The heat smacked Elain in the face, burning and blinding her eyes as she fought to open them, squinting out at her surroundings. Heat crept up her cheeks, drying the tears she knew had welled before they even had a chance to drop down on the marbled surface beneath their feet.
Day Court.
Feyre had winnowed Elain and Nyx directly into the center of Helion's courtyard, joining Nesta, Nuala, and Cerridwen who had arrived only moments before. The enormous palatial grounds sprawled around the ladies, sweeping up towards columned arches spanning the width and length of a small village. The grandeur caused their breath to catch as they took in the impossibly tall palms swaying in the hot breeze, equal in stature only to the impressive columns of marble stacking toward the heavens, gracefully joined together by arches of gold-flecked marble.
Long swaths of silky curtains in various shades of peach, ivory, lilac, and gold swung down from the archways, billowing in the breeze. Fountains and reflecting pools webbed the gold and white marble courtyard which spanned across toward bordered edges exotic plants and flowers, sending a cooling mist over Elain's face. She heard, rather than saw, a rushing river somewhere nearby, carried along on the breeze with a harmony of plucked harp strings and chirping birds.
Gods.
It was unlike anything Elain had ever witnessed in her short lifetime.
The simple marble glowing under the hot sun was not carved with any intricate or overly fussy details, rather, it seemed that Helion had opted for minimalistic opulence, forming the palace into the very rock of the surrounding valley, following the natural curves of the landscape. The overwhelming beauty of the courtyard and surrounding palace rested in the sheer enormity of the architecture and surrounding vegetation.
"It seems that Rhysand has been hiding the crown jewel of Prythian in his Night Court!" A booming voice shook the glistening marble beneath her feet as Elain squinted toward the approaching stranger.
"Helion. Thank you for hosting my sister and her mate. We are in your debt." Feyre stepped forward, greeting the male with a bow of her head.
So this was Helion, Elain mused, surveying the tall broad-shouldered male before her. His dark caramel skin seemed to glow from within, adorned in a white length of fabric gathered at his shoulder, exposing his muscled upper body. Wreathed in a golden crown shooting out from onyx curls, his gleaming white smile was a stark contrast to his dark face. Striding across the marble with the sun at his back, Elain felt as if she were being greeted by the god of Sun himself.
Elain curtsied, more out of human instinct than Prythian manners or protocol, feeling overwhelmed by the attention and the grandeur surrounding them. Eyes crinkled and arms open wide, Helion closed the distance between them, setting his hands on her waist and kissing both of her cheeks before sweeping her into a hug which he expertly turned into a waltz and then a twirl, displaying her figure for appraisal before pulling her in tightly, his breath on her neck.
"My, my, my, the messengers and spies of Patras tell no lies. The most beautiful of the Made-Fae sisters has indeed come to stay." He purred directly into her ear.
Feyre and Nesta exchanged a glance, the latter rolling her eyes but they smiled at Helion cordially, Feyre calling over to the still-dancing duo, "and her fireling of a mate is coming to stay as well, Helion my friend."
"The more the merrier." Helion sniffed politely, releasing Elain who fell back in line with her sisters, Nesta taking her by the waist in what Elain felt was an overtly protective stance.
"Beron's seventh son, is it?" Helion cast a glance at Feyre. "Coming to see how the better half of Prythian lives no doubt."
Feyre opened her mouth to protest, but Helion turned his back, extending his arm and snapping his fingers. A line of linen-coiffed fae appeared before them, beautiful dark skin shining in the sun, their hair pulled away from their faces with gold string, pleasant smiles and warm expressions, and feet outfitted with coiled golden slippers. One by one, the line of fae bowed in Elain's direction.
"Your staff." Helion threw the sisters another beaming grin, striding over to the faerie at the head of the line. "Here to assist you with whatever you need, Lynnea is the best ladies' maid in all of Patras."
Elain smiled at the gathered people, grateful to see open and welcoming expressions amongst the Day Court. With Nuala and Cerridwen tucked in closely at her side, she approached them and bowed her head.
"Thank you for allowing me to stay with you this summer." She was met with approving smiles before they quickly shifted focus, staring over at her sisters with layered curiosity.
Right.
She was here with the High Lady of The Night Court and the Goddess of Death herself. Beauty in the face was nothing compared to a title. Elain blushed at the thoughts, wondering where the sudden jealousy had sprung from.
"Tonight we have a feast in Elain's honor: dancing, theatrics, the usual." Helion motioned to one of the openings in the vast columned arches behind a nearby reflecting pool. "So please ladies, enjoy your rooms, and rest up."
Taking a deep bow, Helion winnowed away, allowing his staff to guide the females to their rooms.
Feyre had warned Elain against choosing the Day Court for the summer, citing the High Lord's seductive personality and penchant for raucous partying as a reason to consider Dawn instead, but Elain had stayed firm. Fate had chosen Day, and she was not going to challenge the Cauldron any longer.
Besides. The mere fact that Feyre and Rhys were pushing her towards Dawn made Elain feel rebellious.
It was as if a small fissure had cracked within her resolve to be the graceful elegant female she had always been. The female her mother wanted her to be. Elain had resolved that if she was allowing the Cauldron to make her choices, not even letting herself in on the decision-making, then she sure as hells wasn't allowing any other fae to make her decisions either, even if they were the High Lady and High Lord of the Night Court.
The Cauldron knew what she needed, she reminded herself, her eyes sweeping across the courtyard again. She believed it– or she HAD to believe it.
And so far, Day seemed welcoming enough. The warm climate would certainly lend itself to interesting gardening she thought excitedly. Elain's mind drifted toward the family of cacti that she had been curious to grow for her personal collection when Nesta grabbed her by the elbow, guiding Elain along with the rest of the staff, Nuala and Cerridwen in tow, the latter holding Nyx who was waking from a nap, blinking and trying to take in the bright scenery.
"Would you give us a tour?" Nesta said with a smile, addressing the older fae named Lynnea.
"Absolutely."
ﾟ☆: *.☽ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ☽ .* :☆ﾟ
She was gone.
And he could not understand what he was feeling.
Azriel swept closer to the shoreline, surveying the waves. He had come to fly the coast of The Night Court, hoping to clear his mind and settle his emotions. His siphons were still blazing an alarmingly bright shade of blue, and he could not stop his mind from circling into frustration, longing, rage, and panic.
Diving down towards the waves, his thoughts found their roost, centering on Morrigan.
Mor had come and gone throughout his five hundred years of loving her. She'd taken extended trips to other courts frequently, and hells, he'd even gone on years-long missions to the continent, causing them to be apart much longer than he would be away from Elain this summer. Which was why he could not understand his current state of mind.
But, he thought, swinging to the left, flying closer to the sun, with Mor, it was different. She wasn't like Elain.
She had always kept him at arms-length. Azriel could admit to himself that that was partly why he had chosen to love her for so many years. There was a sense of safety in the knowledge that the female would circle him for centuries without coming close enough to form an authentic or vulnerable relationship with him. It was a special kind of torture to inflict upon oneself, to choose to love someone that could never be his.
And if it was bad with Morrigan, Azriel realized that it had just gotten a million times worse with Elain. Because although Mor never relented to his yearnings, she at least had not been mated. It had given him the hope he needed to nurse his feelings for her.
But with Elain, everything was messy and desperate. Not only was she mated, but she HAD seemed to return his affections. He thought of her hands dragging through his hair, her breasts pushing up to his chest, and he felt like his eyes were going to roll back into his head. Shaking off the arousing memory, Azriel began to climb towards the clouds, the exercise of his wings clearing his mind.
Their goodbye had hurt like hells because he knew that it was the end. It was the end of their dalliance and a seal on her fate. Because she wasn't just going off on a mission, or on some vacation like Mor had always done. Elain had left Velaris, had left HIM, to go fall in love with someone else.
Bile rose in his throat, and he allowed himself to drop from the sky, pointing downwards like an arrow, crashing towards the sea.
Anger. Bitterness. Sadness. And there it was... the resignation.
Azriel knew the emotions well.
He had learned to live with overwhelming loneliness. He had learned to live with emptiness, and with no one but his shadows to keep him company. This was familiar territory for him, and he would not break.
Barreling toward the shallow water, hopelessness swelled in his chest. Pummeling closer and closer, he began to close his eyes before pulling up, grazing the sand. But the action was not without hesitation.
ﾟ☆: *.☽ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ☽ .* :☆ﾟ
The group of females followed Lynnea through the South-Eastern wing of Helion's palace, their jaw's all but dragging behind them as they absorbed the palace of Patras.
They passed ballrooms and lounges, studies, and entire libraries, all built and arranged in a similar fashion: warm gold-flecked marble, long silky curtains hanging from impossibly high arches, open space and air flowing throughout the palace. Palms, fountains, and even in-ground rivers flowed through the interior of the palace as if Helion wanted as much of the outdoors inside his palace as out.
But it was the ceilings of Helion's palace that were truly magnificent. They had all been painted and gilded with murals of the sun, constellations, and wild animals from both the fae and human realms. The ceilings within the libraries and studies depicted old battles, myths, and fables, while the ceilings in the lounges and sitting rooms were covered in the raunchiest images of faerie sex that Elain had ever seen. Nesta laughed when they noticed those particular murals, Elain's face coloring, and Feyre casting her a glance that absolutely said "I told you so."
There was no artwork on the walls, but at regular intervals throughout the corridors, there were enormous marble statues. Ornate depictions of pegasi, warriors fresh from victory, and wreathed fertility goddesses sprinkled the corridors. High Fae females with their legs spread and breasts hanging out, nipples peaked and swollen, Elain could hardly believe her eyes. Finally, nearing the end of the hall, a pair of winged fae, not unlike the Perygryn Feyre had described, wreathed the opening to the back courtyard where Helion's staff were busy setting up for the evening's festivities.
They arrived at her rooms shortly after and Elain was pleased to see the spacious chamber outfitted with a large bed in the center and an assortment of floral arrangements, a dresser, vanity, and sitting area sprinkled throughout the room. The ceiling was mercifully painted in florals and her view overlooked what seemed to be Helion's personal pegasi pasture beyond an aquamarine river.
"I guess Rhysand told them you enjoy flowers," Nesta said with a glance around the room, her eyes resting on the ceiling. "The Day Court certainly likes their marble. Patras must have extensive quarries beyond this valley."
Patras was the Velaris of the Day Court Elain had been informed.
Apparently Helion had used vast stores of magic to restore the architecture after Aramantha's cronies had sacked the city, spending half the crown jewels on artists to restore the murals and landscapers to fix the gardens. Day was one of the most established courts in Prythian, with Helion at the helm for centuries, and it was clear the city had benefitted from his taste for the finer things.
Lynnea had informed the ladies that Patras traded primarily in precious metals, exotic fruits, and wines, and had a heavy hand in spices, books, and all manner of finery. Elain wondered if the silks from her and her sisters' gowns could be sourced from Day, as it seemed they had no shortage of the textile, if the magnificent curtains flowing throughout the palace were any indication.
Nesta leaned back onto the luxurious bed, sighing to herself. "I should take Cassian to Patras sometime for a vacation. Seems like a good place to have fun. Maybe I could even request a room with one of those... spicy ceilings."
Elain laughed as Feyre groaned, throwing a pillow at Nesta before they all tumbled down onto the bed together, giggling and shoving each other around.
"I think this place will be good for you Elain." Feyre breathed quietly when the hysterical laughing had ebbed, laying her hand on Elain's for a warm squeeze.
Nesta reached over at the same moment as Feyre, grabbing Elain's other hand and squeezing. She smiled up at the floral mural, turning to face her sisters one at a time.
"Yes. I think so too." She said, quietly adding in a whisper more to herself than to them. "There are no shadows in Day."
A dark glimmer clouded Nesta's eyes at Elain's remark, but before she could offer a reply, the younger sister reached above her head, grabbing another pillow and launched it at her elder sister's face.
"You really want to learn how strong a Valkyrie is flower girl?" Nesta laughed, launching at Elain as Feyre tumbled into the fray as well, giggling and hitting Nesta with a pillow until they were all covered in feathers.
ﾟ☆: *.☽ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ☽ .* :☆ﾟ
Azriel's flight along the coast had helped him center his mind, but it did not prevent disturbing images of a red-haired fox curled around Elain, sniffing her neck and offering her a bouquet of flowers as she looked up into his golden eye.
He shuddered, and with precision, threw the knife in his hand, which found its target directly in the eye of the mannequin.
"Nice shot!"
Azriel whirled around to see Gwyn, his shadows failing to announce her arrival.
"Working through something?" She grinned at him.
"Actually, yes." He said, walking towards the mannequin and gracefully removing the dagger, before whirling around to face her. "I just discovered that you pawned my Solstice gift off in a game of poker."
A look of confusion crossed Gwyn's face, her teal eyes squinting before her entire face released into a laugh.
"That was you??" She chuckled again. "I know we're friends Az, but a rose? Come on. I thought you knew me better than that."
He smiled slightly. "You may or may not have been the intended owner." He looked up at her sheepishly, his shadows swirling, curiously peeking over his shoulders at the Valkyrie.
"How could you!" Gwyn keeled over, clutching her abdomen as if she had been stabbed, stumbling to the side. "You were supposed to be the love of my life! How will I ever move on!?" She dramatically threw her arms to the sky, letting out a belabored wail.
"Alright, I get it, I get it," Azriel laughed, sheathing his dagger.
She ceased her theatrics, smiling over at him easily and making her way towards the sparring ring.
"I've gotten a lot better, so if you need to work through your EMOTIONAL ISSUES," she rolled her eyes, "let's have a go at it." She cocked her head at him, grinning wickedly.
He couldn't help himself. He needed a friend. And he sure as hells needed a sparring partner right now.
Azriel unsheathed his sword and sauntered over, facing Gwyn in the ring.