Bathing hurt. Aurora wasn't aware of the sensitivity of her skin as she lowered into the hot water, as she ran soap along her arms and legs. Her hair was far too matted to clean entirely, so she just soaked it within the suds. She wasn't sure how long she had been there, but the water never ran cold.
"Aurora?" Feyre knocked at the door, creaking it open. Aurora brought her knees to her chest, looking over her shoulder at the female. "I brought you some Night Court attire. Whenever you're finished, there is soup and bread in the dining room." Aurora mouth a response, unsure if the words had made it to the High Lady before she closed the door.
She stood, looking down at her body. It was as clean as it had been before she was brought to the basement. It somehow seemed cleaner. She climbed from the tub, gasping when the murky water began to drain. It was as if the tub knew she had climbed out. Aurora grabbed a towel, sighing at the soft material as she dried her skin.
The clothes Feyre had placed by the door were made is silk, pants and a shirt. Aurora had never worn pants, never allowed as a child and certainly not when she made her own clothes out of rags in the basement. She pulled them on, cringing at the sight of her midriff showing. She'd have to tell Feyre that the clothes were too small.
Her hair was still dripping as she opened the door and padded back to the area she had spotted a table. Feyre was sat at the table, a half empty bowl in front of her as her face twisted. It looked as if she was having an argument in her mind. When she noticed Aurora walking in, she straightened and gave her a smile.
"You look nice, the Night Court attire suits you," Feyre spoke, dipping her head. Aurora glanced down at her midriff.
"Are these not too small? My stomach is bare," Aurora whispered, too afraid that if she spoke any louder, her vocal cords would snap.
"That is the style of clothing here, but I can get you a gown if you're more comfortable in that." Aurora shook her head as she sat across the table. The smell of the soup filled her nose and her hands closed into fists. She had been promised safety, but are they honest? Her eyes flicked to Feyre, who held the bowl in one hand as she spoon fed herself. Aurora's mouth watered.
If poison laid within the soup, it was a risk she was willing to take. Aurora dug into the meal, tearing into the bread and nearly drinking the soup straight of the bowl. Feyre watched her carefully, placing her hand down in front of Aurora.
"Careful. Your body isn't used to meals, eat slowly or you will be sick."
Aurora lowered the bowl to the table, nodding slowly. She copied the High Lady's movements, slowly spooning the soup to her mouth. When the bowl was empty, Aurora held her stomach, which had ballooned with how full she was. Feyre sent her a smile, and the bowls were gone. Magic. Aurora almost forgot about magic.
"Mor will be joining us soon, I have matters to attend to. Are you comfortable with her spending time with you?"
Aurora nodded as she sipped her water. Mor had been the female to bring her from the basement. She had no problem with Mor being around her. Feyre gave her another smile and stood, walking off to some part of the home that Aurora couldn't see. Being alone, the feeling of being watched settled onto Aurora. Her eyes drifted from corner to corner, twitching when she saw a familiar shadow. Had it followed her from the basement? It was the faintest figure of a male, but the tendrils seemed to drift in and out of shape.
"Feyre, I'm here!" Aurora snapped her head to an area near a couch, a stunning woman with golden hair stepped into view. Mor. Aurora slowly glanced back at the corner, the shadows gone. Her eyes moved back to meet Mor's, the female grinning widely.
"Look at you! Absolutely beautiful, Aurora. Come, I'll brush your hair," Mor waved her to the couch. Aurora stood, stomach aching with fullness as she padded the couch couch and sat. It was incredibly comfortable, cushioned and soft. Mor climbed behind her, bringing the loose stands behind her back.
"I'll be back, see you," Feyre called, waving to them before she disappeared in shadows. Aurora cringed, but relaxed when Mor began running a brush through the ends of her hair. It was long enough for her to grab it at the middle and keep the pressure from her scalp. They sat in silence for a while, Aurora wincing every so often. Mor couldn't get the entire matting out of her hair, but braided the end when it became too painful.
"Feyre updated me on what you told her. I am friends with Viviane, Lady of the Winter Court. I was visiting last week when I was told she had overheard court members in the market. Speaking about a woman hidden beneath the training fields for the soldiers. They spoke of someone being killed for teaching you of our world, of soldiers being punished by having to bring you food every so often. What else did those soldiers do to you, Aurora? And please, understand that I have experienced the Hell of males, as have the priestesses below in the library. You're not alone, you can tell me," Mor pushed, her voice soft but strong. Aurora didn't understand how she could speak like that. She could see how honest Mor was being through her eyes, the pain and despair hidden within.
"They'd take their anger out on me. They'd force themselves onto me, and I couldn't fight back often. They didn't feed me well enough for me to keep my strength throughout the years. I'd been used by many, beaten, they'd practice swordplay on me and never let me heal before slicing in again," Aurora whispered, staring at her hands. Telling another female of her past was soothing, such as taking that bath. It felt like she was being cleaned again. Mor placed a hand on her shoulder, pulling the female into her side.
"I've been under the mercy of males before too. I got my strength back, and I became a terror rained upon them. They fear me now, no matter the feelings I get when I see them. They know they can no longer touch me. I would like to help you get to that point, Aurora," Mor muttered against her hair.
"That's what got me in the situation. My brother was favored because he was the true son of my father. He could wield a sword better than any before he reached maturity. He practiced on me, terrorized me. I wanted to grow strong to fight back. I would steal his battered swords and watch the soldiers from the hill, teaching myself to fight like them. Everyday for a decade. I was forced into a marriage, not for desire but the lust to grow higher in the ranks. My husband did not treat me well, he would hurt me just like those soldiers did, in every way. I was caught three years later and brought to the basement," Aurora explained, breathing out heavily when she reached her final word.
"We have female warriors. My family is made of the most skilled soldiers in the Night Court. Our High Lord, he is half Illyrian, and he has two Illyrians brothers that are the most feared throughout courts. They aren't his blood brothers, but they are his brothers nonetheless. Feyre is Made of the seven High Lord's power, and her sisters were Made by the Cauldron. Please, let me get you into training with them. At least meet them," Mor pleaded, sitting back from Aurora.
Brothers, males. Aurora hated males. They sound terrifying, though the High Lord did not treat her poorly.
"Think about it. I'd like to invite the one who helped save you, at least. He is our spymaster, our Shadowsinger. He watched for you when I told him what I had learned. He had told me where you were, when the right time to come was. He was the one who warned us of your fear of males. I'd like for you to meet him. For now, you get some rest and think about it."
Shadowsinger, darkness. Was he the shadows that reached for her from the corners? The shadows she saw just before Mor had arrived? Aurora just stood silently and followed Mor to a bedroom. Candlelight filled it, bright enough for her to relax. Mor had left her in silence, Aurora buried in the sheets. Her eyes were on the corner, where shadows seemed to dance.
She didn't know when she had fallen asleep, but Aurora awoke to sunlight pouring in. Her eyes widened and she sat up quickly, staring out the large window that stretched to each end of the wall. Absolutely beautiful. She hadn't seen the daylight in all it's glory for centuries, and here it was. Light called to her, held her. It was warm, the air and the sky. Mountains surrounded the shimmering town, dewdrops on trees and grass. A city spread beneath her, beneath this house.
"She senses me. Each time my shadows reach her, she's staring at them. She spoke to me," a male voice sounded from somewhere outside of the door. Aurora tensed, wide eyes on the door. His shadows. The Shadowsinger.
"Az, she's been in the dark for centuries. She is going to notice when darkness surrounds her," Mor spoke. They grew silent, her eyes snapping to the corner. There the shadows danced, reached for her. She felt a tingle on her chest, the shadows then retreating.
"She's awake." Footsteps sounded, and Aurora couldn't breathe. Her breath grew heavy as a knock sounded on the door. Golden hair peaked through the crack, and Mor slid in.
"Good morning," she smiled, stepping towards Aurora. She relaxed slightly, attempting to match Mor's smile. "There is someone I'm hoping you'll meet. He is the one who helped me reach you, and he is just out in the dining room. I will be with you the entire time. You can even hold me. Azriel will not touch you, would never hurt you. None of the males of our family would. Will you join me?" Mor held out a hand, still smiling. Aurora swallowed, eyes flicking between her hand and face.
Mor has suffered like she has, and she trusted this male. Trusted them all. If Mor felt safe, Aurora should, too. She took Mor's hand and climbed from the bed, legs wobbling from their sleeping state. Mor led Aurora to the door, widening it. Aurora's body trembled as she stepped through the threshold and into the corridor. She could feel him. His shadows, his darkness. It felt like a thousand whispers against her skin.
When they entered the dining area, a male was sat at the table. He stood when they arrived. Aurora couldn't breathe. He was tall, broad, a warrior from head to toe. Leathers strapped to his body, blue gems scattered around it. She hasn't noticed at first, but he had wings; wings that stretched above his head, fanned out behind his already large body. His face held the same silent stare that she did. Features cut sharp, the face of a seasoned soldier. His shadows though, they seemed to dance around his being, caress his cheeks, reach to her.
"I'm Azriel," he spoke in a husky voice, holding a hand to her. Aurora just stared at the hand, littered with angry scars. It wasn't ugly, the same way her own scars were pink and silver. Though, he retreated his hand at her stare. It was the first true kind gesture from a male she had seen, that's why she stared. Aurora wished she had taken his hand, because now she could sense his despair within the shadows.
"I'm Aurora," she whispered.