I missed the wyverns.
I didn't realize how restless I was at night, how much I struggled to sleep without being tired by something. Flying through the midnight skies and running around the haven was the thing that brightened my day in Spring Court. Night Court may have been a force to be reckoned with, but I didn't really know what to do at Night here.
I had already bathed in a small pool that they called a tub until my hands had become pruny in the water—I didn't think it was possible to fall in love with a bathtub and yet here we are.
I'd wandered the palace for a while, trying to sneak around. I wasn't sure if I was allowed to explore. And it was fun. I hadn't realized how much I missed the adventure. The adrenaline. It was almost refreshing. Like going under cold water.
I'd found myself on a large balcony looking over the landscape. The Night was cold and my thin pajamas did nothing to serve as a barrier. I liked the chill though, how it made my skin prick with awareness and forced my senses into overdrive.
Everything was different as High Fae, my body especially. It had taken me weeks to adjust to my legs, I tripped and fell over everything and anything. At first, I'd gotten constant migraines from the heightened hearing, listening to the servants as their feet clanked against the hard floors nearly made me insane. Though I'd gotten used to it after a while.
But the one thing I loved about my new senses was the weather. The way I could smell the dew of rain before it even started; how I could hear the small droplets hit the ground outside. When lightning struck the ground and radiated electricity, I could almost feel it in the air. How the thunder struck so loudly I felt it with my entire being.
It was by far the best part.
Even then I could just so faintly smell that a storm was brewing about the mountains.
Even as much as Rhysand annoyed me, I loved the Night Court. The sights were lovely, the weather wasn't always sunny, it wasn't bound to only one season for eternity. And even as I looked up at the Night sky I was struck stupid.
The stars shined so brightly. They were almost ethereal, so much so I was forced to wonder if I'd made it to heaven after all.
But those thoughts were futile. A measly dream in a swamp of reality. I didn't know how long Rhysand and I's bargain would even continue. I wasn't sure whether Tamlin would let it go on. If it was only up to him, I'd likely be rotting in Night Court's dungeon, but because of my sister—who was probably upset about the bargain, I wasn't sure whether he would try to stop it or not.
Even if he didn't, I was only here for a week each month, all the rest of my days would be spent in Spring Court's impending solitude where I'd likely rot away in my own sorrow.
The thought alone caused my awed mood to vanish entirely. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.
I didn't dare look around anymore as I headed into the palace and found my way back to my room.
And I couldn't help but think on the way: what was the point?
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I hadn't seen The High Lord of the Night Court since my first day—not his cousin either. Even though I'd thought about calling for Mor, I'd decided it was best if I didn't have ties here besides the already large one I had to Rhysand.
It would only hurt me, in the long run, to get attached. And even if she seemed like someone I'd want to be friends with, my relationship with the people of Spring was already strained enough. I feared if I were to get cuddly with the people they hated, it wouldn't end well for me.
It is for the best. I kept telling myself over and over again. I didn't know how I'd let something else invade my mind.
The day before the week finally finished I'd been walking down the now-familiar hallways I'd made sure to memorize, heading for the dining room. I'd eaten more in the past week. It was a gradual increase, and yet my energy felt better.
My sleep had still been haunted by crippling nightmares. They left me disoriented and broken, but my breathing never left me on the verge of passing out. A small victory. But a victory nonetheless.
I approached the large archway but immediately stopped as Rhysand and Mor's voices floated toward me. I knew it was a public space, that they wouldn't be having some top-secret conversation in a place where ears could be listening—example: me. I quieted my footsteps anyway, not wanting to reveal my presence just yet. I knew Fae had a sense of smell and they could likely have caught my scent already—a skill I'd made sure I learned after death.
My magic was unknown to me, I was too cowardly to try to wield it in any way, out of fear of destruction or tragedy. But in the next moment, I wished I knew how to mask my scent.
I walked into the room finally after the realization that even if I wanted to become invisible I literally couldn't—the thought was very humbling.
The two came into my view, Rhysand was pacing around in circles next to one of the large open windows of the palace. He held his chin like he was contemplating, Mor sat in a cream-colored armchair with her hands splayed across the sides as she stared into the distance.
"Azriel wouldn't want to know that," she was saying.
"Azriel can go to hell," Rhysand snapped back, "He likely already knows anyway."
Azriel? He was likely some Night Court contact. It had never really occurred to me that Rhysand would have different stations as High Lord. People he relied on. To me, he seemed like an "If I don't do it myself, it won't get done" type of male. A statement I entirely agreed with.
"We played games last time," Mor continued with a voice that I knew whatever they were talking about was very serious. I paused wondering if this conversation was important and why they felt the need to have it in public. "And we lost. Badly. We're not going to do that again." She finished as she loosed a heavy breath.
"You should be working." was his response, "I gave you control for a reason, you know."
Mor's jaw tightened as she faced me; leaning against a pillar as I eavesdropped in plain sight. She gave me a smile, that looked more like a cringe.
Rhysand turned to me aswell, his face set in a frown, "Say what it is you came here to say, Mor." He resumed his pacing.
Mor rolled her eyes—a half-hearted action that was likely for my benefit—" There was another attack—a temple in Cesere. Almost every priestess slain, the trove looted.
Rhysand's face was a mix of pure rage and sorrow at her news. He halted entirely, "Who." a command.
"We don't know," she replied, just as solemn as him. "Same tracks as last time: small group, bodies that showed signs of wounds from large blades, no trace of where they came from or how they disappeared. No survivors. The bodies weren't even found until a day later when a group of pilgrims came by."
I raised my eyebrows in surprise, and Mor looked over at me giving me a sympathetic look.
I looked over to the High Lord, not really knowing how to handle sympathy. Shadows began to curl around his back, taking the beginning shapes of wings. Then as if he'd finally loosed his temper from its leash, the majestic wings became flesh.
They were just as intriguing as the last times he'd let them loose. Clawed like a bats, dark as night and strong as boulders. His voice was still lethally soft as he said, "What did Azriel have to say about it?" Who the hell was Azriel?
Mor glanced to me again—as if unsure of what she was meant to say in my presence. "He's pissed. Cassian even more so—he's convinced it must be one of the rogue Illyrian war-bands, intent on winning new territory."
Illyrian war-bands. Finally a word I was familiar with.
"It's something to consider," Rhysand said still stopped in his place, "Some of the Illyrian clans gleefully bowed to Amarantha during those years. Trying to expand their borders could be their way of seeing how far they can push me and get away with it." I hated the sound of her name. How it rolled off your tongue as if her crimes never existed in the first place.
"Cassian and Az are waiting—" she cut herself off, remembering I was there and sparing me an apologetic wince. "They're waiting in the usual spot for your orders."
I shouldn't care that I was being left out of the loop. I wasn't meant to be here for much longer and didn't plan on making any permanent connections. And yet it almost stung.
Rhysand studied the open air at the window, the howling wind that ushered the storming clouds away. Perfect flying weather, I realized.
"Winnowing in would be easier," Mor suggested as she followed the High Lord's gaze to whatever he'd been looking out toward.
"Tell the pricks I'll be there in a few hours."
She looked over at me again giving me a wry smile before she vanished into nothing. Winnowing. Got to hate it.
I'd never really understood winnowing. How it worked. I'd never cared to. I narrowed my eyes, still looking at the space where Mor had just stood, "How exactly does winnowing work?"
Rhysand still contemplated air. Without looking at me he explained, "Winnowing? Think of it as...two different points on a piece of cloth. One point is your current place in the world. The other one on the cloth is where you want to go. Winnowing...its like folding the cloth so the two spots align. The magic does the folding—and all we do is take a step to get from one place to the other. Sometimes it's a long step, and you can feel the dark folds of the world as you pass through it. A shorter step, let's say from one end of the room to the other, would barely register. It's a rare gift, and a helpful one. Though only the stronger Fae can do it. The more powerful you are, the farther you can jump between places in one go."
Interesting.
It was no wonder it made me sick to my stomach. Wading through the folds of the world to travel would likely make any human's stomach twist and knot.
Wrath still glimmered in his eyes as I approached the window to stand next to him. The scenery was calming and I thought I knew why he'd sought calm in it. I studied the High Lord for a long moment. As much tried to conceal what he felt behind a wall, there was enough sorrow in him that it gave me pause. So much so that I said to him, "I'm sorry about your priestesses. No one deserves a fate like that."
Rhysand turned to me finally, hesitance in his gaze. I was forced to wonder if I'd truly been so cruel to him that any scrap of sympathy I spared would be questioned. "Plenty more are going to die soon enough, anyway."
I rolled my eyes. So that was why he'd let me listen in on the conversation. To make me understand the direness of the situation. To get me to join the cause.
I changed the subject immediately, "I wasn't aware the Illyrians supported Amarantha." her name from my mouth made me cringe.
"Some. But me and mine have enjoyed ourselves hunting them down the last few months. And ending them." I would too. And I'd do it ever so slowly as I ripped them apart bit by bit until they were screaming for mercy I wouldn't grant them.
Rhysand didn't so much as say good-bye before he took a step—right off the balcony and into the open air.
He swept out into the open air, his wings gliding him through the currents of the wing along the snowy mountain peaks.
"Rude!" I called out to him even though he was so far he likely could hear me, "Good-bye to you, too." I mumbled to myself as I turned around and walked back through the palace.
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I scarcely slept the final night of that week. I would go back to Spring Court tomorrow. I would again be backed into a life of solitude where my only place was to sit back and be Tamlin's little pet he took out on occasion.
The next morning I walked down the hallway slower than I typically did to get to breakfast. My mind was filled with worries about what it would be like when I got back. No doubt I wouldn't be allowed out of sight, likely wouldn't be allowed out of the house either.
I stalked through the archway, immediately noticing that Rhysand was at the table today, sprawled out in his usual chair. I sat down quietly, barely daring to breathe as I reached for the tea. I wasn't hungry today. Didn't think I'd be for a little while.
"You're quiet this morning," Rhysand observed.
"It's been a week," I fixed him with a hard look.
Rhysand raised his brows, "Good morning, Danika Darling. What a pleasure it is to see you." I rolled my eyes, "I suppose you'd like me to escort you home?"
"Yes." I lied.
His face contorted into confusion, and I checked almost on instinct if my mental barriers were up. They were.
He studied the dark crimson and vibrant gold of the clothes I was wearing. "That color suits you." Obviously.
"Take me back," I said to him as I sipped from my tea. Tamlin would throw a fit if I didn't show up soon.
Rhysand Ignored me.
"Do you want me to say please? Please."
Rhysand sipped from his own tea, "What I want is for you to talk to me like a person. Start with good morning and let's see where it gets us, oh, sweet Nightmare." He smirked at me with lowered eyes.
I inhaled a frustrated neck, "Good morning, oh, sweet Nemesis." I gritted out from behind clenched teeth.
A faint smile. Asshole. "Are you ready to face the consequences of your departure?" No.
"Yes."
"Right. You'll probably ignore it, anyway. Sweep it under the rug like everyone else."
"No one asked for your opinion, Rhysand."
"Rhysand?" He chuckled, low and soft. "I give you a week of luxury and you still call me Rhysand?"
I smiled almost menacingly, "Am I meant to call you anything else?"
Another chuckle. He looked down at the table and back up to me, "You can call me anything you want," I bared my teeth at the insinuation, "but I suppose Rhys will do."
I scoffed, "Please take me back."
He shrugged nonchalantly, "I'll tell Mor you said goodbye."
I mimicked his signature shrug, "Alright."
He sat straighter as if he was ready to take me back. My entire body tensed—but I willed it to go taut once more before the High Lord noticed—though I had a feeling he already had. "Have you thought about my offer?"
"I'll let you know next month." I stood from my chair impatiently, wanting to just get it over with. Rhysand stood aswell, stopping only a hair's breadth away from me, his face tight. "I told you once and I'll tell you again," he said, "I am not enemy."
"You fail to see how complicated it truly is." I shook my head at him, letting out a bewildered breath. He would never understand.
"Shall we go?" he extended a golden hand. And I so very slowly took it on my own.
Darkness claimed us, wrapping around me so violently I felt suffocated. I once again clung to Rhysand, Burying my eyes on his shoulder as memories taunted the edge of my mind. Somehow Rhysand's hand ended up holding me to him.
But then there was solid ground at my feet. Centering me. I pulled away quickly, scared that prying eyes could be watching and misinterpret the action.
Sun shone in the sky, and green engulfed me. I started to walk away from the High Lord but his hand caught my wrist, "Good luck." he crooned.
"Get your hands off me."
Rhysand chuckled as he let go, "I'll see you next month. He vanished.
I turned back to my pastel prison, squeezing my eyes shut and forcing myself to take a step. Then another. And another. Until I'd passed through the gates that bound me.
─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
A/N: ahhhhh, this took forever, I apologize.