know that there's much to do to prepare. Amren is helping me look for a way to identify your mother, maybe we can do that before then."
"I owe her." Talia said, leaning back against the bench. "Is this one pony trick enough to convince a kingdom's worth of high lords that I carry the bloodline of the Mother?"
Rhysand laughed. "You'd be surprised how enamored ancient males can be with things they do not understand."
He stayed beside her for a moment in silence before diving off the edge of the house toward the ground below. He knew his brothers were close. He met them as they appeared.
"How was it?" Rhysand was always glad to skip a trip to the Illyrian city full of males that hated him and the females they hated even more.
"They're spooked, alright. Something's killing off their livestock but they haven't gotten a good read on what." Cassian rolled his shoulders. They knew what it was. Kind of.
"It left no tracks, no scent, but it ripped through the animals like paper." Azriel said, wondering if Rhys was as uneasy as they were. Him and Cassian had barely spoken since they were shown the field of dead cattle. Whatever it was was venturing closer and closer to home.
"No trace of magic, no fae or animal scent, maybe it isn't natural. Maybe it's made." He said, staring, contemplating. He'd been afraid to voice it before, but then he'd been afraid to voice the same when Azriel fell ill and yet he had been right.
Cassian frowned. "Go on."
"I don't know, there's much about black magic we have never learned, but they are obviously practicing it and with skill." Azriel stilled at the reminder, recalling the state they had put him in despite his incredible power. It didn't sound so far fetched.
Cass rubbed his chin in thought for a moment. "So what do we do?"
Rhysand shook his head and ran his boot through the dirt beneath him. "We can talk to the healer, she's the closest thing we have to a witness." Azriel agreed but deep down he didn't want to pull her into it. Rhys changed the subject.
"Speaking of the healer, I'm calling a council here, in two weeks to discuss her status and how to proceed. The king wants us at each other's throats and it's working, so we need to nip it in the bud." Azriel swallowed the fiery protest that rose behind his tongue. Bringing the danger to her could prove to be ill fated. Deadly. "We have to at least sit and agree on some course of action or crumble from inside." Az nodded along anyway, knowing it was likely their best option. Or risk more incidents like solstice. "I'll ask you both to help me prepare security and make sure we aren't inviting anymore assassination attempts." They looked at each other and nodded before saying goodnight and parting ways with their high lord. The Illyrians landed together on the terrace but Cassian noticed Talia first and nodded to her with a smile. Azriel turned and looked at her over his shoulder. She was waiting for him. That depth of his heart opened up again as easily as an unlocked window and he stepped toward her without giving Cassian another thought. He had one night at home, one night before the work started again and he wouldn't waste it. He walked over to her and sat down.
"Rhysand told us your father was night court." He said, breaking the obvious tension between them.
She had just had what most would consider a relaxed conversation with the most powerful high lord in Prythian, serious as the subject was, but next to the Illyrian, she was completely lost. She tried to recall how grounded she was beside his stone cold body when she first arrived, how relaxed she was when she fell asleep on the sofa in his room, her nose in a book. Even earlier that day when she had knelt before him and healed the cut on his leg, she hadn't felt loose and wobbly like she did now. She was glad for the cup in her hands and she gripped it a little too tight. He looked unhurt this time, at least. She swallowed realizing the silence had been long enough to make it awkward.
"He was. He died." She looked down at her mug and ran a finger along the rim. "The mystery continues."
"But it's a good thing, right?" Talia could ignore his wings hanging over the bench behind them but not the arm he laid along the back, his hand dangerously close to her shoulder.
"To know I belong to the night court? Of course it's a good thing." She smiled but didn't look away from the view.
He watched her shamelessly. These days away from her had been torture, given and taken. After enough time, the missing her turned from a wound, an ache, to an unwavering song in his chest, beckoning him home. And she had been there, waiting, in a way he couldn't have let himself hope for. In that second, she was the only thing that existed. And yet, he sat beside her, totally relaxed and looking at the view of his city like it was just another night. The last time he had seen her in the moonlight, it was on the side of that mountain as she pushed his hands away and told him to leave her, to go back and help the others. He was glad for this view, to edge the other out. He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, turning his eyes forward.
"Rhys also said he's calling a meeting with the other high lords." He said, his voice never faltering from it's even foundation. Centuries of practice didn't fail him. She looked at him then, the moonlight reminding her of the night they met. She knew he knew she was aware of where he had been these past few days, what he had been up to. He was casually poised where he sat next to her, unaware that she could feel the darkness he forced down, out of her sight. But he couldn't force his shadows down as they tucked themselves behind his wings, over the broad curve of his shoulders, in the wave of his dark hair at the nape of his neck. She was equally unaware that they breathed her name in his ears so loudly that he could barely hear her speak.
"That's what we were just talking about." She motioned to where he sat. He was so, so beautiful. All fae were beautiful, but he stood out as though he were formed of marble and night sky and stardust. His shadows hid his light, but not from her. She could see it when he turned to her and their eyes met for the first time since he joined her. Those amber eyes darkened as he recognized the stress in her and took it on his own shoulders, and hers brightened as she took in the way he looked at her. He respected her, he liked what he saw. The same things she had latched on to so easily with Daria, she had been blind to in him. She had said she wasn't afraid of him but she had been afraid to truly look. She had told herself she was done hiding, that she had almost lost her life so she would embrace all of that which she had left, but now every excuse she could think of rang in her mind. That she was just an object of the moment, that she could never be someone he wanted, that it was purely sexual, that forced proximity had emulated some kind of connection, that any female on the planet would feel this way about him, that it was nothing special. They had locked eyes far too long for it to be brushed off. She looked down, wondering if the darkness hid her blush.
"How was Windhaven?"
"Fine." He chuckled. "I hate it there." He looked down at his right hand still in his lap, turning it over and inspecting it pointlessly. She watched him until he looked back at her. She could hear her own heartbeat and it gave her something to concentrate on, to keep time with. It had been a long day, a long week, he hadn't had a night at home since the night since she had laid in his lap and fought the poison that nearly ended all of this. No, he wouldn't waste it at all. He cleared his throat again and broke their gaze for a second, taking in the lights of Velaris. She took that moment to take a deep breath, finding it difficult to discern his scent from the smell of the pines the wind wafted up to her. She smiled, savoring it. He turned his body toward her as he spoke again, his voice strong, gentle.
"Don't I owe you a dance?" She stared at him, searching his eyes in amusement, looking for a cue to laugh. But he just raised his eyebrows, waiting for her answer. His ancient eyes twinkled. The faelight danced in them like a candle flame.
"I can't dance." She said, wishing she could make her voice as even and alluring as his. He forced a laugh back down his throat at the memory of her tripping over Cassian. She pouted, reading his mind.
"Come on." He stood and reached his beautifully scarred hand out to her. "I'll lead." His grin was wickedly perfect, gleaming.
Talia lost all sense of herself as she set her cup on the seat next to her and reached to him. He wrapped her delicate hand in his, pulling her to her feet and walking them away from the bench. The thought that someone might see them flickered in her mind so quickly that she barely had time to register it. He turned to her and slid one arm under hers, placing a hand on her back. He took her hand in his other and pulled her up straight. There was no avoiding her chest brushing his this time as he pulled her close. He moved his feet and she started. Dancing. They were supposed to be dancing. She followed his movements, feeling like a fresh foal next to his graceful frame. They stepped across the terrace to an imaginary song. He looked over her head into the distance. Just another moment he wanted not to end, but as powerful as he was, he couldn't freeze them in it. He was distracted and couldn't stop her from knocking her knee against his awkwardly and losing her balance. He held her up and looked at her to make sure she was okay. She was laughing and he suddenly forgot the weight that had been on his shoulders when he arrived. That joy had erased it. They stood still for a second and she searched his face, not letting go.
"I have an idea." She said, pushing them apart and looking down at where she stood. She concentrated, stepping closer to him and placing her constantly-bare feet atop his leather boots. She met his eyes with open lips, an open expression, looking for him to be proud of her. It was his turn to laugh as he pulled her even closer, gripping her tight. She realized what a rare sound it was. That was all the music they needed. He took a few steps, her legs and feet moving with his, swaying slowly under his favorite piece of sky. Where his heart had cracked thinking they would never be so close, her warmth repaired it as she gripped his upper arm to balance against his stride. That night in the Hewn City had changed everything. Now there was no thinking, no time to wait, no balancing, no weighing repercussions. Just this.
She was quiet for a while, looking over their adjoined arms as they moved. Even though she had loved before, she had never trusted like this. She had never needed like this. "You're leaving again." It wasn't a question.
"Mmm." His low voice reverberated against her chest where he held her. "Tomorrow." It was both an answer and a plea to save the hard conversations for later. She looked up at him. Her eyes had barely seen the world and yet the entire universe existed in them. He was drowning in them again.
"What?" she asked.
He swallowed and looked back over her head. He hadn't realized he was staring. "You look beautiful tonight." She chuckled. She was wearing the same grey dress she wore almost every day, she had let her hair down but it was messy from the wind, the same wind that brought color to her cheeks and mingled their scents. She didn't notice how his shadows wrapped around them both, but he did.
He stopped moving and she snapped her eyes back to his. "You always look beautiful, Talia." She could barely feel anything past the rumble of his voice through his leathers and against her body.
Every door was unlocked. Wide open. She melted into to him, melded to him as he dropped her hand and placed his behind her head, in her hair, a spitting image of a daydream they didn't know they shared. Time stopped and she hung there for a split second until she felt even the world around her react as it started again with a jolt. She found her free hand gripping the leather armor at his back to steady her. He was utterly still, searching for anything in her that wanted him to stop. She could tell. He found none.
She still stood on his feet and she pressed up onto her toes, closing the gap between them. His wings arched around them as he slowly placed his lips on hers, a simple question. She pushed her mouth against his, a silent answer. He was much taller than her and she arched her back to reach him better. He barely moved at all, both of them letting the moment wash over them until she urged him forward, parting her lips beneath his. An invitation. And he obliged, running his tongue gently over her bottom lip, tasting her.
The day court healer had been the last male she kissed, but the memory of him was crumbling and drifting away with each second she stood pressed against her shadowsinger. Her wildflower scent intoxicated Azriel as he took a breath, and he hardened indiscreetly against her body despite the innocence in his intentions. He smiled against her mouth in spite of himself and pressed against her, even closer, looking only to remember exactly how she felt in that moment. He let himself go all the way to the edge and look over, debating leaping off, before he gathered himself. He lifted her off of his feet and set her gently on the rough stone, keeping his mouth against hers for a heartbeat longer. Talia opened her eyes as he pulled away reluctantly, searching her face. The look she gave him was so full of emotion, he couldn't decipher any of it. He placed his hand on her cheek and ran his thumb over her lips, savoring the feeling of them on every inch of skin that he could justify.
Her own voice in her head was clamoring about, questions overlapping each other noisily, most of them rounded out by 'why' and 'who else' but she waded her way through them, willing them in vain to quiet down. She reached up and placed her hand on his wrist where he still cupped her cheek. He wondered if she knew she had complete and total control. He wrapped his wings even tighter around them. She didn't notice, her mind still racing. Why did it take you so long? What does this really mean? Do it again. "You kissed me." You kissed me? She nearly slapped her hand over her mouth in embarrassment. He pulled his hand away from her face.
"Oh? Is that what that was?" His sarcasm was drowned out by the quiet line of desire that ran through his words. That, she noticed.
She started to reach for him again but doubt stopped her, and sadness crept into every space where his hands had been. He was leaving again, and again she was reminded how short this time together had been, how there's no logistical way it could be as deep and meaningful as it had felt. Pressed against him, he had shared the weight of the conversation between herself and Rhysand and the days leading up to it, but now that she stood apart from him, it settled heavily back on her shoulders. And desire was just that. It meant nothing more.
Still, her heart kept its breakneck pace as she looked away. His own chest tightened, he sought regret in her and found none, the same in himself, but he hadn't frozen them there. He hadn't stopped time from continuing, and he couldn't stop her mind from aching under the cloud of what was coming. He thought again to take her and run. Her softened voice prevented him.
"You should rest." He opened his mouth to protest but she was right. There was no direction this night could go that would keep them in this easy rhythm, this stable state, and he wasn't willing to risk it. So he shut his mouth and nodded. "I probably won't see you before you leave again."
He shook his head, pushing her hair behind her ears with both hands. "No." Not if they didn't change paths quickly, anyway. She wouldn't. Her feet were planted.
"Please be careful." She said, feeling like the emotion in her might choke her before she could get the words out. "Please."
He smiled so softly, she thought she might have imagined it until she looked in his eyes and they matched. "Always." He pulled his wings back behind his shoulders and his shadows followed as he turned and walked away.
The cool breeze hit her as she was again exposed to the night and she took great gulps of it to steady herself. She watched him disappear down the hall, his gait so unnaturally perfect, and heat resurfaced in her middle. She touched her mouth knowing she hadn't imagined it this time. That was a real kiss. Not a demand, not seduction, not some glad-you-didn't-die forehead peck. A real kiss, and her hand shook as she hung it back by her side.
The moment in the hallway could be brushed off and the kiss he laid on her the night of solstice could be chalked up to adrenaline, but this was too simple. Too pure. Past the weight of her circumstance, past the strain of anxiety and sadness, she felt a happiness rise in her, nearly unrecognizable in it's infant state and it quieted all the voices in her mind. She slowly walked back to her own room, replaying the dance, the kiss, over and over until she finally drifted off.
You should rest, she had told him and he laughed at it now, knowing he couldn't calm himself. Not after that. He was still hard as he slipped off his clothes and into his bed, not bothering to bathe except in the memory of her.
She woke with dread the next day and paced through the motions yet again, wondering about him, wondering if the high lords would accept Rhysand's invitation, wondering how soon it would be before everything changed. The first night she had resisted, but the second night after seeing him, while he was still away, she let herself picture what might have happened if she had reached for him that second time, where things might have gone had she not let him walk away from her yet again. And past that fiery image a new nightmare formed, one where she stood on the terrace or in the kitchen or the training ring or his room and said out loud that she had failed and he had succumbed to the hex. And in the next moment she was standing alone, watching from afar as his family buried him just as Rhysand had planned to. And then she was in the house again and every hall and every doorway was haunted by the absence of him. It replayed again and again until she woke each morning hoping that would be the day he proved it untrue.
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