The Night and Stars

The night and stars have a way of reminding us how vast life is, yet sometimes we feel weighed down by our own struggles. If anyone here ever feels overwhelmed or needs support to navigate tough times, professional psychotherapy services can provide a safe space to find clarity and healing. Just wanted to share this in case it’s helpful.

Waking up sandwiched between two Illyrian warriors would have been heaven....if she hadn't woken up sandwiched between two Illyrian warriors.

The crash started her awake, eyes flying open. Her heart had already begun to race, chest rising and falling before Faye registered the fact that she was still in bed, tucked safely in her mountain of pillows and blankets. Only...not. Mortification set in as Faye realized just how wrapped up in the both of them she was. Limbs flung every which way, personal space completely gone. Her cheeks flushed a violent shade of red as she blinked up at the men, still bleary-eyed from sleep. Killian was still half-tucked beneath her, and Faye wiggled herself sideways to give him some space. The Shadowsinger abruptly left the bed, well on his way to leaving the room. Wayland's taunt echoed in Faye's ears and she slapped at him blindly, even as she let out a groan and rolled across the bed in search of his warmth. Down one body, she focused all of her remaining energy on the man still in her bed. Face burrowing into his chest, she locked her arms around Wayland and hid away, half out of embarassment and half because she was still exhausted.

“We need a bigger bed,” she murmured against his skin, well on her way to dozing off once more. But not before she sent Killian a sleepy, teasing, Don’t snuggle, my ass.

And she had to admit, he wasn't half bad at it.

xXx

For once, she wasn't complaining about the strain in her muscles as they trudged uphill, or the shortness to her breath as she did her best to keep up with the Illyrians leading the way - all Faye could focus on was the view on their way to the top.

As they walked up those crumbling old steps, the woman couldn't help but to stare at the remains of the once-great temple in awe. The stonework was unlike anything she'd ever seen before, ancient and old and carved with such precision - the labor of some long lost love. Though the building had long-since begun to crumble, the statues remained standing. Somehow they looked as if they had always belonged here, half in ruin and covered by overgrowth. Faye could have sworn that the ground itself hummed with life as they approached, as if something old and long-forgotten was waking up to murmur hello. 

She couldn't help but to stare, to greedily drink in every curve of those enormous statues as she imagined the kind of devotion that must have inspired their creation. Humans didn't erect statues like this. They worshiped their gods with measly alters and their Kings with statues of pure gold, because that was what was expected of them. There was no life in those structures, no love, no sense of eternity or the everlasting. Everything in her past life now seemed so mundane, so insincere. Standing at the top of the stone steps, with her chin tipped towards the heavens as she studied those weathered depictions of Sunara and Lunaris, listening to Killian explain their purpose, Faye felt infinite. She felt whole and connected and purposeful, for the first time in this life and the one before.

She was as ethereal and immortal as those two sisters - a balance between the sun and the moon. 

Those few words flitted around the edge of Faye's subconscious mind for much longer than she gave them permission, and it wasn't long after Killian uttered them that the blonde's two-toned gaze was shifting between her companions with mild interest. Of all the temples they could have chosen, all the legends she could have learned...the coincidence in the way this one mirrored her exact predicament was unsettling. Wayland had always been her sun, long before she even realized it. Everything about the man exuded warmth - from the roots of his tousled blonde locks to the very tips of his bronzed flesh, every inch of him was pure sunshine. He was larger than life, a steadfast pillar of honor and loyalty and all the brightness that made men great. He thought and spoke and acted with a sort of fiery passion that could quickly rage into a wildfire if left uncontrolled. 

And then....the moon. Tall, dark, mysterious. Killian was reserved, careful, and so intentional with his every movement. Impulse was foreign to him. Composure, cool calculation. And yet he loved deeply - she could see it, in the way he looked at the Inner Circle. It was there in the things he did in the dark, when the shadows enveloped him and he lost himself to another, lonelier world entirely. It was there in the burdens he shouldered alone. For them. His passion was cool, but it wasn't less. His presence was subtle, but it couldn't be ignored. The man was pure determination and will, someone that could push her to the very edge of her limitations and then ground her with just the brush of his fingertips. 

\

Balance, that was the word that kept tugging at the back of her mind. Wayland and Killian, the two of them were already balanced. They were light and dark, hot and cold, hard and soft - the list of opposition was endless. And where did that leave Faye? Who was she, what role did she play here? Was she supposed to be dusk? Lukewarm? Pliable? Somehow being in the middle seemed lackluster. As if she gave up a little bit either way to keep herself rooted firmly in the middle. And yet, what could she do? What could she be? The Sun and The Moon were already taken, and there wasn't a third deity. Just enough room for the two pillars - they were all that were needed.

The top of the steps found them at the entrance of the temple, though its doors had long since been torn away and the structure itself was crumbling beneath the influence of the elements. Moss ran rampant between the cracks in the masonry, and ivy crept along the lowermost bricks. Dirt coated the floor like a second skin, and it looked like it had been eons since anyone had stepped foot up here. A glance upwards told her that the roof of all things remained relatively sound, supported by those two mesmerizing pillars that towered far overhead. And beside them, two enormous stone wolves. One with etchings of the sun, the other with the moon. Fierce and powerful, protectors and allies. Faye reached out and brushed her fingers against one of those stone wolves, wiping away the dirt and debris that stained its granite fur. "They're beautiful," she said softly. And they were. Not beautiful in the way of diamonds and rubies. The statues didn't glitter like gold, nor did they sparkle or shine. They were just a couple hunks of cold, hard stone that gazed back at them lifelessly. And yet there was beauty in the intricacy, in every curve of the wolves pelts, every shadow lining the sisters' faces. There was beauty in the time, effort, and soul that had gone into creating these pieces. There was even beauty in the way the earth sought to reclaim them as its own, beauty in the way everything in this world eventually came full circle. Faye knew she could live a hundred thousand lifetimes and never dream to recreate something half so inspiring. 

Carefully, the trio made their way into the abandoned temple. Faye treaded lightly, stepping over fallen columns and wayward bricks that had tumbled loose from the walls and the ceiling. Their feet made dusty footprints as they walked along, not stopping until they reached a dias in the center of a large, dome-shaped chamber. Sunlight poured in from overhead through the spaces intentionally carved out of the ceiling, filling the room with a faint glow. Faye glanced around that little chamber curiously, brows puckering while her eyes sought out whatever it was they’d come here to find. And then suddenly there was the glint of sunlight on granite and there, in the center of the dias, she saw it - and how could she have missed it? Missed him? Standing there, larger than life with his head bowed and his teeth bared as if daring them to approach. Not a protector, like the other wolves. No he was too big, too fierce. Something told her that he was a key player in the story of Sunara and Lunaris, however it might end. And when Killian’s shadows flickered out to wipe away the grime coating the wall behind the statue, leaving the wolf bathed in flame, she realized that perhaps he was a key player in her own story as well. 

Fenrir, the wolf who would swallow the sun and burn up the world - darkness and light come together to forge something new. 

Revelation came flooding into Faye so hard and so swift that she had to take a step back, her widened blue eyes scanning over the length of that lone wolf as her hands trembled by her side. And all at once, the answer so plain that she couldn't understand how she missed it before, Faye realized that she didn't need to balance out the sun and the moon - they balanced her. She was not torn between the two, but rather cocooned. Not caught between The Sun and The Moon, but enveloped equally by both the light and the darkness. She gave up nothing, no part of either, because both continually poured into her. They were two sides of the same coin, but she….she was in a league all her own. The Sun in one hand, The Moon in the other, and what she did with their power was up to her. 

As the metaphor slipped away, Faye was left there standing face to face with Fenrir. To make up for the step back, she took two forward. Fear left her gaze, replaced with a newfound warmth as she reached out and stroked her fingertips along the underside of the wolf’s massive neck. Suddenly, he didn’t seem quite so ferocious and alone. And silently, she thanked him. 

Killian’s voice pricked her ears, and Faye looked over at the Shadowsinger. The sound of her newfound nickname on his lips made her smile in a way that set her entire face beaming, and his words sparked something in her chest. Swallow the sun? For him? She could do that. Almost as soon as he had finished speaking, Wayland’s voice caught her attention. Faye’s head shifted to the other side, and his words sent that little ember in her chest smoldering. All of it, she’d burn all of it down. For him. For them. With them. There was no hesitation now when she reached out and gripped them both tightly by the hand, feeling her power surge through her veins fast and fierce. An inferno with no beginning and no end. 

She was going to set the world on fire. 

…

Faye stood in the center of the adjoining room, staring at the men who watched her from a few yards away. Flicking her fingertips, she clung to the power that she could feel ebbing and flowing there. A warmth desperate to get out in a surge, a wave, a stream - it didn’t matter. She could feel that power churning somewhere deep inside, popping and hissing as if her core was molten and the magic was bubbling up, threatening to overflow. She imagined it like a stream of liquid light, like the tendrils she’d created a few times before. Golden and shimmering, bubbling up from that pit inside her belly and flowing through her veins. Up and up and up, along the curve of her elbow and into her fingertips where it settled and pulsed and begged for release. In her minds’ eye Faye could see it, could feel it, could taste it and touch it. It was her and she was it, there was no separation - they were one. 

“Stand back,” she said quietly, looking at the two Illyrians. She remembered the last time, how easily she’d lost the leash on her magic and allowed it to run rampant. It had taken control of her so quickly, so easily, and she didn’t want that happening again. But if it did, she wanted them far enough away that they wouldn’t be caught in the crossfire. Though they were unwilling to budge, a stern look from Faye and a few flicks of her fingertips in their direction got the men to put a little more space between them. When the feet turned into yards, she felt a little bit better about unleashing whatever magic she had that was pounding against the walls, demanding to be let free. 

Drawing in a deep breath, Faye closed her eyes. She reached out for every ounce of that power she could feel straining against the confines of her skin, reached out and drew it forward until it danced along the palms of her hands, shimmering brighter and brighter as she dug deep to pull it forth. Palms shaking as she stared down at them, Faye gritted her teeth and yanked. She remembered that other world, the pool of water that had grounded her so easily. That was the source of their power, Killian had said. Everything they were resided within that pool. And so she pulled from it. She imagined the source of her power as that little body of water, silvery and weightless, and once she’d grabbed hold, Faye began to drain it. 

The magic didn’t leave her body in a frantic rush. It wasn’t a clap of thunder and a streak of lightning. It wasn’t an uncontrollable flash of power that she couldn’t contain. It was slow and precise, like unraveling a thread. The shimmering balls in the palms of her hands began to grow, and grow. Before long they formed one ball, one huge golden orb with sunshine-yellow flames flickering around its edges as it built and built, that pool steadily draining as Faye used it to fill her hands with magic that felt eerily similar to that silky, temperate liquid when she molded it in the palm of her hands. As the orb grew larger, its light began to fill the room. Just a dull, flickering glow that slowly grew steadier and steadier the longer Faye was able to hold onto it. 

I am Fenrir, she told herself. I will swallow the sun. Flowers will wither. Kings will fall. 

I will burn this world to ash, and fill the next with my glow. 

The orb was growing too big. It suddenly began to feel hot in her hands, and Faye could feel that inner pool of power running dry. She could hear her magic whispering to her, tickling at the edges of her control. Almost, almost. She continued to spin that orb like a spider spins its web, pulling at the little golden thread until it went taut and she knew its end was near. As her arms began to shake, now with exertion, she knew that it was time to cap the magic. Time to ground herself, to keep it from becoming too much, to keep everyone safe. And so she imagined herself planting two feet firmly in that pool and dropping to her knees, letting the water rush over her. Much more quickly than she’d been able to draw the magic to her, she was able to cut it off. The source stopped flowing, and Faye was left with a trembling ball of light in her hands and no idea what to do with it. It was heavy, and growing heavier - too heavy. She couldn’t hold it. 

With a cry, Faye let go. A burst of light filled the room then, blinding for a moment as it dispersed. No heat, no flames, just pure sunlight flooding the room. A frenzied end to her first manifestation of power - but she would take it. The light began to slowly trickle out of the room, and she blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the now near-darkness. Across the room, Killian and Wayland were doing the same. As the light ebbed away fully and their senses readjusted, they all seemed to realize it at the same time.

She’d done it. 

Light filled her, so bright and bubbly that Faye was sure they had to see it shining through her flesh and bone. The men were beaming themselves, looking torn between pride and bewilderment as they approached her - in one piece. Faye sprinted across the distance separating them. Her feet couldn’t carry her fast enough. She was floating, gliding, flying across the room so quickly that she kicked up dust and sent bits of gravel skidding in every direction. All thought left her mind as she flew into the first pair of arms that were reaching for her - Killian’s arms. She would have rebounded off of the man’s broad chest if his biceps hadn’t wrapped around her, locking her in place. Faye’s hands flew up to either side of the Shadowsinger’s face, cupping it in her hands for the briefest of moments before her lips were crashing against his urgently. Fingers curling into his flesh, she clutched his mouth to hers for one prolonged, sweet moment before she was tearing herself away from him, a squeal sounding in the air. Faye spun out of Killian’s arms as quickly as she’d launched herself into them, stumbling the two or three steps towards Wayland. Her hands gripped his forearms tightly and the blonde jumped up and down excitedly, her eyes bright.  “Did you see that? I did it! It just bubbled up and I grabbed it and I pulled and I did it, I swallowed the light!” She was shouting and she didn’t care. Didn’t care that she was a twenty something girl playing warrior queen, didn’t care that she was ridiculously excited over exhibiting the most basic control over her magic, didn’t care what they might think of her for it. She did it - she did it, and they were one step closer to rescuing Evie because of it. Because of her. Because of them.

Another huff of frustration flew out of Phaedra. The fifth one that day to be exact. It was still progress though. It was five less than he had heard from her yesterday, so there was that. 

Twigs and brush snapped and crunched beneath their boots as they pushed through the thick brush that had overgrown the pathways they traveled. He and Wayland had their swords in hand, cutting their way through where it became otherwise impossible to walk through. Phaedra was close by, moving with her arms outstretched in front of her as they tried to get through with sheer will, a grimace plastered on her face as she did. The Shadowsinger glanced in her direction when the sound of a branch whomping her echoed between them. Make that six huffs of frustration. 

A dimple formed on Killian’s right cheek at the threat leaving her lips and he gave another hard sweep of his sword through the foliage. 

“You wound me, Wildflower,” Wayland said with a hand placed over his heart protectively. The Commander then shot a grin toward Killian. The act made a wave of relief crawl up his spine to see his relationship with his brother was becoming slowly mended after weeks of built-up tension. He had almost expected the opposite to happen after their conversation with Nevara back at the townhouse. It wasn’t like the topic was something one would deem comfortable. It ended with Nevara explaining that in the end, Phaedra was now bonded to both of them and not in the way expected. Her further research highlighted that the Carranam bond was not much different from the mating bond and that by the laws of magic, they were both equally a part of her soul, etched for her and only her. It explained the things he had been feeling, and that part was much-needed clarity, but it left them all to face that Phaedra didn’t have to choose. She could have them both. 

The idea hadn’t left his mind since it was brought up. Have them both. It was hard for him to face the idea that he might just want Phaedra the same way that Wayland did. Entirely. Not just something that was once platonic, but something much more raw— something more demanding. He’d felt the desire to want to be near to her plenty of times since their bond was created, but as the days went on, and with this new knowledge. . . Killian watched Phaedra, as each step she took strained soft muscles against tight leather that hugged her hips, thighs, and calves. Her waist was bound by leather as well, hugging the swells of her breasts in a way that made keeping his eyes on her face rather difficult. His jaw clenched at the thought and he tore his gaze away abruptly, forcing himself to concentrate solely on cutting through the vines in front of him. He couldn’t let himself think that way. Couldn’t let himself believe she’d truly want both of them. Part of him wondered if such a thing would work. How that territorial part of both him and Wayland would be able to rest in such a predicament?

Phaedra’s outburst managed to steal Killian from his thoughts and the three of them finally managed to shove through the thick of it all, stepping out into a large clearing atop a hill that rolled downward toward a small village. Monfall. It was the only village between them and the old forgotten Temple of Carsadona. Faye had begun taking long strides toward civilization and Killian grunted, trying to hold back a laugh that threatened to bubble up. Reaching out a hand, he curled his fingers into her leathers and tugged her to a halt before she got too ahead of herself. When she turned to look at him with furrowed brows, he nodded his chin in the other direction toward the temple sitting in the distance. Her face fell instantly and though her words should have wounded him, it only managed to earn a smirk from him as she turned and trudged down and around the outskirts of the village instead.

“I think you broke her heart,” Wayland commented, falling into step with him as they trailed after her.

“Imagine if she knew about the infamous baby goats of Monfall,” Killian murmured and Wayland snorted loudly earning a scowl from her.

***

Nightfall reached them midway through the next forest and the large moon blanketed them in a luminous blue glow. They’d managed to reach the beaten pathway leading to an old hunting shack the three brothers used to visit regularly. It was small in size and had one bathing room, one bedroom, and a small kitchen with a fireplace. 

“There it is,” Wayland announced, pointing up the path. In its lack of glory stood the loghouse. It was just as he remembered it and memories of the three of them drowning themselves in mead and singing off-key around a campfire resurfaced.

Killian shoved open the door, causing dust to fly around the room as he squinted through the darkness to see what sort of condition they’d left the place in. To his surprise, the house was cleaned up and aside from some dust, it was rather welcoming. There wasn’t much doubt that Adrastus had the place managed by magic, similarly to the House of Wind.

“I’ll start gathering firewood,” Wayland offered after shrugging off his pack onto one of the seats. Killian gave him a nod and headed for one of the kitchen drawers to collect a book of matches. He set his things down on the small kitchen table and made his rounds about the shack, lighting up candles and lanterns. He stole a look toward Faye who had peeked about herself, and then she was shoving open the bedroom door, staring into it like she’d seen a ghost. He knew why she looked that way and blew out the match in his hand.

“You and Wayland will take the bed,” Killian explained, moving to rummage through the food in his pack.

“And where do you intend on sleeping? I’m not even sure that these chairs are fully useable for sitting let alone a good night's sleep.” Wayland asked as he walked inside a moment later, arms full of lumber. “You, me, and Adrastus used to have to share that bed if you don’t remember. I don’t see the problem with us three. Unlike Adrastus, she won’t try to punch us in her sleep.”

Killian stiffened, his searching hands pausing in the depths of his pack. “I don’t find sleep easily, I think it would be best if—”

The thud of wood hitting the floorboards made Killian turn towards the Commander who stared at him with a stern expression. “Look, I know things have been weird between the three of us lately, but we all heard Nevara. Whether we like it or not, these bonds are set in stone, and there isn’t a whole lot that we can do about it. I rather not spend the next few centuries tiptoeing around each other if I can avoid it.” Wayland shifted his gaze from Killian to Faye. “It’s one night. What are your two cents on the matter?” He reached out, grazing his fingers against her knuckles and Killian’s jaw ticked. 

“You also heard what Nevara said about the Carranam bond.” Killian forced through clenched teeth.

Wayland remained quiet for a while as if trying to swallow that large pill once again. “I know that you care for Phaedra. Just as I do.” There was something in his tone that implied he still wasn’t entirely thrilled about the idea, but there was defeat in there too. As if he’d come to accept that fact.

Killian’s golden hues shifted to meet Faye’s blue ones. Just as he did? A warmth spread through his chest when she returned his stare and his shadows seemed to hum in response. That warmth seemed to always caress the coldest and darkest parts of him. Parts that had convinced him plenty of times that he did not feel the same way that his family did. His heart was far more broken and detached, and that was what made him such a good Shadowsinger at the end of the day.

Wayland was staring at Phaedra now, his brows lowered slightly. “And I know that she cares for you.” He paused. “I just don’t know if either of you has accepted that yet.”

His throat had never felt more dry than it did right now because he was right. Ever since the bond was created, not only his shadows tried to lure him to her side, but unconsciously, he did the same to himself. He couldn’t help but be there when he felt her near or in distress. At first, he thought it was just part of their powers wanting to work in tandem, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t emotional too. He wanted to protect her, serve her, and keep her satisfied. The evidence was in the way her touch made his soul scream in gratification, it was in the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at her.

“I accept it.” Killian’s voice felt far away suddenly and he could hear his blood rushing through his ears.

Wayland nodded firmly and bowed his head to look over his mate. “I have, and will always accept it.”

But did she?

There was nothing but cold, glittering flames - a world full of that icy darkness that stole away her very breath and left the world around her struggling to endure. Faye’s glassy eyes flickered between the people in the room, those faces she loved, and her heart plummeted. Stop, please stop, she willed the magic inside of her to obey and it laughed in response, those shadow flames burning brighter. The magic had surged in an act of protectiveness, and now it flowed through her veins freely with no intention of being reigned in. Perhaps it enjoyed being unleashed, left to ebb and flow as it pleased. Maybe it still sought to fill the gaps in her chest, that hollowness she knew no amount of power was going to stitch back together. 

Golden eyes burned into hers. Killian. Trembling hands reached out towards the Shadowsinger, cupping either side of his face as the man barred her in with a strong forearm braced on either side of her head. Something deep inside of her clicked, his mere presence enveloping her like a cocoon of safety. That fear ebbed for just a moment, some part of her registering that as long as Killian was beside her, everything would be fine. His voice whispered through her mind, beckoning to follow, and Faye didn’t hesitate. Eyes slipping shut, she trailed behind him to that other place, the murky realm that she usually found herself fighting so hard to escape. Panic flared up once more for so many reasons: sheer terror at being in this place again, the memory of the relentless power of the cauldron as it sent wave after wave of deadly magic towards them, knowledge of the hell she’d left raging around her friends and mate in the real world. 

And when she entered this place, she found herself alone. Power rippled out of her even here, just the tiniest bit, and she could feel it searching for him. Summoning. And then Faye could feel him, and she spun in his direction. The relaxation was visible in the slight droop of her shoulders, the easing of her spine, the softness in her eyes when she looked towards him. And when Killian reached out for her, there wasn’t a moment of hesitation as she laced her fingers with his and squeezed them gently - as if she needed that touch, needed to feel his skin against hers. He was warm and steady and hers. 

You need to ground yourself, he told her. Faye was about to open her mouth to tell him that she didn’t have the faintest clue on how to do that, but then he was tugging her down, down until they were both on their knees facing one another. He was showing her. Knowing what she needed from him without her having to speak a word. And so all she could say to him was, “Okay.” As much as said in that one little word as was left unsaid. Okay, I trust you. Okay, I’m ready. Okay, I relinquish control. In their everyday life, when they spoke and when they sparred and when they trained, Faye fought tooth and nail to prove herself to him. Those words from that very first training session, his implication that she wasn’t strong enough, had always lingered in the back of her mind. She would do whatever it took to prove him wrong and change his mind. But here, this was his domain and he was completely in control. 

Water rushed over the girl as she knelt beside him and then their entwined hands were submerged beneath it. Faye was surprised to find that for such a dark place, the water here didn’t reflect its surroundings. Something about the fact did ground her - everything here was just so different, so otherworldly, so beyond them. Eyes blue once more, she blinked at Killian when he began to explain about their combined power and its extent. When he spoke, she listened. But it was still hard to understand what he was saying, to figure out what exactly he meant. How could she not be afraid when their power was so much? When it was so unpredictable when she was the one wielding? And when Killian leaned forward, putting his head in the water as well….yeah she was a little afraid. But then she relaxed and leaned forward, giving into his pull, falling through this other world with him. 

Everything stopped. Just like that, they were back in the townhome in Sakaris and all of those flames had disappeared. Faye wasn’t sure how he’d done it, but she could feel that magic buried deep down once more. Under lock and key. Still nose to nose, Faye blinked up at Killian as they shared a mildly surprised look. His voice was soft against her ears, not in disbelief. Maybe it was a hint of pride she heard in that hushed tone. “We did it,” she corrected gently. All of it had been Killian. Even if she had somehow grounded herself, he was the one to show her the way. As with every victory she enjoyed recently, it was as much his as it was hers. And then, the words for his ears only, flitting through his mind like a gentle caress, Thanks, Killy. The words were intimate somehow, as much as they were genuine, and she had to drop her gaze. 

When Killian had stepped away and she finally came face-to-face with the aftermath of her magical relapse, Faye cringed. Guilt flooded her at the sight of those faces, the people she called family, looking so unnerved and confused. She couldn’t blame them - she was feeling the exact same way. Her gaze found and lingered on Wayland, still kneeling several feet away, who looked at her with something akin to sadness for a moment. Green eyes watched her, his shoulders slumping. The words he murmured all but tore Faye apart, that acknowledgement that this bond between herself and Killian was something real. But I still love you, she wanted to tell him. You’re still my mate. But those weren’t the kind of words she spoke aloud - they were too weighted. Too much promise in them. All these months she’d been avoiding saying exactly how she felt about the golden-haired warrior and this was exactly why - things changed, people changed, and in the end even the fates themselves couldn’t do anything about it. And just as she’d always known she would, here Faye was proving that she didn’t deserve Wayland at all, nor the bond that had been forged for them by the Mother herself; a bond that she’d so graciously accepted right before turning around and forging another.   

Killian walked towards Wayland and Faye tensed once more. That power threw itself against the iron bars she’d crafted around it, but somehow the woman was able to keep it from spilling over and engulfing them all once more. To her surprise, the Shadowsinger offered Wayland a hand. And to her greater surprise, Wayland took it. Killian hauled the man to his feet, and then the two of them were turning to face her. The weight of their combined gazes, sharp green eyes and brilliant gold, made her insides quiver. There was something about the way they looked at her that left Faye feeling perfectly at ease and yet entirely unsettled. Something expectant that she didn’t understand. They looked at her as if they’d finally come to some inevitable realization, and despite the fact that she was thoroughly bonded to the both of them, Faye found herself feeling lost. The odd man out for the first time. But as long as they were standing side by side, she’d take it. Some tension she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying lifted at that gaze, like a weight from her shoulders. And for the first time since this whole thing had begun, she could feel both of those bonds flickering to life inside of her. Not intertwined, but…in harmony. 

Faye tore her gaze from theirs. Looking around the room, she said quietly, “I’m sorry.” But that was as deep as she allowed it to go - fearing her own magic, wallowing in what could have been, that wasn’t going to help her any. Her two-toned eyes flickered towards Nevara now, who stood where she’d been standing before, although looking a little weary. “Have you learned more of this bond?” she asked hopefully. At the woman’s tight nod, a soft sound of relief pushed past Faye’s lips. She nodded herself, and then perched herself on the edge of the nearest chair. “Tell us.”

. . . . .

They’d been trekking through the forest for two days. Two days. Gone were the days of beautiful, flowy gowns and unbound hair and pastries with her tea. No, she’d been reduced to tight fighting leathers with matching bulky boots, elaborately braided hair, and a knapsack full of dried fruit and bread. Nevara insisted that it was time to begin training her power, but in order to do that they needed to be far away from everything - Sakaris, and its people. At one point Faye had asked why they didn’t just bother flying, and though the men insisted that where they were going couldn’t be reached as easily by flight, she had a feeling that this was Killian’s sick and twisted way of making her exercise. 

“As soon as I can control my magic,” Faye began the vague threat, turning to glower at the Shadowsinger. The moment cost her, and a large branch whipped across the side of her face, slicing open the fair skin. Blinking, the blonde gritted her teeth. Wayland stepped forward, holding the branch out of the way for her, and Faye glared at him. “You’re both toast.” She vowed, wiping the back of her hand across her bloodied cheek as the wound knitted itself back together. The look her mate sent her was wounded, but she could see the smile playing on the edges of his lips no matter how he tried to contain it. No defense he could make was going to sway her from the death threat. “You’re an accomplice.” Was all Faye had to say, charging ahead of the both of them, weaving her way through the overgrown forest with a fair bit of trouble though she wouldn’t admit it for the world. 

The tension between the three had eased considerably since the day she’d almost sucked the air out of everyone’s lungs. Maybe it was the lingering brain damage. Or maybe it was the fact that Nevara had indeed learned more about the bond, and had shared with them that it was possible for both mating bonds and carranam bonds to co-exist. The carranam bond itself was rare, the likelihood of finding that compatibility nearly impossible, but when established it was likened to a mating bond. Just as strong, just as unwavering, just as real. Hearing those words from someone else seemed to have had more of an impact on Wayland, as if he could accept cold hard facts more than his mate’s word about her growing attachment to another. It wasn’t unusual for those who were carranam to also be mates, the second bond forming from their heightened compatibility - but it was rare for carranam to be mated to anyone else. Rare, but not impossible. How Faye had gained not one, but two of the rarest bonds in this realm was beyond even her comprehension. 

Even now, she dwelled on the outcomes Nevara had been able to piece together from her study of the carranam bond’s history. One option was that Faye could give up Wayland, renounce their mating bond, and lose a piece of herself. She’d spend the rest of her life with the ghost of the man embedded in her being, and he would likely be driven to madness by his own grief. Another option was she could give up Killian, though they weren’t sure that bond could even be severed. Which meant she’d spent the entirety of immortality still linked to the man though he’d  be just out of reach. Still able to feel echoes of him and his power, but unable to actually be with him in the way that her very soul craved. No matter how she tried to approach it, her relationship with one of them would be severed and their relationships to one another would be irreparable. Unless….Faye’s cheeks heated at the thought she hadn’t allowed to creep back into her mind, the third option that Nevara had so casually thrown at them. Or, she could have them both - by every Fae law and all that their people held sacred, both of these men were Faye’s. Mind, body, and soul, they belonged to her. All she had to do was reach out and take them both, win win. 

Except for the fact that every human sensibility and moral cringed away from that idea. The brazenness of it was absolutely appalling to the deeply mortal part of her that still guided her thoughts and feelings and emotion. It was just wrong - you didn’t get two lovers, two husbands, two soulmates. You were lucky enough just to get one. Faye shouldn’t even have two bonds like this, and yet…and yet here she was. Left with choices. Neither Wayland or Killian had said anything, neither had pressured her to choose or even suggested she had to. But now…

A glance over Faye’s shoulder made her stomach drop. The two men hacking their way through the forest, swords out, grunting with the effort of steel slicing through thickened vines. Her eyes drifted first to Wayland, sweat shining on his brow as he bared his teeth and tore through the forest with a vengeance. A small smile tugged at her lips as she watched him, admiring the wild, rough edges that she’d grown to love. And then her eyes flickered further back, towards Killian, and Faye’s breath caught. Muscles strained against the tight black shirt he wore, bulging with each swing of the sword. The look on his face was of utter determination, tight but restrained. There was something enticing about that composure, something wicked inside of her wanting to see what it would take to make it break. 

The thought sent her surging forward once again as she tried to banish it, and Faye stumbled. Cursing under her breath as she dropped to her knees amongst the thicket, the blonde landed in a slight crouch. Ahead of her was a wall of foliage, and beneath it, revealed only by her current unlucky vantage point, was a small clearing. Rightening herself, those everchanging thoughts about the Shadowsinger pushed from her mind, Faye forced herself forward and slipped through the foliage. Cheering happily as she finally broke through the other side of the forest and set eyes on the little village below, she waited for the other two to catch up. “We did it! A hot meal! A cozy bed!” and she started towards the little hill leading into town only to be grabbed by the back of her leather jacket. Scowling up at Killian, she watched as he gestured further on - past the town, and through another forest. A giant mountain, with an old, crumbling temple at its top. 

“I hate you,” was all the blonde said, feeling defeated, but nevertheless she started down the hill with slightly drooping shoulders and fleeting dreams of returning to civilization.

This light that lives inside of you, you command it. Just as I command my shadows.

Standing before her, he was brilliant. Brilliant and beautiful, basking in the glow of the moonlight and her otherworldly light. His black hair seemed to gleam, and part of her yearned to reach out and touch it. Run her fingers through those inky tresses. Make them glow. 

As the shadows crept towards her, their formation deliberate where hers had been instinctual, Faye embraced them. Watched as they tangled with her light, flowing together naturally. Fluid and in sync, a beautiful balancing act. Somehow their differences didn’t matter. Light didn’t cancel out the darkness, shadow couldn’t overtake the light. They were perfectly in harmony, not too much of either. There was something ethereal about the glittering strands of darkness. Beautiful and terrifying. She reached out and stroked a finger along that tangible tether, watching as it seemed to pepper kisses along her flesh before flowing back into the night. 

Their gazes met, and held. Killian’s words were fierce, his promise sincere. Those last few words resonated deeply within her, reverberating in her chest. Had it been anyone else, she wouldn’t have believed it. She’d seen firsthand how those lost pieces could get overlooked and left behind. She still felt those gaping wounds within her own soul, pieces that had been torn away and then filled in with something new and foreign, stitched over as if there’d never been bits of her there at all. Only what was new, what was Made. Pieces she knew were lost to that other world, ones that she had almost given up on finding - but he hadn’t. Bit by bit Killian seemed to coax them back, breathing life into her once more. And so she believed him.

“I know,” Faye said, a soft smile forming on her face in the moonlight. Soft and genuine, a smile she hadn’t felt in so long. “I trust you.” 

xXx

The first day they’d practiced with steel, Killian had gone easy on her. Each stroke of his blade was precise, but restrained - meant to instruct, to show her how the iron-forged blades could slice and ravage in comparison to the wooden swords they’d spent all this time sparring with. Faye had mastered the basics, had perfected her stance and grown accustomed to the weight of the blade in her hands, had learned to attack and parry without misstep. Each day she’d grown stronger, able to bear the weight of her own blade as well as the force of each blow Killian dealt her, fast and sharp and deadly. And just when Faye had almost allowed herself to be trickled into a false sense of security, the real fun began. 

The sharp sound of steel on steel rang through the air, sending chills down her spine. Faye grunted beneath the force of the attack, jaw clenched as she forced every ounce of strength up through her shoulders and triceps. Bit by bit the steel wavered and she thrust, shoving him away. Killian was stronger, honed to a warriors perfection from centuries of training, but Faye was quick. Sure footed and fast, she danced back and forth in the space before him, never hesitating, never allowing herself to be any less fluid than the early-morning dew trickling from the eaves around them. Each attack she parried, sometimes easily and sometimes with the grit of her teeth and force of sheer will. Being bested was nothing new to her - the thought of beating any of the ferocious Illyrians in this city was downright laughable. All she could hope was to learn and to improve, to hone her own strength beneath Killian’s guidance. And over the course of these last few weeks, that’s exactly what she’d done. Faye had watched closely every step of the way, absorbing everything he put out, each footstep and lunge, until she felt she knew Killian’s pattern nearly as well as she knew her own. Fluid and grace, that’s what she was. The perfect counterbalance to his raw strength and straightforwardness. 

Blue eyes lit up as she watched Killian draw back once more, already knowing exactly where his feet would step and his sword would land. Spinning out of the line of attack so quickly the end of her golden braid whipped against her face, Faye hooked her foot around Killian’s and tugged sharply. It was a calculated move, one designed not to drop the man to his knees but to get him to stutter ever so slightly. A slight stumble, corrected so easily but still giving her just a moment of advantage. As his knee buckled ever so slightly Faye continued in that rippling twirl, her back brushing against his own, leather on leather, until they were face to face once more. In that split second he’d wavered, her blade was pressed against his throat. A breathless sound escaped her, surprise lighting her eyes as Killian’s laughter sounded. It rang through her like something golden and light and freeing, that note of pride in his laugh. Not surprise, not disbelief, but pride. A beaming smile broke out across her own face in response, so wide her cheeks ached from the strain that had long since become unfamiliar. A small happy dance ensued, and then Faye was lurching to bridge the gap between herself and Killian, throwing her arms around his neck. Drawn to him in so many ways, for so many reasons, but most of all for the simple fact that he’d made this happen. He’d believed in her, he’d taken the time to train her, he’d pushed her and molded her - this victory was theirs to share. 

Faye knew it was a mistake the moment she landed in his arms. She was beginning to be able to separate the feelings, to recognize them and confine them to the places they belonged. Her own emotions were forefront and stronger than the rest, so complex she could hardly name them most days and so fleeting that they washed away in the fog the rest of the time. The emotions that seemed to mist along her subconscious, dark and swirling and mysterious, those belonged to Killian. Light and ghostlike, but entwined somewhere deep within her soul. Now, now something hot and leaden coiled up inside of her gut, like a snake ready to pounce - not her own emotion. These golden-tinged feelings smoldered deep in her belly, like embers: Wayland’s. Faye turned her head in time to catch the look on his face, to see the warrior stalking off the rooftop. Guilt flared up for a moment, so intense that it left her feeling gutted. And then that feeling, the feeling of shame and sadness in the wake of the pride she’d been feeling moments before, dousing the joy of her first real victory, sparked something else inside of her. An ember of her own. 

The blonde-haired woman detached herself from Killian and spun on her heel, following after Wayland without giving it a second thought. Killian’s warning, just her name uttered in a tone that should have given her pause, echoed after her. Down the steps she went, her movements deliberately slow and intentional. Faye could feel that anger sparking against her own, could feel it melding and mingling with Wayland’s, adding fuel to the fire beginning to blaze deep within the both of them. It had been so long since the two of them had gone toe to toe, so long since she’d been capable of being anything other than that shell of a person that she knew deep down he’d come to loathe. He didn’t have to say it - she could see it in his eyes. Could feel it in the restraint of his touch. Noticed it in the half-hearted smiles and the watchful eye he kept on her whenever her mind began to wander to places he couldn’t begin to comprehend. They’d been drifting for a long time now, lost in a sea of uncertainty, tethered only by two things it seemed: fate and obligation. 

“What was that?” she demanded, hands going to her hips. From her stance alone, Wayland tensed, and Faye knew that she was treading on thin ice. It turned that smoldering inside of her into a full on inferno: equal parts anger and exhilaration. He tried to dismiss it, he always tried to dismiss it, but something about the way he sneered Killian’s name sent something inside of her snapping. A snarl tore free from Faye’s lips, the sound animalistic and fierce. Fae. Had her own anger not been blinding, her own eyes would have been alight with the surprise she saw in Wayland’s. “It has been weeks of this, Wayland. Weeks of the overprotective touches, the sideyeing my every interaction, the territorial bullshit. And not just since we lost Evie, but before. Ever since I stepped out of that Gods-damned cauldron you have been looking at me like I’m something broken and in need of your protection.” Wayland roared, a few choice words echoing in her ears: You’re my mate! That bond between them, the work of fate. Her first tether to this world, to this life, to herself - her first, but not her only. “And he’s my carranam!” Faye shot back, not expecting him to understand the weight of it all. None of them did, none of them could. They could see the interactions she had with Killian, but they couldn’t feel his imprint upon her soul. 

Each shout had brought the two of them closer, until they were nose to nose, teeth bared - not threateningly, of course, but out of frustration. Faye’s hands trembled, palms glowing faintly, frustration and agony coursing through her veins. Something was brewing in the pit of her belly, something warm and dangerous, spreading through her veins like molten gold. She hated this, every instinct in her body screamed at her. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Wayland wasn’t her enemy, he was her mate. And she loved him, gods she loved him with every ounce of her broken soul, no matter how lost she might currently feel - but she loved Killian, too. Maybe not the same way, but she did love him. She loved the way he filled those cracks, the way he unknowingly was patching back together something he wasn’t responsible for breaking. Wayland was her protector, but Killian gave her her own strength. He was more than just a friend, or an ally - he was an extension of her self. Faye could never explain that to Wayland. Could never put into words that while he might be woven into the fabric of her very being, in the marrow of her bones and every ounce of her composition, Killian was fused into her soul, her life’s blood, the source of her power and might. Power that she could feel surging, warming her through, licking up her body like wild, untamed flames. 

As if answering an unspoken call, the Shadowsinger appeared. His voice was low and steady and exactly what neither of them wanted to hear. The tension was too much, Faye could feel it, and as soon as Killian took a step in her direction - protective, maybe, unconsciously - Wayland lunged. The sound of bone cracking filled the air and blood splattered as the Illyrian men became a blur of light and dark, leather and tanned flesh. Faster than she could prevent, so fast she could hardly comprehend it. Panic and guilt flooded Faye once again at the sight, brothers tearing at one another over nothing, over her. A lifetime of brotherhood, of love and camaraderie and something more, shredded in an instant. And then that power exploded out of Faye in a burst of sunshine, sending her golden hair streaming behind her as gust after gust of wind rattled the room, shoving them apart, her eyes turning the color of liquid gold as that power flared up, wild and unpredictable. A wall of light formed between Wayland and Killian, forcing them apart. It glittered and flickered, hues of gold and orange twining together, cleaving the room in two. Spreading, like wildfire, flickering like flames across the floor and up the wall. “Enough!” She cried out, her voice not coming out as the terrified squeak she’d expected, but something full of unleashed power and command. That golden light had turned hot and heavy, truly flaming, as it began to climb the walls. Fire, yet not. Something raw and molten and unfiltered.  

The wind that whipped around her only fueled those otherworldly flames. And for the first time in so long, Faye didn’t feel weak or scared or lost. As that power surged through her blood, she felt whole. Moments could have passed, or minutes. A strong hand laid on her arm and Killian’s voice was in her ear, low and soothing. But she didn’t want to be soothed. Something inside of her had clawed its way to the surface and now it purred in contentment, watching those flames spread - flames that didn’t burn, but suffocated. Flames that had begun as a desperate act of protection, but quickly spiraled into something else. Something fueled by the unrest in her soul, the magic filling in the gaps as it saw fit, responding to a call she hadn’t realized she’d made. It was beyond her control now, Faye’s consciousness taking a backseat as magic surged to the forefront. Her gaze flickered towards Killian, and some part of her recognized him not as a means to an end, but as her twin flame. And then aometging inside of her began to reach for him, to pull, to draw on their carranam bond until that wall of light turned to shimmering onyx, obsidian even. The flames that licked across the room went icy and black, not stifling and suffocating, but draining. They stole every bit of warmth and oxygen in the room, the temperature plummeting, everyone’s breath turning shallow. Everything went cold and yet so bright, the flames burning beautifully. Faye was lost in them, in their beauty and destruction and protection - not aiding the men she’d originally set out to defend, but a cocoon of darkness that engulfed the entire room on her behalf. And part of her, a part she couldn’t control, was content to watch the world freeze over. Faye was untouchable, locked away beneath that onslaught of power pounding through her body. Protected by both light and shadow, which melded into something deadly as those forces within her burst free and flowed unrestrained. She was Queen of both, and yet master of neither. 

A sound reached her ears. Her name, in a ravaged voice that spread over her like honey, thick and sweet. Wayland. Her eyes met his, full of awe and maybe fear. Through that glittering black veil she watched as he still leaned towards her, towards that icy light, rather than away. Still yearning to reach her, to protect, when he was the one who needed protection in that moment. Not recoiling from her power, from her, but reaching towards it for the first time since she’d been Made. For a moment the magic inside of her guttered at the sight. The wall of dark flame rippled, like someone had blown across it. And Faye blinked, emerging from that dormant place her magic had gently urged her towards. She blinked again, fingertips twitching as she re-entered her body. A wave of ice dashed over her, panic flooding her body as she looked around the flickering darkness and saw it not as something beautiful and inviting, but something uncontrollable. As her emotion surged so did the flames, spreading from floor to ceiling. A shaky hand reached towards Wayland, but the male dropped to his knees. The winds were still raging, sucking the very air out of the room, out of their lungs. “Help me,” Faye begged Killian, her voice a strangled gasp. “Make it stop.” 

Despite her steps being light, he felt her approach long before she announced her presence to him. It was the first time they’d been truly alone together since Adrastus caught them inside his tent at the war camp. They had been tiptoeing around each other lately, even during training sessions. He knew that Adrastus had been right. They needed to distance each other, but the bond had far different plans for them. It seemed the more they tried to avoid each other, the stronger the pull became on the invisible tether that connected them. As if it was succumbing to withdrawals. 

The inky shadows that enveloped his body remained thick, but her voice penetrated them easily. His golden gaze settled on his trembling hands as he listened to her. She knew his pain like it was her own — and part of it truly was, he knew. Still, he remained silent, not entirely trusting his voice. A rough swallow was all he could muster, his thoughts running rampant. The darkness that surrounded him felt so cold, but then he felt something else. Lifting his stare to the center of the cloud, he noticed something sparkling just beyond the shield. It glittered there, and then the light slowly grew, its rays penetrating the shadows — no, they weren’t destroying the fog, they were caressing it. A small ribbon of light slowly wove into the depths of his shadows, the thin stream making its way toward him with an innocent purpose.

Something swelled inside of his chest, sending waves of what he could only describe as comfort. Slowly, he raised one of his hands, extending his fingers toward the ribbon. The light met him halfway, and his shadows offered it a wide berth, opening a path so that it could find him with ease. The light slithered slowly along his pointer finger and the touch made his heart race, but not with anxiety — this was something else, something raw. Killian watched in wonderment as it began coiling itself around his outstretched hand. It felt like the warmth that radiated from a bonfire amid a chilly night. In turn, his shadows lessened until his body was once again visible. 

He could see her now. Faye perched on the same large overhanging branch as him, one knee drawn up, but he was focused on the light that wrapped around his hand at one end, his eyes followed the string until they landed on her hand where the opposite end wrapped itself around her hand. A tether. 

With careful movements, Killian’s fingers closed themselves around the ribbon attached to his hand, causing the light to brighten briefly. “It is anything but delicate,” he finally said as he pinched the string between his free fingers, sliding them along the light. It shuddered under his touch, but it felt firm. Giving it a small pluck, it let out a soft ring, but despite how quiet it was, he could feel the true power within. If a thin string such as this could hold such power, he could only imagine the untapped power that lay within Faye. He didn’t have to imagine it at all. He’d seen it firsthand when they were in the in-between together. 

Killian then looked up at Faye, finding her expression worrisome. A stress line appeared between her pinched brows and without warning, he was searching her thoughts. He knew it was an intrusion of privacy, but he also didn’t mean to do it at all. He was curious and wanted to know what it was she was thinking, and then he was there, inside the confines of her mind. Blinking at her, his lips formed a thin line as they pursed. Her thoughts were as he predicted them to be by the look on her face. They were harsh and degrading. Phaedra’s gaze snapped to his own, as if catching him in the act of something and a smile that didn’t meet her eyes graced her lips. The Shadowsinger didn’t try to hide his actions and he didn’t retreat. He was beckoned to stay as she offered him a deeper dive into her subconscious by sending a vision through their bond. His vision faded from what was right in front of him to someplace else. To a memory of sorts.

The scene that played out before him was wicked. It sent unease filtering through him like a storm. Images of his High Lady in the Spring Court, of blood raining from the skies, of her usually composed personality becoming tainted as she laughed, her body soaked in crimson. Killian stiffened and as soon as the dream was over, he tore out of her mind, his heart beating rapidly. She had dreams like these before — no, they weren’t dreams. She’d been awake the last time. Standing on the doorstep of the Town House. He recalled the last vision, of the roses and Evie. It gave him a strong impression that her visions were not entirely false, especially with the predicament they were currently in. It made him feel ill, or maybe it was Faye who felt that way.

With a hard swallow, Killian shoved himself up and off the branch. He looked down at the pond separating him from Faye for a beat of silence and then he was moving toward her. The Shadowsinger’s boots became submerged into the muck beneath the water as he trudged through it, letting the cool water soak his pants up just past his knees. He came to a stop before her and reached out the hand wrapped in light. His forefinger curled beneath her chin and he lifted her gaze to meet his own. Fear rippled off her and he could feel it pulsing through their contact, but he fought against it.

“You are not delicate either, Phaedra,” Killian swore. “The Cauldron has taken from you, yes, but it still fears you. You heard it yourself. This light that lives inside of you, you command it. Just as I command my shadows.” He paused at the thought. At how uncontrollable the shadows had been since they created their bond; his brows furrowed in frustration. No. They still belonged to him. Just as the light belonged to her. With some force, Killian called upon his shadows, and to his surprise, they heeded his call. The shadows slowly snaked their way around the same hand that was tied by light and then he made them create their own tether of darkness. The string they made slithered around the band of light until it reached her hand and wrapped around hers too. The light and dark danced around each other, as if in sync somehow.

“You are one of the bravest people that I know. And being brave does not mean that you do not fear, do you understand?” He held her gaze. “Being brave is fighting despite the fear you feel. And I have seen you do it time and time again. We will get her back, and if any pieces of her are missing, we will get those back too. I promise.” And for the first time in a while. He believed his words.

Each night felt a little more empty. Wayland lay on his side, facing toward Faye. He watched the steady rise and fall of her chest and it seemed that even in sleep, her features were strained. Lines were visible between her brows, and occasionally she would shake her head as if trying to rid of something he could not see. 

Reaching out tentatively, he softly caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. Despite the woman in his bed being his mate, he had never felt so detached from another. He could like read her mind, but he could sense the surface of her emotions. She’d been pulling away from him lately. Even before the Carranam bond, she hadn’t been herself. At least not with him. When he looked at her, there was less of her that looked back at him, as if part of her was frozen somehow. He knew that the Cauldron had taken its toll on her, and he’d been patient, but then came the bond between her and Killian. The exchanging of looks they swapped, the silent conversations they seemed to have, the understanding that radiated off of them. It was all becoming too much. When he was made aware that Killian could not only feel her emotions but dive into her mind and speak to her as if they were daemati? He’d never felt more inadequate.

Tonight had been no exception. He’d seen Killian exit the house to the gardens, and shortly after, Phaedra had followed without a word. Wayland made himself busy in conversation with Nevara and Onica, but his attention had never left his mate as she slipped through the sliding glass door. Part of him wanted to follow, but another part begged him not to. As if to save him from further heartache.

It had been a while before they returned. Faye came to his room and crawled into bed beside him quietly. Though she rested her head on his chest while he stroked her hair, the silence between them had never been so loud. 

“Where have you gone, my Wildflower?” He whispered into the night, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

* * *

On the roof of the townhouse, birds chirped all around. Wayland busied himself with his training as Faye and Killian worked on swordwork. Killian had just graduated her to using a real sword instead of the wooden ones and it caused Wayland to constantly check on her with each ring of metal on metal. Of course, he knew Killian wouldn’t harm her, it didn’t make him any less uneasy to see her using a weapon that could create bloodshed. Despite part of him being worried, another part was proud of how far she’d come with the Shadowsinger's help. A twinge of self-pity also rose to the surface that it hadn’t been him helping her grow.

A bout of laughter rang through the air. He raked a hand through his sweat-damp hair, pausing his workout to find it had come from Killian who was caught by the tip of Faye’s sword. He’d lowered his weapon and beamed a genuine smile at her. She’d beat him.

“You executed each move flawlessly, Phaedra.” He praised and the bright smile she returned put the sun to shame. He hadn’t seen her smile like that in weeks. When she danced on her tiptoes excitedly, his lips twitched into a faint smile, but the smile disappeared as she flung her arms around him in a tight hug.

Jealousy was a snake rearing its ugly head inside of Wayland. Killian glanced in his direction briefly and that was all it took to shove him over the edge. Pursing his lips, the Commander’s shoulders slumped and he stalked off toward the stairs descending from the rooftop.

He needed to put distance between himself and them before he did something he’d regret. His boots thundered down the steps and Nevara who was standing at the Island counter at the center of the kitchen perked up from her reading. She raised an eyebrow at his storming figure as he crossed the room. 

“Throwing a tantrum isn’t going to fix your relationship. Talk to her.” Nevara sighed and Wayland turned on her sharply.

“And what do you know about relationships?” He shot back and she raised her chin defiantly, but her eyes shifted behind him, landing on something.

No. Someone.

Turning around, Wayland came face to face with Phaedra and anger still rolled off him, uncontrolled and messy.

The oil lamp cast both light and shadow across Killian’s face, hardening his sharp features. He peered through thick lashes at Phaedra. She’d planted herself directly in front of him with a sound of frustration slipping from her. He’d continued to just stare at her, brows lowering slightly as she reached for a rag and one of his boots. His fingers twisted against the leather of his other boot, a piece of him wanting to reach out and stop her, but then he caught sight of a single line creasing between her brows. The determination practically radiated off of her — or maybe it was the bond, but he knew that she wasn’t going anywhere no matter what he did or said, and if he was being honest with himself, he was too tired to argue with her.

Clutching the dirtied rag in his hand, he slowly lowered his gaze back to his boot and began scrubbing once more at the attor’s blood. The silence had never felt more thick than it did now, even with the sound of their work echoing between them. He could almost hear the gears of her mind going to work while they sat there. Like she was a ticking time bomb of questions that was ready to go off. He knew Phaedra was always inside her head, but after their Caranam bond fell into place, he could feel it constantly. The curiosity mixed with frustration or concern. The oddest part of it all was that he could almost taste each emotion at the back of his throat. It could be sweet, ashy, sour, or downright bitter. Right now it seemed to be a mix of spice and copper. Frustration and concern. Then she broke the silence and brought it all to light.

Her statement made him blink down at his boot and his hand nearly came to a stop before picking up where it left off once more. The Shadowsinger continued to scrub at his boot, harder than before as if it was his sole purpose in life to get the leather spotless. He was aware that he hadn’t been himself lately, but to hear her state it the way she did made his stomach knot up. Not only that, but he wasn’t sure that he was ready to confront the fact himself. He had grown so accustomed to understanding his emotions and now that he could not and they were also wrapped up in Phaedra’s, his control was weary. So instead of responding. He scrubbed.

Two small hands suddenly reached out and clasped themselves around his working hand, stopping his work. Killian stiffened against her touch. It felt like a static shock that shot down his spine and he found himself lifting his eyes to meet her own finally. He’d become lost in those eyes, as though he was drowning in a sea and her voice felt like a satin ribbon sliding against the confines of his mind, causing a subtle shiver to expel from him. His jaw clenched tight, the muscles beneath feathering as he tried to find the words — or any words at all, but the things he was feeling, those were the problem. They were suffocating him in a way that he couldn’t fathom. A way that was destructive and not only to him.

The mention of Wayland snapped Killian out of his reverie and his chest rose in a deep inhale. The last thing he wanted was for her to sacrifice any part of her relationship with Wayland, especially not for his benefit. Things had already been a bit tense between himself and the Commander, but this. All of this was not going to fix that.

Dropping his boot to the ground, Killian shook his head, tendrils of dark chocolate hair falling over his brow. A feeling of defeatedness washed over his senses. “This isn’t about our training sessions, nor Wayland attending them, Phaedra.” He released a heavy sigh that hardly relieved the tension in his shoulders. His golden eyes surveyed the tattoo that wrapped around his right arm and then the one that he could see peeking out of Phaedra’s sleeve. A moment of silence passed between them.

“There’s very little that we know of the Carranam bond.” He wasn’t entirely sure if he was speaking to her or himself, but still, he continued. “Part of me is beginning to think it may be a mistake.” As soon as the words left his lips, he could feel a flash of hurt enter him. It belonged to Faye. His eyes found hers and he immediately regretted what he said. She’d only blinked at him and then she was turning away, as if beginning to recoil entirely. Instinctively, Killian reached out. His calloused and scarred hands captured her face, turning her head back toward him. “That’s not what I meant—” Without warning or permission, his shadows sprung free from his skin, shoving him forward and off the edge of his cot. 

The force resulted in Killian kneeling directly in front of Phaedra, close enough that he could feel her body's warmth soaking into him. The shadows slowly snaked up, brushing against Faye’s collarbone, then wrapped around a piece of her hair, as if admiring it.

“This.” His voice came out hoarse. “This is what I’m talking about. Whenever you get near, they stop obeying. I can feel your emotions like they are my own, and every time we touch—” he glanced at his hands still on each of her cheeks, focusing on the steady buzzing that vibrated against the contact of their skin. He shook his head and was ready to drop his hands when a throat being cleared caused him to snap his head in the direction of his tent entrance.

Standing at the opening, staring at the two of them with a stern expression was Adrastus. Killian quickly tore his hands from Phaedra, becoming painfully aware of what the situation must have looked like. It surely didn’t do him any favors that he was shirtless.

“Am I interrupting?” The High Lord queried, though judging by his tone of voice, he didn’t give a shit if he was or not.

“Something tells me that if I told you this isn’t what it looks like, you wouldn’t believe me.” Killian countered.

“You’re right.” Adrastus’ disappointed gaze swung between them and then he pursed his lips, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I think returning to your tent would be wise, Phaedra.” he finally said after a beat of silence. It wasn’t necessarily a suggestion, more an order, and Killian slowly rose to his feet, jaw clenched tightly.

Without looking at Faye, Killian entered her thoughts quietly. “I’ll take care of this, you should go.” he insisted through their bond and when she stared at him, he shot her a hard look that took a moment, but finally convinced her to make her way out of the tent. Once she was gone, Adrastus’ fury was exposed entirely.

“What in the Seven Hells do you think you are doing, Killian? Not only are your actions thoroughly idiotic, but she is mated and to Wayland nonetheless.” A vein in his temple protruded and he shook his head in disbelief.

Trying to explain what had transpired between himself and Faye felt like trying to find a needle in a haystack — utterly impossible. How did one even begin? Even though nothing had truly happened between the two of them, it didn’t change the fact that now that they were bonded, something was there and it was undeniable. When he imagined himself being bonded to someone, he had never once anticipated it being like this and to someone who already had a bond created, one that was deeply rooted and cherished. The rush of guilt consumed him. Carranom or not, she was not his to whisper to in the dead of night. He should have sent her back as soon as she entered. But he didn’t. He hadn’t wanted to.

“I am as ashamed— if not more—of my actions, but I mean what I said. Nothing happened. And nothing is going to happen.” Killian’s chest sank with a heavy breath.

Adrastus looked over him and the doubt in his eyes was clear even when shrouded by the dark. “Tell me more about this Carranam bond.” He finally said, moving to take a seat on one of the wooden stools across the tent.

Killian lowered himself back to the edge of his cot and nodded slowly before explaining to his brother and High Lord what he knew. In hopes that he would come to understand.

* * *

Morning had crested the war camp mountains and to say that there was tension would have been an understatement.

A meeting had been held between the High Lords, but everyone had been included. Nevara and Onica had stayed at the campsite, trying to get in more research for Evelyn’s rescue. Adrastus had leveled both Killian and Faye with a weary look that lingered long enough for Wayland’s brows to knit in confusion.

“The meeting hadn’t gone that terribly, had it?” Wayland remarked as he watched his High Lord stalk off toward the campsite.

Killian glanced toward the Commander and then toward Faye at his side. She looked as uncomfortable as he felt. Forcing himself to only look at Wayland, he shook his head. “He’s likely gotten little sleep since our High Lady's capture. I wouldn’t read into it.”

Wayland’s hand rested protectively against the small of Faye’s back instinctively, as if the thought of her being captured had crossed his mind. “I’m just glad we can finally get off these Gods Forsaken mountains. The cold has permanently seeped into my wings.” 

A huff of agreement escaped Killian at that. His wings too have become rather stiff against the cold mountain air. It was different to be constantly working in the camp, but to be sitting around planning in the cold was miserable. 

* * *

The inner circle had arrived back in Sakaris, but their home had felt wrong. Without their High Lady, it was eerie and quiet. Wayland, Faye, Onica, and Killian lingered in the sitting room. No one touched the seat that Evie usually occupied. Swirling wine in a glass, Onica sighed.

“I miss her so much.” She whispered.

They all did. It was obvious in the quiet that lingered between them all. He hated it. The quiet. The inability to think of anything other than the fact that he had failed not only his friend but his High fucking Lady. He didn’t protect her. He failed her. They all had.

Without a word, the Shadowsinger headed for the sliding glass door connected to the kitchen and slipped out into the gardens. His shadows trailed after him, responding to the anger and frustration. It felt so blinding now. As if returning home had somehow cemented the feelings that lingered beneath into place. He didn’t stop walking until he reached the pond littered with water lilies. A large tree sat beside it, one of its strong thick branches hanging out over the pond close to the ground. His scarred hands reached up, tangling in his dark hair and he shut his eyes, attempting to control his breathing.

Slowly, he lowered himself onto the branch, nearest to the tree trunk. He leaned his back against it, finding a small amount of comfort in its stability. His shadows had thickened before he’d realized it and then a deep, thick cloud surrounded him, his body unseeable through the fog of it. As if they too wanted to hide him from the world.

It felt like everything was off lately, and it was beginning to wear on Faye - or perhaps it was simply the heaviness of others weighing on her. Some days it was difficult to decipher between what emotions were hers, which were Waylands, and which were Killians. It felt like she was a melting pot, everyone's anxieties and tensions melding within her. There was no escape, she was drowning in a sea of emotion that didn’t even belong to her. Or maybe it did; she couldn’t tell anymore. 

She sensed when Killian re-entered the camp, something inside of her bubbling uncomfortably. Blinking up into the near-darkness of the tent she shared with Wayland, the blonde burrowed deeper into the covers and trembled - it had nothing to do with the cold. The warmth from the man laying beside her couldn’t penetrate the darkness that swelled up, cold and unforgiving, washing over Faye until she felt compelled to throw back the covers and climb to her feet. Without really thinking about it she shrugged into her jacket, shivering now against the mountainous chill, shoving her feet into boots and stumbling half blindly out of the tent into the darkness of camp. 

Her feet carried her like they knew the way, driven by that innate sense of union. She could have found her way to his tent with her eyes closed, guided simply by feeling - feelings of peace and fury, darkness and light, pain and euphoria. Like flipping through a catalog, she ciphered through these emotions as she moved, sorting them into little boxes: Killian’s, Mine, Killian’s, Mine. With time everything became easier, but it was easiest still when it was just the two of them. When it was possible to focus on just one bond, to meet those emotions as they came and filter them through her own perception. For the first time in a long time, Faye felt that she was truly prepared to face Killian head-on, no outside influences. Just her, him, and everything that was shared between them. No distractions.

She knocked gently and then pushed her way inside, coming to a short stop at the sight of the man sitting there on the edge of his bed, shirtless and preparing to scrub the crusted black blood from his body and his belongings. Blinking a few times, Faye shifted her gaze from the coldness on the shadowsinger’s face to the muscled planes of a body she’d yet to see unclothed. It would have been easy to become distracted by the sight of all that exposed, tanned skin. Her mouth went dry, first at the sight of him but then as she noticed the scars littering the man’s flesh. The pain that surfaced at the sight of those burns was old and muted - not her own. It bubbled up inside of Faye’s chest with a resounding sadness, leaving the blonde drowning in a sea of emotion she couldn’t decipher. Rage cut through those waves with a swiftness, and that emotion, that one, she recognized - that was hers. It didn’t have long to fester, washed away by the sheer force of Killian’s eons-old waves of faded resentment, but it sparked something inside of Faye that she couldn’t quite place her finger on. Something she wasn’t sure she liked.

“You have to be up early as well,” countered the blonde with a pointed look. Killian’s words sat heavily, and she wasn’t sure whether she felt more disappointment with herself or frustration with him. Drawing in a deep breath, she strode further into the tent and sat cross-legged before the Shadowsinger, letting that grounding lungful of air escape as a sigh through her nose. It seemed like second nature to reach out and grab a clean rag, lifting the boot opposite the one Killian had been about to clean when she walked in. “It’ll go faster with help,” was all the blonde offered when he sent her a questioning look. Not meeting Killian’s eyes, she dipped the rag in the disinfectant and then scrubbed at the leather with strong but somehow gentle motions. The attor’s ghastly blood was stubborn and sought to stick to the fabric, but with a little bit of force and patience it began to wash away. 

The truth was, she didn’t like the idea of him sitting in here by himself, dealing with the aftermath of all the darkness. Though she knew the shadows were a second home to him, she could feel somewhere deep inside her own soul a weary tiredness that hadn’t been there before. Before their bond had locked into place, Faye hadn’t thought twice about the things Killian did in the dark. She knew that he was spymaster, she knew that he commanded the shadows, and so she had assumed - naturally - that the things he did were as equally dark in nature. It had been easier to not ponder the extent of his spymaster duties before, but now….now she could feel it. Could feel the phantom blood coating her own skin with an oily, unforgiving slick. Could feel the euphoric release when the dagger plunged into the attor’s heart, ridding the world of filth and Killian's own shoulders of the tension he carried. More than anything, she could feel the loneliness of returning blood-spattered to an empty tent in the middle of the night. 

That was what had driven her to him in the end. 

They sat in silence for a long while, both working over the leather with care. It reminded Faye so much of those long afternoons they’d spent in comfortable silence after she’d come to Sakaris. Killian had been the only one who did not push her and pry, the only presence in which she found comfort. Isolation…but together. So many things had changed since those early days, and yet at its core their friendship still felt as if it were built on these stolen moments. Only these days, the silence suddenly felt a lot less comfortable. She could sense Killian’s unease, his frustration towards her and everyone around him - but she couldn’t place it. Couldn’t ease those feelings, couldn’t fix whatever was troubling him. It had never felt like her burden to bear, but that had changed with the enactment of the Carranam bond. Now, it felt like a personal failure to sense these emotions and not know how to make them subside. 

“You’ve been off lately, Killian.” Not a question. There was an edge of concern in Faye’s voice, though she forced it to flatten. Their relationship was still new, and though she felt she knew her twin flame as deeply as if they’d been forged from the same ember, that knowledge was something soulful and deeper than even she could understand; it didn’t apply to what was on the surface, it didn’t give her some edge on knowing what made the spymaster tick, what would set him off and what would ease his tension. “Not just with me.” Eyes still locked onto the boot she’d nearly finished scrubbing, Faye avoided eye contact. Why? She didn’t quite know. Something about the exchange made her feel an unusual, underlying sense of anxiety. It was strange, whatever this thing was between them. How his soul wrapped itself around her own, how it felt like two puzzle pieces fitting together, like coming home - and yet, interactions of the flesh felt so stiff and tense. Like wading through uncharted waters with no life preserver, not knowing if you were going to sink or swim. 

It seemed like she wasn’t the only one who felt that way. Killian didn’t meet her eye, either, and after a long moment of prolonged silence Faye reached out, stopping his hand by grabbing it up in her own. The skin there was cool and scarred, rough beneath her own. Their eyes met, and Faye held his stare. “Killian, I am not a daemati. I cannot read your mind. If you need more from me, you have to say so.” She gave his hand a strong, emphatic squeeze. “But not like this. Not with snarky comments and evil looks. We’re on the same team - hell, we’re more than that. If you need something from me…just ask.” And then, silently, and with a waggle of her eyebrows she added through the bond, Don’t even need to use words. It should have cut the tension, but he still looked at her with a hardness that didn't sit well with Faye. She didn't like this, the two of them being at odds. Not when so much was at stake. Not when they had come so far and were learning so much.

Faye dropped Killian's hand with a slight frown. And moved onto the biggest elephant in the room. "I will tell Wayland not to come when we're training, if you feel it's a distraction." Sometimes it was a relief to have Wayland there. His presence was a comfort to her, even when it complicated things, even when juggling the two bonds became difficult - especially when one of those bonds was weighing on her in ways that she wasn't entirely comfortable with. "You're...more impatient with me on the days he trains alongside us." She noted aloud, lips quirking slightly - it was such an uncomfortable topic, and she didn't entirely understand why. Nor would she ponder deeper than the surface. "And you're sullen enough without any extra help," she added lightly, teasingly, giving the illyrian a hopeful sort of smirk, wanting to cut through this new and uncharted tension between them.

Killian’s shadows clung to his body like weights as he stalked away from the arena as if they were adamant that he stayed beside Phaedra. The Shadowsinger shoved past the feeling until Faye grabbed hold of him, causing him to spin around on her. Her touch seemed to send the feeling of electricity skittering across his skin. A storm of confused frustration clouded his mind as he stared down at her, but when she spoke, something in his gaze softened briefly. She thought he was giving up on her. Somehow it was almost better she thought that, rather than trying to analyze him and the reason behind his actions.

“Tomorrow.” he nodded to her and once her fingers loosened around his arm, he turned back around, continuing back toward their camp.

* * *

Several weeks passed and not a day was wasted. Killian and Phaedra met with one another each day, slowly adding more and more to their work together. Their runs were made longer, their combat training was becoming more and more extensive, adding in swords and daggers. Killian could see the growth in Faye, he could see the way she held her body differently, she looked more confident and her movements were becoming more fluid. Parts of her that were once soft and delicate were hardened by well-earned muscle.

A lot changed in the past weeks. Not just for Phaedra, but for everyone. Adrastus was rarely ever seen nowadays. He was either off trying to form alliances with other Courts or pent up in his tent with Nevara as they spent hours deciphering more and more of the Book of Breathings for some sort of shortcut or last hope idea in getting their High Lady back and stopping Elisora for good. Onica spent time keeping the Court of Nightmares in check for Adrastus, as well as checking in on Sakaris. Wayland worked around Windhaven with other Illyrians and against his wishes – with Devlon. When Wayland wasn’t working though, he was with Killiand and Phaedra. At first, it didn’t bother Killian, but as the days went on, he couldn’t deny the budding feeling of annoyance when he was trying to work with Phaedra on their Carranam bond. It was harder to concentrate with him around, and there were moments that Killian wouldn’t admit to, but there was a small part of him that got downright angry when the two of them were distracted by each other.

Like right now.

Phaedra’s laughter was light and bubbly, filling the air like music. Killian’s golden eyes flickered over the pair as they smiled at one another beside the weaponry cart. Wayland’s dimples were evident as he showed her how to strike with one and then proceeded to act like she truly hurt him only to grin and cause her to roll her eyes.

The Spymaster’s shadows thickened in response.

“When you’re ready to work, let me know.” Killian shot the words down their Carranam bond, his eyes meeting hers briefly and then he turned and headed out of the arena, his shadows snaking behind him as though even they were disappointed.

Wayland glanced over Faye’s face, his brows knitting together with concern, and his grin faltering. “Faye? What is it?” He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and followed her line of sight which now trailed after Killian’s retreating form. Wayland’s jaw clenched and he raked a hand through his own hair, releasing a sigh. “Don’t let him get to you, he’s never been the type to just relax and have some fun, it’s not you.” he tried to reassure her, but he could still see the lingering guilt in her eyes. 

* * *

Killian spent the remainder of his day fulfilling any jobs that were required of him under the order of Adrastus. He was still a Spymaster after all, and he had duties that remained, especially with Elisora on the prowl.

Tonight, as if the universe somehow knew that Killian had extra steam to blow off, the Shadowsinger was given a unique prisoner to question. An Attor flying through the territories after his meeting with the others. Now, in the dungeons of the prison, Killian stared down at the bony creature hissing up at him from his shadow restraints.

“Nothing can break what the Cauldron has created, you stupid fool.” the Attor said through a guttural laugh, but the laugh was quickly cut off by Killian grabbing him by the throat, cutting off his air supply. 

“I find that very hard to believe.”

The Attor choked beneath his grip and was quick to gasp for air when Killian released him, shoving his body to the ground as he unsheathed a blade from his side.

“You’re already too late,” the Attor shoved himself back a ways from the Spymaster.

“If that’s the case, then I guess you’re useless to me,” Killian muttered, his eyes examining the sharpness of his blade.

A shift in the Attor’s expression showed him that he was aware he said the wrong thing, but Killian didn’t have the time to mess with something that wasn’t going to give him answers. His shadows slowly lifted the Attor up off the ground in front of him and it began growling and squirming in the air.

“Wait—” 

Why did they always say that?

“I’ve been waiting long enough,” Killian’s jaw ticked and then the shadows plunged the Attor toward him, sinking his blade straight through his heart.

* * *

Back at the camp, everything was quiet. Some fires were burning throughout the night, even though it was rather late. Killian still had blood on his clothes from the Attor and it made him grimace. Their blood was hard to remove, especially from leather. He slipped soundlessly into his tent, removing his weapons one by one. After that, he unlaced his boots and removed his shirts, the only time he exposed the massive burn marks covering his back. Leaning over, he switched on a lamp and grabbed himself a rag and some cleaner to begin rinsing his attire, starting with his dagger and then moving on the boots as he sat at the edge of his bed.

Just as he lifted a boot from the ground, his tent rustled and his eyes snapped up, his wings expanding slightly as he watched a small figure slip inside. Killian examined Phaedra as she slowly closed it behind her and he lowered the boot, cloth still in hand.

“It’s late, Phaedra.” He announced. “You have to be up early for our run. Unless you’re busy of course.” The last part might have sounded annoyed. A lot of things annoyed him today.     

The undeniable need to protect sang through the Shadowsinger, and the song shifted into an impenetrable screaming in his head when Phadrea’s body collided with his own in a hard shove, sending the male stumbling out of the way. Sun-flecked eyes widened when they landed on her, a mixture of disbelief and anger clouding those golden iris’ when he saw why she’d done it. Through the shroud of darkness around them, a heavy wave came hurdling to where he once stood, the place now taken up by Faye who fell to her knees, her scream filling the void that surrounded them. 

Something inside of Killian’s chest felt as though it was cracking as he watched the relentless shock waves pummelling into her small form. The Spymaster tried a step toward her, the invisible ripples shoving him back each time he tried to approach. He fought against the force of magic, determined to reach her. The muscles in his body worked against it, rolling beneath his golden skin. Each step felt as though he was shoving a bolder in her direction.  He pushed and pushed, earning a few steps each time until his arm was reaching out toward her.

She was glowing by the time he reached her. Her eyes no longer blue, but blinding white orbs and all around her like a sunlit aura, her body seemed to almost blur with the vibrations that buzzed through her. The Cauldron acted as a siphon, forcing magic into her, or maybe it was just awakening what already derived inside of her this whole time. He recognized the light that consumed her. It was the same light he saw when freeing her from her visions.

Killian made one more strong shove against the Cauldron, his hand still outstretched and when his fingers brushed against her shoulder, it was like he had passed through the invisible baraccade and was now inside of it with her. There was no more force shoving him away and he was able to stand without effort beside her. The Shadowsinger slowly kneeled down, the energy and power that radiated from Faye could be felt in the small distance between them and he swore he could hear it all buzzing inside of his head, like static. His fingers slid down her arm until they were intertwining with her own. He squeezed her hand and inturn felt her own grip tighten. In that moment he felt his shadows do something he’d never felt them do before. On their own accord, they snaked down his arm like veins and escaped from the tips of his fingers, but instead of just brimming the surface of Faye, they. . . went within her. He watched in disbelief as his shadows treated her as though she was a second home and they nested inside of her, coiling around her body like armor.

In turn, Faye’s energy, her magic, the pure power it seemed to wash over him slowly, causing the hairs on his arms to stand as he felt the buzzing sensation envelope him. Killian rose his gaze to meet Faye’s. She stared at him as if she knew what the power was doing and even without her saying a single word to him. He found that by just looking into her eyes, he could understand too. His lips parted to speak, and then were pursing firmly when Faye’s voice beat him to it. He stared at her, brows lowering slightly. It wasn’t what she said. It was how she said it. The only other person he’d ever met that could do such a thing was Adrastus until Evie came along, but that was because Adras’ daemati abilities flowed through her. So how it was that Faye was speaking into his mind, he could not comprehend.

Killian only blinked when she continued, her voice a demand ringing through his mind and his head turned into the direction that the power was flowing from. It wasn’t evident how he knew what she meant. Or how he knew how to do such a thing, but the Shadowsinger simply nodded once and then wrapped his free arm around Faye’s waist to slowly bring her to her feet.

Faye now stood in front of Killian, one of his arms bracing her upright. The whipping winds of the magic around them caused his hair to rustle against the breeze, her own strands tickling his neck. “Together.” He said lowly and brought her hand up, outstretched in front of them. His own hand cupped the back of it and directed her palm to face out toward the darkness. His golden eyes closed, brows knitting as he concentrated, trying to reach for anything that felt right. 

Then it all came together.

His shadows whispered quietly as they resurfaced from Faye and they began coiling around their joined hands. Killian’s wings slowly stretched out behind him, like two impenetrable walls around them. The shadows pooled at their wrists, appearing as a cloud of darkness and the whispering grew louder until a spark of light ignited in the palm of Phaedra’s hand. Killian opened his eyes to see the blinding orb as it slowly grew and grew. His grip around her tightened as the magic built up, as if all of it was rushing to that orb of light instead of her body. The light was blinding, illuminating the limitless dark around them. The Cauldron seemed to rumble at them, obviously not impressed with what was happening.

“Stop.” It ordered in a dark snarl.

The shadows began moving again, intertwining into the ball of light. Their powers merging into one.

“STOP IT.” The Cauldron snapped again.

Suddenly, not only were their powers connected, but their minds. Their bodies. Their souls. Killian’s muscles tensed at the sensation that was building up. He could hear her voice in his head. Her thoughts. Her worries. Her guilt and happiness. Like an intruder, he seemed to drink it all down. Her heart. It felt pure and angry all at once. Similar to the being on the warfield, he felt her internal battles and his eyes shifted to her face as understanding flooded him. For a moment his face softened, and then their magic erupted.

A jolt ran through him and his hand clenched her own as he directed the flow of magic outward, slamming it into the darkness around them. He could hear the Cauldron’s screams echo around them and what used to be nothing but ebony abyss became swallowed by the light. He couldn’t keep his eyes open against the blinding glare and when it became too much, Killian encased their bodies in his wings, shifting so that he was now in front of Faye, his body shielding her. A thought yelled through his mind. They needed to leave. To get out.

And then their bodies were hurdling into the earth with a thud.

* * *

Killian made sure to take most of the blow as they landed. His arms were wrapped around Phaedra tightly, his wings still covering most of her as he lay on his back in the dirt of the arena. His eyes had still been closed and when he peeled them open, that blinding light was no more. Only the sun hanging in the sky illuminated them now and he could hear the chirp of birds again. Inhaling deeply, Killian slowly unfurled his wings, exposing Phaedra to the world as she lay against him, her eyes shut. She was breathing, but it was labored.

The Shadow singer rose with her, one arm slung beneath her knees and the other around her back. A wet and warm sensation slid down his arm, but his attention remained solely on Faye.

“Phaedra,” he called to her, and then he realized who he was surrounded by rather quickly.

“What the hell happened!” the voice belonged to Wayland who was tearing Faye out of his arms, his hazel eyes darting all over her body for wounds before shooting up to glare at Killian with a wild rage. “What happened damn it!”

Killian just stared at Faye, his fingers curling against the empty space where he once held her, his eyes boring into her as he tried to process everything that happened. Slowly, his eyes shifted down toward his bleeding arm, but it wasn’t blood that he was greeted by. It was dark ink that now tattooed him from his elbow to his palm. Killian uncurled his fingers to find a sun with smokey rays at the center of his hands and trailing up his forearm, wrapping around to his elbow were lightning strikes.

“Holy Gods, it worked. . .” Nevara whispered as her eyes took in the new tattoo as well.

“Killian.” Adrastus spoke, his voice seeming far away. “Say something.”

Again, Killian couldn’t seem to find his barings and his eyes shot back toward Faye who’s arm was covered now too. Black ink forming coiling shadows marked her arm and hand and without thinking, the Shadowsinger called to her, not with his voice, but through their bond.

“Phaedra. . . Wake up.” his voice echoed down to her and in an instant, she seemed to shoot up from within Wayland’s arms.

Kaius had to fight the urge to roll his green eyes at Evelyn. Of course, he wasn’t so ignorant as to believe that she would be able to trust him, now or maybe ever, but it was that damned look that she held in her gaze when looking at him. It drove him mad. Made his blood run cold. There was pure unfaltering hatred in those blue eyes and he wanted to take those seas and rid them of the demons she believed him to bare.

When she began listing off all the ways he had betrayed her, his fingers curled at his sides and he tried his best to contain to frustration that was building inside of him. The frustration was not fueled by her, but by all that he was being forced to do under the claws of the King. He could only stare at the High Lady of the Night Court, his jaw clenching as if to keep himself from spewing all that was going on. All of the things she did not know.

He could have told her about the way Elisora threatened to wipe his Court off the map. How she was not the only one being poisioned and imprisoned. But instead, he bit his tongue and gave her all that he could. A curt nod of his chin and then he was leading her back toward the estate.

* * *

Once they returned to the mansion, Kaius led Evelyn in through the entrance doors and as she continued forward, he stopped and assessed her carefully before finally saying.

“For whatever it is worth, High Lady,” and then he looked away from her. “I am sorry.”

Nothing. It was worth nothing to her. He knew that. But he meant it, and he didn’t wait for her response before stalking off down one of the many corridors to his study.

Faye was intimidated. By the size of the arena in which they stood. By the pairs of eyes watching them from the sidelines. By the echoing silence flitting through the space between them. By the man standing opposite her, his golden gaze somehow both gentle and scrutinizing when he looked at her, saying nothing but asking her nonetheless whether or not she was ready for the journey they were about to embark upon. The blonde flashed him a shaky smile; it was all she could muster. Her two-toned gaze stayed locked directly on Killian, focusing partly because she was afraid of what would happen if they fucked this up, and partly because she was afraid of what she would see if she glanced across the arena and happened to meet Wayland’s gaze. Nevara’s words reached her ears, prodding for a connection between the two of them, and Faye let out the softest of sighs. 

Please let her be right, she thought silently. Please let there be something here that can help us. 

The idea of Killian drawing the power from her wasn’t one that unsettled Faye. Perhaps it was her ignorance of magic and faerie customs, or perhaps it was the fact that she genuinely trusted these people; regardless, she gave him a small and encouraging nod when he hesitated at Nevara’s command. “I’m fine,” she assured him softly. Was she? Faye couldn’t be sure - but it sounded nice, so she said it, hoping to manifest the words into reality. There was nothing but determination in her voice when she added, “Don’t stop unless it’s absolutely necessary.” 

The shadows began to spill from him, and Faye watched their slithering approach. As the wispy tendrils of darkness curled around her body, she felt no fear. It was like greeting an old friend, and she relaxed ever so slightly as they brushed along her flesh, trailing upwards ever so slowly. She liked his shadows - they crept across the ground like crawling ivy, trailing lazily but with intent, blossoming at Killian’s command. A dome of shadows surrounded the two of them, and yet all she saw was a feathery canopy teeming with inky tendrils. There was something so ironically natural about those shadows, something familiar, something she understood. That comfort was dashed only by Killian’s words, his warning of what he was about to do. The thought of returning to that murky, in-between place made Faye’s skin crawl and tingle with the memory of what that realm had represented so far: loneliness, isolation, instability, a lack of agency over herself and these newfound powers. It wasn’t somewhere she enjoyed being. To delve back into that place willingly was a difficult concept to grasp, but as Killian’s fingers brushed against her own, interlocking with such certainty and solidity, Faye drew in a deep breath and braced herself for what they were about to face - together. 

The subtle dip of her head was her only acknowledgement of his words, and then her eyes were fluttering shut. She felt his fingertips brushing against her temple, and she knew what was about to happen. The world around them shifted, the air becoming thicker and heavy, like they were treading water despite being totally dry. Everything darkened, as if all of the light had been stolen from the world around them. For a few moments they were there, that weighted darkness pressing in around them from all sides and then it lightened, and Faye knew they had arrived at their destination. Her eyes fluttered open, only to be greeted by a darkness that was difficult to adjust to. A sense of uneasiness washed over her as she blinked rapidly against the endless night, relieved as Killian soon came into focus, the shadows melding somehow to provide an inky backdrop that was perfectly visible even to her untrained eyes. 

“I’m f-” The ground was shaky beneath her feet, and Faye had to fight to keep her footing. Killian’s hand on her arm steadied the girl, but she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her gut that she couldn’t quite explain. There was something strange and unnatural about that rippling tidal wave of energy, something familiar and yet she couldn’t put her finger on it - until she heard that voice, echoing into the darkness surrounding them. Chills crept along her spine at the sound, at the memory. A part of her seemed to flicker to life in response, body straining into the darkness with a certain sort of familiarity, like she was apt to greet an old friend. 

Only this definitely was not a friend. It was the cauldron, and it was pissed.

Blue-brown eyes widened, and Faye’s fingers curled into the fabric of Killian’s leathers until her knuckles had gone bone-white. “Shit,” the blonde hardly dared to breathe the word aloud, her gaze flickering through the endless darkness in search of that familiar voice. Every hair on her body stood straight up, trembling beneath the force of the cauldron’s power. Power that seemed to ripple in the air around them like the crackle of electricity. She could feel it pressing in on them from all sides, she could feel it in her veins - it coursed through her here, in this strange in-between place, until Faye’s insides were buzzing and her teeth chattered against the vibration of pure, unfiltered power seeking an escape from wherever it was contained within her. 

“K-killian,” through her trembling lips Faye tried to form an explanation. “When they dipped m-me in the cauldron, it gave me s-something.” The blonde fought to grind her teeth together, hating the unsteadiness behind her voice. “The visions, they were a gift. Almost like an apology from the cauldron, but I was angry and I was scared…I took more than it wanted to give.” And she shivered, remembering the feeling of clawing her way into the very source of Letharia’s magic. Ripping from the cauldron the very power that Elisora sought to wield. Faye hadn’t realized at the time that she’d been taking the power for herself - and so far, she hadn’t been able to access it. But now, now she could feel it thrumming beneath the surface. 

“And now I’ll take it back,” said that eerie, otherworldly voice. 

The words were the only warning the cauldron gave - intentionally. But in her mind’s eye, Faye could see so clearly the attack it had planned. Like a vision, but somehow different. As if something was leaking through that link between herself and the cauldron, something it didn’t mean for her to access but she had nonetheless. And its intentions were clear to her as it sent out another wave of power, this one stronger and with intent, directed not towards Faye, but towards Killian; as if the cauldron wanted to eliminate him first. As if it wasn’t quite done with her. 

“MOVE!” With every ounce of strength she could muster, Faye shoved the shadowsinger away from her with both hands, lunging forward as she did so. Perhaps it was the surprise of the unexpected attack that sent Killian stumbling off-balance, but it was enough. Her trembling fingertips brushed against his bare skin as a wave of the cauldron’s power barreled into her, sending the blonde falling to her knees against the shadowy floor with an ear-splitting scream.

It wasn’t pain that engulfed her, not necessarily - it was power. Blinding, white-hot. It pummeled into her tiny body relentlessly, coursing directly from the source. Her skin was aglow, shimmering white, her hair somehow milky and translucent as it whipped into the air around her, that blue-brown hue stripped from her gaze completely and replaced by two orbs of iridescent light. Faye should have been burnt out completely, washed away by the cauldron’s power, balance restored. She waited for the pain and then the permanent darkness, but it never came. Instead her skin continued to tingle, her insides humming as wave after wave of power coursed into her - and she absorbed it. Like a conduit, she drank it all in, that ancient power seeping into the very marrow of her bones, winding itself around the very fabric of her being like thread around a spool. It just kept coming and coming, filling her up until Faye could feel herself brimming with magic. It was too much, it was overflowing now and she didn’t know how to stop it. 

Too much, too much, too much. It was all her brain could register. The cauldron was giving, but not out of kindness -  it was overloading her with the force of this power she didn’t know how to wield, filling her past the point of her own capacity. Make it stop, take it back. Her silent plea went unanswered, but she swore she could feel a ripple of smug satisfaction from the cauldron as it gave her exactly what she’d sought to take from it in the first place: everything. 

And then there was a hand in the darkness, reaching out for her. Killian. Faye wanted to shout at him, to tell him to back away, but the words didn’t come. On her knees hunched forward nearly into a ball, all she could do was tremble. All that power, and nothing to do with it. Her hands shook as the shadowsinger reached out to her, one hand wrapping firmly around her own, their fingers interlocking once more. A sense of dread filled the girl. It was going to burn them both out. Faye tensed, waiting for the power to fry through him, for the promises she’d made to him before to be null and void. It didn’t. The cauldron’s power didn’t course through him the way it did her; in fact, it didn’t seem to penetrate him at all. Looking up at Killian she could see the hair on his arms standing up, could feel the low vibrations traveling lazily from the place where their bodies connected - and yet he was fine. Those golden eyes glowed down at her, but gentle and soft, like warm morning sunshine. Controlled, contained. Staring up at him, basked in the light but untouchable, Faye understood. She was acting as a conduit; the power was there, it had been drawn forth, but he was the one who needed to wield it. 

Push, Faye demanded, her words filling Killian’s mind. She wasn’t sure whether the words were sent down the carranam bond or on a wave of the power coursing from her body to his. She didn’t understand it, she didn’t even know how she’d done it. From the look on Killian’s face, he was just as bewildered as she was. Push, she said again, surprised by how freely she could speak to him this way when her body was still rendered immobilized, shaking on the floor.. Push the power. Force it back. The cauldron wants to take it all - don’t let it. Redirect the flow. 

___________________________________

Just as quickly as Kaius’s reassuring claim reached her ears, Evie was brushing it off. She couldn’t bring herself to believe that he didn’t want her to be his salvation - that was what everyone wanted from her. And she’d played the part dotingly so far. It came naturally, that inclination to help. To protect. To do the right thing. Her whole life had been one good deed after the next, and it would have been so easy to continue that pattern… but she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Not for him. 

“Oh right. We’re in the habit of kidnapping girls we want absolutely nothing from?” one perfectly sculpted brow arched, giving life to her blatant disbelief. The girl tsked at him, shaking her head as she gave Redford a parting, affectionate pat on the neck. Dishonesty didn’t suit him. Though he was shrouded in mystery, there had to be some way to reach the truth behind his intentions. “Interesting pastimes you keep, High Lord.” And when she leveled him with a droll look this time, her lips did not curl good-naturedly. With that lingering look she began to walk, keeping a few paces away from the High Lord as they made their way through the ravaged city on foot. 

They didn’t make it far. Distracted by the children, Evie found her footsteps faltering. Her lips curved slightly for a moment before a frown was tugging them back down, something in her chest cleaving in half at the sight of those babies, laughing and merry despite the ruin around them. There was something about the sight that hit all too close to home, and it made Evie shiver. This whole place made her uncomfortable. It was like stepping back in time, like crossing the realms and putting herself back in that human village in those unfortunate circumstances. She’d been gone so long that she had almost tricked herself into believing that life as a High Fae was normal, that luxury and extravagance and comfort were just a part of who she was. Being here, surrounded by these sights and sounds and scents, it reminded her of the truth. It reminded her of who she was. That human part of her heart was beating frantically, trying to claw its way out of her chest, demanding justice. Demanding action. She smothered it beneath the cool, callous demeanor that was High Lady - there was no room for human emotion here.

She was so wrapped up in watching the children play that she didn’t even notice the woman who had approached Kaius until that soft, hesitant voice reached her ears. A peasant woman had approached them, dirt-covered and meek, gaze lowered beneath her lashes as she faced the Spring Lord. Blinking, Evie turned back towards the two and watched them with apprehension. She had never seen Kaius act as a ruler, only as a jackass. Her gaze lingered on Kaius’s fingertips gripping the woman’s face, that familiar touch - almost paternal. The words he spoke, though rough, were comforting. Almost pleading. Evie’s jaw tightened slightly at the interaction and she forced herself to look away from them, her gaze falling anywhere but on the children, on the mother, on the unexpectedly gentle High Lord. Human emotion would betray her here, so she did her best to squander it. 

They were walking once more, side by side. Silence enveloped them and Evie didn’t know how to fill it - probably wouldn’t have if she did. So many thoughts raced through her mind as she tried to connect the man by her side to the man she’d spent so long hating on the behalf of her beloved. As if sensing her train of thought, Kaius’s voice broke through those conflicted contemplations. Blue eyes flickered towards him, the brunette tensing immediately at the sound of her mate’s name on this man’s lips, at the implications behind it. That Adrastus would somehow be misleading or dishonest with her. Evie would never believe that, and the glare she leveled Kaius with said as much - but as he continued speaking, she couldn’t help but to ponder the idea of perception. There were three sides to every story, she knew that - she just hadn’t been anticipating getting two of them, and to have them be so conflicting. 

They broke through a small clearing, and Evie found herself sucking in a breath. The meadow was beautiful, with its endless rolling sea of green that met the skyline at its furthest point. Wildflowers dotted the grass, vibrant and aromatic as they swayed beneath a gentle breeze, honeybees buzzing back and forth between them. Birds were chirping in the distance, and behind them Evie could still hear the peals of children's laughter. It was strange how another wave of homesickness washed over her, one she hadn’t felt the need to wallow in for some time now. She had her family - the inner circle, the family she’d found, but also her siblings. Faye and Arden were here with her now, both of her worlds had come together and she got the best of either. So why did she feel this way? Why did she feel like she was living some twisted version of her own story, what life might have been like if things had played out differently? How easily she could envision herself as one of them, ragged and ruined, just doing her best to scrape by and survive. Living life amongst the wildflowers, surrounded by nature. The thought gave her chills, and she sought to distance herself once more from that past life and any possibility of what could have been.

“You’re wrong, Kaius.” Turning to meet his gaze, Evie leveled the man with a hard look. “You are my enemy. You’ve stolen me from my home. From the people I love, the people I’ve sworn my life to protect. You’ve lied to me. You’ve poisoned me. You’ve imprisoned me.” She slowly ticked off each offense, one for each finger of the hand still bearing her engagement ring. It shone brightly in the spring sunshine, the truth glinting off the stone as she spoke the words aloud. “You were there beneath the mountain…you saw the lengths I am willing to go through to do the right thing. I didn’t just face Adrianna for Adrastus - I did it for everyone. For all of you, to free your people from tyranny and a life lived in fear. I would have done it again, if you’d asked.” And as she said the words, she knew that they were true. Even knowing how Adrastus felt about the Spring Lord, had it come down to the wellbeing of these people and knowledge of their true circumstances…he never would have asked Evie to sit idly by. He knew her too well. 

“So yes, you are my enemy. You chose that.” Crossing her arms over her chest, Evie turned away from the beautiful, picturesque scene before them. “And I think I’ve seen enough for one day, if you don’t mind.”

"No." Wayland crossed his arms, eyes fixed on Nevara who had just finished explaining her plan of awakening more of whatever it was the Cauldron had given or perhaps taken from Phaedra. Nevara just blinked, brows lowering at him. "You’re not going to send her to take out those wards on her own. We have no idea what that could do to her.”

“I never said that she would be doing it alone,” Nevara snapped, then turned her attention to Killian who met her gaze, his expression remained unreadable. Wayland followed her gaze toward him when he realized what her intentions were.

“I have brought her back from her visions, I don’t see how that is of any use if she also has powers,” Killian said, his golden gaze flickering toward Faye.

“It is more than that.” Nevara began moving toward Faye, her eyes surveying the girl with close inspection. The ancient woman reached out her hand, grabbing hold of one of Faye’s and she dragged a fingertip along the lines of her palms. “I read in the Book of Breathings of a rare connection. A connection that hasn’t been seen in thousands of centuries.”

Wayland’s body had stiffened at her words. His lips pressed into a firm line of discontent, and he forced his hazel eyes to hyper-fixate on the mountain ground beneath his boots, but it didn’t stop his siphons from flickering in response to his emotions.

Adrastus was the next to speak, his eyes had filled with a dangerous darkness that swallowed even the brightest stars. “What connection?” he pressed and Nevara dropped Faye’s hand, turning to her High Lord.

“Carranam.” Nevara finally said, her voice quieter this time. Adrastus’ face twisted into confusion and familiarity. The word rang through him, one he heard of, but it had seemed nearly irrelevant. Almost like a myth to possess such a bond. Wayland lifted his gaze to Nevara, his muscles remaining tense. Killian remained impassive but listened deeply. “The Carranam bond allows partners to share their magic, which is a strong advantage in battle, and to communicate almost telepathically. Very few have found someone they are compatible with, as it is both rare and dangerous. It was said that most couldn’t find someone they trusted enough to test it with because of the risks attached; an unskilled partner could unwillingly take too much power and drive the other mad, cause them both to burn out. . . or shatter their minds completely.”

A snarl rang through the air and all eyes flew toward Wayland whose fists were coiled at his sides. “No. Absolutely fucking not.” the General glared at Nevara for even mentioning such a possibility.

Any hope that once flickered on Adrastus’ face had disappeared with her last words and he nodded. “Wayland is right. We aren’t going to risk anyone's life knowingly. We will find another way. Besides, we don’t know if any of that applies to them anyways.”

“From the entries I have read, their bond is extremely similar. If they can bring forward any power that she might possess, they would be strong enough to wipe the wards out completely. Odds are, she doesn’t have any magic anyways, maybe it’s just the visions, and if that’s the case then we move on to other options—”

“Nevara,” Adrastus warned, but Wayland was stepping up to the dark-haired female, towering over her, his wings unfurling behind him. Nevara craned her head to stare back at Wayland, her lips pressed into a thin line, her stare like stone against his own.

“I won’t say it again—”

“You said that unskilled partners are what make it dangerous.” Killian cut in, his shadows sliding between Wayland and Nevara. The snake of dark smoke expanded suddenly and shoved their bodies apart, causing both of them to stumble and glare his way. “So make us skilled. Then we can try safely.”

“It’s still dangerous,” Wayland growled out, but turned towards Faye when she spoke, his shoulders slumping.

“Your mug,”

The words were said with an intensity that met Evelyn’s eyes as she looked at him expectantly, arm reaching across the table, waiting for him to present her his cup of coffee. Kaius let his eyes scrutinize the woman, a glint of pleasure could be seen in the green depths and he held her gaze as he slowly slid his mug across the table for her to take.

When she collected the mug, Kaius arched a brow when she brought the rim to her lips, taking a swallow of the still-steaming liquid. He noted the crinkle in her nose and examined her quietly, wondering if she even liked coffee at all, or if she was just doing things out of spite.

It was when she started to question things that Kaius leaned back in his seat, the wood groaning in protest, and a scoffed laugh escaped the Lord when Tobias made a comment, his eyes training on Evelyn, wanting nothing more than to see her squirm. Kaius knew it would take a lot more than threats to rile the girl. He could see it dancing in her eyes. A feral defiance. It intoxicated him.

“A tour.” He echoed. It was the last thing he expected from her. He all but assumed that she would want to lock herself up in her rooms for the majority of her stay, forcing him to drag her out himself. He didn’t question her any further before rising from his spot at the table. Tobias eyed his High Lord wearily, his distrust in her rather evident. “Come along then,” Kauis offered with a gesture of his hand, and he walked out into the corridor.

Kaius led her throughout the manor, explaining the layout to her as they went. It was when they returned back to the foyer that Kaius turned to examine her. “If your intentions are to plan an escape, by all means, have at it, but I will say this; it will be a wasted effort on your part.” with that, Kaius shoved open the entrance doors of the opulent building and exposed Evelyn to the new court that surrounded her. 

The manor was a sprawling estate veiled in roses and ivy, with patios and balconies and staircases sprouting from its alabaster sides. Amethyst irises and pale snowdrops and butter-yellow daffodils bloom in the balmy breeze that flowed airily against Evelyn’s gown when they stepped outside. A grand marble staircase led into the giant oak doors of the estate and the two of them descended the stairs until they stood on the tended pathway that would lead them through the court.

The Spring Court itself was a vast land made up of rolling green hills, lush forests, and clear, bottomless lakes. Magic didn’t just abound in the bumps and the hollows—-it grew here. To the south, Kaius’ Court bordered the Wall—better known as—the magical border separating the mortals and the fae. To the opposite side of the magic border, his northern borders belonged to the Summer and the Autumn Courts. Kaius tucked his hands into his pockets while they made their way down the path, only for him to steer them to a smaller cobblestone path that would lead them toward the stables. 

“How do you feel about horses, High Lady?” Kaius asked as they approached the wooden building. The neighs and whinnies from the steeds could be heard before he shoved open the gates and the smell of hay and feed enveloped the area around them. “We don’t boast any cities in the Spring Court, but there is a rather large village no more than five miles from my estate if you’re interested,” he muttered as the memory of all Adrianna had destroyed in his lands resurfaced. He shoved the thought down, his hand reaching up to stroke a large, russet Corsican. Its lips wobbled back, exposing his teeth to Kaius, the expression rather goofy. It was a common greeting from the horse. “Still obnoxious, Redford,” the High Lord rubbed between the horses' eyes and when his hand dropped, Redford nodded his head exaggeratedly, earning a faint smirk from Kaius.

Turning back to Evelyn, Kaius gestured toward Redford. “Go ahead. He knows better than to bite a beautiful lady,” he mused, and Redford looked toward Evelyn, his lips curling once more in greeting, his big teeth flashing at her as he did.

After what could only be described as a grueling conversation amongst the High Lords, Adrastus was excusing himself from the others to return to his tents and collect his inner circle. He would have to let them in on all that they covered for the meeting that would take place a while later once everyone was more settled in. 

Once he arrived at his tents, Adras peered into his and Evie’s tent for her, only to come up short. The High Lord zipped the tent back up, deciding it best to use the bond instead. Adras’ talons reached down the bond, only to thud against a hard solid wall of cold stone. He couldn’t feel a thing. It wasn’t like her shield was up, but as if something was severing the bond, clamping down on it and making it kink closed. 

Adrastus’ heart suddenly became heavy and his head felt like it was being evaded by a mixture of panic, grief, and anger. Even as the group began returning to the campsite, they all seemed to be opening their mouths. Their facial expressions went from relaxed to concern when he didn’t respond. He couldn’t hear a thing that they were saying, his eyes just kept darting around as he tried to find Evie’s face in the crowd.

A pair of hands grabbed his shoulders, but Adras snarled, ripping away from Wayland whose brows furrowed with shock.

“Adrastus?” Wayland tried again.

“Where is she?” Adrastus’ voice was hoarse, his mouth had gone entirely dry.

“Evelyn. . .” Killian murmured as if he already knew that was exactly who he was looking for.

“Where the hell are Kaius and Tobias?” Nevara growled out as she caught on and as if the earth itself was screaming and cursing their names, a flash of lightning sprung across the mountain skies, and a roar of thunder rumbled through the grey clouds above. Then, the sky cried down upon them.

* * *

Kaius held little to no amusement in his green gaze. He only watched as the girl tore through the room like a wild animal, he remained rather unphased thanks to the Faebane keeping her as weak as a mortal. No powers. No strength. The High Lord knew that she wouldn’t be happy. Expected her to lash out in such a way, but he also had faith that she would soon come to understand his side of the coin.

“A war has already begun,” the Lord quipped. “And I intend on keeping my lands and my people on the living side of it. If you and your half-wit mate were smart, you would do the same, so wipe that look off your face.”

“Your Highness,” an older woman's voice called from the other side of the room causing everyone to turn their heads in her direction. Kaius’ servant, Eloise, stood with her hands folded in front of her. Her dirty-blonde curls were kept in a bun and her brown eyes flickered between the two men and their guest. “You called for me.”

Kaius turned back toward Evelyn and he merely nodded once. “Please, show our guest to her rooms.”

Eloise straightened, her gaze surveying Evelyn. “If you’d kindly follow me, miss,” she urged with a wave of her hand. When Evelyn didn’t so much as budge, a low growl slipped free from Kaius, his eyes darkening when they landed on the Cursebreaker.

“Go with Eloise to your rooms, or I will drag you there myself.” he challenged and when she finally began moving, Kaius’ shoulders sagged as he watched them disappear down one of the grand halls, the so-called High Lady fuming behind the servant.

* * *

The inner circle hadn’t said a word in a long moment. The silence was deafening. Adrastus had torn apart his tent, nearly sending the entirety of it to the ground before a couple of the other High Lords rallied up to stop his frenzy before he tore apart Windhaven.

After they all came to the conclusion that if the Spring Lord took Evie, then there would be impenetrable wards around his territory, and getting past them would not come easily. Not only that, but Adrastus, after losing his cool, found that his powers had been dampened. He had been poisoned with Faebane and that could only mean that the King of Elisora was the man pulling all the strings. They had been manipulated and double-crossed and it cost them their High Lady.

“We can’t just sit here,” Wayland urged, his face set into a scowl. 

Killian, whose shadows were nearly engulfing him remained utterly silent. It was obvious, that they all blamed themselves for what happened. Killian had been patrolling the borders, and yet he didn’t detect what happened. They were right under his nose and he failed his High Lady.

“We can’t run in blind either. If there are wards around the Spring Court, then we are going to need more than just us to break through. It’s going to take an army.” Onica breathed, her hands still shaking with rage. 

“I will get her back,” Adrastus interrupted, fury burning in his silver gaze. “And I will tear down all of Letharia if I have to,” he promised through clenched teeth.

“We need a plan, and a damn good one.” Nevara crossed her arms, then turned to look at Faye, something sparking in her eyes while she watched the girl. “And I think I know just the place to start.”

* * *

The next morning, Kaius had sent Eloise into Evelyn’s rooms to collect her for breakfast. Tobias and he had already sat around the long wooden table. A variety of foods cluttered the table ranging from fruits to eggs, various types of meat, and toast. Tobias indulge himself in his breakfast while Kaius poured himself a cup of dark roasted coffee. He had just about brought the mug to his lips when Evelyn appeared around the corner, her face still set into a scowl.

“Good morning,” Kaius cooed, watching as she reluctantly approached the table. “Feel free to help yourself to whatever you’d like, Evelyn.”

Though it did bring joy to Wayland to hear that even his High Lady found delight in the idea of defacing the smug Lord, it didn’t last long. He had heard the shiver in Faye’s tone and when he turned over his shoulder to look at Faye, he found her barefoot in the snow. The General blinked once, then twice, and rose from his spot on the barrel. 

“Faye,” he scolded softly, sheathing the floral blade he’d received from her. The voice that interrupted them sent another rush of anger through Wayland when he came to a halt beside Phaedra.

Adrastus, though temporarily comforted by the words Evie sent down the bond, had only truly stopped his pacing when Kaius got comfortable with his mate. The fury that was swelling inside of him had become almost palpable, in fact, it would have been. Kaius had begun taunting his mate, his High Lady, and when he insulted her, Adrastus’ talons flung free from his hands and both Wayland and Killian straightened, hands ready to grab their swords when a bloodthirsty noise tore out of Evie, making their heads shift instinctively.

Down the bond, Adras could feel all that was coursing through her. He could feel that wave of something untapped surging through her and then she was reaching down the bridge for him. He met her halfway and that thunder seemed to disperse inside of her. When his silver gaze surveyed Evie, he had watched as claws retracted from her fingers and when they disappeared, so did his own as he looked at her in wonderment. Just like with High Lord Sorin of the Summer Court, she was within the presence of new power. The power that seemed to knock on the door to her own sleeping abilities.

* * *

The next few days seemed to drag on. Kaius and Tobias were anything but strangers all the while, often interjecting themselves into any conversations that the inner circle may have been having. Adrastus had been silently hoping that another High Lord would arrive any of the passing days, but when one finally did, it wasn’t exactly the High Lord that he had been anticipating. In fact, Adrastus hadn’t expected him to show up at all after his inner circle ransacked his castle for the Book of Breathings.

Sorin looked around the camp with little enthusiasm, his guards flanking either side of him, and to his surprise, Prince Finnick was with him as well. Onica looked as though she may faint at any given moment at the sight of the male.

“Sorin,” Adrastus greeted carefully, their eyes finally meeting. Sorin looked Adrastus over once and then glanced at Onica and Evie.

“Adrastus,” he muttered, returning his eyes to him.

“I would like to apologize—”

“For lying? Deceiving? Or robbing?” Sorin glared and Adrastus pursed his lips.

“Some things never change,” Kaius inserted himself and Adrastus’ muscles tensed, his jaw ticking with annoyance. “Good to see you, Sorin, it’s been too long.”

Sorin released a huff of breath before turning and heading for his assigned tents. “Don’t make me regret this.” was all he said as he walked away.

Adrastus spun on Kaius, his eyes glowing with wrath. “If all you have to offer is acting like an insolent child, then pack your shit and go.” he barked out, stepping toward the Spring Lord who glared back at him.

“You sent the invitation, Nychta. You need me.” he spat back.

“Nobody needs you.” Adrastus roared, his talons sliding free and Kaius’ nostrils flared in rage. 

In an instant, Tobias was grabbing Kaius and Killian was grabbing Adrastus.

“Best behavior, High Lord?” Killian murmured quietly to Adrastus who was still seething.

“Killian,” Adrastus growled warningly in response and the two of them returned to their own tents.

When they returned to their tents, everyone seemed to crane their heads to look at the two of them. Everyone except for Onica who was nowhere to be seen. Nevara grimaced. “You look like you need a killing spree,” she mumbled.

Killian glanced at Adrastus’ direction and Wayland rose a brow. Adrastus, not wanting anything to do with explaining himself, moved into his tent, letting the flaps rustle behind him. The High Lord dropped down onto their makeshift bed, laid back, and covered his face with his hands as he tried to recollect himself. The last thing he wanted was to let anyone get underneath his skin — especially not Kaius. He had told himself that he could handle this. Handle seeing him again. But he wasn’t sure anymore. All he could see was his dead mother and sister. Their dismembered wings.

They just needed the numbers, he reminded himself. Once the war was over, they’d never have to see each other again.

* * *

Watching the sun go down had nearly driven Kaius mad with anticipation. Especially since they were on top of a mountain with little to no tree coverage. He needed it to be dark, and he needed to know where everyone was for his plan to work. One mishap and it was over. 

The High Lord of Spring let the night continue for a while after the darkness first settled. Let all awake things nestle into their beds and then he emerged. Tobias had already winnowed, planted where they agreed to meet once he had her. Evelyn Graves. Curse breaker and, as he had confirmed, harnesser of all seven courts.

Getting past Adrastus would not come without difficulty. He anticipated that much. That was why he poisoned the High Lord and Lady's drinks with Faebane. A rare substance that he managed to get his hands on through the right amount of coaxing. With their magic suppressed, taking her would be as easy as winnowing Evelyn straight from her bed.

Kaius manuevered carefully through the camp. Following a path he’d inspected to be the least littered with rocks and other things that could either trip or create too much sound. Passing the smothered firepit, he approached the tent, but when he went to open the latch, he found it wouldn’t budge. As if protected by. . . magic.

His jaw clenched in pure annoyance and the High Lord forced himself back from the tent. A new plan. He didn’t care anymore.

 Night. Day.

 She would be his.

The Illyrian camp was about what was to be expected. Cold, desolate, grim. The air was heavy with a bitterness that they couldn’t shake, and there was something about the place that felt almost hostile despite the fact that it was supposed to be a place of refuge as they recruited allies for the war against Elisora. The ground crunched beneath their feet as they walked across the ice-encrusted ground, and Evie pulled her jacket tighter around herself with a shiver. Eyes were on them as they walked, and she found herself gazing curiously at the warriors who watched their approach. Never before had she seen so many Illyrians gathered in one place, a dreary sea of winged men dressed in drab leathers.  It was terrifying, to imagine the might of the three men she’d seen in action, magnified by the thousands. 

Two stood out amongst the crowd, their attire too colorful and extravagant amongst the Illyrians. Evie subconsciously drew in a breath, bracing herself. When the men slowly turned to face them, she realized that she knew one of those faces; though she’d never seen him with her own eyes, she remembered that day in Adrianna’s throne room, watching Kaius approach through the veil. She remembered the stormy confliction thundering through Adrastus’s soul when Kaius had bestowed upon her the last kernel of magic needed to fuel her rebirth into High Fae. Though she’d prepared herself for this meeting, Evie hadn’t found a way to subdue the anger that bubbled up to the surface at the sight of the man who had caused her beloved so much heartache and misery. 

They were approached, and Evie drew herself up to her full height, raising her chin as she looked the men in the eye. There was hesitation when she was addressed, and pride filled her as Adrastus introduced her for the first time with her full title: Evelyn. High Lady of the Night Court. The looks she was given didn’t come as a surprise to Evie, nor did they unnerve her. There had never been a High Lady before, and she was bound to be met with some protest. It didn’t matter, though - Adrastus had given her this position and there was only one way it would be taken from her. They were welcome to try. Onica stepped up to her side, defending her title, and the faintest smile curved Evie’s lips as she stared back at the strangers. The brunette dipped her head ever so slightly in greeting, though she said nothing. 

Their attention was quickly shifting, however, and the High Lord of Spring then had eyes for Faye. Her blue-brown gaze lifted to meet the eyes of their newest potential ally, and she shivered beneath that inquisitive stare. Something behind his eyes rattled her, but Faye didn’t have time to ponder it - that brief moment of eye contact was quickly broken when Wayland and Killian both shifted their bodies to stand half in front of her, nearly blocking her from sight. Attention flickering between the two of them, Faye didn’t know whether she should feel grateful for the reprieve or offended that they felt she needed it; after a moment, she settled on the former. All their actions seemed to do was intensify that curious stare, and when Kaius’s eyes met hers once more, Faye found herself scowling. Her cheeks flushed at his suggestive words, arms crossing over her chest as if to ward off his attempt at burrowing beneath her skin. The blonde kept her lips pressed tightly together, saying nothing. Was that truly how people viewed her, from the outside looking in? Faye didn’t have time to be bothered by it - reaching out, she placed a gentle hand against the small of Wayland’s back. Tension flooded her fingertips, and she curled her fingers into the leathers there. A gentle reminder of all she’d said to him the night before. 

Adrastus stepped forward, reprimanding the other Lord, and Evie shifted at his side. Blue eyes followed her mate closely, hands clenched into fists at her side. She could feel the power roiling just beneath the surface, waiting for her command. How she longed to wipe that smug look off of the blonde fae’s face. The wintry air around them swelled inside her chest, filling her up, and her natural inclination towards the element filled her with a sense of confidence and comfort. Were things to go south, she was fairly confident in her ability to be able to do at least a little bit of damage…

But that time didn’t come. The men were parting as quickly as they’d stepped up to one another, and then they were being led deeper into the camp. Evie’s gaze flickered over the members of the Spring Court as they walked, and she couldn’t sense the feeling that they hadn’t avoided conflict entirely; they’d just postponed it. 

…

“He’s not worth it,” Faye muttered, watching the General with weary eyes. She didn’t entirely trust Wayland not to do something stupid, no more than she trusted herself. The blonde stood rooted in the snow near the tent, bare-footed and shivering. Clinging to this moment, willing her mind to stay present for the duration of their meeting with the other courts. 

“Might be,” countered Evie, gaze flickering towards the man. She was on the same page as Wayland, wanting more than anything to knock the High Lord down a few notches. They had to play nice, for the sake of the world and all, but once this tentative alliance was over…

Her gaze flickered towards where Adrastus was pacing. The look on his face had a frown tugging at Evie’s lips, and she reached out to him gently through their bond. I love you, she reminded the High Lord. When his eyes met hers, a small smile curved her lips and she blew him a kiss. 

The smile faltered at the sound of that honey-sweet voice, Kaius approaching the group. Did he do anything other than sneer and swagger? Brows pulling together, Evie watched as the other man lit the pile of wood on fire. Flames licked upwards towards the sky, sending out an enticing wave of warmth. The last thing Evie wanted to do was get cozy by the fire with these men, but what was the alternative? Stubbornly freeze to death in her tent? The brunette moved forward to sit before the fire, too cold to resist the temptation of its warmth though she was hesitant to truly begin forming any sort of bond with the Spring Court. 

Something inside of her chest seemed to stir, lazy and reluctant, like a bear rousing itself from its long winter slumber. The High Lord of Spring perched himself on the log beside her and, much as had been her experience with the Summer Court,  the proximity between the two of them called upon that little kernel of his power that resided within her. It rose to the surface, like calling to like. There was a kinship between the two of them that Evie resented - she loathed him for the arrogant way he carried himself, for the crude way he spoke to her family, the contemptful glances he constantly threw their way, and for every ounce of pain he’d ever caused her mate. But most of all, she hated him for that little bit of his magic that lived within her, which had given her this new life, which set her apart from the rest of them and likened her to the Lord of Spring in ways she didn’t want to admit much less claim.

Adrastus’s voice flooded her mind, and Evie had to resist the urge to look over at him. Then he’ll no longer have fingers, she finished the threat for her mate. And we’ll all sleep better tonight. 

Aloud, she addressed the other male. “Sorry to disappoint, but there’s not much to tell. I was human, and now I’m fae.” Said Evie off-handedly with a glance over her shoulder. The High Lord’s eyes were already on her, studying, golden specks dancing in the firelight. He watched her with an intensity that made her skin itchy and had her jaw tightening. Adrastus’s open-ended threat echoed in her mind, and she wondered whether the Lord of Spring would be so stupid as to try anything here where she was surrounded by her family and an army of Illyrian warriors. His lips were curved in a way that told her he didn’t believe an ounce of what she was saying, and when they pulled back his smile revealed jagged fangs that gleamed pale yellow in the low light. Evie knew little of the Spring Lord’s abilities beyond his affinity for shapeshifting, but she recognized the flash of fangs for what it was - a scare tactic. He sought to intimidate her, to unnerve her at the least. 

“Somehow I don’t think you’re telling the whole truth, High Lady,” tsked the golden-haired fae with a sneer, face somehow half-angelic half-monstrous. The way he crooned her title so mockingly grated against Evelyn’s brittle patience. Still, she blinked over at him, expression intentionally blank. She was silent for so long that Kaius continued, voice growing a bit tighter, “You expect me to believe that you have the lifeforce of Letharia’s most powerful High Lords flowing through your veins, and yet you’re as average as the rest of the High Fae?”   

“Believe what you wish, Lord of Flowers.” Evie met his stare and held it unwaveringly. Kaius clucked his tongue and shook his head slightly, “Somehow I expected more from the infamous Cursebreaker.” Evie gave a shrug and was prepared to leave it at that, to let the man come to his own conclusions, but then he spoke again. “Perhaps you aren’t as worthy of the title your High Lord has so foolishly bestowed upon you as you’d lead us to believe, Evelyn Graves.” The slight stung - her gaze narrowed and her jaw clenched, but she rose above. “Or,” continued the man with a detached sneer, “perhaps you are exactly what his court of misfits deserves.” 

A sound more ruthless than any she’d known sounded, and Evie was surprised to find the snarl reverberating in her own chest. Pain shot through her gumline, there was the sensation of ripping and tearing as the taste of blood flooded her mouth. Where two rows of perfectly straight teeth had once sat, she could feel enlarged fangs protruding. Evie ran her tongue along their jagged edges, biting down hard to stop the panic from flaring in her eyes. Her knuckles tensed and ached, jet-black claws poking just beneath the surface of the skin, barely kept contained. Power unlike any she’d known before, raw and primal and animalistic, soared through her veins and made her shiver as she found herself all but consumed by the hatred she felt for the man. Blue eyes met green, and she could see then that this attack had been intentional - though an ordinary observer wouldn’t have noticed anything out of the usual, he wasn’t an ordinary observer; he was watching, watching specifically for the gift he knew he had unwittingly passed onto her, and he’d seen enough to confirm his suspicions. 

Calm down, she ordered herself. Reign it in. Reaching out with her mind, she brushed against that sacred place between herself and her mate where her soul was most complete, and that was enough. Enough to ground her and reform her composure, enough to remind Evie of who she was - what she was capable of. Kaius was a slimy bastard, but she wouldn’t fear him. She wouldn’t fear any of them. She did not bow, she did not break; she would carve her own path here, amongst the High Lords of Letharia, even if it was a path littered with blood and bone. Evie raised her chin once more, baring her fangs threateningly in that flickering light and said simply, “Perhaps I am.” In the next instant the fangs had retracted, and the brunette was grinning at him in the near-darkness. 

She didn’t expect his returning grin. Even with the Inner Circle surrounding him now, watching on wearily and ready to interject themselves at any moment, Kaius only had eyes for Evie. Unbothered by their looming presence, he met her gaze and he positively beamed. There was a hint of pride behind that smile that he had no right to feel, and it bled into his voice when he murmured, “Perhaps you are.”

For a long while, Wayland simply stared at her. There was an intensity burning behind those hazel depths that made her mouth go dry, those final few words getting lodged in her throat. Faye watched the varying emotions flicker across the general’s face, swelling like a wave at the helm threatening to crash and drag them both beneath the surface. Wayland’s heartbeat sounded in the air around them, the sound still strange and nerve-wracking to these newly pointed ears, and Faye could have sworn she felt the erratic thumping against her own ribcage. Blue eyes searched his own for any sign of what he was thinking, what he was feeling - anything concrete.

And then he laughed. The sound made her blood run cold, and for a moment Faye thought that perhaps she’d been a fool to lay all of her emotions out on the line between them. Darkness clouded her face briefly as defensiveness settled in, the blonde withdrawing ever so slightly. The sting of rejection swelled in her chest, dashed only by the twisted sense of satisfaction that she was getting exactly what she’d always sought from him. Somehow, to be unloved didn’t seem such a desirable thing anymore. But then he spoke, and all of the insecurity and regret she’d been feeling vanished. Her breath hitched as Wayland dominated the conversation with his passionate defense of her, laying all of his own feelings bare in a way that made her insides shiver. Never before had they been so utterly open with one another, giving voice to the thoughts and feelings that had been tearing them up inside all of these months. To hear these words spoken aloud, to know exactly what he thought of her without having to wonder and doubt…

It was easily the most terrifying and heartening moment of her life. For the first time it felt as if everything was finally falling into place, and for the briefest moment the world was entirely rightened.

Jerked forward, Faye settled into Wayland’s lap with her hands gently cupping his face. Each place that their skin met tingled with an energy their bond had only ever trembled with - now, the world beneath them seemed to quake with the force of that connection. Their lips met for the first time in so long and Faye leaned into the kiss without hesitation. Hunger unlike anything she’d ever known swelled in her gut, the craving for this, for him, for the intimacy between the two of them, overtaking her entirely. She felt as if she wanted to drown in him, that being dragged beneath the surface by these waves of passion seemed a good way to go.

I love you, he said against her lips. The words hung in the air between them, and then Faye was trembling for other reasons, reasons that she wasn’t entirely sure she understood. Fear flickered somewhere deep inside her soul, and it took every ounce of her willpower to keep from pulling away from Wayland and dismissing this moment between them. His gaze rose and she met it with her own, taken aback by the words that continued to spill so beautifully from his parted lips. Tears flooded her eyes and Faye’s brows came together, the feeling of unworthiness ingrained so deeply within her that she found it difficult to think of anything else. She wanted to believe his words, but found instead that being loved was even more terrifying than the prospect of being loved - in actuality, such deep connections seemed such a heavy burden to bear.

But for him, she’d try to bear it without complaint and as openly and whole-heartedly as she was capable of.

It was so natural to find herself melting into his touch. To lose herself to the feeling of his hands and lips against her skin. She’d missed this. She’d missed him. “Wayland, are you sure?” she managed to breathe, trying to focus her thoughts in a direction that wasn’t centered around panic or passion. She didn't know what she was asking, whether she wanted to know if he was sure about loving her or sure about disclosing it to the world. Either way, deep down she knew that he was sure - he’d been sure on what he wanted all along, and each and every time he’d tried to broach the subject of the two of them she’d shut him down. Faye didn’t know why she kept holding out hope that he was going to change his mind; maybe because it’d just be easier that way. The thought of the two of them being together, truly together, out in the open…it terrified her. What people would think, what they would say, how Evie would feel about all of it. When she’d found herself betrothed to Aeron, that was a match that people understood. She hadn’t had to explain herself, she had adopted the persona of his bride and lived her life behind a veil. Love made things messy - it was raw and vulnerable and real, and Faye knew that she wouldn’t be able to pretend to be anything more or less than what she was. The idea of existing wholly as her true self was daunting.

Wayland leaned back, pulling her with him and his serious words had a playful undertone that made her lips curve despite herself. Hovering over Wayland, she looked down into those hazel eyes that she knew so well and saw nothing but sincerity burning there. “No more hiding,” Faye agreed softly with a slight nod. Hand cupping his face gently, she stroked her thumb along the length of his cheekbone. Leaning down, she pressed a gentle kiss against his lips and forced away his wandering hands. “But, you can’t have me when and where you want.” Detangling herself from the male beneath her, Faye sat down beside him instead, ignoring the look on his face. Ignoring the flames licking their way across her heated flesh, and the quickness of her own pulse. “You’re injured,” she reminded him - and herself. “If we’ve got forever…I think you can wait a few more days.” She teased lightly, grinning down at him. A few days seemed like an eternity after everything they’d been through, all of the time they’d spent apart, and yet she knew it was a necessity after what his body had undergone. “I’m not going anywhere,” she promised him - and couldn’t help but to think of the last time she’d made the same promise. Where it had gotten them.

This time, it was a promise she intended to keep.

.*･.*･.*･.*･.*･.*･.*･.*･.*･.*･.*･.*･

“Illyrian war camps,” Faye echoed the High Lord’s words with raised brows. The words stirred up images of places she’d only heard of in passing. Cold, mountainous, unforgiving. Not exactly somewhere she wanted to find herself. “That’s where we rendezvous now?”

The High Lord and Lady stood side by side - a unit, bearing news of their next move against the King. They planned on moving into the Illyrian war camps and making connections within the other courts. Recruiting allies was a necessity at this point, especially after the loss of the Mortal Queens and their own betrayal of the Summer Court. War was on the horizon, and if they stood any hope of defeating Elisora they were going to need to choose their allies well.

“Well, we aren’t bringing anyone to Sakaris,” said Evie. The city had been infiltrated too many times already. They had confidence that the wards surrounding it now would stand, but no one wanted to take any chances by putting their home at risk again. “And our only other option would be visiting the Spring Court…” Evie cast a sidelong look at her sister, the memory of Adrastus’s rendition of the girl’s vision still fresh in her mind. Keeping Faye far, far away from that place was at the top of her priorities. And knowing the history between Adrastus and the High Lord of Spring, tensions were already going to be high enough without any added stress.

“I shouldn’t go.” Faye said flatly. She could practically feel Wayland bristling at her side, and the look on Evie’s face would have been comical under different circumstances. Their need to protect her ran so deep that it was endearing, but blinding all the same. “You’re trying to form alliances,” continued Faye before either one of them could object. “I’m a liability.” A sound of protest came from Evie. “You’re not a liability.” How quickly she’d changed her mind on that front. “I make you look weak,” insisted Faye. Who was going to want to fight alongside them with so much unpredictability on their end? She couldn’t even keep her wits together, what sort of potential ally was she? And with the rest of them struggling to help her, she was dragging them down too. “You make things personal,” countered Evie. “And whether you like to acknowledge it or not, you have a way of seeing the true nature of people and situations. But if you don’t want to see yourself as an asset, just a half-crazed gremlin, then the least you can do is gain their sympathies. But you’re going whether you like it or not, so shut up and pack your jacket.”

With an overly-bright smile to her glowering sister, Evie turned her full attention back towards her mate. “Anything to add, High Lord?”

Adrastus scowled up at his mate, silently adoring each crinkling line that appeared as she scrunched her button nose down at him. It was utterly astonishing sometimes how easily she could exhaust his inner demons with just a look. The High Lord took a moment to return to the old memories of when they weren’t who they were now. When they were strangers fighting against each other. When she was oblivious to his world, to the mother and all that she set up for their special little game of chess that led to now. Here. Resting his head in her lap and staring up at her with star-glittering eyes. Wondering how in the Cauldron he managed to be gifted someone as perfect as Evelyn Graves. His High Lady.

Reaching his hand up, he let his thumb trace her smiling bottom lip gently, his gaze softening. “My entire existence is based on giving those a choice, my beautiful Lady, and it holds as much truth with your sister as it does anything or anyone else. She deserves happiness too.” Shifting, Adras moved his thumb to her chin, dipping it down slightly so that he could lean up and press his lips to her own. They were always plush and warm against his own, fitting like they were molded against his by the Gods. When he drew back, their mouths peeling from each other, he was reluctant to do so. He would never be able to taste her, smell or her or touch her enough for his liking. Though they did like to try. “I just don’t like seeing them at odds with one another, it reminds me of a time when we didn’t always consider each other brothers.” his voice trailed off briefly, and then he rose slowly from her lap, expression shifting.

“Mother hen?” he said with a raised eyebrow, traveling backwards in the conversation. Adrastus was quick as his shadows, winnowing from beside her on the bed to standing directly in front of her. Stars glittered around him in the darkness that slowly began fading from the magic. A devilish smile formed on his lips and he reached out his arms, scooping Evie from the bed where she sat, lifting her so that her legs latched around his hips.

With a hand on each thigh, he leaned forward, nipping playfully at her neck, a low rumbling purr escaping him as he said tauntingly, “Who are you calling a mother hen?” another nibble at her earlob, purposely finding her sweet spots, tickling her with soft bites here and there. “If I remember correctly, you were the one having a face off with your beloved best friend over your sister. Any sane man would have ran and high tailed it while they could have with such a little monster glaring them down the way you did.” Adras insisted, drawing back to admire her.

“What a delicious thing you are when you get that dangerous look in those beautiful eyes, my impossible, beautiful Lady.” he shook his head, clicking his tongue.

He wasn’t sure if it was that lazy smile curving on her lips, the sleepy look in those eyes, or the way she nestled further into him, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. Beauty wasn’t a word that captured her essence. Looking at her was like seeing the sun after months of darkness, or watching a butterfly spreading its wings after climbing free from its cocoon. It was stunning. Altering. Exquisite. Every curve and line that made up her face was unique and it was never tiresome to look at.

“The correct answer was, ‘Obviously, Wayland, you’re so dreamy’.” Wayland grinned, enjoying the way she smiled up at him and then her hand reached up, feeling their way through his hair. He watched her intently, chest rising and falling steadily as he soaked in her radiating warmth. When that hand traveled to hold his face, it was instinctual for him to lean into it. His eyes shut for a moment and he basked in that feeling of comfort. That is until she was saying his name in a way that made his stomach knot before he could see her frown when he opened his eyes. No. He didn’t want bad news. Not yet. He just wanted a few more minutes. Just a few more.

Her comment on the interaction with Killian was brought up and Wayland shifted slightly, ready to shake his head and tell her it was fine. That he wanted to forget about it. Come on, just another minute. But he wouldn’t be getting one, he realized. She was moving quickly, as if anticipating his rejection of the subject and then her hands were grabbing him by the face. Wayland nearly jerked back, but stiffened instead, blinking at her as she begged him to just listen.

Once she loosened her grip, he remained still, eyes glued to her entirely, his mouth remaining shut tightly. Part of him was horrified of what she was about to say. His mind was going a million miles per hour with various thoughts and formed scenarios where her words would lead them. Some good, but most were not. Most made him anxious and horrified that his worst assumptions were right. But still. He listened.

It wasn’t what he expected at all. None of it really. The beating of his heart was uneven and rushed, but for the first time, he felt like the veil that laid between them was drawing back and he could finally see her clearly. She was expressing herself to him in a way she’d never done before and to know — really know — what he meant to her. That it wasn’t in his head, that she felt those burning desires, those sleepless nights, those temptations that drove one absolutely mad. She felt them too. And most of all. She wanted him. And only him.

Something inside of him shifted at the confirmation and his throat bobbed, finding it hard to keep his hands resting where they were. Impossible. He reached over, hand sliding over the one she laid on his thigh, cupping it softly. When she finished, he drank in each word she said to him and let it sink into him. He registered and gave her a moment after it all to register it too. All that she’d given from herself to him. Something he knew didn’t come easily for her.

The silence was so loud and Waylan’ds hazel eyes shifted from the bedspread to their hands then back to her face before a small laugh came from his lips, a short huff, but still a laugh and his head shook slowly as he studied her. The truth that seemed to sparkle in her eyes was so evident to him in that moment that it was laughable that he didn’t see it in front of him all along and that affection that she had for him, he always felt it. Now. Before. He believed every word she said and for once he was finally able to understand her more than he had been before. He knew that she was hurting, that something was off, but to know that what was going on between her and Killian wasn’t what he anticipated it being, not only was it a relief but it made him see his brother in a different light.

Regret seemed to swell in his gut at the anger that he shoved onto the male the other day, but in the same sense, there was still going to be lingering jealousy when it came to the two of them. Not because he was afraid of Faye wanting Killian in that way, but because of his ability to drag her free from that place she seemed to be tugged into.

But he wasn’t selfish. He couldn’t be selfish with her. If Killian was what she needed and he could save her from the Cauldron’s wrath, then he would be a selfish fool to keep that from her.

Then, he finally spoke, “I think I lied too.” he began, “This whole time I’ve been calling you a Wildflower, but you’re the entire garden, Phaedra. You are every beautiful petal on every extraordinary flower, and you don’t radiate with just one color, but with all of them. You may have thorns, but I am not afraid of them. My hands have been calloused by so much worse, they can not hurt me. Do you hear me?” his eyes hardened. “You have so much more to offer than you give yourself credit for. You are constantly sticking up for the people that you love and you never expect anything in return — in fact, you reject anything in return. You don’t think that you are worthy of love, but you’re wrong. Ever since I met you, Faye, all you have done is make sacrifices. You were willing to marry a horrible man you despised for your family, you abandoned your home for the sake of your brother, you risked your life with me in the Court of Nightmares so soon after your arrival here and then you did it again when you stood up for the mortal lands against the Queens.” his forehead creased, that intense look in his eyes never faltering.

“If Killian can help you, then we are one step closer to combating this obstacle, we will figure this out and until then, I will take any and every moment you can give me, but don’t you dare ever ask me to give up on you. I will always be here to water you because I —” his heart felt swollen with the feelings he had for her, like it would burst from his chest.

Without warning, he reached forward, tugging Faye into his lap so that she was straddling him and found her lips with his own. One hand slid up, tangling in her golden strands of hair, cupping the back of her head as their mouths moved against each other, slow, deep, and starved. When he drew back, he only did so enough so that their lips were barely touching now. His brow was pressed against her own and as he breathed out, the words came with, as if they’d been begging for release for so long and now they were breaking free. “I love you.”

His voice seemed to echo the words in the small space between them and as the quiet spilled over them, he slowly opened his eyes, leaning back slightly to capture her gaze with his own. His wings curled in tightly behind him and his hand brushed her hair back behind her ear. “I have spent so much of my life fighting wars that I wanted no part of, it’s about damn time I finally fight for something that I believe in and I have never believed in anything more than I believe in you.”

Wayland leaned in and kissed her again, hands now roaming down her back, and around her waist. “And no more sneaking,” the General’s lips said against hers, and he moved his mouth to find her throat, gently peppering kisses down it. “I want to have you when and where I want,” a small playful growl vibrated out of him, and the tip of his nose brushed her collarbone softly. “I don’t care who knows, I won’t waste another second pretending that I’m not completely in love with you.” Wayland leaned back, despite the soreness in his wings and took her with him.

Undeniable relief settled over him and a familiar feeling seemed to surge awake inside of him as his gaze drank in the smile that was forming on Faye’s lips. That smile had not been seen long enough for Wayland to be completely captivated by it until, slowly, it was unformed and forced his eyes back up to hers. What he saw lingered there was uncertainty and part of him expected her to deny him then and there, forcing him to have to abandon this rare moment of being within her presence alone all too soon. But, to his surprise, she did not reject his offer. Instead, her eyes seemed to glisten as she insisted that they get to it.

Wayland melted into her every touch, though he tried not to show it too much as their fingers became woven together. His grip tightened in a brief squeeze, as though he didn’t believe that it was actually happening. Her hand fit against his own —a puzzle missing a single piece.

As the two of them made their way through the house, he could feel her eyes on him. He didn’t look as they strode through the sitting room and toward the foyer. He knew what she was looking for. Could feel her stare lingering on his wings. Despite his body screaming in protest, he kept his expression vacant of any sign of pain or struggle. The last thing he wanted was for her to back out when they were so close to escaping the walls of the townhouse together. He wanted her to breathe in the fresh Sakaris air, to feel the true wind against her skin and the sun shining down on her from somewhere other than the garden. Wayland wasn’t sure he could stand to know that she was spending another day cooped up in the staleness of her bedroom. Even Wildflowers couldn’t bloom without some fresh air.

The crisp spring air was still chilled, just barely transitioning from winter, though the sun's rays were much stronger than they had previously been. He could especially feel them on the patched-up parts of his wings, a subtle burn igniting against the membraneous skin. Glancing down at Faye, Wayland offered her a nod, fighting the frown that wanted to form against his mouth at the thought of her having a psychotic break in the middle of the city. The fact that it very well could happen at any moment in time. He hated that she had to walk on eggshells for herself, knew that it had to be driving her crazy —constantly waiting for the worst to happen. He was going to make it his mission to take her mind off of it. If only just for a short while.

“Slow and steady,” Wayland said, thumb brushing along the back of hers reassuringly.

Faye’s anxiety seemed to ripple off of her as they moved. He could smell it —feel it even. When she squeezed his hand, he knew it was more for her own comfort than anything else. Stealing a sidelong glance at her, he found she was already staring at him. He met her eyes, blinking once before they came to a stop just before they hit the Rainbow of Sakaris. Hazel hues glanced over the colorful street, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve got my attention, princess.” he teased, remembering his first initial nickname for her when they met back in the Mortal Lands.

Letting her guide him away from the Rainbow, he realized quickly that they were headed in the direction of the ocean. Curious, he let her tug him along until their feet were submerged in the sandy beach. Large birds flew above head, diving down into the water to pluck up any surfaced sea life. The sound of the white-capped waves rolling against the shoreline was soothing and caused a salty scent to mix into the air around them.

Wayland followed suit with her, kicking off his boots, and letting his feet sink into the cool sand beneath them. “You picked an interesting day to go to the beach,” Wayland observed, the wind rustling the waves of gold atop his head. No matter the wind, or the chill in the air, he didn’t really care. About the weather or the location. All that mattered to him was the joy that flickered across her face as she swooped down to collect sea shells. Her fingers slid away from his own as she moved to collect more and more shiny ocean gifts until she was able to fill his palms with them, moving on to grab even more. A laugh slipped from his lips as she stared down at the various shells and sea glass glittering in his hands. “If I would have known you liked seashells so much, I would have brought a bucket,” Wayland murmured to her, slipping her findings into one of his pockets for safekeeping.

Looking out toward the sea, several strings of seaweed tumbled onto shore and Wayland nodded towards them. “I want to show you something,” he called Faye over, crouching down beside one of the recently washed-up weeds. Reaching down, he carefully began inspecting the foliage until something lit up, glowing a deep purplish blue. “This is a Knoobus,” he explained as he slowly untangled the little creature's tentacles. “They often get tangled in things like this when they are young and inexperienced with their tentacles.” The Knoobus’ as a baby resembled a small helmet, almost making them seem as though they had little pointed ears. Small black eyes stared up at them as Wayland set it in the palm of his head to show her how it moved across his skin, leaving a trail of blue and purple slime behind it. “The slime glows at night, helping them to find their way back to their trail if they are lost. Each one has its own unique scent too. Usually sweet or flora to our noses.” The Knoobus slid across his hand until one of its tentacles was testing out the sturdiness of Faye’s hand next, debating crossing over to her hand. He smirked at the sight of the small creature and pointed to the sand. “Now he can get back out there,” he moved the seaweed away watching as she released him and the waves reclaimed his small figure.

After a while of enjoying what the ocean had to offer and all of its trinkets, Wayland was able to convince her to stop at an ice cream shop and the two of them were making their strides back toward the townhouse once they were finished. Fiddling with one of the sea-glass stones that Faye had made him carry for her between his fingers, Wayland found himself admiring Faye as she moved beside him. The way her wind-assaulted blonde waves wisped around her face. At the way that she was admiring one of her favorite shells between her fingers. He didn’t want their short moment together to end so soon but knew better than to push her limits. When the two of them had just about reached the steps to the townhouse, Wayland reached out, brushing his fingers against her arm to halt her. “Faye,” his voice felt so small, but he continued anyway. “I—” The rest seemed to fall away when he realized that she wasn’t turning to look at him. The shell in her hands had clattered to the ground at her feet and her body began trembling.

Wayland stiffened, his green siphons burning with light. “Faye,” he called to her, hand now grabbing her to spin her around and her eyes had nearly rolled back into her head. His heart thundered and he held her face, panic taking hold of him when the front door busted open. Adrastus and Killian were at either side of him in an instant, but he couldn’t hear a word they were saying. Instead, he kept trying to call out to her, kept trying to bring her back to him. “I’m right here,” Wayland’s voice was tight and Adrastus closed his eyes and was no doubt using his daemati abilities, working at infiltrating the depths of her mind if he was able. A shudder went through the High Lord at what he must have been seeing and when he reopened his eyes, he stared at Faye with distraught clear on his features.

“What? What did you see?” Wayland demanded, but Adras remained silent. Killian was the next to move, blue siphons glowing brightly as his shadows seemed to flow out of him, collecting around him like a cloud. The shadow enveloped himself and Faye and Wayland and Adrastus stumbled back from it, eyes wide at the sight.

With a wall of darkness around the two of them, Killian stood behind Faye’s trembling body. It was the same feeling as before. During her nightmare. He recognized it clear as day as he approached her, reaching around to grab her shaking hands. “Phaedra,” he commanded through the whipping winds that his shadows created and slowly, those shadows reached out like tentacles to wrap around her, coiling around her arms and legs. “I know you don’t know where you are,” he said beside her ear as his hands clasped tighter around her own. “But you are the one in control, do you hear me? You decide where you are. Not the Cauldron, not your fear, you.” A light seemed to form in the center of their hands and Killian’s golden eyes stared at the blinding orb, muscles still straining as he search for her mind, hoping to latch onto it and help guide her as he’d done before. “Decide, Faye. Take control.” the Spymaster ordered his friend, and the light suddenly exploded, sending all of his shadows vaporizing with a gust of wind that surged from Faye herself.

The King dismissed them.

Unbothered entirely by all of it - Killian’s blood soaking his floors, Wayland’s crumpled and unconscious body, Faye shaking and shivering on the floor with that look in her eyes, their screams and their agony still echoing off the stone corridors. Just another day, his posture seemed to say as he lounged atop his throne, looking over them boredly. And Evie hated him for that - hated him with a fury unlike any she’d ever known.

“This one, however,” he gestured toward Faye. “She stays.”

Evie bristled at the suggestion, a snarl on her lips. The urge to throw herself across the room, to fall onto those wet stones and shield her sister was strong. Impossible with the guard’s tight hold on her. She expected Adrastus to disagree, to bargain somehow. But instead, only one word left his mouth: fine. Evie’s head whipped towards her mate, brows slamming together as she gave him a look that was half-outrage, half-pleading. No…there was no way he was going to leave Faye behind. Even the King didn’t seem convinced, his flat laughter making Evie shudder as he cast his gaze towards her, murmuring about Adrastus’s lack of protest. The High Lord’s explanation made Evie’s heart sink and then churn, and for a moment she thought she might be sick all over the floor. The best call, he was trying to make the best call to save as many of them as he could. Sacrifice the few to save the many.

With a wave of the King’s hand, the wards vanished. Evie trembled as the King’s guard let go of her and stepped back, allowing her to move away. She walked slowly towards the rest of them, meeting Adrastus’s gaze. For a long moment she held it, never tearing her gaze from his as he placed one hand on her back and guided her towards Onica. Towards Onica. Rather than taking hold of her himself. Rather than stepping in between them so that he might bear the weight of their fallen friends. He led her towards Onica, keeping himself on the outskirts. Evie broke her gaze and took her place, all of them holding onto one another in the center of the room. She held her breath, and then she became the wind and the mist, wisping through the world with a tight grasp on the others. Aiding Onica, no longer relying on the other girl to transport them all.

They landed and Evie was unsurprised to find that Adrastus was no longer with them. Only moments later he appeared, Faye at his side and a sword protruding from his stomach. Gasping, she dropped down beside him as he pulled the bit of steel out. Blood poured from the wound, and the sight of it made Evie anxious. Even as he waved off Onica’s worry, even as his gaze met her own and she saw nothing but love and relief reflected there. Reaching out, Evie curled her fingers around her mate’s cheek, lips lifting at the corners. “You insufferable man,” she scolded him lightly, even as her thumb stroked his cheek tenderly.

...

It could have been hours or days and Faye wouldn’t have known the difference. Everything blurred together; thoughts and feelings, faces and places, the past and the present. Time had ceased to mean anything from the moment she’d found herself washed ashore on the floor of the King’s throne room. Images plagued her regularly, these jarring and unannounced scenes unfolding behind her eyes as if she were experiencing them in real time. One moment she was back again on those cold, wet stones watching the young Queen dunk herself into the cauldron, emerging withered and ruined….in the next breath, she was sitting at the kitchen table with an untouched plate of food before her and half a dozen pairs of anxious eyes watching her every move. After so many hours of flickering back and forth between time and space, Faye thought that maybe she truly was beginning to go crazy.

There was a knock on her door, but she didn’t look up. It was Evie - the gentleness of the knock registered with some unconscious part of her brain. Faye’s eyes remained downcast on the page before her, fingers stained with ink. Only when a gentle hand touched her shoulder did the blonde look up, blinking her blue-brown eyes slowly. “Faye?” Evie asked, frowning down at her sister with concern. The blonde was silent. “Wayland is awake. Would you like to go see him?” Something inside of her chest flickered to life at the mention of Wayland’s name, but Faye was too far away for it to register completely. In her mind’s eye she could see the outline of him, tall and broad and blonde, but the details were blurry. She knew him, deep down in her very core she knew him, and yet all that rose to the surface was less than mild interest. Faye found that she had to work twice as hard to slog her way through the haze in her mind to reach out for those bits and pieces of her old life, and even when she did they were fleeting. There was an emptiness inside of her that seemed to have been carved out by the cauldron itself. It was intent on giving her no rest; she knew it was the cauldron because she could feel its dark power coursing through her veins, spinning spindly webs within her mind each and every time she suddenly found herself somewhere new, watching those strange and unexplained scenes unfold. It was as if it had carved away bone and marrow to fill the void with something wispy and dark, something she couldn’t name and didn’t know how to control.

The elder sister didn’t bother waiting for a response that she knew was never going to come. Evie led Faye down the hallways and into the room where Wayland waited with Adrastus, the sight of her friend in such a state making her stomach churn - the knowledge of what he was about to discover only intensified that misery. From the moment she had heard Adrastus’s voice in her mind, asking her to bring Faye, she had been dreading the inevitable. “Glad to see you’re on the mend.” Evie said gently, her smile weak. The sight of Wayland’s newly repaired wings made her heart a little bit lighter, for she knew what it would have cost him to have lost them completely. Wayland glanced at her, but his gaze didn’t hold. And once his eyes found Faye, they didn’t stray from her again. There was a long moment of tense silence, though the girl seemed oblivious as she stared blankly across the room. Finally, Evie nudged the blonde and gently prompted. “Faye, aren’t you going to say hello?” There was the briefest moment of hesitation. That bleak gaze shifted from whatever spot she’d fixated on, meeting Wayland’s hazel eyes. “Hello, Wayland.” chimed Faye lightly. It was as if she were greeting a stranger, that detached politeness dripping from her words.

Holding tightly to her sister’s cold hand, Evie tugged her in the direction of Wayland’s bedside. Faye’s gaze flitted around the room, lingering on nothing in particular. She moved like a newborn colt, with wobbly legs and no sense of direction. Led by Evie’s strong grip, the blonde stumbled her way across the room and to the chair at Wayland’s beside. Once there, there was a moment of hesitation before Evie was easing her down into the plush piece of furniture, gnawing on her lip as she watched Faye stare blankly up at her. The younger girl’s face was expressionless, the only sign of life the steady rise and fall of her chest and the brushing of her fingertips as she compulsively rubbed the golden chain of her bracelet in between her forefinger and thumb. Evie swallowed thickly at the look on Wayland’s face, heart sinking - it was like someone had punched him in the gut. “She’s not herself,” she explained, a bit defensively - though Wayland didn’t look at Faye with judgment, only concern, Evie couldn’t help but to feel the need to protect her sister in this strange and fragile state. “The cauldron it…it took something from her.”

For a long, silent moment they watched Faye. She was…empty. There was no flash of recognition in her eyes when she looked at them, nothing stirring behind that deadened gaze. She was there and not there, seeing and unseeing, present and past. Inside, she struggled to slog through those swirling waters to reach the pieces of herself she knew had been left behind. They were just out of reach, like a beautiful dream lost to you the moment you wake up - the memory of it was haunting.

“She won’t eat,” Evie informed Wayland with a soft sigh. “She doesn’t sleep. She barely talks to us. Killian is the only one who has had any luck with her, and even then...” There was something kindred between her sister and the shadowslinger that Evie didn’t understand; for whatever reason, Faye bore his presence the best. He’d actually managed to wrangle a few stray sentences out of her, as for the rest of them….they just couldn’t reach her. Faye was lost to this world the majority of the time, and when she was present it was only with paper and pen in hand. “And the things she’s drawing, Wayland..” That was one of the most unsettling parts, the sketches. The images were haunting. Sometimes she drew the darkest creatures of this realm, wicked and bloodthirsty. Sometimes she drew images of wars she’d never seen, of carnage and loss. Sometimes she drew the King’s castle, the dungeons in which they’d kept her. But mostly, she drew the cauldron. She’d drawn it a dozen times a dozen different ways: sometimes sleeted over with ice, other times oozing molten lava; holding swirling galaxies inside of its basin, or sitting atop a graveyard of bones - always dark and powerful and terrible, larger than life itself. The pictures seemed to pulsate with its essence, as if Faye had somehow poured part of whatever the cauldron had given her back into those pages.

“You talk about me like I’m not here,” murmured Faye suddenly, twisting and turning one pale hand in the sunlight, watching how it seemed to glitter against her ivory-colored skin. Watching the sun glinting off of her golden chain, the little sunflower iridescent in its beaming rays. “I don’t eat because I am not hungry. I don’t sleep because I am not tired. I don’t speak because I have nothing to say. And I draw because it gives my eyes a rest.” And then, as if she’d never said anything at all, Faye turned her attention towards the window, staring out blankly. The words left them puzzled - anyone could see that she was too-thin, face slightly sunken from too many days without eating, dark circles beneath her eyes - eyes that apparently needed rest, but from what? It was the most sentences she’d strung together since they’d returned home, and it was like she was speaking in riddles. “Like I said…it stole something,” said Evie with a scowl. “We just don’t know what.” Though her voice was more melodic now than it had ever been, there was something unsettling about the hushed tone in which Faye whispered, “Yes…much has been stolen.” And then that strange smile curled her lips once more, just as it had right after she’d been Made, and once again it sent icy tendrils of fear creeping through Evie’s veins - she had the strangest suspicion that her sister was smiling as if she knew something they didn’t. But how could that be possible when she continued to look through them as if they weren’t even there? “Faye,” Evie murmured, reaching out to place a hand on her sister’s shoulder, giving it a gentle shake. The smile didn’t fade, and Faye didn’t move her unseeing gaze from that window. Lost in her own world entirely.

And then Wayland reached suddenly for her hand, and his touch jolted her out of whatever faraway place she found herself trapped in.

The swirling, murky waters of that internal in-between place were too thick for Faye to wade through on her own. They crashed all around her, dragging her under the surface - into the world where time and space blended together, where she was neither here nor there. But Wayland’s fingers around her own created a surge of power that forced those mysterious waves outwards, and when they came flooding back in his touch was like a tether back into reality, back into herself. That tether was as tangible and real to her as those spaces between realms which now flooded her mind - and she followed it all the way back, until she could feel her own essence flooding her body, pushing back against the space now occupied by the cauldron’s power. Fighting for control, fighting for balance.

Blue-brown eyes flickered towards the man, and then to their joined fingers. “Wayland,” she said his name slowly, blinking as if coming out of a trance. Drawing in a breath as if new life flooded her lungs. Some of the fogginess behind her gaze cleared away, and trembling fingers flexed once before closing hesitantly around his hand. The world seemed to come into focus once more, its edges losing that dream-like shimmer as confusion and uncertainty slowly faded away. Faye’s fingers tightened around his own like they were her lifeline, her one tether to reality. Inside and out. “Wayland,” she repeated, reaching out to wrap both of her hands around his larger one. Something inside of her seemed to crack and crumble as her gaze held his, and a brilliant burst of light rushed in to fill the cracks. Bright, powerful, warm. Staring into his eyes, she saw nothing else. The world seemed to shimmer once more, and for a split second Faye felt a surge of panic, but then she realized it was only him - not the world - and he didn’t shimmer. He shone.

“Oh,” she breathed, tears welling in her eyes as the memories from Elisora came flooding back to her. Pain, white and hot, spearing through him - spearing through her. That murky gaze traveled the length of his injured wings, the raw flesh, the puckered scarring. “Your wings.” Faye brought his knuckles to her lips, as if she might press a kiss there, but her lower lip only wobbled against his warm flesh. She could feel the beat of his pulse beneath her thumb, and it kept her grounded in the moment. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, though she didn’t know why - for the injury to his wings, for her inability to stop it from happening, for being the object of their rescue mission, for taking this long to come and see him. All of it, she was so sorry for all of it.

Evie stared at her sister with furrowed brows for a long moment before exchanging a confused and concerned look with her mate. It was the first time she’d spoken in anything other than short bursts of emotionless chatter since being Made. “Faye,” she called out hesitantly. The blonde turned her head, cocking it to the side slightly. There was an alertness in the girl’s gaze that hadn’t been there before, and for the first time those cloudy blue depths seemed to actually see her. “Do you remember anything?” wondered Evie, unsettled by how quickly the light inside of her sister had turned back on, shining through the cracks left by the Cauldron. She had a sneaking suspicion that it had everything to do with Wayland’s presence, and Evie tried not to dwell too much on the fact. Faye blinked at her sister once, tears still fresh on her dampened cheeks, and then her own forehead creased. “I remember everything,” she insisted. “But it’s…far away.” There was a pause as Faye struggled to gather her thoughts, and her thumb rubbed against Wayland’s own slowly, absently. “Far away. Like you’re looking through a veil?” pressed Evie. Memories from her death came flooding back, and she remembered those moments of in-between, where she hadn’t known where she was or how to get back to herself. Only Adrastus had been there in the darkness, her one foothold into the living world. “No,” she shook her head slightly. Her voice dropped, “It’s like I’m looking through a dream.” They all stared at her, not understanding, and Faye just shrugged, that faraway look slowly creeping back onto her face.

Evie glanced towards Adrastus, talons brushing against his inner walls. Can it be fixed? she asked him, but her mate seemed as much at a loss as she was. It wasn’t everyday someone was thrown into the cauldron and made immortal - this was uncharted territory for all of them. Evie was terrified that the damage the cauldron had done was irreparable, and Faye was going to spend all of eternity stuck in this dream-like trance. It was cruel, for the cauldron to give them Faye forever, but only this fractured version of herself.

The weight of Killian’s limp body hardly registered within either the High Lord or the General as they carried their wounded brother behind the Kings path. Blood was quick to cover all three of them, the tip of the arrow pointing at Onica as she trailed behind them, her hands shaking. When the group entered the throne room, they were greeted by the sight of the Queens standing in a row, their faces void of remorse or sympathy as they collectively stared right back at the Inner Circle. Killian’s head was bowed, his whisps of brown waves clinging to his forehead. He tried to lift it, but it was to no avail, his chin barely made it up before his head was falling back down. The color of his skin was pale and cold, but dots of sweat still formed across his face and neck.

There were no words that could express the war that was raging within each and everyone one of them. The betrayal, the burning anger, the disgust and terror, it was all intertwined and mixed leaving a cloud of nausea to sit in each of their guts. Evie was the first to unleash herself, voicing those emotions blatantly.

Wayland stole a glance at Adrastus who didn’t meet his gaze. He was staring down the King with a look of steel, his body remarkably still. The General could see the gears working within the High Lord’s mind and judging by the gritting of his teeth, the odds weren’t looking good for the lot of them. It seemed Adrastus was moving before anything could be fully registered, but as soon as his movements carried him away from Killian, Onica was taking the new position beneath his dangling arm.

Adras’ fist cracked across the face of the guard who lunged for her, sending him straight to the stones beneath them. Immediately after, his arms coiled around Evie, using his body as her armor, his eyes were darting each direction, delivering warning looks toward each guard— daring them to try and touch her again. He could feel her heart as it pounded against her chest, her body seemed to shake beneath him and his blood crusted hands held tighter around her, his eyes returning to the King’s face as he addressed his mate with such casualty it made his guts wrench in annoyance.

That impenetrable wall that was sat between him and Evie, left the High Lord feeling too far apart from her. In more ways than one. That connection being severed felt like a deafening silence, he was unable to feel even a spark of life from her side, and he was sure it was the same for her. It only drove him more mad now that he couldn’t try and relieve her of that quickened heartbeat. Unable to bring peace down upon the one he loved after doing so for so long.

Not taking a liking to their defiance, the King rose the stakes and this time, Adras could almost feel his own hands shake at the sight. Anger raged through the Lord of Night as a guard brought forth a familiar face, beaten and bruised, the light he once recognized in those eyes vacant and he felt something inside of Evie break, her body nearly crumbling against him and his grip on her tightened when she suddenly tried to dive in the direction of her sister. With a grimace on his face, he held her back, keeping her from spiralling into danger. He wasn’t putting anything past the King, one wrong move on their part could mean a life ended. They were treading in dangerous waters.

Wayland, gripping Killian tightly became still, his knees almost buckling at the sight of Faye being handled by two guards. Every molecule in his body surged. If it wasn’t for Killian’s state, he would have been crossing the room in a heartbeat and the amount of restrain that he had to summon in that moment was astounding. Between the gag settled between her jaws, the bruises that littered her body, those lashings that stained her skin red and festering. He felt sick, his stomach curling as if it was rearing its angry head in infuriation. He met those dulled eyes, her face stained by blood and the tears that once streamed through it. I’m going to save you, his eyes seemed to silently say across the room, not realizing that his chest was rising and falling more rapidly. Lorenzo stole his attention when his hand reached out to Faye’s face. Again, he was latching onto his restraint. Evie was voicing the words that roared inside his head, causing Lorenzo to snap his head in her direction, sick, twisted amusement on his face. The way his finger stroked her face had Wayland nearly breaking his teeth he was clenching them so hard to keep from barking out anything he’d regret. Even without saying a word, Enzo was meeting Wayland’s hardened gaze, that flicker in his eyes was enough to make the muscles in his biceps twitch, his body begging to break free and carve that smug look clean off.

The cruelty that was gifted by the Queens was unsettling and Wayland again was turning to find Adrastus whose face was solid stone, the tight expression on his face the one thing proving that he knew precisely what was meant by the conversation that bounced between the King and the Queens. For a moment, Wayland swore he could almost see the color beginning to vanish from his High Lord’s skin and he was marking them all Fools, his tone made up of ice. Wayland’s eyes fell upon the Cauldron, the Queens, and then the King once more who smiled wickedly and then he couldn’t see anything.

Like a wind made up of shards of glass, power swelled within the hall. Wayland wasted no time, shoving Killian beneath him as the blast sent everyone to the ground. There was a ringing in his ears, deafening and though his eyes were shut tight, he could still see the blinding light that burned behind his eyelids. His large wings unfurled behind him, expanding at their full length as he shielded Killian from the Kings relentless power. The pain that ignited inside of him was horrendous. Bit by bit, Wayland’s wings were being torn apart —shredded. Holes opened and so did his mouth as he cried out in agony. Unable to keep his wings open, they curled inward, bracing themselves against his body as they began seeping with blood, sending a pain like no other throughout his body as he continued covering up Killian with his body. His wings which he was sworn to protect, were destroyed and the suffering that he was going through was enough to make his vision blur when he tried to open his eyes, then it became spotted and dark and he was slipping away from consciousness, his body slumping to the stone as Onica tried to reach out for him.

Adrastus only moved his body after taking the brunt of the Kings power while he protected Evie beneath him. “You bastard.” His pain fueled his rage and once he was able, Adras was moving for the King, eyes blazing only to be brought to his knees, his teeth gritting. Every muscle in his body was clenching, trying to push through the Kings powers, but it was a failed attempt. At Elisora’s order, Adrastus whirled, looking at Faye, then to Evie who was being collected by the guards. When he made a step toward her, the King once again used his hold on Killian to gain submission. Useless. He felt useless. Frozen in his place, Adras was forced to simply watch as Evie’s sister was hauled toward the Cauldron, her body trembling as she tried to choke back the sobs that demanded to be acknowledged. It pained him to see her trying to summon her strength even as she was about to endure something so horrendous. For the sake of others. She did so much for the sake of others. Just as they all did.

Adras stole a look toward his mate, struggling to stomach the horror written on her face as she watched them submerge her little sister in the Cauldron and when he turned back, all he saw was her lifeless eyes looking toward Wayland before they disappeared beneath the rim of the Cauldron. No. The word rattled throughout the High Lords body, and he couldn’t stop staring at where she once was, as if this was all some sort of nightmare that he could awaken from. The Cauldron suddenly tilted itself, sending all of its contents out onto the floor —Faye included.

Her pale figure was spat out, leaving her soaked and changed. Arched ears protruded from beneath those blonde strands, her features more prominent and astonishing, just as Evie had been beneath the mountain, she glowed with the magic that now surged within her and then she was moving slowly, her expression so unlike her. It made Adrastus still when she suddenly spoke. A gift. Adras glared toward the King who was busy taking in Faye with pure amusement and interest.

The queens looked at each other, then their wide-eyed guards, and snaked toward the Cauldron, their smiles growing. Wolves circling prey. One of them sniped at another for pushing her. The King rolled his eyes at the women, his gaze falling upon Adrastus lazily. “You are free to go now, Adrastus. Your friend’s poison is gone. The wings on the other, I’m afraid, are a bit of a mess.” Adras shifted and the King spoke up once more. “This one, however,” he gestured toward Faye. “She stays.”

The High Lords initial instinct was to reject the idea of Faye staying behind, but he caught himself before he could and with every ounce of strength that he could muster, he removed any sort of emotion from his face, forcing his body to relax before saying. “Fine.” The reaction his answer got was unsurprising. Evie’s face screwed up and disbeleif flashed in her eyes, the same went for the others as they stared at him with confusion and shock.

“Fine?” The King chuckled and glanced toward Evie, taking in her reaction then he returned his gaze to Adrastus. “So unlike you to not put up a fight, Night Lord.” his tone was unimpressed and Adras simply held his stare, unfaltering.

“I’ve weighed the odds and if we don’t get out of here while we can, we will be losing more than just one tonight. I do what is best for my people, even if that decision feels impossible.” his voice was harsh and he ignored the way Evie was staring at him. The King rose his brows and Enzo narrowed his eyes, but Elisora waved a hand, releasing the wards so that they could winnow themselves out.

“Go on then,” he said, watching closing, his guards moving around Faye. Adrastus turned toward Evie and he met her eyes, refusing to change his expression, unable to mind speak, he simply held her eyes for a moment as he reached out and led her toward Onica who was readying herself to hold onto the injured men at her feet. “It’s been. . . fun.” the King muttered and when the group all held onto each other, Adras stared at Onica who was glaring toward him and then just before she winnowed, he let go and winnowed himself alone to the center of the room where Faye was still kneeling. As soon as he appeared, his hand grabbed onto her shoulder and the two of them were just about vanished when the King noticed and rage filled his eyes as he rose to his feet, pointing at them. Adrastus smirked and didn’t notice when one of the guards lurched toward him. When he and Faye appeared moments after the others, Adrastus felt warmth spreading through his stomach. He slowly looked down to find a sword was driven straight through him, blood waterfalling down his front. A low groan escaped him and he grabbed the hilt, tugging it free so the wound could mend.

“Adras!” Onica’s eyes widened and he waved her off.

“I’m okay.” He was. The wound was healing. Turning toward Faye, he sighed in relief that they’d done it and met Evie’s gaze once again. “I always have a plan, sweet Evie.” he offered wearily.

* * *

The group slammed into the floor of the townhouse, and Nevara was instantly there, hands on Wayland’s wings, swearing at the damage. Then she was surveying the hole in Killian’s chest. Even her healing couldn’t fix both. No, they’d need a real healer for each of them, and fast, because if Wayland lost those wings. . . Adras knew he’d prefer death. Any Illyrian would.

“Get the Book out of here,” Adras said, dumping the pieces he’d collected from Evie onto the ground. He hated the touch of them, their madness and despair and joy. Nevara ignored the order, busying herself with trying to stop the dribbling of blood escaping Wayland. Onica had dropped to the floor before Killian, her blood-caked hands shaking as she ripped the arrow free of his chest, blood showering the carpet. She shoved her fingers over the wound, light flaring as her power knit bone and flesh and vein together.

Loosing out a sigh, they managed to slow the bleeding enough for them to get the healer over. When Una arrived, she stared a little too long at Wayland’s wings before getting to work on them.

Hours of mending passed and although Wayland was still not awake, he was no longer oozing blood and his wings had patched the holes together, the scars noticeable, the new skin a darker shade than the rest. While he sat, staring down at the rise and fall of his brothers chest, thoughts of what the King would do in retaliation raced in his mind and made it hard to swallow. Adras laid his head in his hands, shutting his eyes for a moment when Wayland’s throat clearing filled the air.

“You look like shit.” Wayland said, huffing a laugh that made him wince instantly. Adrastus’ lips twitched at a weak smile and he shook his head. Before he could say anything, Wayland spoke once more. “Where is she?” his tone was suddenly stern, eyes clouded with worry.

“It’s not good,” Adras murmured and Wayland was shoving himself forward. Quickly, Adras was rising, shoving him back down. “Wayland. She is safe, but the Cauldron. . .”

“I need to see her.” his voice cracked and Adras stiffened at the sound. The longing. The intense need that could be heard in each word. It was the same way he felt about Evie. Ignoring the pain, Wayland, again, shoved himself upward, ignoring the spinning sensation that occurred in his head and when he tried to stand, his legs buckled and Adras caught him, lips pursing, but he knew. He knew that if roles were reversed, he would be climbing out of that bed regardless of what pain he was in for his mate. Wayland saw the understanding in his brothers eyes and the pain that erupted from his healing wings was excruciating as he went to take a step forward, the movement of bone and muscle nearly enough to send him unconscious again.

He just needed to see her.

He wasn’t expecting the sound of a knock on his bedroom door. The screams that drowned him suddenly ceased when his tired burning eyes landed on Faye’s figure in the doorway. Wayland could have sworn that the breath that once filled his lungs halted as well. While he searched her face, he took notice of the way that she assessed him. Her own gaze seemed to be far away as if she was drinking in every detail of him and committing it to her memory. What a memory it must have been, he thought, knowing how he must have looked to her. Never had he let someone see him this vulnerable in his entire lifetime. Surely, others have seen him wounded from battle, but they never saw the aftermath. The image of him being suffocated by the images of those battles, the moments leading up to the wounds that he bore. Maybe, he wondered silently, that was why his heart seemed to stutter beneath his flesh when she didn’t recoil. Her feet carried her further into his bedroom, bringing her to the side of the tub, and all while she ripped her nightdress to ribbons.

When she reached for his arm, his muscles hardened beneath her examination. Nevertheless, he found his body bend to her, allowing the action of her mending his blood-stained arm. As his eyes watched the nimble movements of those slender fingers, he could feel all the heaviness in the world beginning to crush him all at once. All of the innocent, fear-stricken faces of the people in Sakaris, the children and their screams —their mothers screams of pure unrelenting worry and terror. His own terror. How his thoughts would consistently drag him back to Phaedra and whether or not she was okay in the townhouse. Seeing the Attor’s fangs up close and what they could possibly do to her delicate flesh made his gut churn uneasily.

Suddenly, her fingertips were submerging themselves into the water of the tub. Wayland followed her hands as she reached for the plug of the tub, removing the red-tinged water and then the house seemed to step in, his own energies exhausted. As new water steamed the room, he turned to look over Faye’s face. She busied herself with lathering her hands in soap and then their eyes met and he felt his body soften. Something about her presence seemed to quiet the voices in his head, and the ache in his bones. At her offer, Wayland didn’t need to so much as nod. He was rather motionless as he stared at her. Just memorizing the lines of her face in the silence and she seemed to hear the words he thought anyway, her hands moving to run across his body with a featherlight touch.

Slowly, his head leaned back until he felt the tubs edge against it and a slow shuttered breath expelled from his lungs and lips, his throat bobbing against any pain that wanted to cling to him. For a moment, his hazel eyes shut to the lull of her wandering hands, feeling the skin become cleansed beneath each stroke. Then, when she was finished with his body, those fingers found themselves tangled in bronze strands. He leaned into those hands as they made their mark upon him, freeing him of the evidence of battle. When he reopened his eyes, he couldn’t tear them away from her. Unlike so many previous interactions, he didn’t feel that same hunger as he usually did. The hunger was still there, and prominent, but it was transformed somehow. He longed to reach out and touch her face, to bring her lips to his own and kiss her until his breath ran out. It wasn’t animalistic, it was a need. Like being stranded in the desert, with a mouth ran dry and insides that burned, sprawled out in a sea of sand and then suddenly it downpours.

The soft voice found him through the quiet that settled upon them and when she was rising back to her feet, ready to dismiss herself his body was one step ahead of him. He shot his hand out, fingers wrapping around her wrist, water dripping off his skin to the floor. Unready for her to leave, he caught her gaze and when she insisted that she would be there when he rested, he didn’t want to be convinced at first, fingers tightening briefly before he slowly released her, his hard gaze never leaving hers, or her body as she exited his room.

When the door clicked shut, Wayland stared at his arm where the bandage was secured and ran his fingers along the knot, his shoulders slumping. Although his body cried out for a break, he rose to his feet, drying off, and then settled himself in bed, his eyes focused on the wrap around his arm until he was suddenly taken by sleep, the dark circles beneath his eyes gaining their wish.

* * *

That sudden feeling of dread that all but consumed Wayland had been the first alarm to verify that Faye was in danger. It was merely seconds that it took him to lunge from his bedroom and into the hall. But when he made it to her bedroom. She was already gone and the rage. The terror. It all but consumed him.

Now. With everyone gathered in the sitting room of the townhouse, his teeth had never pressed harder together, all of his muscles jutting with tension. He didn’t stand still either, he was pacing, wings flaring behind him as he took in everyone's conversations as best he could without falling victim to his own busy thoughts that wanted nothing more than to burst through the door of the house and strangle Elisora with his own two hands. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one that was having internal conflicts.

Across the room, Adrastus’ eyes were dark and foreboding. “You’re asking me to wait outside while my mate evades Elisora’s stronghold?” His voice was a deadly calm. One that Wayland had only heard a handful of times before.

Killian offered a firm nod. “Yes.” his own voice just as calm.

Evie stepped in, the two of them holding eye contact for a while before Adras was reigning in his emotions, slowly nodding to his mate. “The decision is yours,” he finally said, his voice softer this time. He meant the words, no matter how against his instincts they were. “Always.”

* * *

“The King of Elisora is old, Adras—very old. Do not linger.” Nevara warned as Evie worked to place the two halves of the Book of Breathings, into separate pockets of her armor.

“We’ll be in and out before you miss us,” Adrastus said. “Guard Sakaris well.”

Nevara then studied Evie’s gloved hands and weapons. “That Cauldron,” she said, “makes the Book seem harmless. If the spell fails, or if you cannot move it, then leave.” her voice was an order.

At that, Onica—whose arms were out, waited for Evie. Wayland and Adras winnowed with Killian. Adras dropped them off a few miles from the coast before the Illyrians found Onica and Evie seconds later. Adrastus stepped in front of Evie, his face tense. His eyes held hers for a long while, it was evident that his instincts were fighting against every fiber of his being. Leaning down, Adras took Evie’s face in his hands, drawing her lips to his own tenderly.

When they broke apart his gaze went right to Wayland who bowed his head. “With my life, High Lord. I’ll protect her with my life.”

Adrastus then looked to Killian. He nodded, bowing his head, and said, “With both of our lives.” It was satisfactory enough for the High Lord—who at last looked at Onica.

She nodded once, but said, “I know my orders.” Then she gripped Evie’s hand. Then they were gone—and plunging through open air.

Wayland’s body suddenly slammed into Evie’s as Onica released her into his outstretched arms, catching her before she could panic and perhaps winnow herself elsewhere. “Easy there, it’s just me,” he said, banking right, those long membraneous wings batting against the wind. Below Onica was still plummeting, then winnowed again into nothing. A few yards ahead, Killian was a swift shadow over the black water. Toward the landmass they were now approaching. Elisora. No lights burned on it.

“I’ve only been here twice,” Wayland murmured to Evie. “Both times, I was counting down the minutes until I could leave.” His eyes examined the approaching wall of bone-white cliffs, their tops flat and grassy, leading away to a terrain of sloping, barren hills. Adrianna had slaughtered all her slaves rather than free them. Now, he felt an overwhelming nothingness and the idea of Faye being in such a place made his chest tighten painfully. “That’s his castle ahead,” Wayland said through clenched teeth, swerving. Around a bend in the coast, built into the cliffs and perched above the sea, was a lean, crumbling castle of white stone. Not imperious marble, not elegant limestone, but off-white. Bone-colored. Perhaps a dozen spires clawed at the night sky. A few lights flickered in the windows and balconies. No one outside —no patrol.

“Guard shift.” Wayland explained. “There’s a small sea door at the bottom. Onica will be waiting for us there—it’s the closest entrance to the lower levels. There are too many wards to risk the time it’d cost for her to break through them. Adras might be able to. But we’ll meet him at the door on the way out.”

Wayland swept in toward the base of the cliffs to the sea door before a platform. Onica was waiting, sword out, the door open. Wayland then loosed a breath, but Killian reached her first, landing swiftly and silently, and immediately prowled into the castle to scout the hall ahead. Onica waited for them—her eyes on Wayland as they landed. They didn’t speak, but their glance was too long to be anything but casual. The order she was given was not one that was taken lightly, and he knew that Onica’s heart was unwavering. He wanted her to know it was okay.

As they entered, the passage ahead was dark and silent. Killian appeared a heartbeat later. “Guards are down.” There was blood on his knife—an ash knife. The Spymaster's cold eyes met Evie’s. “Hurry.”

Any time that the group reached a crossroads, Wayland and Killian would branch out, usually returning with bloodied blades, faces grim, silently warning her to hurry. They’d been working these weeks, through whatever sources Killian had, to get this encounter down to an exact schedule. When they descended through an ancient dungeon, the stones dark and stained, Onica made sure to keep at Evie’s side, constantly monitoring their High Lady. She was the last line of defense. If Wayland and Killian were hurt, Onica was to make sure Evie got out by whatever means. Then return.

There was no one in the dungeon—not that the two brother Illyrians couldn’t handle, the two of them slashing them down with grace and as much silence as they could muster. Finally, they hit another stairwell, leading down. Wayland went ahead of the group, although his mind couldn’t stop screaming for Faye, he gripped the Illyrian blade stained with dark blood in his hand, forcing his thoughts to clear. Neither Onica nor Killian seemed to breathe until his low whistle bounced off the stairwell stones from below. The group descended into the dark.

Standing in a round chamber beneath the castle he tossed up a ball of faelight which floated above his shoulder. And in the center of the room, atop a small dais, sat the Cauldron.

Wayland glanced toward the others and then his gaze landed on Evie as she slowly approached the dais. “Careful,” the words felt silly as they left the General’s mouth, but he couldn’t keep them in as he watched his High Lady approach such an artifact. Between his worry for Faye and his worry for Evie, he wasn’t sure how he was still standing. He convinced himself it was the rage that still coursed through his veins. The stern relentless determination that he was drowning in to find Faye and bring her to safety.

Suddenly, Onica was reaching for Evie, terror in her eyes. “Evelyn.” she grimaced and Killian grabbed hold of the ebony haired fae’s arm, halting her from disrupting Evie.

“Give her a minute,” he tsked and she turned on him, eyes blazing with anger, but he ignore her, as did Wayland who watched her as she held the lip of the Cauldron.

When Evie began gasping, Wayland was quick on his feet, moving past the two of them to grab hold of her shoulders. “Evie,” he called to her and when she didn’t answer, he shook her, calling her name once more, and then he was tugging her off of the Cauldron into his chest, then both him and Killian were shoving her behind them at the sound of footsteps. Onica hissed and then from the shadows erupted a man.

Not just any man.

A familiar face that they had not seen in centuries.

His laugh filled the room, echoing off the walls and then he sighed. “Don’t act like I’m the first person you’ve seen resurrected.” Lorenzo mused.

It wasn’t until Killian spoke that Faye truly remembered they were not alone. Blinking as if coming out of whatever trance had left her enraptured with him, the blonde gave his hand against her face a gentle squeeze before allowing it to fall away. Immediately she missed the warmth of his touch, but her hands fell to her side and she forced herself to side step away from him, turning her full attention towards the conversation on the other side of the room.

There was tension in the air. It hung over them like a heavy curtain. As she listened to them speak of what they planned to do next, Faye felt the slightest ripple of fear at the realization that everything was finally being set into motion. It was truly happening now, and the decisions they made here were going to decide everyone’s fate. They were going to destroy the cauldron - Evie was going. Wayland was going. Her gaze flickered between the two of them, and her heart quivered. Any time she’d thought of her leaving Sakaris, leaving them behind, it had always been on her terms. The thought of them being taken from her….that was one she couldn’t bring herself to contemplate. And when Wayland’s voice sounded in her ears, so raw and aching, she got the sense that she was the only one in the room who was not looking forward to what was yet to come.

They parted ways shortly after. Most of the little group was thoroughly worn, and the rest of them had worried themselves into a state of exhaustion. Faye watched as one by one they dragged themselves out of the room, until soon only the three siblings remained. Evie sent her mate up the stairs with a kiss, before turning back towards the other two with an all-too familiar look of worry etched upon her face. Deciphering that look and what she knew was coming, Faye headed the older girl off. “Don’t worry about us,” said the blonde quietly as she stooped beside Arden’s snoozing figure and began to rouse him. When Evie said nothing, Faye looked up at her curiously. There was a faraway look in the girl’s eyes, as if she weren’t really there with them. “Evie?” Jolted out of her thoughts, the elder sister blinked her glassy eyes and finally their gazes met. There was sadness there, and it was gut-wrenching to see those blue pools tremble with uncertainty. “This is just the beginning,” said the brunette with a defeated sigh, looking between the two of them. “Already, so many people dead or injured.” Faye’s brows furrowed at the implication that this was somehow a personal failure. “It’s war, Eve. You can’t save everyone.” She reminded her gently, sensing that her sister’s thoughts of regret and failure went beyond the walls of the townhome, and into the bloodied streets beyond. “I can try.” Said Evie, and the look in her eyes shifted. Determination burned brightly there, so admirable that Faye didn’t even try to contradict her. Kneeling down, Evie lifted the still-slumbering boy into her arms and cradled him gently against her chest. For a long moment she stared down at his angelic face, and then her eyes met Faye’s once again. “Starting with the two of you.”

Evie set out to tuck Arden into bed, and Faye began the long trek to her own bedroom. As exhausted as she was, the idea of sleep didn’t appeal to her. What had happened tonight was unsettling, to say the least, and she knew that she was probably the least affected by all of it. Her mind wandered towards Wayland, remembering the look in his eye when he’d walked through the door and​​ the sound of raw anger in his voice as he’d demanded retaliation. Hesitating at the interse​​ction between hallways at the top of the staircase, Faye looked first towards her own bedroom and then in the opposite direction, where she knew Wayland’s chambers lie. She’d never visited them; he had always sought her out in her borrowed bedroom, tucked away in a little corner on the furthest side of the second floor - and though she knew she probably should have turned and found comfort in her own bed, she felt that tonight was as good a time as any to return the favor.

Her knuckles rapped against the bathroom door lightly once, and then she pushed it open. Faye paused only for a moment in the doorway, blue-brown gaze drinking in the sight of Wayland laying there sprawled in the massive claw-foot tub. Blood-soaked strands of hair clung to his forehead, glistening against his tanned flesh as the crimson liquid seemed to dribble down his face in slow motion, dripping into the bath water that had long-since turned red. One arm was raised out of the water, resting against the tub’s white porcelain rim. Blood oozed from the wound there, the puncture mark a near-perfect circle that had run straight through one side of his flesh and out the other - an arrow. She recognized the wound, having seen it replicated so many times before on the animals Evie dragged out of the woods after a successful day of hunting. The sight of injury and death had always turned her stomach and torn at her heart, reducing the girl to something small and meek and helpless; but the sight of such an affliction on him, raw and open and oozing, tugged at her heart in a way so unlike anything she’d felt before. Rather than turning and fleeing the room with teary eyes and shaky hands, Faye found herself striding forward to the edge of the bathtub. The thin fabric of her nightdress tore easily, the soft sound filling the empty space between the two of them as she ripped at the hem of her dress and beyond, unwinding layer after layer of clean material. Taking that long strip of cloth, Faye knelt down on her knees beside Wayland and silently began to bandage the wound.

The words she’d spoken to him the night before echoed in her mind: when you hurt, I hurt. A heaviness had settled over her, as if this giant unseen force was pressing down around her and she couldn’t escape it. Subconsciously she recognized that it wasn’t her own pain she was feeling, but his. Faye had always been perceptive, she’d always been able to pick up on peoples’ thoughts and feelings and intentions without really trying, but never with him - and this was different. It was personal. She could have sworn she felt the weight of whatever Wayland was carrying as deeply as if it were her own burden and not the mere ghost of his pain. That feeling threatened to crush her, but Faye pushed back against it, mind cleared of that weighted fog when her fingertips brushed against his exposed skin. She was grounded by Wayland, by that strange instinctive drive to soothe his hurt and lick his wounds. If he’d hidden such a massive wound as the wound in his arm so easily, she was sure there had to be more of them. The pain he had to have been in with his wounds refusing to close made her skin crawl, and Faye felt compelled to do something to help.

Tying the knot of her makeshift bandage, she looked up to finally meet his gaze. There was some dark and tortured gleam in his eye that made her want to reach out to him, but she was afraid. Afraid of how far she was pushing the dynamic of their relationship just by being here with him now. Afraid of how badly his rejection of her might sting. Afraid of being asked to leave him here to sit with the weight of his troubles alone. So instead she leaned forward, dipping her hands into the bathwater. She found the plug and pulled it, listening to the squelch of water as it raced against itself to escape down the drain. Her fingers twitched towards the brass knobs, but before she could touch them the water began to fill on its own. Whether it was Wayland or the perceptive nature of the town home, she couldn’t be sure, not truly knowing the nature of magic or the extent to which fae possessed the fickle entity, but she didn’t question it. The steaming, clean water soon began to fill up the basin and Faye reached for a bar of soap. Finally, she cleared her throat and found her voice. “Let me help,” was all she said. Not a command, not a plea - an offer caught somewhere in the middle of those uncharted waters they continued to navigate with their eyes closed.

Knelt beside the tub, she rubbed the bar of soap through her damp hands until it had begun to form suds and then set to work on him. With the gentlest of touches she could manage, Faye rubbed her hands back and forth across his dirty, blood-crusted skin. Up and down his arms, along his shoulders, across his chest, she washed it all away with gentle, circular motions. Bit by bit those layers of grime lifted, until only gleaming tanned skin remained beneath. When his body had been cleansed, Faye reached for the little bottle of shampoo. Soap-lathered hands worked their way through his hair, massaging his scalp and stripping those golden strands of all evidence of the battlefield. With the utmost care and precision she rinsed the shampoo from his hair until the water ran clear, and then hesitated there, leaning overtop of him. Her lips twitched hesitantly and her fingers found her way into those damp strands lying against his forehead, slicking them back and out of his face. She ran her fingers through his hair perhaps a few more times than was necessary, drinking in the comfort that the simple act gave her, hoping it offered him half as much peace as it did her.

Staring down at him, she felt that she could have stayed there forever. Could have gotten lost in the gleaming depths of that hazel gaze and never cared enough to find her way back. No matter how many times she studied the delicate curvature of his face, she would never fail to be awed by the ethereal beauty of this man. There, set aglow by the earliest rays of the rising sun, basked in shades of gold and champagne that appeared iridescent against his glistening skin. “You should get some rest soon,” she finally whispered, climbing to her feet. The night had passed so slowly, and then all at once. A new day was upon them, and she knew that he was going to need his strength for whatever lay ahead. Faye turned away from Wayland, not planning on saying anything else until she felt a hand snake out and grab at her wrist. Their gazes met once more, and hers was soft where his was hardened - an impossible balance. His eyes seemed to ask her to stay, though his lips didn’t move. Her own lifted upwards ever so slightly and she said, voice gentle, “I’ll still be here after you’ve rested.” And for some reason, she felt inclined to add, “I’m not going anywhere. Promise.” And it took a moment for those words to pacify him, but gradually his grip on her relinquished and Faye was able to take her leave, the weight of her promise still hanging between them.

The journey back to her own chambers was long and lonely, but Faye felt better knowing that Wayland was cared for and he would soon be safe and secure in his own bed, sleeping off the nights’ unexpected chaos. With a soft sigh she closed the door behind herself and stepped fully into the darkened room, heading towards the bed. It took her a few beats too long to realize that there was something wrong with the unnatural darkness of her bedroom, cast in the shadows of night where she should have sensed the warm glow of the rising sun. There was a rustling from behind her and Faye gasped, spinning to find herself being rushed by a shadow-clad figure. For a split second his face was illuminated in the moonlight. Impossibly handsome, with wavy chestnut-colored hair and piercing eyes. One large, glove-clad hand clamped down over her mouth and an arm snaked around her waist, pulling her back against a broad chest. Armored, with outdated chainlink that shone silver in the moon’s glow. Faye tipped her head back to stare up at him, wide-eyed, and was met by the man’s sinister smirk. Her gaze shifted past that sign of arrogance to hone in on his most telling future: rounded ears. Human, he was human and yet he muttered something unintelligible to her ears and then the world around them was fading into mist and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

The sun was preparing to sink below the horizon once more, the entire day lost to a well-deserved rest. It was noon before she’d stirred from bed, and another hour or so until she’d gone in search of anyone else. How long? How long had Faye been gone - taken - and none of them had realized? Hours, surely. Evie refused to believe that it was a coincidence, the attack on Sakaris and now a kidnapping. The King had taken her. The Mortal Queens must have mentioned Faye and Arden when they’d sold their souls to the wicked tyrant. A small part of Evie was relieved that her youngest sibling had been spared, but that relief felt twisted and wrong and it settled in her guts like a hot ball of lead.

“She’s gone,” Evie said flatly, not for the first time. She sat at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee that had long-since gone cold. Forehead puckered, she scowled down into the pool of blackness as if willing it to give her answers. No matter how many times she ran the various scenarios through her head, none of them made sense. Over and over she played the image of Faye’s parting smile in her mind, the girl’s teasing promise to see her ‘in the morning.’ Morning never came; she was gone before any of them had recovered from the initial attack, just as the King had anticipated. “I took her away from everything,” continued Evie in a murmur. “Her home, her people, her future…She trusted me. To protect her. And now she’s gone.” A gentle hand fell upon her shoulder, and when she looked up she saw Onica’s face was unnaturally somber. “We’ll get her back.” The brunette shrugged off that undeserved touch, looking up at Onica hopelessly. It wasn’t as if they could just march in and demand that the King give Faye back. Not with how powerful he was, and unpredictable. Not with the weapons at his disposal. Feeling defeated, she asked, “How?”

“With this,” Nevara moved into the kitchen, a piece of paper clutched in one hand. She set it down in front of Evie, revealing strange words scrawled in her handwriting. Brows furrowing once more, Evie ran her fingers along the elegant scrawl, wondering, “What is this?” Nevara pointed to the phrase written on the page. “To nullify the Cauldron’s power, you must touch the Cauldron—and speak these words.” They blinked down at the paper and then looked back at her, as if asking, is that all? Somehow it seemed very lackluster. Too easy. Onica gestured to the two halves of the book, sitting displayed on the table. “What happens if we put both halves together?” Nevera’s answer was simple: “Don’t put them together.” With either piece laid out, their voices blended and sang and hissed—evil and good and madness; dark and light and chaos. “You put the pieces together,” she clarified when Adrastus gave her a questioning look, “and the blast of power will be felt in every corner and hole in the earth. You won’t just attract the King of Elisora. You’ll draw enemies far older and more wretched. Things that have long been asleep—and should remain so.” The bone-carver’s perfect little face entered her mind, and Evie shivered.

“Then we move in now,” Wayland said, jerking his chin towards Adrastus. Evie's gaze swung over to meet those hazel depths - she'd been avoiding looking directly into his eyes all this while, unsure she'd like what she saw reflected there. To her surprise, there was no mourning; only a ferocity unlike any she'd seen from Wayland before. “Since you can’t winnow without being tracked, Onica and Killian will winnow us all in, Evie breaks the Cauldron and we get Faye. We’ll be there and gone before anyone notices and the King of Hybern will have a new piece of cookware.”It sounded so simple, so easy, so fool-proof. But there were so many aspects left unconsidered. And the fact that the King now held Faye as leverage, that made Evie uneasy. “How do we find the cauldron?” She wondered. “It could be anywhere in his castle.” The cauldron and Faye both, a small voice in the back of her mind reminded her. “We know where it is,” Killian countered. “We’ve been able to narrow it down to the lower levels. Every inch of the castle and surrounding lands is heavily guarded, but not impossible to get through. We’ve worked out the timing of it—for a small group of us to get in and out, quick and silent, and be gone before they know what’s happening.”

It was Onica who said to him, “But the King of Hybern could notice Adrastus’s presence the moment he arrives. And if Evie needs time to nullify the Cauldron, and we don’t know how much time, that’s a risky variable.” Killian said, “We’ve considered that. So you and Adrastus will winnow us in off the coast; we fly in while he stays. As for the spell,” Killian continued, “it’s a risk we’ll have to take.” For the first time, Evie realized that for the plan to operate, Adrastus would be unable to join them. The thought made her eyes wide, and she turned to look at him with concern. Killian pushed, “It’s a solid plan. The king doesn’t know our scents. We wreck the Cauldron, grab Faye, and vanish before he notices ... It’ll be a graver insult than the bloodier, direct route we’d been considering, Adras. We beat them yesterday, so when we go into that castle ... ” Vengeance danced in that normally placid face. “We’ll leave a few reminders that we won the last damn war for a reason.”

"I can do it," Evie said quietly. She met her mate's gaze with a frown. Asking him to stay behind was a lot - but there was no alternative. "I have to do it," she pushed. "If I don't nullify the cauldron, we don't stand a chance. Not in this war, and not in getting Faye back."

There was nothing satisfactory in watching Dahlia scamper off like a kicked puppy, tail tucked between her legs - it simply wasn’t enough. And as they all sat in the sitting room after the feast, chittering and chattering and reflecting upon the night, she found that the fire in her chest had never quite been snuffed out - only left to smolder.

Faye took no pride in the supposed victory. Though only they knew it, her verbal sparring with Dahlia had been little more than a crime of passion; nothing worth celebrating. She’d never sought to prove herself superior, to stake her claim, or even to put the fae woman in her place. All she’d wanted was to defend Wayland, to ease the tension in his body and soothe whatever hurt she sensed lingering in his heart. And she wasn’t the only one, judging by the bitterness in Onica’s voice when she spoke of the woman, Dahlia. She could have sworn there was a hint of pride in Wayland’s voice when he enunciated the fact that she’d been the one to knock the woman down a peg, and the thought made her heart soar and her stomach squelch simultaneously. Remaining silent, Faye allowed only the faintest of smirks to cross her features.

“Though she be but little, she is fierce,” quoted Evie with a teasing grin towards her sister. It succeeded in making the blonde’s lips quirk ever so slightly. “I’ve often thought the same of you.” And her mind flickered to that day so long ago, when Adrastus had first come to take Evie from them. How fierce and threatening her sister had appeared then, leaping into action with her hunting knife drawn before the door had even been fully opened. No amount of glamor could erase the half-crazed look of desperation in Evie’s eyes from her mind. Perhaps that was something else she’d inherited from her sister: the urge to protect. It had always been softer in Faye, subtler somehow. She protected those she loved not with daggers drawn, but rather through modes of wit and self-sacrifice. Tonight, that had changed. For the first time she’d felt compelled to act in haste, blinded by emotion and rushing headfirst into the fray of things without taking time to consider. She didn’t regret it - without a doubt, she would never regret anything other than the fact that she’d never gotten to sink her claws into that wretched woman. But as Faye reflected upon the whole ordeal, she was unsettled. Unsure of these emotions and the man who stirred them up within her.

Gift giving commenced, and Faye was surprised to find herself on the receiving end of so many nice things. It was strange, being surrounded by so many people who sought to shower them with lovely things - who sought to show them that they cared. As boxes were opened and sentiments exchanged, the night progressed into a cozy and comfortable affair. Settled back into a plush armchair, the blonde found herself as delighted by watching the reaction of others as she was in seeing the gifts given, in receiving her own. This was a family, she realized. A true family, one bound by choice and not by blood. And they were choosing to allow them to be a part of it, if only for a little while. They owed herself and Arden nothing, and yet they gave to freely. That warmed her, and she found herself softening towards them without even realizing it. Without having known she needed softening to begin with. Her heart was full and so were her arms whenever Adrastus turned towards herself and Arden. A lazy smile was scrawled across the blonde’s face, and she watched him expectantly, half-wondering what a man like himself - one of such power and status - would think to gift them. As he began to speak, that smile slowly dwindled until it had faded away completely. Bedrooms - he had gifted them bedrooms within his home. Places of permanent dwelling. Without realizing it Faye straightened, sitting up a bit further with her hands sat in her lap as she gave the man her full attention, listening as intently as she could manage.

It was his last few words that were the most unexpected: you're free to stay as long as you'd like.

There was a long moment of silence after Adrastus had finished bestowing their gifts upon them. Faye found herself staring at him as his words slowly registered with her. Brows drawing together slightly, the blonde pursed her lips in a look of muted confusion, which gradually morphed into thoughtfulness. Casting a sideways glance at Arden, she could pinpoint the exact moment the little boy realized what was being said to him. The most brilliant smile broke out across his face, and he gave them all a toothy grin as he asked, “You mean we can stay?” and he shot Faye a look so damn hopeful that she had to tear her gaze away from him or risk being overcome by emotions she’d rather not face. Her gut reaction was to lash out, to tell Arden that of course they couldn’t stay, don’t be ridiculous - she swallowed it down. Instead of speaking she simply looked, turning her eyes towards the place where her sister sat. And there, she saw it: that same fucking irrational hope reflected within those pools of blue. Suppressing a shiver, Faye cast a fleeting glance around the room but refused to allow her gaze to fall upon the one place - the one person - it truly sought.

Until now, she hadn’t realized that their days in Sakaris were not in fact numbered. The option of staying had never been one she’d considered. This was supposed to be a temporary reprieve, a place of refuge while their village was rebuilt and they tried to find a way around the King’s dastardly plans to damn them all. The plan was always to return home, to go about their lives as if none of this had ever happened. And what other choice did they truly have? Were they just supposed to stay in Sakaris and live out their limited days amongst the immortal? They would age, while everyone and everything around them stayed the same. There would always be a barrier between them and the rest, both too innate and too apparent to be ignored. This world wasn’t created with their futures in mind - they could live the remainder of their lives in the lap of luxury here, but they’d never truly be happy. Just living on borrowed time.

And still, Faye plastered across her face the brightest smile she’d bestowed upon them yet. A smile so convincing, so perfectly well placed as understanding dawned, that it would have taken an unnaturally observant eye to suspect the turmoil within. “Of course you can stay,” she said the words but they felt so hollow. It left a bitter taste on her tongue. At the end of the day, the decision wasn’t hers to make - but she’d fight tooth and nail for the outcome to be in Arden’s best favor, whatever that may be. Nudging the little boy with her foot, she added, “If you mind your manners.” And she nodded pointedly towards Adrastus. Arden was practically falling all over himself to thank Adrastus, and he was so happy that she felt utterly cruel and heartless for wanting to tear him away from such a place. Forcing those thoughts away, Faye inclined her head politely. “Thank you, Adrastus. You are truly too generous.” And even as half of her heart sought to pull away and distance herself from the situation, the other half beat only for this. For them. For what could be. It was like war drums sounding in her chest, the feeble organ beating against its bone cage in an attempt to shred itself in two, to placate her completely. It simply wasn’t possible.

Settling back into her chair once more, Faye watched as Adrastus turned his attention away from them and towards Evie. The woman stood, a shy sort of smile playing on the edges of her lips as she cast a self-conscious glance around the room, as if so many eyes on her - the eyes of her family, even - still left her feeling frazzled. Utter love and adoration shone on her face, etched into every facet of her features as if she had been carved from euphoria itself. Faye’s heart ached with longing at the sight, overshadowed only by the genuine joy it brought her to know that Evie had found here what she’d always deserved. Home. Love. Family.

And then Adrastus began to speak.

Evie’s lips curled faintly at the memory of the ring’s retrieval. A lifetime ago. Back when they had still been so hesitant in their love, so unsure of their footing and half-expecting to fall. And now, here they were. Her heart swelled with both pride and love as Adrastus spoke, highlighting all of the aspects of her personality that had once seemed so fool-hardy and troublesome. Evie could anticipate what was coming, knew what lay nestled deep within that little box. Knew what it symbolized. There had been a time when wearing his ring had terrified her beyond belief, but now she felt differently. She felt sure. Whatever this life might entail, whatever lay in the next, she wanted it all with him. It had never been a question of it, but rather when. And now more than ever she was certain. Of him, of herself, of what they could be together.

But then something shifted, his tone hardened ever so slightly, and her eyes widened a fraction as he made the boldest declaration she’d ever heard. Drawing in a sharp breath, Evie stared up at Adrastus with a look of awed wonder. High Lady. There were no High Ladies, only Lords. The title simply didn’t exist - or, it hadn’t. Until now. The magnitude of what he was implying, of what he was offering her, did not go unnoticed. Not by Evie, and not by the rest as they dropped to their knees around her. Stomach squirming with half terror and half anticipation, Evie let loose a steadying, grounding breath. For the first time, she didn’t allow her own self doubt to cloud her judgment. If Adrastus believed that she was worthy of being High Lady, then she was worthy. “I love you. I have always loved you, even when you were the most insufferable, pigheaded man in the realm.” She said softly, reaching up to gently cup his cheek as a teasing smile found its way onto her face. “Being your mate may have been my destiny, but being your friend is my greatest honor. And I cannot think of a life better spent than one by your side, as your High Lady.” The words had barely sounded when she was reaching for him, or perhaps he was reaching for her, and their lips were meeting in the tenderest display of love, affection, and respect. Evie wound her arms around his neck and smiled against his lips when they parted.

The ring fit her finger as perfectly as the day she’d first worn it, only now it sat there both confidently and permanently.

…

Later that night, Faye sat on the edge of her newly gifted bed looking around at the little room and its furnishings. The walls were a pastel yellow that seemed to shimmer beneath the low lighting, as if they’d been painted directly by beams of sunlight. Opposite the bed was a small desk, and sitting upon it her journal and charcoal. There was a large bay window on the far wall letting light into the room, its broad seat-like sill teeming with life between the assortment of house plants and freshly cut flowers from the gardens. The walls were decorated with botanical pictures, informative sketches resembling those found within her own journal. A floor-length bookcase donned a portion of one wall, and it had already been stacked with several different informative books that she’d been eyeing in the library. Much to Faye’s surprise, she found a few knick-knacks sitting on the edges of those shelves that she had left behind in her old bedroom - she wondered how they’d gotten here, before she remembered the answer was obvious: magic. What it must be like to have so much power in ones’ hands. So much control.

There was a knock on the door, and Faye jumped. Hurrying forward, she pulled it open and found Wayland lounging against the frame. Surprised that he’d be so bold as to come to her room now, rather than after everyone had retired for the night, she eyed him wearily. The look on his face was unreadable, it could have meant anything, and she found herself half tempted to bid him goodnight and be done with things until the morning. But she stepped aside anyway, allowing him to enter. “If you’re here to mock me, don’t.” Said Faye with a slight frown, lingering hesitantly near the door after she’d shut it. She crossed her arms over her chest, but was unsure whether it was an attempt to fight off the chill in the air or her own insecurities. “I know I’m only a mortal girl. I know I was in over my head,” and though she could have sworn she heard that tinge of pride in his voice earlier, that memory was far from her mind now. Now she wondered if it could have been meant in an entirely different way. Now, it was either face the feelings tonights’ events had roused towards herself, or the feelings it had roused towards him.

Clearly there was only one acceptable option.

“I do think if I hadn’t been so quick to gift you that dagger, though, I might have stood a chance,” mused Faye half-heartedly. She crept closer towards Wayland, still unable to sense why he was here. That in itself frustrated her - she hated how blind she was to any and everything involving him. The rest of the world she could see so clearly. People, their intentions, their thoughts and feelings. Most of the time he remained a mystery to her. “Why are you here, Wayland?” she finally asked him, brows creasing thoughtfully as she came to stand in front of him. If they weren’t fighting or fucking that left only one alternative, and Faye wasn’t so sure she wanted to face anything of that caliber tonight. Then again, when did she ever? It was all going to come to a head eventually, she knew that deep down, and yet she continued to push it away. Just one more day. One more escaped confrontation of the heart. One more distraction. That was all she needed, and things would continue on just as they were.

A polite thank you would have been satisfactory, but not nearly as satisfactory as the feeling of his calloused hands gently cupping her face, lips warm and soft against her own. When Wayland cradled her face in his hands so delicately, the kiss tender and indulgent, Faye didn’t know what to think. It wasn’t the urgent clash of tongue and teeth she’d grown accustomed to, that familiar lust-driven battle which set her skin aflame and stoked the fire beneath whatever primal urge connected the two of them - no, this was something else entirely. Something gentle and intentional. Where her heart usually pounded incessantly against her ribcage in its demand to be acknowledged, it now only trembled. Where her skin usually flushed, it was now dotted in goosebumps. Where her stomach usually clenched with need, it now fluttered with some emotion she couldn’t pinpoint.

Faye found herself unable to stop the slight curving of her lips as she looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes, their foreheads pressed together. When finally he pulled away from her she said softly, “You’re welcome, Wayland.” She hadn’t been expecting him to arm himself with the flowery dagger just then, if at all, and was delighted when the man stood and at once began to make space for the gift. The smile on her face was wide, beaming even, as she watched him withdraw his old dagger and replace it. Though his leathers were dark and the dagger looked very out of character for him, something about the sight of him wearing it made her feel inexplicably happy. Blue-brown eyes followed him as he rightened himself and reached for the drawing, tucking it away inside the safety of his jacket. The consideration with which he stored her gifts, the level of appreciation she could sense just by watching his reactions, tugged at her heartstrings.

Wayland lowered himself down onto the rug beside her and Faye couldn’t help but to gravitate towards him, leaning in nearer without thinking about it. As his words filled the little bit of empty space between them, she paused. The prospect of receiving gifts on the solstice wasn’t one she had considered fully. Gift giving was traditional in the mortal realm, but for so many years they’d had so little money that the only gifts they’d exchanged, if any, had been simple and hand-made. She’d assumed that the tradition would not carry over, given how elegant and elaborate everything seemed to be in Sakaris, and therefore Wayland was the only one she’d prepared gifts for - there was something that should be intimate about exchanging a gift with someone, at least in her eyes. And though she’d gotten him gifts, she hadn’t entirely expected him to return the gesture. Hadn’t expected, but upon reflection perhaps there was a tiny part of her that had hoped. Hoped he thought about her as often and as intricately as she thought about him. She knew that whatever this was between them wasn’t meant to be lasting, and therefore she held no expectations - and yet her face lit up when he withdrew those little boxes out of his jacket pockets.

At his words about being a tough act to follow, she scoffed. Hardly. And yet she played along. “You mean to tell me you don’t have a pretty little dagger hidden away in there for me?” Faye tsked and reached out, pulling at the edge of his jacket to peek teasingly beneath at the many hidden weapons. What he did have for her was those decorative boxes, which the blonde accepted gladly. Peering beneath the first’s lid, her breath caught at the sight of a beautiful glass object. Closer inspection told her that it was a small container, carved into the shape of a pink rose. Her favorite flower. Gently, Faye lifted the little flower out of its box and tilted it slightly, swirling the crimson-colored liquid within. Brows furrowed slightly, but not in displeasure, as she tried to figure out what she was looking at. It took only a moment for her to realize that he had gifted her a pen and ink. Still lying in the box was a fountain pen, comprised of one of the most beautiful feathers she’d ever seen. Faye stroked a finger gingerly across its soft edge, listening as Wayland explained to her exactly how the set functioned. Brows raising in surprise, she looked down at the pen in awe. Who would have known that such a thing was possible? Mind already racing with the possibilities of what she could do with such a tool, Faye forced herself to lay it aside and reach for the second box waiting in Wayland’s open palm.

The moment she lifted its lid, Faye stilled. Nestled amongst a bed of velvet, the golden bracelet gleamed and glinted beneath the light of the chandelier. At its center was a beautiful sunflower, edged by golden leaves and a trail of genuine pearls. It was as dainty as it was beautiful, and she couldn’t stop the comparisons from forming in her mind as she recalled the engagement bracelet sitting at the bottom of a drawer somewhere in her bedroom. They raced through her mind faster and faster until they all blurred together. Silver versus gold. Possession versus passion. Deceit versus generosity. Aeron had laden her a wrought-iron shackle and Wayland had gifted her sunshine incarnate. As she stared down at the bracelet, words were lost to her. All Faye could do was blink; she didn’t speak, she didn’t move, even though her fingers longed to trace the path of those little pearls, to learn every curve of the sunflowers’ delicate petals. Her chest felt unusually tight, her throat achy and dry. The look on her face was one of solemnity, not reflecting at all the wave of emotions washing over her currently as she contemplated the gift and what it truly meant to her.

When Wayland spoke, her head jerked up. The words sounded in her ears, and her heart stuttered. “I’ll never force you to wear it.” She wondered if he was even aware that his words in themselves were yet another gift. A choice - he was giving her a choice. Something she felt she hadn’t been given in a very, very long time. And in that moment she didn’t care. Didn’t care that this wasn’t something serious, didn’t care that they’d agreed to keep it to themselves, didn’t care that she was living on borrowed time and indulging herself with a temporary fantasy. “I would be honored to wear it,” Faye spoke fiercely, brows knitting together at the insinuation that it was something he’d ever have to force. She leaned forward on her knees before him, holding out the little box with one hand and baring her wrist before him with the other, allowing him to put it on her. When he’d managed to secure the little clasp, the bracelet lay loosely against her skin, gold shimmering. Faye looked down at it, and gently thumbed one of the tiny pearls. “Thank you, Wayland.” She whispered the words, not able to even meet his gaze.

For a few long minutes they sat there in silence. Faye admired her new bracelet, unable to stop herself from staring at its beauty. There wasn’t a piece of jewelry she’d ever loved more. None that had suited her half so well. None that had meant half as much. After what felt like a lifetime of the two of them sitting there before the fireplace, it was time for them to rejoin the party or risk suspicion. Faye climbed to her feet, with Wayland’s help, and the two of them slowly made their way back towards the ballroom. How much time had passed, she wasn’t sure. But the party was as if they’d never left it, save a few less people dancing, a few more feasting. Familiar faces dotted the room, but they were all so absorbed in their own festivities that she wasn’t sure they’d been missed at all.

No - one person had definitely noticed their absence.

Dahlia sought them out immediately. It was as if she had a radar, and the moment Wayland entered the room she flocked to him. They’d barely entered the room when she’d caught sight of them, and had only begun to cross it when she was cutting through the crowd to make her way towards the unlikely pair. Though the dark-haired girl was clearly frazzled, she plastered a sugary-sweet smile on her face. “There you are!” She cooed as she crossed the room to his side once more. “I almost thought you’d forgotten about me.” Wayland stiffened, and his discomfort was obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes. Faye looked up at him for the briefest of moments, noticing the tension, the clench of his jaw. Then she dropped her gaze back towards Dahlia and frowned. “How could he forget? You’re right here. You’re everywhere.” She said plainly. The girl looked more annoyed than surprised, and she forced a laugh. “You’re right. Here I am,” she said. And the undertones of her statement were clear: so you can go. When Faye refused to move, the girl shot her an annoyed look before turning her attention towards Wayland, positioning herself so that she was turned away from Faye when she fluttered those ridiculously long lashes. “Did you miss me?” It was hard to hold back a laugh at the desperation, and how she hadn’t noticed it earlier was a mystery. Jealousy was a funny thing. But it seemed to have dissolved around the time he’d placed the bracelet on her wrist. Arching a brow in question, Faye asked, “Does he look like he did?”

It was the wrong thing to say. Dahlia's gaze flickered first towards the bracelet on her wrist, and then she was scowling openly at Faye, snapping out, “What’s your problem, bitch?” Faye recoiled, a bit surprised by the open hostility but not exactly intimidated. Crossing her arms over her chest, the blonde deadpanned. “You,” the word left her lips and they immediately tugged upwards in amusement. “And the fact that you can’t stop following my date around like a bitch in heat.” The ridiculousness of it, of fighting in the middle of the ballroom with some random woman over who was going to get to take Wayland home, was strangely enthralling. But clearly, this was not going the way the other girl had expected. She looked down at Faye as if she were insignificant, and yet for some reason the back and forth still bothered her. “You said he wasn’t your date,” snipped the girl with a frown. Faye shrugged her shoulders. “I guess I changed my mind. Sorry for the confusion.” There was a surge of annoyance from the other girl and she let out a sound of frustration. “So that’s it, then?” she looked between the two of them incredulously. Another shrug from Faye, and she gestured towards the wide-open space of the banquet hall around them. “Enjoy the party.”

Finally, Dahlia looked up at Wayland, furious even as she laughed breathlessly, as if she couldn’t quite believe it. “Are you just going to let her talk to me like that?” It amused Faye, who felt like she’d been the one most attacked here, but her blue eyes flickered towards Wayland, alight with their own sort of curiosity. When he did nothing to protest, her lips curved a little higher. “Really!?” With a scowl, the girl scoffed and tossed her head over her shoulder. “The apple doesn’t fall far, does it?” The words were lost on Faye, but Wayland tensed. Something in him changed so abruptly that it was jarring, and she found herself feeling like the world was spinning while she grasped to understand what exactly Dahlia had insinuated. “Excuse me?” Faye cocked her head to the side, brows creasing. The dark-haired girl glared daggers at Faye for a moment before she turned her attention towards Wayland. Her laughter was bitter now. Cold and harsh. “You mean she doesn’t know that she’s consorting with the riff-raff of Sakaris?” There was something about her words that made Faye go still. Her gaze flickered towards Wayland, searching, and then back towards Dahlia. “Excuse me?” she repeated, hands clenching into fists beneath each elbow of her crossed arms. “Lowlife. Wretch. Bastard. Take your pick, they all apply.” The smug smirk that curved her lips told Faye she delighted in the words she spoke. Her darker gaze flickered towards Wayland and she added, “Way to keep the family legacy alive. Real classy.” And she crinkled her nose in a way that made Faye long to break it.

A protective wave of fury unlike any she'd ever known washed over her, and before Faye could think better of it she was pushing herself forward. Though a few inches shorter than the fae girl, she raised her chin and bared her teeth as though none of it mattered - as if time and species and ability meant nothing, and she would go round for round regardless. “Mind who you’re speaking to.” Her voice dripped with a deadly sort of promise. It was low, but cold as she ground the words out from between clenched teeth. The raven-haired beauty grinned viciously. “I know exactly who I’m speaking to.” And the scathing once-over she gave Wayland rubbed Faye the wrong way. It was as if she were looking down on him. As if she had any right. “If that were the case, you’d mind your tongue.” Said Faye, and it was clear she was no longer only referencing Wayland. Then, Dahlia turned that judgemental gaze towards her and gave a soft hmph, a sound of dismissal. “Do you expect me to bow to some half-breed and his human whore?” Without warning, Faye was lunging for her. Almost too quick to be caught, and yet she felt a hand on her at the very last second, dragging her back just as her fingertips would have grappled with ebony-colored strands. “You foul-mouthed bitch,” Faye spat out at her, even as she was dragged back a few paces. “If I ever hear his name on your tongue again, I’ll cut it out.” She vowed, glaring at Dahlia even as the woman laughed “Enjoy the party,” she mocked, waggling her fingers menacingly as Faye was pulled away by hands she couldn’t see.