Chapter 1: The Day's Come
It was not an unusual sight to see that placid and composed smile sitting on her cheeks. She was, after all, content by many means as she wandered through the halls of the Day Court's main palace. She had reason to trust in her safety here. For some time, at least. But the smile was still a trained expression. One that was simple enough that people looked straight past her, one that hid anything below the surface of her skin and into the wild thoughts and avid attention that she paid to everything around her. A smile that gave no hint to her true intentions.
But High Lord of the Day Court gave her little reason for doubt beyond her innate scepticism of anything and everything. He trusted his son's judgement and she had earned his son's trust. Besides—he owed her.
Her hair of light gold was loosely braided down her back, complementing the slight tan of her skin. The few strands around her face hung in loose coils. Grey eyes darted from point to point, noting everything in the small space in the back of her mind, ready to be recalled if it were ever needed.
Contouring her tall frame, a dress of light green, tight to her bodice, but loose from her hips onwards. It hid the outline of the knife strapped to her thigh. It was a special knife, given to her nearly two hundred years ago, kept in pristine condition ever since. The hilt was plated in gold with thin straps of leather tightly coiling around it, but the small scabbard is where its beauty lay, with tendrils of gold curling like vines across the metal.
It was in a terrible position, considering there was no slit in her dress to reach it in one swift motion, but she was never without it and had little other choice.
In her arms, held tightly to her chest was a book. A romance of all things, and she couldn't help but scoff upon seeing the title laid at the end of her bed when she retired to it the previous night. Now, with the help of some serving ladies, she hunted down the Son of Day to his private west wing.
Smiling softly, the backs of her knuckles rapped on the lightwood door before turning the golden knob. The door opened to a room of light. Wide, ceiling-to-floor windows with transparent drapes pushed to their far sides, casting the ground in squared lights of gold. Along either wall adjacent, bookshelves filled every nook. A desk with scattered belongings was empty, but the chaise in the opposing corner was not. Helion, son of the High Lord lounged in his white tunic. It had gold embellishments along the cuffs and collar and was unbuttoned to show his carefully crafted dark hills of muscle underneath.
He looked up lazily, but with a wolfish smile. "Did you like the book?" he questioned, eying the cloth-bound pages in her folded arms. Raising a brow he added, "Have you finished it already?"
"Yes," she answered with her own version of the same smile. "About two years ago. I've come for another one of your recommendations."
"Ah." He folded the book on his lap. One leg was draped down to the floor, the other tented with his wrist hanging over top. "And here I was thinking that you were far too innocent for such a story, Sahra"
"Do not let appearances swindle you," Sahra warned in a crooning voice that his grin widened at. With her chin tilted up, looking around at the titles in his private sitting room, she said, "I am not all that I seem." It was true. Though she was exactly what Helion believed her to be, the former handmaiden of Amoise, the Lady of the Autumn Court—that was not all she was. But it was all she needed to be for him to offer her refuge. They had known each other for over one hundred and fifty years. "What do you suggest?"
"Depends." He rose from the chaise, meandering up behind her as she wandered down one of the walls. "Are you looking for something with the same...details? Or are you looking for something more modest in taste?"
"Anything that is an interesting read. I may be here for some time." Leaving the end of the wall as she made it to his desk, Sahra trailed her fingers along the polished, smooth wood. "You have many unopened letters. What will your father think of not reporting to your duties?"
How often did they come and where from? Did they use a messenger, an emissary? Sahra needed one sent, or at least a message of some sort. She knew how to encode so the contents of the letter were no issue but getting it to her master was another. He did not know where she was, unless he had others notifying him but Helion had kept her whereabouts quiet even in the Day Court Palace. She had unknown allies somewhere but never before had she met them. Just like they would not know who she was to inform her master.
"He will think nothing of it," Helion muttered, tone turning sour as she picked one up and read the name. Winter court. She discarded it. "Anything of importance is sent to him." Crossing dark arms, he leant against the side of the desk as she examined its contents under the guise of a simple, prying girl. "I cannot risk writing to Amoise, but I will let her know of your safety as soon as I can."
Sahra smiled at him. "Thank you." For she did care about the Lady of the Autumn Court. The woman was kind, meek in appearance but courageous by heart. And being at one's side for one-hundred and eighty-odd years did give enough time to let them develop a closer relationship than she did with others of the court she was stationed at. Close enough that she was harbouring secrets that had nothing to do with her master's needs.
Helion carefully gazed over her. "I am sorry for your predicament. That must remain away. You have been at her side for a long time."
Her fingers fell off the end of the table as she nodded. It had been such a mess of a situation, happened so fast that there was no time to plan to get away, no time to find a good excuse to cover her actions. She had just run. Amoise had found her hiding in the cellars and hissed a firm instruction to winnow away to the Day Court. Obeying her Lady, Sahra had fallen to her knees at the entrance of the Day Palace.
"How about this one?"
A long, elegant finger tipped a book from its spot to peek at half the dark blue cloth cover. Helion tipped his head in agreement to her choice so she tugged it from the shelf of his private collection. Navigating her way to the other side, Sahra tilted her head and looked for the spot that the one she bought belonged to.
"Sahra?"
Her grey eyes flickered momentarily to him as she peered across the first few pages of her new choice. "Yes?"
Helion sighed and took a step forward. His large hand landed on her shoulder, offering her a tight but friendly squeeze. "Thank you. It is not unnoticed nor unappreciated what you have done for me. For the both of us."
Sahra slowly closed the book again, her nod growing by the second. "It was... My pleasure," she decided on. "You have both been kind to me, and there have been very few people in this world that have granted that."
"Then let me offer you another extension of it." Her chin lifted with intrigue. "Stay here in the Day Court with me. I grant you refuge for your lifetime. We can look into titles and duties in the near future for a more permanent transition."
"Thank you. I will certainly consider the offer." She meant it dearly, but it was not an offer she could simply accept. Her master may have other plans for her. A new identity or location to be at. "I have family," she added, conjuring up the backstory she had worked on many a time. "It's been some years since I've seen them so I may find them once more."
"Of course." Helion gave a soft bow of his head, dark tendrils falling from his shoulders. "You are more than welcome to stay until the decision is made."
Xx
The days had passed over and though she hid it well behind a mask of content, Sahra had a pit in her stomach that was growing by the day. She was not at her station, not reporting and had yet to find a reliable way to contact her master to inform him of her whereabouts. She had been alone in the Autumn Court. Though it was beyond certainty that there were more spies lingering about, they didn't know each other by name or face, let alone interact. It was for their own safety to have as little information as possible.
Unless she winnowed across the courts. But it was against her orders to seek him out in person. It must be the other way around. The glamoured tattoo on her hip tingled to remind her.
Helion and Sahra lounged on two chaises on a large balcony, overlooking the front court gardens of the palace. Her dress was of chiffon-like texture, but softer in the palette of soft gold, transparent at her legs to opaque around her middle. Each had a crystalline glass of wine and watched over the movements of Fae below. Helion was avoiding his duties and she was more than happy to offer company alongside him.
"I'm surprised that no one had come looking for you," she mused, swirling the wine high against the curved glass. Twisting her head in his direction, a grin grew in addition to her teasing tone.
Helion draped his head back against the top of the chaise. "Father has guests. He'll be stuck with them for another hour."
Another hour indeed. Nearly falling asleep under the warm sun, wine settled in her stomach it was a startling thing to hear the footsteps of others wandering nearby. Her back straightened by instinct as the head of Helion's father, High Lord of the Day Court appeared from behind the white archway that opened the hall to the balcony. He was a near mirror of his son, but a harsher face reminded her of the differences between them.
The next figure to emerge was a large male, dressed in black leather with red stones embedded in different spots. He was tall, with long hair currently hanging loose to the tops of his shoulders which were broad and fierce. There was a ruggish handsomeness to him, yet Sahra found herself thinking that there were still features of classic handsomeness, but edged by something else. And right behind him, a pair of large, dark wings that stretched above his head to the backs of his knees. Two talon-like claws made a pointed apex in the middle of each.
Cassian.
The name sounded in her head like a beautifully, alluring bell. Cassian. Cassian. Cassian.
Of course, his eyes only glazed over her as they flickered out the archway. Because Cassian didn't know her, had never seen her before. And it was not him that sent thrums to her heart. But Cassian meant the Night Court and the Night Court meant—
Azriel.
It was so familiar that she nearly leapt from the chaise just at the sight of him. The black, windswept hair across his forehead in soft waves, the azure gemstones in his leather armour, the mighty wings behind him.
His hazel eyes were turned in her direction before he even appeared. His shadows, she realised, had been creeping around onto the balcony before he came. Their gazes latched. One... Two... Two seconds of a hardened stare until they released from her and he looked forward again with indifference painted across his face.
She sunk back into her chair, eyes wide and mind running. Helion was too distracted, drowning in his wine to notice. Soon, a small smile caressed her lips, legs shifting along the chaise. Sahra's blood itched. "I think I may retire to my chambers for a sleep, considering you had me up all night."
Helion lifted his glass in her direction. "I should go speak with our guests now that they've seen me laze around."
Sahra shot him an amused grin but left the balcony before he even stood from his chaise and pattered down the halls. It did not take long to find his shadows, snaking around one of the cream colonnades. It followed her, latching to her ankle as she found her way back to her private chambers which were far out of sight and ear of the rest of the palace.
Half an hour later, a figure emerged shadows themselves in the corner of her room without warning, his azure gemstones glinting under the radiant sunlight streaming across her room. Azriel turned to her, a hint of relief mixed with apprehension and said: "Galadriel."