Lucien needed to recover; he needed air. Fresh air, before his body went into combustion and his heart shot out of his chest and back over the threshold of that door.
Holy cauldron. He had never felt more alive than this.
Three hundred. He had been in this world for three hundred years, yet he had never felt anything so intense.
He had to run away, because he knew that the moment she touched him, the moment he no longer had the barrier of his clothes separating his body from hers… He would have taken her until she begged him to stop, until the line between hours and days became little more than a blurred confine.
Deep down, in that part of his mind that still allowed him a little control over himself, he knew that stopping was the right thing to do. If she didn't already hate him, she would definitely hate him after that, even if her body desired it almost as much as his.
But Elain didn't know what it would mean to them, to the bond, to go through with it.
He walked for a long time after leaving Elain's apartment, waiting for the bitter cold that hovered in those mountains to finally quell the fire in his veins.
He knew what he was going to do as soon as he was locked within the walls of the room where he slept. He could still taste Elain in his mouth, her sweetness. And his hands still had the feeling of Elain's soft body imprinted against them.
When it was late enough that the city had fallen asleep, he returned to the River House. There was no one there that night and he was happy to enjoy the privacy. He needed to get off some of the adrenaline running through his veins.
His hands were at the waistband of his pants as soon as the door closed behind him. He sank against it, his hands moving frantically along his cock until the first orgasm overwhelmed him.
The second was less frantic, more measured, as his mind replayed every detail he had failed to focus on the first time: the way her fingers had gripped around his hair more tightly as she came, the way she had thrown her head back and opened her lips, his name on them.
The third was in the bathtub. The heat of the water mingled with the heat of his own blood as his hands pounced on his cock for the umpteenth time, imagining what would have happened if he hadn't left. He thought about the way she would have touched him: hesitantly, gently at first. He imagined the desire in her eyes, the uncertainty and curiosity of her movements. Then he would have taken her, savoring every second of her expression as his cock sank inside her, making her his.
When he finally left the bath, satisfied for the moment, he could still smell Elain on himself as he prepared for his meeting with Rhysand. They were to discuss what was going on between Beron and the Spring Court, and he already knew that this would be the ultimatum for Tamlin. Perhaps, it would also be time to discuss what had happened last night, the problem concerning Elain that everyone seemed to be aware of.
Except for him. And her.
On the one hand, Lucien wished not to find out. He wanted to preserve this thing that united them, separating them from everyone else, for a little while longer. If Rhysand didn't speak about it, he decided, he would not be the one to bring up the subject.
He wondered if the shadowsinger would come to the meeting as well, and deep down he hoped he would, so that he would smell Elaine on him, so that he would know, or finally understand, that she was his...
It was maybe one hour after dawn when Rhysand crossed the threshold. Lucien held his posture against the big fireplace as heavy footsteps behind him announced Cassian. And then, after a few seconds, when he had stopped hoping for his arrival, he appeared.
Lucien straightened his back.
The first reaction of awareness was on Rhys's face, his general's following a moment later. They exchanged a look that was worth a thousand words, and he could not help but greet them with a smirk.
Cassian avoided meeting his gaze, standing by the door as the shadowsinger entered. Lucien caught sight of his nostrils flaring. His siphons lit up as he looked at him.
What exuded from his face was an icy rage. His shadows coiled at his feet, and the temperature of the room dropped a few degrees.Rhys took a seat in one of the armchairs in the center of the room, avoiding the glare contest between the two.
Lucien sat across from him, while the two Illyrians remained standing. The redhead was more than content to have his back to them, not failing to run a hand through his loose hair, which still smelled of her. Rhys glowered at him, but Lucien shrugged and pretended to be oblivious.
"So what's going on?" he asked, breaking that tense silence before anyone else did.
Azriel stepped forward into the room, and Cassian followed, like a guard dog. "Your father wants to attack the Spring Court."
"Well, we expected that, didn't we?"
Rhys grimaced, tightening his lips. "Tamlin can no longer refuse our help. Either he will accept it willingly, or he will be forced to do so."
"I agree with that, but it won't be easy either way."
"This is his last chance. His court needs to be strong; it occupies too ragged a position to indulge in weaknesses. We were lucky that no one has yet thought of invading it from the humans' side."
"As if humans would ever stand a chance"
Rhys's gaze hardened, telling more to him than his words did. "We must keep the peace and avoid a massacre, they too have suffered enough."
Lucien shuddered, remembering that Elain, his mate, had also been a human. Those words had left his mouth before he could think about them. They belonged to an old version of him, one he had outgrown now. "What do you want me to do?"
Rhysand leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Report this to Tamlin: by Calanmai the Spring Court must have recovered all its authority, at least in appearance. We will invite all the high lords and courts for the festivities to send a message."
Lucien cursed, well aware that another Calnmai was the last thing he needed. But he did not voice his thoughts, knowing that it would lead to no good. "All right. I'll see what I can do."
"You will go and talk to Tamlin this very morning".
"There's no such hurry." Just the idea of moving dozens of miles away from Elain caused him physical pain.
Rhysand's expression was resolute. "You can come back as soon as the situation with Tamlin is clarified. But it has to happen as soon as possible."
Darkness began to stir at the High Lord's feet, the deep blue of his eyes veering to darker shades of purple.
Lucien clenched his jaw and nodded.
"Mor is in town. You'll winnow with her."
Lucien kept his posture relaxed as he stood up. He felt his power course through his veins with a different force since last night. He had already been able to winnow here from the Spring Court when he thought Elain was calling him. Maybe with each step he took toward their bond his magic grew stronger.
Rhysand's focused gaze made him wonder if he was reading his mind at this very moment. He hoped so, so that he would stop looking at him with the pitiful glance of pain that only a mated male could understand.
He started toward the door. "You know what, Rhys? I don't think it'll be necessary anymore".
***
Azriel felt an icy rage coursing through his bones like never before. Few times in his life had he felt this way, and yet the main subject of his fury wasn't the scarred fae who had just left the room. No, it was his brother. His High Lord.
He turned Truth Teller over in his hands to calm himself, stroking the cold blade with his fingertips.
"I know it was you. You encouraged him to follow her."
Rhysand leaned back on the chair, sustaining his gaze. "Elain was upset, he would have followed her anyway."
Cassian stood in the middle between them, neither too much on one side nor the other, as if even an inch more in one direction could sanction his faction in the conflict that was about to escalate.
Rhys continued. "He had to stop and distract her. She could have used her power to find out, otherwise."
Azriel's voice was like the hiss of a snake. "There were many more ways to distract her than to throw her into his arms."
Rhys inhaled, standing up and taking a step toward him. "Elain decided of her own free will how far to go with him. No one forced her to do anything, and you know it."
His fingers tightened around the handle of the knife.
Rhys sighed. "We have to stop her from finding out the truth."
"I still believe she has the right to know". Az searched Cassian's eyes. "How did it end when we gave this treatment to Nesta? It is not up to us to decide for her."
Cassian clutched his big shoulders. "Nesta is different."
"How do you think she would react?" Rhysand took a step forward. "You saw how she suffered when she lost Greysen and her marriage. How do you think she would feel if she knew she might have lost a child as well? What benefit would she get from the truth?"
Azriel swallowed as a weight slapped his chest, constricting his lungs and preventing them from filling with air. "You wouldn't really want that, if you cared about her. You wouldn't want to keep her in the dark. We treat her like a child but she's not. She's not-''.
The words stuck in the back of Azriel's mouth. He couldn't finish the sentence. He hadn't realized the similarities until this very moment. Rhys's actions, now, made a little more sense.
As if he had read his mind, the look in Rhysand eyes veered from anger to sadness. "She reminds me of her. My sister."
Azriel's anger evaporated at those words, at the memory of the sweet fae. He understood why Elain reminded him of her, now that he allowed himself to think about it. But Rhysand was unable to see beyond that. He was limited to the similarities, ignoring all the immense differences between the two.
He opened his mouth, ready to counter, to explain what his mind kept processing. Rhysand anticipated him. After that brief moment of vulnerability, his violet eyes had hardened again. "Elain has suffered enough. She doesn't need to be sad about things it's too late to change. Any other dangers, we'll take care of. She deserves that quiet and safe life-" his words froze, as if he was pondering the effect the end of that phrase would have.
"-which only a mate can offer."
Cassian stepped forward, putting himself between the two of them, but it was already too late. The room became a mix of shadows, wings, intertwining bodies and darkness.
Azriel received a blow on the lip, which he returned with a punch to the ribs before he felt two thick arms immobilize him. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as Cassian's arms tightened around his waist, pushing him back.
"This is getting out of hand, Az," Cassian cursed in his ear, his firm grip not wavering despite his flailing.
Rhys cursed. "I don't recognize you anymore, Azriel. I just want to maintain peace. In this family and in these lands. That is my only priority. I will not let a whim of yours destroy everything."
He started toward the door and Azriel watched with Cassian at his back, close enough to grab him if he snapped again.
He wasn't finished, tho. "You would have done the same. For Feyre, you started a war."
Lightning flashed in Rhys' gaze. "It was different. Don't make me repeat why" he reached for the door, then stopped. "Ah, Cassian, I almost forgot," a smirk on his lips. "Some extra staff will come to the house to set it up for the Starfall ceremony."
***
Azriel was almost sorry that there was no one to torture that day. He would have gladly vented the icy rage coursing through his veins extorting information.
Luckily for him, however, his mind was soon offered something to take care of. Nuala and Cerridwen burst into the dungeon with an unusual light in their eyes, as if they had recently discovered an interesting news. Since Azriel had given them no mission, except to take care of Elain and make sure she was safe, he snapped to his feet.
"What's going on?"
"We have a fugitive." He watched the twins exchange a glance, their long black hair sucking in the little light from the oil lamps.
"Where did he come from?"
"Autumn. He declares that he wishes to seek political asylum."
"Have you started the usual procedure?"
"Yes. We have no reason to suspect that he might be a spy. But we think you need to listen to him."
Azriel, already on his feet, walked toward the stairs, not to the cells where they held prisoners, but to the upper levels, where they interrogated those who seemed willing to cooperate.
"What did he tell you?"
"He said that he overheard some conversations of the High Lord. And that lately he had begun to receive guests, from territories that had been on the other side of the wall."
Azriel opened the door to the room the twins pointed out, finding a fae much older than he would have expected. His pinkish skin and large ears were furrowed with deep wrinkles, and silver threads covered his entire head. He knew this breed of fae. Theirs wasn't an easy life in the Autumn Court.
The fae sat with hunched shoulders. The glass of water the twins had offered him lay untouched on the table. His eyes went from sad to frightened when Azriel entered the room. Though intimidated, he sustained the shadowsinger's gaze.
"What is your name?" asked Azriel.
"Damian, my lord."
"I am not your lord. Why are you here?"
"I escaped."
"Why did you come to the night court?"
"The people who helped me escape… they told me to reach the Day Court, and to come here if I couldn't. I tried to enter the Day Court, but I was kicked out. I had a message to report to the High Lord, but I wasn't allowed to see him."
His shadows told him that he wasn't lying, at least for the time being.
"Who sent you, who helped you escape?"
The fae had a moment's hesitation, his hands trembling. "I..." he swallowed. "I promised not to reveal, so as not to endanger them. But my granddaughters, they only have me in the world, and now they are down there alone."
"Why did you run away if you have someone there?"
"They wanted to execute me," his voice broke.
Azriel took a step toward him. "Why?"
"I was paying too much attention."
Here, the shadowsinger stared at Nuala and Cerridwen, and the elderly fae did the same. "I suspected that the two of them were not who they said they were," his gaze became blank, and he looked away. "My granddaughters ... they are also twins."
Azriel nodded. "The Night Court can offer you asylum, but there is a procedure to follow, to make sure you are not a spy. And-"
"I need your help," the man interrupted him. "I left my granddaughters behind to escape my sentence. But if I don't go back and get them in time…"
Azriel was certain that it was already a miracle that this elderly fae had managed to escape the Autumn Court and make it this far. That he would go back, retrieve two little girls and then make it all the way here… it was unlikely. Impossible, indeed.
"What are you asking us?"
The fae fell to his knees. "I will do anything. I will tell you anything. I have information. Things that not even the two of them-" he pointed to Nuala and Cerridwen "were able to find out during their stay."
Azriel wasn't usually shaken when someone cried, or begged, during interrogations. But there was something about this fae, in his tone of voice.
But even if he wanted to...could they really do anything for him? Rhys seemed more than determined to cling to the idea of peace with other courts. And raiding the Autumn Court, meddling in their internal politics… He would never approve this sort of mission in a time like this, just to help a complete stranger.
Azriel shouldn't have felt so guilty at the idea that they would do nothing for this man and his granddaughters.
"I can't promise you anything," he said, stepping back to allow him to pull himself together. "But I will talk to the High Lord about it. First, though, you must tell us everything you know."
The trembling in Damian's hands calmed as he began to speak. Azriel listened carefully to his every word.
He had worked for decades in the Autumn Court. Being what they considered a lesser fae, working as servitude, in exchange for room and board, was as good as he could hope for.
"The High Lord was always talking about his plans to invade the Spring Court after its fall."
"We know this," Az intervened.
"It was no secret," Damian continued softly. "Or if it was, Beron didn't put much effort into making sure it didn't leak. Not like he did with all the rest, anyway."
Both Azriel and the twin strained their ears. "What are you referring to?"
"He had started getting visitors. He would turn away most of the servants on these occasions..."
"What kind of visitors?"
"There was a rumor among us that the one that visited was his mistress. But I don't think so. I think that was the message he wanted to get across, making everyone at court think that was the reason for so much secrecy. But I overheard a conversation between them one day, him and this woman."
"Do you know her name?"
The man shook his head. "I can only describe her. Young, certainly attractive. She visits only at night, secretly entering through the servants' passages. I once glimpsed locks of red hair under her cloak."
The shadows suggested to him who it might be. The situation was bigger than he had imagined. "What did you eavesdrop on?"
The man took a deep breath. "They were talking about a trade. He wants the humans' territories and she has access to the human who currently rules over those lands. And she wants...I don't know. She said she needs all the help she could get, but there are very few people she could ask at the moment. She said she is looking for something, or maybe someone, to deliver to him"
"Him who?" asked Azriel, every muscle in his body paralyzed.
The fae shook his head. "She didn't mention any names. All I know is that he is someone powerful, who she works for, I think. He has girls who work for him..." he swallowed, meeting Azriel's eyes. "She called them the girls of the lake. I have no idea what that means. This is all I know."
"All right," Azriel said, trying to navigate his way through this flood of information that he didn't like at all. "I believe you. But for us to trust you, you have to tell us who helped you. We need to know."
The man trembled, as if holding back a sob. "The lady of the Autumn Court. And her eldest" he finally confessed, tears welling up along his eyes. "She has always been kind to me and my daughter."
Azriel took a deep breath. He had a daughter?
The fae looked him in the eye. "She was a good worker and always kept her head down. She was so beautiful. Maybe too much so, even. They accused her of trying to seduce one of the High Lord's sons, and then they killed her. But it was a lie. She only cared about her daughters. She entrusted them to me, before they executed her, and now I left them alone."
Azriel felt a pain crushing his chest. He wanted to help this fae, even though he knew Rhys would never approve of such a plan. Maybe there was something he could do. On his own. With Nuala and Cerridwen, he could go in and out of the Autumn Court unnoticed in less than a day.
And then, there was another important question: why had Vassa allied herself with Beron? What was she looking for here in the Night Court that she could not ask Rhysand, or even Lucien, for help? And, more important, on whose behalf was she seeking this, who was she working for?
With this and a thousand other questions on his mind, Azriel continued to feel that chill in his veins even as the sun beat down on the exposed skin of his arms, outside the House of Wind, hours later.
He had ordered Nuala and Cerridwen to keep quiet about the stowaway, even though there would be no need to. They answered to him, not Rhysand. He would report only the matter concerning Vassa to his High Lord. Perhaps they should have discussed it with Lucien. If she had already allied herself with Koschei...
A voice in his head kept screaming that somehow it was all connected to Elain.
The garden was fuller than usual that morning. The training of the new Valkyries was exceeding their expectations. Even Gwyn had been surprised at how many priestesses had agreed to take part in the training, and she and Azriel looked after the newcomers while Nesta, Cassian, and Emerie supervised the girls' training at the Illiryan camp. Something had changed since the girls had completed the rituals. He could feel this new energy filling the air, all of their rage finally coming out.
"Continue with this exercise," Gwyn said to the newcomers who were struggling with strengthening their balance and abdominal muscles. Then she walked toward him.
He stood and watched the elegant pace with which she advanced, and the confidence she showed now, compared to when they had first met her. She continued to wear the necklace. Though she did not know who might have sent it to her, she had accepted the gift.
He felt his shadows shift when she came near enough, as if running and at the same time reaching for something that emanated from her person. It was the same sort of feeling he had felt on solstice night: his shadows were scared and attracted at the same time, like they were trying to reveal something.
"You look more somber and pensive than usual," she told him, taking a glass of water.
He shut that feeling, continuing to monitor the priestesses. Some of them had not left the library in years, and they would need a lot of training and changes in their diet to put on the muscles needed to master the simpler exercises.
"What's unnerving you?"
He turned his eyes toward her. Those two blue puddles, so big they looked as if he could swim above them, were squaring him with a streak of amusement. "You're perceptive."
She shrugged. "You're not that hard to interpret."
He smiled, grateful at the fact that she, like all the other priestesses, felt comfortable enough in his presence to be here, to stand near him. To allow him to train them.
Then, as his shadows were still running through their legs, they whispered to him.
Someone is here
He allowed nothing to seep from his face as he handed Gwyn some of the equipment for the girls to try out.
"I'll be right back," he said, before walking toward the inside of the house.
He already knew who was waiting for him, and he also knew that it could not be a coincidence that she had sought him out now.
Azriel advanced slowly. He didn't sit down, nor did he allow his body to assume a relaxed posture. "What is it?"
Her lips, as red as the dress she wore, curved against the rim of the glass. "Straight to the point."
He shrugged. "I find it hard to believe that you came here to supervise the training." At the look he read in her face, he took a deep breath. "If it's about Rhysand, I have nothing to say."
"Wait," Mor got up from the stool and took a step toward him, quickly checking that no one was paying attention to them from outside. "Do you think you are the only one angry with him? I'm furious too. His orders are becoming excessive. I think he's not seeing things clearly."
"He only ever wanted what's best for his court. Now that he has a mate and a child, his desire to protect them is..." he lowered his voice. "He is willing to do anything, for that. Even hurt us."
Mor bent the corners of her lips, her gaze bitter. "And that's what you think he's doing with you and me? With Elain?"
He felt a dull anger stir in his chest at the mere mention of her name. Mor knew him well enough to notice the change in his posture, his eyes, his smell. "What does this have to do with Elain?"
"We both want something from her."
He made no effort to hold back the roar that emerged from his chest. "And what is it that you want?"
"Her power can help Vassa," Mor said, eyes shining with hope and a little madness.
Azriel bit the inside of his mouth. Mor moved closer still, so close that their conversation became an exchange of whispered words.
"You think so, too."
He tightened his lips. No, that was not what he thought; she had misinterpreted his hesitation. Did Mor know that Vassa had allied with Beron? He didn't think so.
"Unlike you, I don't want to exploit her power for my own gain."
"You know…" she told him, defiance in her eyes. "You know that she would help me and Vassa if only I could ask her. She is too good not to. And what you want from her is not so different."
"Don't you dare say that," he whispered, his shadows lifting. If Vassa only needed one of Elain's visions, just to glimpse a solution to her curse, why go to Beron? Why don't just wait?
Mor smiled, and Az realized she had provoked him on purpose. "What do you want? Why did you come here?" he trailed off, because his shadows would not stop stirring and her scent, now, was too strong for his nostrils.
"Rhys will not change his mind. There is nothing we can do except contradict his order. He will not listen to us."
"He will listen to Feyre."
"Fine," he nodded, "talk to her then. What do you want from me?"
"We should both talk to her, together."
He made to turn away, but Mor grabbed him by the hand, forcing him to meet her eyes again. They were dark, capable of swallowing you inside like a black hole. Not like Gwyn's, so clear they seemed transparent, like gliding over the surface of the ocean. Elain's, on the other hand… He had done his best not to think about them. Elain's eyes were sweet as chocolate, innocent as a fawn's, a caress to lose himself in whenever his dark side took over.
He resurfaced from his thoughts. He couldn't allow himself to be overwhelmed like that.
"I will not ask my High Lady for her blessing for me and her sister, given the circumstances. And I think you should be more careful around Vassa".
From the expression on Mor's face, he could tell that she did not like his answer.
"Are you really taking Rhysand's side in this? Or you just hate me so much?"
"I never hated you and you know". He didn't expect this comeback from her. She was acting… different from how he knew her.
"Do you really trust her? Are you sure she told you everything?"
"What are you insinuating?"
He shrugged. "Any news about Jurian and his mission?"
Mor's expression hardened. Jurian's time wasn't up yet, but they both knew that he could never have found a solution. "It's none of our business, isn't it? We could've helped and we chose not to".
Those words sent a chill down his spine. "So she has already gone to Koschei? And… she's still alive?"
Mor's expression looked a little scared, but it was nothing compared to the fear he felt. "I- I'm not sure. I'm doing my best to prevent anything-"
"What had she offered him? What can she possibly have to lure him into some sort of agreement?"
"She wouldn't tell me" Mor admitted. Sadness and fear clouded her usually fiery gaze.
"I don't like this".
"Me neither".
"Rhys?"
Mor closed her eyes. "He wouldn't listen".
Azriel thought back to Damian's story. If Vassa was really working for Koschei, and she has gone to Beron of all people for help… things may be worse than what they had anticipated. "Maybe he will, now. But we'll talk to our High Lady first".
Mor looked at him, mouths trembling slightly. "I hope it isn't too late".