Holding Nyx while wandering one of Helion's elaborate outer courtyards, Elain found herself missing her gardens in Velaris ever so slightly.
The lilacs and violets... her hydrangeas. She sighed. In her enthusiasm to vacate the city, she had forgotten to arrange for anyone to care for her gardens. But then again, her sister was a High Lady. Feyre and Rhys had probably already hired a professional landscaper to care for the gardens in her absence.
Sighing again, she lowered herself into a reclining lounger, sitting Nyx between her legs, facing him toward a flower bed of foxglove and iris flowers, supporting his tummy as he wobbled around, sucking his fingers. It seemed that fae babes shared many similarities with human babies, Elain mused, smiling at the drool Nyx was accumulating on his hands.
She would miss him this summer. Perhaps she would need to invite Feyre to visit in a few months, once she felt more established with Lucien, just so she could spend more time with Nyx.
"A beautiful babe." A melodious female voice purred, drawing Elain's attention away from Nyx.
Covering her eyes from the blinding Day Court sun, Elain looked up at the tall female faerie who was standing at the end of the lounger, smiling down at Nyx. She was older, for a fae, with long dark limbs peeking out from white and golden robes, an enormous amethyst jewel decorating her forehead, glittering as brightly as the wide smile she was aiming toward Nyx.
"My nephew," Elain replied, angling the babe toward the female.
She nodded, gesturing gracefully to the surrounding courtyard. "Patras is a good place for babes to spend time while still growing. He will be bathed in sunshine and the holy magic of the city and our court."
Elain cocked her head inquisitively as the female continued.
"The High Lord of Day is Helion SpellCleaver." Her quiet voice was almost papery, as if it took strength to speak. "The weight of magic is heavy upon our city. We were once a center, a hub of incredible stores of magic in Prythian."
Elain was absorbed in the female's words, her eyes rapt with interest.
"It is why the Pegasi still remain with us, and only us." She gestured then toward the palace, nodding her head with care, as if it took great strength to perform the movement. "The Night Court's power resides with her High Lord. But Day? The magic of Day rests within her very being: the sands. The river. Patras was a very holy city of Prythian back when the early fae roamed our courts."
"Are there more... magically attuned fae here? More than elsewhere in other courts?" Elain asked.
"Yes, and no. Every court has its share of magic. However, Day is the one most accomplished in.. accounting for the magic. Studying it. Teaching. Our scholars have attempted to catalog magic throughout the centuries in our libraries, but we also have less.. official methods. "
Elain cocked a brow.
"Witches. Witches and warlocks... lay fae and magical creatures. They tune their magic to the flow of the river and the bones of the ones before us."
Elain nodded.
"You are a Made-Fae." The remark was more of a statement than a question, but Elain nodded somberly again.
"My name is Sandrielle. I am a High Priestess here in Patras." The older female moved towards her slowly, bowing her head in reverence.
Elain smiled warmly at the female, ducking her head as well. "I am Elain Archeron. We are staying in your court for the summer season so that I may court my mate." Her voice caught on the word, stumbling with awkward emotion.
"The bond has not settled naturally?" Sandrielle asked gently, lowering herself onto the lounger by Elain's feet, her eyes warm with gentle questioning.
"Not exactly," Elaine admitted. "I was betrothed when he claimed me. It felt sudden and unexpected, and I had also just been kidnapped and assaulted... sometimes I think I may associate him with the loss of my human life."
She didn't know why she was being so honest with this female, but she felt comfortable.
Sandrielle shook her head in sorrow. "My, my, my. Kidnapped, transformed, and claimed all on the same day. You poor child."
Elain blushed, looking down at Nyx's dark curls, unsure of what to say to the incredibly kind female.
But Sandrielle continued speaking, her quiet voice carrying over the flowers beside the pair. "Mates are rare. But for three Made-Fae... I can see why the Cauldron has mated you all. Powerful Made Fa e." She nodded approvingly.
"But, truthfully... I don't feel powerful," Elain remarked, unable to stop the honesty from popping out. "My sisters... well my younger can wield the power of all seven Courts. She is a High Lady . And my elder sister... she defeated death itself... she's even created a magical trove of Made weapons. Some even believe her to be a goddess of Death."
Sandrielle's eyes softened, her hand drawing toward Elain's, clasping it gently.
"Oh, but I can sense your power my dear. I have a knack for these things. It is pouring from these hands of yours." She set her shoulders back slightly as she continued speaking. "Your elder sister has made a Magical Trove and your younger sister has made a powerful whelp. Have you not put your hand to creating anything since being Made my dear?"
Elain scoffed, laughing gently, recalling Rhys' joke from the previous evening: that she would become so emotional over burnt bread that she would winnow herself to her bedroom to cry about it.
Frowning, she raised her eyes to Sandrielle. "I bake and garden, but those are hardly.." her voice trailed off, embarrassment lacing her words.
But it was to her surprise, that the Priestess beamed toward Elain. "So you have Made. And tell me child: these flowers that you grow... do they grow lovelier here in Prythian than they did when you were a human?"
Elain pondered the question earnestly. Her flowers at the decrepit cottage had never been remarkable, but that was because the poor things were surviving in such bleak conditions. The estate gardens on the other hand were beautiful and lush, though truthfully, nothing compared to her gardens in Velaris. But Velaris had perfect weather year-round, and Rhys was their master... surely those flowers were enchanted or something.
"My flowers do seem to grow better here in Prythian, but that is because they are fae flowers."
Sandrielle smiled again at Elain, putting her hands on her knees, rising with a creaking knee into a standing position. The gowns of silk slid off the lounger to pool around her feet.
Raising her face to the warm afternoon sun, the older female closed her eyes. "There is no such thing as fae flowers my dear child. A flower in Prythian is the same as a flower in the human realm. If your flowers are lovelier, it is because of your power."
Stunned into silence, Elain gaped at the priestess.
"I am always available for consultation, or even companionship during your time here in Patras. I have a temple connected to this palace and would love to talk with you more about these things if you so desire."
Elain felt a beaming smile wash over her face.
"Thank you Sandrielle." Her voice quieted. "No one has ever noticed any gifts in me, other than when I was spouting nonsense which turned out to be visions. I guess I am a Seer?"
"A Seer. I have only met one other in my lifetime."
Running a hand along Nyx's delicate wing, Elain surveyed Sandrielle. "And how long has that lifetime been?"
"One thousand and thirty-seven years."
Elain's eyes widened, and the Priestess' eyes crinkled in laughter. "Again, it was lovely to meet you child. Please consider stopping by my temple. I'd like to see you again. I am always fascinated to acquaint myself with new friends, especially a Made-Fae such as yourself."
And with that, Sandrielle bowed her head slightly, turning and sauntering off slowly through the courtyard, leaving Elain to her thoughts which were now flowing and swirling, sparkling in her mind as she watched the female disappear around the corner of the extensive gardens.
" Powerful Made-Fae" Elaine repeated the words, taking Nyx up into her arms and leaning back into the lounger.
And although she couldn't be positive, Elain felt as though the plants and flowers around her were leaning in, sensing her presence, dancing, and whispering toward her.
She smiled.
ﾟ☆: *.☽ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ☽ .* :☆ﾟ
The riverboat party was only slightly more casual than the enormous celebration from the previous evening.
Helion had his prized water vessel floating in the center of his courtyard, the massive boat almost the length of an entire throne room. It was floating, docked in a reflecting pool that flowed into the main river, descending from the palace and into Patras. The boat was constructed of golden flecked cedar, carved elegantly with depictions of palm branches and mermaids, the incredibly tall sails towering above the courtyard embroidered sun and star constellations. Servants circled large lounging areas throughout the boat, distributing trays of delicacies and drink as an orchestral ensemble harmonized to the beat of a singular drum at the bow of the boat. The sun had begun to set as the three winged males approached the elaborate scene, their own appearance equally dramatic.
Rhys had decided to indulge Helion.
Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys were all draped in the Day Court fashion, a pectoral muscle peeking out from one side of gathered white fabric draped artfully around their wings. Day Court attendants had greeted them in their rooms earlier, artfully tying and braiding gold rope and chains to fasten the loose fabric to their bodies, exposing their tanned muscled legs. Gold bracelets clanged on their wrists, cuffing their arms, and Azriel had allowed the nymphs to attach gold earrings to his lobes.
They approached the party from an archway just as the Archeron sisters arrived on the opposite end of the courtyard, the sun haloing their hair as they stepped out from a curtained archway in perfect unison.
Azriel felt his brothers' breath catch as they spotted their mates, Feyre leading the sisters forward, her and Nesta adorned in Day Court robes, plunging necklines exposing their skin down to the navel with a slit up both sides of their skirts. He knew that Rhys and Cassian wouldn't be able to keep their hands off the females for the rest of the night. But it was when his eyes fell on Elain, following behind Feyre's left shoulder, that Azriel felt he had died and gone to the gods.
Elain was a vision.
She wore a gown of silky peach material which plunged to her navel, exposing her delicate figure. Her breasts were loose in the gown, draped with the fabric and bouncing as she stepped toward the boat. Her hair fell over her shoulders, loosely held away from her face by a golden cord, a long slit running up the side of her gown exposing the sumptuous thigh that Azriel had his hand wrapped around less than twenty-four hours earlier.
Mother save him.
Drawing up a mask of aloof indifference, Azriel joined his brothers in greeting the sisters, noticing that Elain seemed to be avoiding his gaze as much as he was avoiding hers. He couldn't help as his eyes began to draw toward her face, down her creamy neck, and toward her chest, her belly button exposed beneath.
Fuck.
Before his scent even had time to shift, Azriel excused himself from the polite greetings and boarded the ship, heading for a lounging circle in the center of the boat, his shadows drawn up, masking his emotion and hopefully... his scent. He grabbed a glass of dark liquid waiting on a nearby tray, and downed it, plopping down on the sumptuous cushion, leaning back into the silk.
With Elain looking like a gods-damned goddess, this was going to be a long night.
He suddenly felt grateful that they would be departing in the morning. Because the torture Azriel was experiencing these past two nights felt worse than anything he had ever inflicted upon even the worst of beasts.
But it could always get worse, Azriel realized suddenly, as he leaned back into the cushion, noticing Lucien appearing through the archway on the far end of the courtyard and taking sight of Elain. The fox strode toward her, and with her back to the boat, Azriel was able to get a full view of the princeling's face as he neared his mate, no doubt coming to the same revelation about Elain's gorgeous navel that Azriel had.
Hot and wild jealousy flared up within his gut, seeing Lucien's eye drag over her, no doubt pulling on the bond between them, trying to make her warm to him. He felt like he was going to be sick. Or violent. Or violently sick. It was all he could do to mentally chain himself to the cushion, forcing the mask of indifference to stay on his face, reaching deep within his wells of self-control to not start a Blood Duel right here on this damned boat.
Elain accepted Lucien's hand, allowing him to lead her onto the boat, and up toward a private lounging area near the stern that Helion must have set up for the mates. So the visit to the Pegasi must have been successful he mused. She certainly seemed comfortable with the fox. And though Azriel wanted to ruminate in his jealous bitterness, he found her happiness with the fox oddly comforting, ushering in a sense of peace. Because if Elain was happy, he could be happy.
Caught in his reverie, Azriel barely noticed Nesta settle in next to him, grabbing a glass of whiskey and casting a glance toward Elain and Lucien.
"For what it's worth," she whispered... "I told her to give the cauldron the finger."
He stifled a smile, sipping his drink, and turned toward her.
"Sorry that you had to witness..." His voice trailed off.
"The alcove?" Nesta chuckled quietly. "I'll consider it payback for the time you walked in on me and Cassian in the dining room at the House of Wind."
Azriel laughed, recalling the memory with unfortunate clarity. Cassian and Nesta had just begun exploring their bond during her time at the House of Wind, and Azriel had been the unsuccessful chaperone.
"How did it feel," Azriel turned toward her, "before you had accepted Cassian as your mate. When you were human even. Did you.."
The question trailed off into the warm Patras night. Drum beats pounded rhythmically, flames from the torches casting an unearthly glow on the faces of his friends as the boat took its leave from the courtyard. Nesta seemed to ponder for a moment before answering honestly.
"I think I wanted to fight the draw because I did not want to let myself be vulnerable." Her gaze shifted toward Cassian. "But even as a human, there was no denying a ... connection to him. And it went beyond physical attraction, especially after becoming fae. When the Cauldron was rallying to strike the Illyrians during the battle with Hybern, I remember feeling like my soul was being extracted from my body. The idea of Cassian falling... it was unbearable. Agony."
She shuddered. Azriel cleared his throat before he spoke again, his voice barely audible above a whisper. "And Feyre? Did her love for Tamlin end because she had met Rhys? Or was it because Tamlin was not worthy of her?"
The question hung in the air.
Nesta reached toward Azriel, squeezing his knee as she answered softly "Tamlin is not a worthy comparison to our Shadowsinger."