Whirling around, Elain watched in stilted horror as Lucien crossed to the edge of the dance floor, heading straight for the human woman, her red hair framing her face, eyes already dancing as she broke into a beaming grin, throwing her arms out to the sides as Lucien barreled toward her. He gathered Vassa into a bear hug, lifting her from the ground, sending her blue silk skirts twirling like flower petals as she shrieked with laughter, her head tossed back and eyes closed with joy.
Pain and envy began to flare deep within Elain's gut as she stood, frozen in the middle of the dance floor, watching the scene unfold before her, the swaying and laughing fae around her wholly unaware of her humiliation.
But, Elain realized that it wasn't envy toward the way Vassa was embracing her mate, or even for how he was touching her skin. It was purely for the acceptance: the idea of a male striding toward her, gathering her into a hug, laughing and twirling in happiness. She realized bitterly that she would do anything to experience that sensation.
But instead of being twirled by her mate, here she was, standing alone on Calanmai, her body practically naked, rejected in front of the entire court of Patras.
She felt like a fool.
A Cauldron-damned fool.
Elain dropped her face to the marble floor, her shoes still sparkling in the torchlight, to take a step toward the edge of the dance floor, willing her body to move, willing it to release her from this trapped existence of embarrassment. But just as she had taken the first step, she heard a star-speckled voice from behind her.
"May I have this dance?"
Elain raised her head, stunned to see her brother-in-law offering his hand, his palm raised toward the ceiling and dark head bowing slightly. "Rhys?" Elain blinked up at him, confusion knitting her brows.
Taking her hand, the High Lord gracefully guided her through the choreography, holding her close as the orchestra shifted the rhythm, smiling charmingly as they grazed past the other dancing fae. "Feyre thought that a month away from you was a month too long my dear."
Elain smiled weakly, gratefully falling into step with Rhys, allowing him to spin and move her in step with the overwhelming music, her mind drifting to the humiliation she had just narrowly avoided and the couple on the edge of the dance floor. Her hair swished, long and heavy on her back as she twirled, her mind forcing a resentful thought to the forefront, burying deep and wiley into her soul.
She must be the first female in Prythian history to fail to seduce her mate.
Her Cauldron-given mate.
Maybe it was because she wasn't fae enough: like her mate knew deep down that she was a fraud of a fae... a human woman in a fae body.
But then again, her thoughts flashed bitterly, anger coursing through her tensed shoulders as Rhysand gripped her hand, tossing her into a dip; it didn't seem to matter to Lucien if the female he was twirling was human or faerie... just that she was anyone other than Elain.
"You look stunning by the way. It seems you have come into your own in Patras." Rhys broke through her thoughts and she offered him another weak smile, unsure if she would begin crying hysterically if she but opened her mouth to reply. "And I'm sure your mate can't take his eyes off you," the High Lord finished, beaming at her.
Snapping her head up toward her brother-in-law, she felt the rooted rage narrow in on his handsome grin, a sneer absorbing her lips. "I beg to differ. I think my mate only has eyes for females of the human variety."
"Ah." Rhys seemed unable to form a reply, his eyes casting a glance toward Vassa and Lucien, who had now taken a seat on a nearby settee, throwing their hands around in animated storytelling.
"Is that not why you're here brother?" Elain stared up at Rhys, her resolve to be ladylike or kind, or whatever the hells everyone wanted her to be suddenly falling away. "Are you not here, spinning me around this damned Calanmai dance floor, to save me from the public humiliation and disgrace of being abandoned by my mate?"
Rhys swallowed, looking back toward Elain's hard stare. "Feyre and I had many complicated times when we—"
"I am NOT FEYRE." Elain spat out, stopping the dance, and wrenching her hand from his grasp.
"I only meant—" Rhys continued to speak, his eyes wide with concern, but Elain was not listening.
She turned on her golden high heel, marching toward the edge of the dance floor and grabbing a glass of champagne as she passed an attendant, setting her eyes upon one of the arched columns leading into the corridor of Helion's palace and away from the party.
ﾟ☆: *.☽ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ☽ .* :☆ﾟ
That damned fool.
That dragon-fucking fool.
Azriel felt his shadows fuming around him, rage seething from his body as he watched the princeling twirl Vassa, laughing and idiotic and completely selfishly oblivious to the knife he had just wrenched through Elain's gut.
The Shadowsinger had half a mind to winnow directly behind the fox and snap his neck.
Snarling, he watched as Rhysand took Elain into his arms, gracefully leading her through the rest of the choreography. Nesta and Feyre were dancing nearby with Cassian and Jurrian, seemingly oblivious to the drama that had just unfolded. It felt like a minor victory, that she had been spared the public humiliation Lucien had exposed her to, but it did not quell the rage he felt coursing through his body.
Azriel watched as Rhys began speaking to Elain while they danced, her hand reaching down, seemingly trying to close one of the slits climbing up her thigh. She was panicked, he realized, but soon her anxiety transferred to anger as she stopped the dance with Rhys, ripping her hand from his and storming toward a columned archway, snatching a glass of champagne.
Stunned by her outburst, Rhys froze momentarily before his eyes shot toward Azriel.
The Shadowsinger winnowed to his High Lord's side, a question on his eyes.
"I don't know what I said to upset her, but..." Rhys took his hand to his forehead, worry knotting his brows. "Lucien and Vassa..."
"I think this past month has not been as successful as we assumed," Azriel spoke quietly, his eyes staring after Elain as she burst through the curtained archway, downing the champagne.
"I didn't know that she would—" Rhys' sentence broke off, unable to form a coherent thought.
"I'm going to go after her. I know your orders, but—" Azriel's voice dropped off.
"No, yes, I mean. That's not important right now. This is different. Elain is family. At least send a shadow after her." Rhys' voice sounded defeated as Azriel nodded solemnly, the High Lord turning and heading to the edge of the dance floor toward Lucien and Vassa, wending through the fae bodies in various states of nudity.
Azriel winnowed to the archway he had seen Elain disappear through, thanking the stars he had won the race to Patras.
ﾟ☆: *.☽ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ☽ .* :☆ﾟ
Elain squinted into the sunset, willing the tears back down, pulling her hair around her shoulders and folding her arms in front of her. She had burst through the corridor to the other side of the palace, catching the last bit of sun as it lowered over the horizon.
She felt overwhelmed with shame.
Embarrassment.
And hot anger.
Hunching forward, curling her chest toward herself, she lowered her arms over her bare stomach, making herself small.
This was all wrong.
Or maybe she was what was wrong.
She was too quiet. Too quiet and too boring for even a male, MATED TO HER, no less, to care for. Or appreciate. Even when she offered herself up on a damned platter, he still overlooked her.
Reaching down, she began pulling at the ribbons on her thigh in a futile motion, tugging at the golden material, determined to free herself from the ridiculous shoes. She hadn't tried to seduce Lucien because she was particularly needy for his tongue down her throat or hands on her back. She just wanted the confirmation: that the cauldron had known what was best. That she was desirable.
She dropped to the marble, giving up on the ribbon, hugging her knees to her chest, the material from her skirt resting between her legs, her thighs completely exposed. She let out an exasperated sigh, the champagne hitting her as the anger reverberated through her body. She just wished it could be different. That she could be different. Like Feyre, or Nesta. That she could either get with the program and fall in love with this idiot, or stop caring about love altogether.
Huffing again, she yanked at the ribbon, finally freeing her thighs from their grasp, untangling her legs and tossing the slippers away from her. She rose to her feet and sauntered forward, noticing one of Helion's deep rivers cutting through the secluded garden, the sun almost completely set. Elain approached the edge of the water, dipping her toes in and allowing the icy sensation to calm her nerves.
Maybe that was what she needed to do.
She just needed to empty herself of the desire to love and be loved: maybe set her sights on a different goal.
She could accept this bond the way human women from the continent accepted arranged marriages. Maybe she should focus on being a mother instead. Wasn't that what the damned bond was all about? Powerful fae offspring? Maybe that's all she was good for. Making non-winged babies and riding off into the sunset on a damned horse she hated with a mate she didn't even want to kiss.
Taking a step further into the river, she felt the water creep up her ankles, drawing her into a kind of trance. It was as if the water was beckoning to her, calling her home. Mesmerized, she watched the rippling current, sparkling and swirling, almost as if it was singing to her.
The pain of the day began to pule in her temple as she stared at the rushing water, her ankles numb to the cold as she felt her vision become blurred with tears. She strode forward, the water lapping up to her knees, and then to her thighs, stepping across the pebbles until it was to her hips, then her navel, and then the water passed her chest and then her shoulders, causing her to nearly convulse from the frigid temperature.
But it felt right.
Like she was answering a call; responding to something outside herself.
Something ancient and spiritual, crying out to her.
She stared then, at teh water, just beyond her nose, sparkling and lapping against her, beckoning her forward–calling to her.
And without another thought, Elain dropped below the water, dousing her hair, her face, and her silly gold-flecked skin into the depths of the river, letting her body sink, her arms and legs in stasis, frozen with the chill.
Opening her eyes briefly, Elain searched for the bottom of the river. But upon glancing down, it was not the depths of the water that caught her eye, but the golden powder from her skin, now floating away from her arms and fingers into the black water around her. She watched, mesmerized by the sparkling golden substance as it began illuminating brighter and brighter until it was sparkling all around her entire body. And at that moment, Elain realized that it was not the powder from the wraiths at all... it was her.
It was Elain! Her fingers... her skin... she was shooting out golden light all around herself, her body absolutely enveloped in it.
Startled by the realization, she began to thrash in the water, writhing and struggling to push off the sandy bottom as her vision blinded completely, golden light shooting throughout the surrounding darkness, lighting the depths of the river as an onslaught of images attacked her eyes.
Flashing red hair. Pegasi. A beast roaring in the forest. Grayson's fortress. The Cauldron. Fae screaming. Wings bound into tethers. Violence, blood, and gore. The visions cycled through her mind, repeating and worsening with every round until she could sense her face cresting through the surface of the water, reaching the top of the river. And just as she felt the cold air hit the top of her scalp, Elain's remaining senses vanished completely as she saw a tall being rising out of a lake, staring directly into her eyes, opening its mouth, and addressing her directly with a cold snarl.
" Why hello my little Made-fae. Aren't you stunning? My, my, my. Daughter of the cauldron, once a human, now a female. And the most beautiful female I've laid eyes on in my twenty thousand years. " Its arms reached toward her, claws outstretched, as Elain let out a scream, only to feel the murky water from the river flood her mouth, choking her cries.
Swallowing the river water, Elain thrashed and struggled, helplessly screaming into the void. The water was filling her lungs, burning the oxygen from her chest, her nostrils stinging, light still flaring from her fingertips. It was like the Cauldron, but a hundred times worse because this was real water and she was dying in a very real way: every scream only brought more water into her chest, and she realized that no one would hear her. No one would come to save her from this oblivion.
This was it.
This was how she was going to die.