Important Information: I'm adding another OC, Evelina, into this story. Her backstory is called Stargirl, also on my account. If you don't want to read it, you don't have to. She is Rhysand's twin sister, and Azriel's mate. She has three children. (Not all of them are Azriel's)
The events of the first book will be rushed because I know you guys care more about ACOMAF-ACOSF
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"This is so exciting!" I gushed, pacing the dining room.
Lately, the sensation of excitement had become unfamiliar to me, a rarity I hadn't experienced in nearly half a century.
"Don't get your hopes up," Tamlin warned me with a deep sigh.
"All you have to do is make her fall in love with you," I beamed. Lucien groaned and rolled his russet eye. "And then we're all free! I can go home!"
Nearly five decades had passed since that fateful night at the masquerade with Rhys, when I had the misfortune of crossing Amarantha by voicing my distain for her.
Her retribution was swift and cruel; she exiled me to the Spring Court for a century, fully aware of my distain for Tamlin.
Not content with mere banishment, she stripped me of my cherished ability to fly. My once-majestic wings had been reduced to a burden.
My head snapped towards the large oak doors as they creaked open. The girl that stepped inside was younger--more fragile than I expected. I hadn't come across very many humans in my lifetime.
Her freckled face was pretty enough, though gaunt. Likely the result of starvation, if her malnourished body was an indicator. Her golden brown hair was thin and lifeless, hanging limply down her shoulders.
She wore Spring Court attire, though she seemed to have opted for a tunic and pants, which was unusual for Spring. It was still quite traditional here, though not as much as Illyria or the Autumn Court.
"Feyre!" I greeted her, standing up with a smile on my face. "It's so nice to meet you. I'm Astraea!"
The girl's gaze locked onto mine, her blue eyes brimming with wonder as she took in my wings. It dawned on me that she had never encountered an Illyrian before. I reclaimed my seat, masking my discomfort with a chuckle that resonated lightly through the air.
"Astraea lives in the manor, so if you ever need anything, talk to her," Tamlin told Feyre, his voice gruff. Not quite the right way to go about making a girl fall in love with you. She nodded hesitantly and sat down.
Tamlin allowed me to live in the manor purely out of guilt for selling out and helping slaughter Iridessa and Angelina. Iridessa had been more of a mother to me than my own, and Angelina had just been a little girl. Neither of us discuss the matter, but we didn't get along, either. I would pretend--for Feyre's sake.
"You're not wearing a mask," she observed, eyes narrowed as she studied me.
"I'm from another court," I explained, leaving it there. I did not want to discuss it further.
I got caught up in a conversation with Lucien and Tamlin. While we had been rivals when my exile began, my vocal opposition to Amarantha had earned their wary trust.
Despite my disdain for Tamlin, I tolerated him for my own good. His volatile temper was a force to be reckoned with, and I had no desire to become its next target.
Lucien was much easier to get along with. Besides, he was quite close with Evelina--my brother's mate, and Rhysand's sister. If she trusted him, I did, too.
"Were you admiring my sword?" Lucien asked, paying attention to Feyre for the first time. "Or just contemplating killing me, Feyre?"
"Of course not," Feyre insisted, her cheeks flushed. He grinned and I rolled my eyes and took a bite of my lunch.
"Feyre likes to hunt," Tamlin chimed in.
I arched an eyebrow and turned towards her, my expression one of keen interest. I believed that an amiable approach might hasten her acclimation to her new surroundings. Moreover, it could help blossom affection for Tamlin.
"I don't like to hunt. I hunted out of necessity. And how did you know that?"
"Why else were you in the woods that day? You had a bow and arrows in your house. When I saw your father's hands, I knew he wasn't the one using them. You told him about the rations and the pelts. Faeries might be many things, but we're not stupid. Unless your ridiculous legends claim that about us, too."
"How old are you, anyway?" Lucien wondered, clearing his throat.
"Nineteen."
"So young and so grave," Lucien tsked. "And a skilled killer already."
"Lucien," I warned. Talking down to her would only alienate her more, and then she was never going to break the curse.
"So is this what you do with your lives?" she wondered. "Spare humans from the Treaty and have fine meals?"
"We also dance with the spirits under the full moon and snatch human babes from their cradles to replace them with changelings--"
"Didn't," Tamlin cut him off. "Didn't your mother tell you about us?"
"My mother didn't have time to tell me stories."
"How did she die?" Tamlin wondered. She furrowed her eyebrows. "I didn't see signs of an older woman in your house."
"Typhus. When I was eight."
A trace of empathy flickered within me as I drew my lips into a tight line. She stood up from her chair, preparing to depart.
"Feyre," Tamlin said. She paused and turned to him. "I'm sorry for your loss."
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The following evening found me in a significantly more dispirited state. Tamlin had a point. Perhaps it was unwise to have set my expectations soaring so ambitiously.
"We went on a hunt today," Lucien informed us.
"I heard," Tamlin said coarsely.
"How was it?" I wondered, still trying to be polite in spite of myself. I hadn't been this desperate in many, many years. "Did you catch anything?"
"No," Lucien said, shaking his head. I cocked my head to the side, noticing the tension in the air. "Tam." Tamlin turned to him. "The Bogge was in the forest today."
A sigh of frustration escaped me as I mentally cataloged the forest among the numerous locations I ought to steer clear of. Amarantha seemed determined to ensure our discontent in this place.
"You ran into it?" Tamlin demanded. He rose to his feet. "Where in the forest?"
Lucien confided all the details to him, after which Tamlin, consumed by a tumult of emotions, stormed out of the room.
"Where is he going?" Feyre wondered, watching him leave, curiously.
"To hunt the Bogge," I answered simply.
"But Lucien said it couldn't be killed," she remembered, her eyebrows knit together. "That you have to face it."
"Tamlin can kill it," I told her, trying to explain gently.
"So he went to hunt the Bogge where we were earlier today?" she asked, turning to Lucien. He nodded.
"Feyre, why don't I take you to your room?" I offered.
An opportunity to speak with the girl had not yet presented itself. Despite her objections, I rose swiftly and assisted her to her feet.
"Is Tamlin going to be okay?" she asked as I led her down the hall. I bit back a smile. She was worried about him.
"Of course, he does this all the time."
"Astraea?" she asked timidly. I stopped walking and turned to her, giving her my full attention. "Is there any way I can get past this treaty?"
"No," I said, probably too fast. "I'm sorry."
"Are you sure?" she demanded, desperation in her eyes.
With a sigh, I gently grasped her wrist and guided her towards her room. She might have harbored a sense of desperation, but my own was considerably more profound.
She gazed at the connection between my hand and her wrist, her eyes reflecting surprise. Sensing her attention, I withdrew my hand, a flush of warmth spreading across my cheeks. One would imagine that after five centuries, the scars marking my hands would no longer be a source of self-consciousness. But it never went away.
"Stay in your room," I sighed before leaving.
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The grassy knoll on which we stopped overlooked a clearing of oaks so wide and tall that they could have been the pillars and towers of an ancient castle.
Shimmering tufts of dandelion fluff drifted by, and the floor of the clearing was carpeted with swaying crocuses and snowdrops and bluebells. It was an hour or two past noon when we arrived, but the light was thick and golden.
"We brought a blanket," Tamlin said.
Lucien sank into the soft ground, extending his legs with ease. I settled beside him, releasing a deep sigh, my gaze lifting to the expanse of the breathtaking sky above.
Among the various courts, I found solace in the fact that my exile had brought me to one to beautiful; yet, if fate had granted me a choice, I would be wandering the familiar streets of Velaris.
A curious glance flickered towards Feyre as she found her spot upon the verdant earth.
"What is this place?" Feyre wondered, still running her fingers through the grass.
"Just a glen," Tamlin replied. Lucien snorted. "Do you like it?"
"What?"
"Do you like it?" he repeated, his lips curling into a smile.
"Yes."
"That's it? 'Yes'?"
"Would you like me to grovel with gratitude for bringing me here, High Lord?" she asked. I snorted and lay back on the grass to stare at the clouds.
"Ah. The Suriel told you nothing important, did it?"
"He also said that you like being brushed, and if I'm a clever girl, I might train you with treats."
A soft chuckle escaped me, and in response, Tamlin tipped his head back, a thunderous laugh erupting from him that echoed under the sky. A gentle giggle followed from Feyre, adding a lighter note to our shared merriment.
"I might die of surprise," Lucien said behind me. "You made a joke, Feyre."
"You don't want to know what the Suriel said about you," Feyre countered.
"I'd pay good money to hear what the Suriel thinks of Lucien," Tamlin said.
"As would I," I agreed, smiling slightly.
Laughter still dancing in his eyes, Tamlin extended a hand, gently grasping Feyre's elbow to guide her gracefully to her feet.
"Come," he said, jerking his head down the hill to the small stream that ran along its base. "I want to show you something."
Lucien and I remained on the blanket, the softness beneath us. I kept to my reclined position, and he settled down beside me, prompting a sigh from my lips.
"She's warming up to him," I murmured. "I think I can get my hopes up a bit." He chuckled.
"If I were you, I'd appreciate being away from the barbarians at the Night Court," he said to me.
I pressed my lips together, holding back my words. Experience had taught me the futility of defending my court's people; my words would fall on deaf ears.
"Did you find Evelina to be barbaric?" I snipped. "Or was it your family that was barbaric to her?"
That made him shut himself down about my people.
"I cannot stay here for another fifty-one years," I confessed. "If this doesn't work, I don't know what I'll do."