Eris
I didn't know what became of Nephele. I just know when the wine kicked in, her, Vassa, and Cressida had dipped out the door into the gardens, Tamlin calling at them not to pick his good roses. I told him that was exactly what they were going to do purely because he told them not to.
"Why do you look so exhausted?" I ask Lucien. "You didn't do the spell."
He rolls his eyes. "So I can't be tired?"
"I didn't say that," I nudge him. "You've been busy, it seems. Bouncing between Day, Night, Creagach, Autumn, Spring, the Continent."
He shrugs. "I like to stay busy," he says simply, taking a sip of his wine. I notice the tension in his jaw.
"I do too," I agree. "I did, that is. Back when I wasn't sure what to make of my feelings with Neph. When I fucked everything up."
He rolls his eyes. "If you're referring to Elain, I didn't fuck anything up," he says, defensive. "I stayed away. I gave her space. I did everything you're supposed to do for a mate. I did the opposite of fucking everything up."
"You did," I agree plainly. "But you don't have to be the one who fucked up to feel the hurt."
He's quiet, taking another sip, eyes across the parlor at where Tamlin, Tarquin, and Jurian sit, laughing easily over some story Tarquin tells, if only to avoid my gaze. They all looked easy indeed. But Lucien was burdened, so much so that it made me look light.
"How have you been?" I ask him softly.
He snorts, catching my eye. "Are we gonna talk about our feelings, Brother?"
I laugh too because, frankly, it is a bit funny to consider. "I'm not amazing with feelings- you'd have to talk to Neph about those," I admit. "But if like to think I'm alright at listening, even better at telling it like it is."
He shuts his eyes, his hand flexing. "I'm fine," he sighs. "My life has been a series of determining at which points exactly I went wrong. With Beron. With Jessminda. With Feyre and Tamlin. With anything and everything." I understood that well enough. The way we were raised... if you weren't seven steps ahead, you were twelve steps behind. There were no mistakes, only miscalculations.
"I guess it's just a bit frustrating when something feels so without reason," he admits. "I have this amazing, cauldron- blessed thing happen to me, and I'm so careful not to break it. Not to fuck it up. But in the end, it didn't matter."
And that's the thing about it. Lucien did everything perfect. He didn't push too hard. He played from a distance.
"I wish I could even blame her," he continues. "Maybe then, it might be easier to rationalize what had happened. But it's not her fault that she was thrown into this world. I don't blame her for the bond not meaning anything to her. Why would it? To her, it's just something people talk about so vaguely. It wasn't forged in love, not for us. She had every right to reject it."
Gods, he's better than me.
If Neph had rejected our bond... of course I'd respect her decision, but I don't think I could speak of it so maturely. I'd be broken in every way. I'd be less. I'd be over.
"You're right- you can't blame her," I agree. "But you also can't keep blaming yourself. You can't keep punishing yourself, overworking yourself, ignoring the wound."
He stares at me, blinking a bit. "It's not an easy thing- to do what you did. To walk away," I remind him. "And wherever that strength takes you... whether it be to politics or friendship or even love... what you will have then will be that much stronger because you had the courage to walk away."
He stares at me a moment, like I had lost my head. "That was... disturbingly profound, and somehow... helpful?"
I laugh. "I think Nephele is rubbing off on me."
...
The girls return later with flowers braided through their hair- I know it's the work of Nephele. I see them then: three women who had lost their childhood. Cressida to Amarantha and the war. Vassa to her curse. And Nephele... to imprisonment, torture.
They didn't look tarnished for it. No, they looked all the more determined to enjoy things like flower crowns and starry nights and drunken giggles. I like to see Neph like this, like nothing in the world could sink her.
But they have no mind for sitting, Nephele running for my hand. "Eris! Come quick!" I follow where she takes me without anymore of an explanation, ready to assess whatever threat it was.
Only it's not a threat.
I should've known better by Neph's drunken smile because her and the girls lead us to something far less urgent. Tamlin's courtyard is just flocked with glowing bugs, humming in the brisk night air. I breathe out.
"You had me ready to draw my sword," I blink. "For fireflies?"
Her brow furrows, and she giggles. "Fireflies?" She scrunches her nose.
"What?" I ask. "Do you call them something different?"
She nods. "On the isle, we call them lightning bugs," she explains. "But I like fireflies too. It's cute."
I roll my eyes as the other come out. Tamlin laughs comfortably. "Yes, they're particularly active this time of night, ever since the magic has begun to heal the land," he explains, taking a seat on porch. "I think the evening wind blows them in."
Cressida settled between him and her cousin, looking upwards. "When we were young," she smiles, glancing at Tarquin. "They used to light the water when we went sailing at night." Tarquin smiles, letting one crawl on his palm, stretching its tiny wings.
"In the human realms we used to catch them in jars," Vassa explains, laughing blandly, settling between Lucien and Jurian. "Fitting, don't you think?" Yes, how she had been caged and bound to her lake, still caged and bound to her curse. But she seemed to be a boundless woman despite it. I know my brother had certainly noticed.
"In my time, we used to pretend they were shooting stars," Jurian says, shaking his head. "Of course our wishes never came true, but the sentiment felt like there was magic in the mortal realms all the same."
I stare up at the fireflies as they twiddle about, bouncing between the marble columns of rose hall, and I just can't seem to think of a wish. Surrounded by what I might dare call friends, a rekindled relationship with my little brother, my court safe for the time time being, my mate's head on my shoulder... what would I even wish for?
...
Night Court was the last place I wanted to be, but Rhysand had been so insistent on not having seen me and Neph in the longest time. I knew better than to think he missed me.
Still, I told Lucien I'd accompany him, and Lucien, had invited Jurian and Vassa to come as well. He said it was because they don't get out enough, but Neph thinks it's something else. She thinks Lucien is making up for neglecting to tell Vassa about the Mortal Queens' intentions in autumn, neglecting to tell Jurian about us facing off against Fergus in Creagach and narrowly escaping.
I think it closer resembles Lucien wanting a strong support system to visit tonight, considering that his mate might be attending the feast afterwards.
The silver lining of meeting with the night court: getting to see Nephele in its attire. My wife wasn't overtly modest in her dress- not that I'm complaining, but she always looks particularly irresistible when we visit night. Perhaps, it's me trying to distract myself from how much I hate Rhysand. Perhaps, she's just lovely.
Either way, I'm hardly paying attention in our meeting, staring idly at my Nephele.
Cauldron I can't wait until we get home.
"And Fergus just winnowed off after that?" Feyre's brow furrows.
I shrug, able to chime in. "At that point, Nephele had seemed to turn into lightning itself to get to me so quickly," I explain. "I reckon this scared him off for the time being."
"Still," Jurian chimes in. "I have my doubts about Fergus backing off so easily in your next encounter. He may be at the end of his rope, but that means he'd be at his strongest."
Cassian nods, agreeing. General to General. "He'll be gearing up, allocating his troops by now," he carries. "Preparing for the final assault."
A silence falls over the room, but Nephele laughs, making the air that much lighter. "My father is all or nothing indeed," she snorts. "I have no doubt that he'll tear the very island apart if it means dawning the crown."
"A crown intended for your head," Amren muses. Neph shrugs.
"Crowns are meaningless," she explains. "You are powerless unless you can influence the people."
"But you, Jurian, seem to know good deal about these people," Rhys hedges.
Jurian shrugs. "Working so closely with Hybern in the war..." he shakes his head. "I'm no saint, but I'd have to be a pretty awful person to turn my back on the things I saw."
Feyre shivers. "It's true," she agrees. "That camp... it was terrible. The disregard for life... I can't even imagine how it has become as Creagach has fallen into anarchy."
Jurian winces. "They're holding up," he says. "Thankfully, stronger tribes of lesser fae have stood against the High Fae nobles who had previously enslaved the humans and other fae. They're sort of maintaining a... hasty honor code. It's noble of them, nonetheless."
Cassian's brow furrows. "How can they do that?"
"Think if Illyrians decided to stand against High Fae here in Night," Nephele explains. "They're a warrior class. They certainly have the might to do it. All they might lack is the structure."
"These honor codes... they can only last so long with legislation. Without law and order," I explain. "We need to accelerate Fergus' timeline. We just haven't decided how yet."
It's all quiet, but I sense a sick and twisted energy stewing from the smallest of us. My eyes cast to Amren's, solely set on Nephele. "I can think of a way to lure him out..."