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Worldwalker: Chapter 19

Summary - After witnessing a ritual at a pagan festival in her hometown, Sam suddenly finds herself in a world where magic exists and dangers far worse than everyday crime lurk around every corner. Accepting her unfortunate situation is one challenge; trusting these otherworldly beings to help her is another. As she uncovers the truth, she often finds that it leads to more trouble than it’s worth. Sam must navigate this new world, find her way back home, and restart her life.

Warnings - descriptions of psychological pain/torment/torture, sexual tension.

Word Count - 16.2k

A/N - I am so sorry. Notes on the AO3 Link for why it's been forever and a day since I've updated. I love you.

AO3 Link

“If you wanna see how I run right back to -

Killing myself, taking my time,

Dancing with the devil in the pale moonlight.

At the end of every dream,

There's a demon sayin',

I didn't need help to ruin my life,

Dancing with the devil in the pale moonlight."

Pale Moonlight – Dayseeker

House of Wind, Night Court, Prythian

Sam gripped the cushion underneath her like it was the only thing holding her to reality. Even with her eyes screwed tightly shut, she could still see the brilliant golden light of Helion’s power surrounding her through the thin skin of her eyelids. It almost seemed to drown out the midnight black cloud of Rhysand’s own power, trying to swallow it as Helion continued to push against the wall.

Feeling Helion's presence inside her mind was akin to the warmth of the sun soaking into cool flesh and warming frozen-kissed bones. It was rejuvenating, nourishing, and steady, like that first step outside into nature in the middle of summer after being confined in an overly air-conditioned house.

Whereas Rhysand felt like an unseen force, lurking from the edges of a darkened forest, not quite threatening – just watching, assessing, and waiting. A moving, living shadow just along the edges of the periphery, leaving you wondering if it had even been there at all or if it had been imagined.

To have two opposing forces existing within the delicate fabric of her mind was daunting, but somehow, they seemed to mix and intertwine with each other in perfect harmony. They merged so beautifully together that Sam wasn't entirely sure where Helion ended and Rhysand began; all she knew was that somewhere within that whirlwind of magic, she existed.

It wasn’t necessarily painful, more of an unforgiving, constant pressure bearing down inside her skull, reminding her that her life could truly end within the blink of either of their eyes. She could see what they were doing inside her mind; how the onyx wall would ripple with its own power in its effort to fight back against the two incredibly powerful High Lords. It protected itself as if it were alive, and knowing that, Sam wanted it out of her.

They had been at this for what seemed like hours, and perhaps they had been. The illusion of time had long since faded from Sam, leaving her with only the yin and yang swirls of power as her company. The projection of the battle raging inside her head continued to play out within her mind's eye; what a horrible movie it was turning out to be.

Her back arched off the couch as her body gave into an unnatural twist, her heels digging deeply into the armrest at the other end. Through clenched teeth, she hissed as heat licked along the inside of her head, worse than any telltale sign of an impending migraine ever had. Helion had focused on the wall with an intense surge of power, throwing more effort behind it than before until a strange warbling sounded in her ears moments before the wall lashed back in glorious retribution, reinforcing itself with glowing, golden scratches. The surge of light coming from Helion’s hands was blasted back in an impressive explosion of sparks, bursting in the air like fireworks raining from above.

Sam cried out in pain, scrambling blindly back into the seat of the couch. A grip tighter than what she was comfortable with secured her shoulders to the cushions, a growl echoing from somewhere out in the ether. Whatever that sound meant made the hold on her shoulders loosen just slightly, allowing her to twist into the seat of the couch to try to escape the pain.

Another flare of bright sunlight streaked across the battlefield of her mind, searing a path straight to the fortified wall. Sam bucked her hips and moments later, her spine bowed in a sickening arch until she felt her waist be pinned down just above her hip bones. The pressure was firm, restricting her movement so entirely that a moment of panic washed through her, igniting the need to escape tenfold.

“It’s me.” Azriel’s voice whispered from the darkness. “It’s me. You’re safe.”

Sam couldn't respond verbally, but she didn't have to; her entire body relaxed by a fraction, her spine easing out of the twisting arch. Her exhausted muscles released from their tense coils, and her hips shifted into the strong hold of Azriel's hands, a sigh of relief escaping her mouth at his words. Azriel gave her hips a slight squeeze, one that Sam took as reassurance, allowing her to relax into his hands and resist the urge to twist her shoulders out of, who she assumed was Cassian's hold.

“Come on, give me something.” She could hear Helion speaking from far away. It was strange, like she had been dunked underwater and they were above her at the surface.

“There. I see the crack in the wall, upper left, aim for it.” Rhysand directed, also sounding distant. She couldn't precisely pinpoint the direction of their voices; she could hear them from all around her, but it also sounded nowhere near her.

“Hold on, Sam. This one might hurt.”

She appreciated the warning but didn’t have any time to prepare herself for it. The strength from the burst of power choked her, stealing the breath from her chest as a serrated blade pierced through her skull and carved down the entirety of her spinal cord. It was relentless, a never-ending agony determined to tear her apart from the inside out. Her eyes snapped open, her lungs begging for air that it could not receive while her mouth was frozen open in a silent, excruciating scream.

Cassian let go of Sam as if her skin were made of flames and he had been scorched. Immediately, Azriel took his place near her face – running his thumbs under her unseeing eyes and along her cheeks. Panic overwhelmed him when she gave no reaction to the sensation of his touch, and desperation leaked into his voice as he urgently called out for his High Lord.

“Rhys!”

But Rhysand and Helion were just as motionless on the other side of the room, battling against the retaliating force of the wall and trapped within the confines of her mind. Cassian and Azriel shared a panicked look, both at a loss as to what to do next. How do you fight against something you cannot see? Against something you don’t know?

For the first time in a long time, Azriel didn’t know what to do. Usually, he had a plan of attack or an escape plan when the situation went sideways, but this was nearly beyond his abilities. Shadows bled from him like a gushing wound to wrap around Sam, cocooning her in a black blanket of safety. He doubted it would do anything, but he prayed it would somehow resonate with her, letting her know she was still safe, despite what she was seeing and feeling. They swirled around her like a swarm of angry bees, feeding off Azriel's terrified emotions and Sam's paralyzed form.

Eyes like frozen planets, she could still see the wall in her mind – it had taken over her sight and her senses. The sensory line between the office and her subconscious, which she had once been able to differentiate, no longer existed. The cushions of the couch faded into her skin, and the scent of books and chilled mint became dull. She was locked in place, forced to endure the torturous suffering in silence and witness the breaking of her mind in real time. It was a lifetime's worth of torment all at once with no relief in sight.

Her blurred vision warped at the edges and grew increasingly distorted as the seconds passed. Was she dying? Is this how it ended? Overwhelming sadness descended upon her shoulders like a thick, heavy cloak, and she fought to drag herself from under the current of grief. All the places she had never been, the adventures she would never take, the sights she had never seen, all the love she would never give – all that time she was being robbed of.

How dare you try to rob me of this? She still had so much to live for.

She didn’t know what she was doing – it wasn’t as if there was an instruction manual she picked up along the way – she went with what felt right. As Helion's power began to ease back, Sam tried to focus on the stream of light beating against the crack in the wall. Her mind was so full that it made it nearly impossible to think her own thoughts above the chaos swirling within, but she had to try.

Vaguely, Sam remembered walking the stalls at the pagan festival, browsing the tabletops and crystal stands. Pamphlets of information had been distributed, and vendors had offered small trinkets and tidbits about craft work and their own practices. There had been a common theme, a similarity within the community of practitioners that nearly every single one of them had repeated -

For magic to work, it has to be filled with intent.

So, if Sam wanted the wall gone and to find answers, she needed to believe that it would happen. If she intended to remove the wall, she would first have to believe it would break.

The wall has broken. I have the answers.

It happened so quickly that it was almost in slow motion. One moment, Sam had turned toward the fading light of Helion's power drilling into the wall, her eyes locked on the barrier separating her from the answers she needed. Next, there was a total collapse of the inside of her mind – Helion was gone, Rhys disappeared, and the wall had vanished – everything had been plunged into a vacuum so deep, so dense that the oppressive darkness of Rhysand’s power was gray-scale compared to the hollow void that now greeted her.

Out of the sudden darkness within her mind's eye, Sam found herself observing a memory emerging from the forgotten recesses of her psyche. The environment in which she stood was unstable; the very memory, windswept and shaky, as if an unseen force were trying to pull it back to where it once came. Everything was tilted, strained, and bleeding of color – like a canvas freshly painted, only for it to be smeared against the brushing of clothes. It made Sam nauseous just looking at it while trying to pick out details.

A dark-stained vanity, decorated with various jewelry pieces and purple candles, finally came into decent focus, though it was still slightly warped. A large, antique mirror with wrought-iron detailing on the frame sat atop the wooden surface, reflecting the side profile of a woman. The reflection was rough, the image cloudy like looking through a dusty, smudged pane of glass, but Sam knew who it was instantly. She didn't need to see the woman clearly to understand why she had an instinctual reaction to her, finally taking a deep gasp of air that filled her burning lungs.

A stunning woman with long, curly brown hair cascading down her shoulders turned toward the mirror, eyes like glowing facets of emerald shimmering from the candle flames. The soft lit of her lips and the small, rounded tip of her nose, Sam could see the resemblance in her – knew without a doubt that was her mother. She cried out, in pain or mourning, she wasn't sure, but the broken cry fractured something inside of her. The wail strangled her throat, burning in her chest at the sight of the woman she thought she couldn't remember, but seeing her now – how could she have forgotten?

Sam recognized herself immediately when a small child bounced into the room. By the blond streaked, light brown hair pulled high into pigtails, Sam assumed she must have been six, perhaps seven, years old. Judging by the giant, radiant smile of innocence, young Sam had yet to see any kind of hardship or hurt; only unconditional love. She almost began to bawl. Sam could feel her physical body reacting to the sight before her, her open eyes burning as they filled to the brim with tears, over-pouring from her waterlines and trickling down her cheeks toward her ears.

“Which one do you like, Sammi?” Her mother's voice, a light, flowing melody, rushed over her to soothe Sam and her younger self.

“These! I like these!” Sam’s younger self picked up the silver stud earrings with a large grin, even though her front baby teeth had finally fallen out. Sam couldn't help the sorrowful smile at the ridiculousness of her past self, toothless with pigtails and bows, but happy and healthy.

Her mother laughed, likely for the same reason. "You can have them, but you have to make me a promise, okay?" Her mother waited for her vigorous nod of agreement. “Once you put them on, you can’t take them off, alright?”

“Why?”

Sam couldn't help the full-body cringe; the southern accent had already sunk its claws into her vernacular by that age. The drawl softening the ‘w’ and prolonging the vowels, causing the word to come out more as a ‘w’ahhh’ instead of ‘w-hy’. Bless her little heart.

“Because then someone might appear and steal you!" Her mother exclaimed, launching forward and tickling her sides until Sam shrieked with laughter, wiggling to get away. Sam took a moment to see the love her mother had for her, the love she had begun to question she had ever had. What an asinine thought; of course, she had been loved by her mother. She could remember now just how much.

Her mother picked her up and sat her on her lap in front of the mirror, holding her and kissing the side of her head. “You are the best thing about me, Sammi, and you have no idea how much I love you.”

“I love you too, Momma.”

Her mother slid the earrings into her earlobes, a forlorn expression gracing her features as she smoothed Sam’s flyaway hair back. Younger Sam was looking down, playing with a red necklace and trying to pull the rubies free from their clasps, while her mother continued to admire her child.

Suddenly, Asra looked up into the mirror, watching her daughter play with the jewelry in her small hands. After rummaging through a side drawer, she whispered into her palms while young Sam continued to be oblivious on her lap. Even now, Sam could feel the warmth of her mother's hands on her temples pressing gently against her skin, and watched as Asra’s hands suddenly poured thick, black mist -

A sharp, excruciating pulse of agony ripped through her skull, and Sam screamed.

The memory was ripped away, the already unstable ground finally fell through, and the darkness around her began to move with urgency. Sam felt like she was either falling or being thrown away – she wasn't sure, but what she did know was that her sudden stop was going to hurt. Light began to bleed back into her mind's eye, and Sam could just make out the brilliant light of Helion’s power again. What was once a mere dot in the distance was now overwhelmingly directly in front of her face, the force of it blowing her hair back like an oncoming storm breaching the shore.

A flare of energy burst forth from the wall, slamming into Helion’s stream of light and forcing it back, and back, and back until she could no longer feel the warmth of his power. It felt like her brain was beginning to boil, bubbling hotter and hotter, and Sam could feel her physical body again. She was about to cry out in relief, the pain lifting for the briefest of moments, until she felt herself begin to shake violently, her muscles coiling as her joints became locked and stiff.

Helion suddenly pulled back, leaving her mind so quickly that it left her breathless and disoriented. His abrupt departure from her mind halted the impending seizure; the pain began to disappear gradually, leaving behind slight painful tingles and damaged nerves twitching in the aftermath of the assault. Sucking in the crisp air, Sam finally blinked as she jack-knifed forward and the paralyzing hold of her muscles finally released. Scarred fingers brushed her stray red strands from her face as she heaved in air, trembling against her cheeks. Her body felt deprived of oxygen and rest; it would take days to recover from the severe exhaustion she was in.

Azriel scanned her face with bloodshot pupils, fear on blatant display instead of concealed behind the cool mask as usual. He knew the answer before he even asked her, “Are you okay?”

Sam nodded slowly, eyes heavy and body weak as she tried to lift her hand from her lap. Azriel instantly grasped it, intertwining their fingers beneath the blanket of shadows, refusing to leave her side. Sam collapsed against Azriel's chest, his shaking arms wrapping around her tightly, and buried his nose into her hair, kissing her scalp. His scent calmed her down, anchored her back into reality, and she gave his fingers a gentle squeeze to let him know, again, that she was okay.

She remembered. A memory had broken through, allowing her to recall her mother accurately. After so many years, she saw her mother and remembered. She wanted to cry, to laugh, to celebrate, to scream from the rooftops! She did it! However, despite the joy filling her, that old wound ripped back open, reminding her that she would never truly heal from the loss of her mother.

Perhaps it had been easier to forget, after all.

Sam wanted to go to sleep so badly, to close her eyes and forget the world for a few hours. To dream about the brief glimpse of her mom, to see her again, one more time. To feel that unconditional love surround her. She would do anything to have one more second to absorb it into her being —please, just one more moment.

Instead, she replied, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Helion sighed, leaning to prop himself against the front of Rhys’s desk. Helion's shoulders were slumped down as if balancing the weight of the world upon them, and as he pinched the bridge of his nose, Sam could see the extent of the toll the wall had taken on him. “I believe I know what it is.”

Azriel lifted his head as Cassian crouched down on Sam’s other side to hand her a glass of water. She gave him a weak smile in thanks, accepting the glass and wetting her dry, scratchy throat. Had she been screaming for a while? It felt like she had been if the blades in her throat were any indication. Azriel could only continue to touch Sam, pushing her hair back, running his thumb along the back of their clasped hands, and pressing gentle kisses into her hair. It was more of a reassurance measure for him, to remind himself that she was okay and still alive. That he hadn’t lost his mate.

Cassian's wide eyes traced every curve and contour of her body, checking for any physical signs of injury. Finding none, he shared a concerned look with Azriel before simply taking the glass back from Sam and giving her shoulder a firm squeeze. The distressed, near-feral expression on Azriel's face was enough for Cassian to be on high alert, wondering if today would be the day Az finally succumbed to his overwhelming, unpredictable instincts and tore every possible threat in the room to ribbons.

With Azriel’s particular skill set, Cassian knew that possibility wasn’t so far-fetched.

Helion was suddenly the center of attention, a position he usually thrived in but now would rather not be. “It’s ancient, Rhys. I was under the impression that they had been mined and used into extinction.”

Rhys glanced between Sam and Helion, a cool mask gracing his features, “What is it? I don’t recall ever coming across something that feels or acts like...that.”

“No one alive has, at least not to my knowledge," Helion replied, running his forefinger along his lips in thought. “Do you get headaches, Sam?”

Her eyebrows furrowed as she untangled her hair from around her earring, "Every now and then, but...not constantly." Her voice had taken on a raspy tone, low and rough, like the way she sounded first thing in the morning.

"Do you lose track of time? Feel like you can't control your body? Have any out-of-body experiences?"

She shook her head, watching Cassian set the glass of water on the table, “No. Not that I know of.” Did they see the memory?

“Any signs of depression or anxiety?”

“I mean, well, yeah.” Sam replied, slightly annoyed at the number of questions she was receiving straight after having her brain flayed open, "My current situation isn't helpin' anythin'." God, she was so tired.

“But do your moods dip suddenly? Unexplained?”

“No?”

"What is it, Helion?" Azriel asked, turning his attention to the High Lord in question. He and Sam were on the same page regarding the questions and were now demanding the answers. She was far too tired to be on the receiving end of another interrogation; she needed a week’s worth of sleep and recovery. “She has been through enough today. Get to the point.”

Sam couldn't see Azriel's expression, but whatever was on his face clearly took Helion aback. Cassian shifted toward Azriel’s side as Helion threw Sam a look that was both apprehensive and intrigued, “I believe it is called a wyrdstone.”

Rhys’s head turned so fast toward Sam that the cracking from his neck echoed throughout the room. Helion continued to watch her, studying her as if she were either a bomb about to explode or a suddenly interesting lab anomaly. The fingers that were rubbing soothing circles into her hand froze for a second too long, and Sam began to shrink into herself. Curling her shoulders inward, Sam slouched into the cushions as all eyes were now on her.

Whatever a wyrdstone was, she didn’t like the sound of it. “Am I...supposed to know what that is?”

Rhys gave her a little clarification, "A wyrdstone...is a mighty, magical stone."

When he didn’t continue, Helion continued, "Back when the Daglan ruled our world, and likely way before that, too, there were rumors of a type of natural stone that could create what is called 'Wyrdkeys'. These 'Wyrdkeys' could open specific gates into different worlds. Creatively named 'Wyrdgates'.

"They've been long lost to history, as is much of the knowledge of them, but wyrdstone, itself, is a strong magical conduit, capable of amplifying and channeling magical energy. Myths and legends suggest that these conduits, stones – whatever you would like to call them - were crucial in a war far beyond our time.”

“But...I’m...I’m not, I mean, I don’t...” Sam stumbled over her words as her body gave an involuntary twitch. She groaned, bringing a hand to her forehead to steady herself and get her words in order. “How can it be this...weirdstone?”

“Wyrdstone," Helion corrected gently, glancing at Rhysand, who had gone eerily quiet and unnaturally still. “There are...’wyrdmarks’ on the wall inside your head. Runes that haven’t been seen or read in….gods, millennia.”

Sam didn't know what to say or think. She was at a complete loss as to how she should feel or what she should do. A conduit for magical energy? Inside her head? Did she have an ancient stone inside her head? With the crack in the wall, did that mean she would be able to pry more memories out of it? Why did that specific memory slip through? Why couldn’t she take the earrings off?

“I believe it is suppressing the magic in your -”

“Helion.”

With a tight, questioning expression, Helion turned toward Rhysand, who was looking anywhere but at Sam. Purposefully avoiding her gaze as he stared at the other High Lord with a stern expression, a silent conversation was happening between the two.

Then she felt the subtle, sudden squeeze of her hand. It was light, barely there, and unseen due to the swirling mass of shadows still covering her.

Pay attention.

Sam studied Rhys for a moment, the abrupt way he cut Helion short, the unnatural way he held himself – uncharacteristically stiff in posture, the working of his jaw like he was trying to produce saliva for a suddenly dry mouth, and the avoidance of his gaze toward her. He was nervous and defensive about something Helion had almost disclosed and wanted to remain quiet about.

An ice-cold sensation slithered down her spine as her skin began to tingle, and for a moment, Sam couldn't speak. The once chaotic battlefront of her thoughts suddenly went eerily quiet, her body paralyzed by the possible implication -

Sam kept her mind carefully blank, imagining a brick wall to fortify the inside of her mind and hide her thoughts, a feat she threw all her remaining energy into. She had to play dumb right now, pretend she didn't catch what Helion was about to say, and observe the events playing out before her like it was a movie. She had to be detached and assume a different role in her own life; the role of the dumb, oblivious human who couldn't put two and two together.

But she was. And it was terrifying her.

Even with her heart racing at half-realizations, Sam tried to make a joke to ease the tension and her own panic, “You mean to tell me that I got an Infinity Stone inside my head?”

Helion blinked, turning from Rhysand and tilting his head to look at her, raising his eyebrows in confusion. “I am unsure of what that is.”

“It’s a group of different stones that can control the universe...you know what? Never mind, it ain't important.” Sam waved off weakly with her free hand and squeezed Azriel’s hand back in a delayed response with the other. “Can it be removed? Please tell me it can be removed.”

Helion ran his fingers through his long, beautiful hair. “Yes, but I’m afraid it will be more extensive than simply entering your mind and throwing power at it. The runes need to be broken, one by one, but we first need to decipher them. I believe there may be a few tomes in the Lux Diei Atheneum that would be helpful.”

“We will need every tome, text, and story that can be found about wyrdstone and runes," Rhysand replied, finally shaking himself out of his shock to move around his desk. "I'll send a formal inquiry."

“No need,” Helion replied, walking towards the door of the study. “I brought my researcher along. I had a feeling he would be useful for this.”

Sam turned to Azriel, who had already turned his attention back to her. The shadows around them were dark and dense, swirling angrily and crawling up his body to wrap around hers. His eyes burned with a silent message, a plea for her to listen. It was not about what was being said but about what had not been said. Sam could only stare back at him, trying to tell him that she knew what Helion had been insinuating, and it terrified her. She wasn’t sure she would be able to wrap her head around it once she got rest, either.

She knew what Helion had been about to say, and that was what the High Lord's command prevented Azriel from speaking about.

Sam tucked that thought quickly behind the mental brick wall in her mind as she gave Azriel a small tip of her chin, a movement so slight that his shadows curled around his ear to speak to him. Tension released from his face once his shadows retreated back to Sam, running through her hair and down her neck. Sam gave him a smile, filled with exhaustion and fear, as Helion opened the door to the office to call out for someone down the hall.

“Akar?”

Sam’s blood ran ice cold, her entire body seizing up as Helion’s voice echoed through the room like a death knell. A lump lodged in her throat as she slowly turned toward the door, eyeing the entrance warily until the unmistakable silhouette of Carys's brother appeared at the threshold. His smoldering golden eyes met hers across the room, taking in her disheveled appearance and the silent Illyrian warrior crouched at her side, holding her hand.

“Sam, a pleasure to see you again so soon," Akar said, looking past Helion and directly at her, gently nodding his head in greeting. His voice caressed her skin like soft velvet and warmed her down to her very bones. The way he walked into the room as if he owned it, holding himself tall and proud – he was devastating.

Azriel tensed beside her, and his fingers tightened around her fingers. She couldn't be sure of it, but she swore there was an underlying vibration rumbling through the room, one that made a brief smirk cross Akar's face before it disappeared completely, going unnoticed by each of the High Lords. Cassian narrowed his eyes, coming to stand behind both Sam and Azriel in a silent, blatant warning with wings unfolding from behind his back.

"Akar," Sam's voice was small and quiet, so unlike her usual self. Whatever power Akar had affected her immediately upon seeing him, leaving her feeling dirty and used. She did not like it at all; the instant, automatic reaction of her body felt like ultimate betrayal. “You’re from the Day Court?”

"Akar is the top researcher in the Day Court," Helion answered proudly, clasping a hand on Akar's shoulder. Akar tipped his head at the High Lord, absorbing the humble compliment but still focusing on her.

“And how do you two know each other?” Azriel asked in a tone so tightly controlled that it caused Sam to flinch. The shadows that had just begun to relax around her suddenly swarmed with renewed vigor, nearly concealing her entire body from sight.

Azriel rose to standing, feet braced shoulder-width apart and wings held high and proud behind him. With the way Azriel was holding himself, Sam had a passing thought that she was about to be a witness to a murder. His jaw was so tightly locked that the vein on his temple pulsed with its own heartbeat as he cataloged Akar’s body language within seconds, silently picking apart the male piece by piece.

The shuffling movement of Cassian standing shoulder to shoulder with his brother had Sam quickly answering, “I met him this afternoon. He’s Carys’s brother.” Sam never thought the simple action of two males standing side by side as a formidable front would strike such a sense of urgency in her.

“My family is from the Night Court, but I went to the Day Court to further my education. The Day Court has vast libraries and an untold amount of knowledge woven into its culture, which I craved. I found myself enraptured with the ways of the Court and decided to stay.” Akar answered her earlier question, acknowledging Azriel’s protective, broad stance with a quick shift of his gaze, but continued, “Lord Helion offered me a position as Head Researcher, and I simply could not refuse."

As Akar turned to greet and show respect to Rhysand, Sam didn't dare to look at Azriel. She could feel the negative energy rolling off of him in droves, as could Cassian. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied a few shadows slipping from the room, out the window, and disappearing into the night. She cleared her throat, running her sweaty palms down her thighs to dry her hands.

Rhys’s violet eyes honed in on Azriel’s sudden change of demeanor, as well, but gave Akar a respectful nod in welcome, “Welcome back, Akar, to the Night Court. I presume your accommodations are acceptable?”

Akar gave Rhysand his undivided attention, standing to his full height and somehow taking up more room than he had been before. “Lord Rhysand, excuse me for not greeting you first. I was caught off guard seeing Sam so soon. She is a very good friend of my little sister, who talks about her all the time, you see.”

“Worry not, I take no offense.”

Akar’s head turned slightly to the side to glimpse back at Sam, who had yet to move from her position on the couch, seemingly rooted to the spot in shock. “Carys has written to me about her, asking for spices and such, and I…" His eyes flashed back to Sam before returning to Rhysand, avoiding Azriel’s intense, cold stare. “Felt as if I knew her from all of her letters.”

Rhysand glanced at his Spymaster, “Sam is a very kind soul; she has that effect on people."

“I apologize for any tension or misunderstanding I may have caused," Akar said, addressing Rhysand but speaking to Sam, who was well aware of the bullshit lacing his words. Akar was silver-tongued and quick on his feet, using his good looks and deep voice to sugarcoat words and disguise true meanings. Within the second meeting, Sam was more wary of him than she ever had been of Eris. Eris was nearly a Boy Scout in comparison. “It was not my intention.”

Rhysand could sense it, too, if his easy, feline smile was anything to go by. “No apologies needed, we are allies after all. Azriel and Sam were just about to retire for the night; there is no need for them to be here while we go over paperwork."

“Paperwork, sir?”

“A contract of sorts. A precaution, really. Sam’s situation is delicate, and the less information that gets out about it, the better. I’m sure you understand, yes?”

Sam took Rhysand’s sudden out as her chance, taking Azriel’s hand and pulling him toward the door, leaving Cassian behind with the others. Rhys shot her a brief, grateful look as she led Azriel from the room. Any longer within a confined space with Akar, and it was likely the House of Wind would be crumbling down the mountainside with everyone in it. A heavy, palpable darkness hung around Azriel’s shoulders as they weaved their way through the House, moving as far away from the study as possible.

By the time they reached Sam’s bedroom, Azriel’s body was coiled and poised to attack, stalking through the room in search of threats with shadows near exploding from his person. The fireplace roared to life as he passed it, then checked the bathroom and the balcony. Sam watched him from the corner of her eye as she grabbed her nightdress from the dresser drawer, not quite sure if she should say something or remain quiet. Her feet ached, her limbs felt heavy and weighed down with lead, and her eyes burned from both tiredness and from burying the emotions the memory had uncovered.

Once Azriel was satisfied with the safety of her bedroom, he turned to face her with a sigh, “I apologize for...how I was acting in there.”

Sam shrugged it off, twisting the cotton material of her nightdress in her hands, “You don’t have to apologize, Az.”

“I do.” He replied, taking a step forward. “I don’t want to be overbearing or possessive or jealous or…”

"Az," Sam hid a smile at his sheepish expression, the typically cold, unreadable mask falling away to reveal the male underneath. "You're fine. Really.”

He let out a harsh breath, “You deserve better than that, you deserve better than me.” He shook his head but made his way to her anyway. “But selfishly, I want you for myself.”

“Lucky for you, you got me.” Sam bumped her shoulder against his with a small smile. She was trying to ease the tension that continued to roll off of him, his shoulders drawn up like the weight he was carrying was too much to bear.

Azriel took her hands in his, running his scarred fingers against her slightly calloused ones. With all the conflicting thoughts flying through his head, he couldn’t accurately put them into words, settling for memorizing the feel of her soft skin against his for a few moments longer. Closing his eyes, he brought her hands to his lips, gently pressing a kiss to her fingers and holding them against his mouth.

“Are you sure?” He asked so quietly that Sam had to strain to hear him. “Are you sure you want this? Want me? My constant back and forth? Wondering if I’ll ever be good enough for you, for this, for...for anything? The secrets I carry? All the things that I know but can’t tell you about? The things I’ve done and what I will do in the future?” His voice cracked, his words fracturing under the weight of his distress. “I won’t always be home, Sam. I won't always be able to sleep beside you and share the morning with you. I won't always be able to tell you where I am going, what I am doing, or how long I will be gone. I can’t prevent you from hearing the stories or what others will say about me.”

Sam mirrored his pained expression, squeezing his thumb that had been curled within her fingers. “Oh, Az…” If only he knew what she had truly dealt with in her previous relationship, he would understand that she was more than willing to carry his burdens.

Azriel pressed a kiss against her fingers again, his hot breath tickling her skin, “Are you sure you want that? All that unknown? All that worry and pain? The second-guessing? It’s not something you deserve to put up with, to go through.”

Sam slipped one of her hands from his to touch his cheek. His eyelashes fluttered, eyes falling closed again as the heat of her palm soaked into his skin and his breath stuttered in his chest. “I can handle it, Az, I got you.”

He let out a breath, “It’s hard for me...navigating this and what I feel. It’s...sometimes it feels too overwhelming.”

“Then we’ll do it together, ‘ight? We’ll do it together.” Sam promised, bringing his hands down from his mouth. She understood where he was coming from, but the unexpected emotions and their intensity were also throwing her for a loop. It wasn't something she had ever anticipated happening to her, especially not here and now.

“I’ve had relationships, if you could call them that, wished and longed for others from afar, but never like this. Not like this.” He shook his head, brows pinching together, and his grip tightening on her hands. "What I feel inside is everything I just apologized for...violate, obsessive, possessive, jealous.” The pain laced his words as they fell from his mouth, vulnerable and unnatural. “I am every bit of that for you. What I feel for you is terrifying me.”

“But Az, if you can’t do this, that’s okay.” Her chest tightened at the thought, nearly stopping her beating heart in the process. “We don’t have to go any further.”

As much as the thought hurt, as much as the possibility pained her, she would do it. For him, she would stop it all – allow Azriel to walk away if he needed to. To be in his place and long for someone from afar if it meant he would stay in her life. For Azriel, she could do it.

The floor suddenly seemed more interesting, as if it would hide her disappointment. A pained whine slipped from Azriel as he shuffled his weight between his feet and dropped his head back.

“Can’t you see?” He let go of her hands to run his fingers through his hair, gripping the strands tightly at his skull. “I already can’t stand the thought of being without you. I want you in every possible way, and I will be damned if another male has you.” His voice dipped hauntingly low as the words dragged slowly from his lips, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes and catching the refracted light from the fireplace. The chill running down her spine at the sinister tone reminded her, again, that she was not dealing with an ordinary man from her world. This male was an Illyrian warrior, a species entirely different from her. This was just as new to him as it was to her. "At the risk of sounding downright deplorable and sick, it is taking everything within me not to claim you right now as mine and let Akar hear it, to force him to smell me when he is near you.” His face twisted as he spat his name like the word itself was poisonous.

Sam blinked at the way his pupils dilated as a hot flush rushed over her body at the idea of him doing so. Was it sick and suicidal to want that? An unhinged part of her wanted to push him, to see what it would take for him to actually claim her as he wanted. She was absolutely down with the idea of 'consensual non-consent,' but it was totally too early into the relationship, right?

Her breath hitched as her mind conjured up a glimpse of what could be: clothes tearing, the brief struggle to regain a sense of control that had never belonged to her, and the rough manipulating of her body as she screamed his name in divine pleasure. Her body betrayed her then, even in its exhausted state, and Azriel's head tipped to the side, stretching his neck as his nostrils flared to scent the air. Sam's tongue peeked from her mouth to wet her suddenly dry lips, the air thickening with every inhale she took. His attention immediately latched onto the movement, darkened eyes tracking the path of her tongue as it receded back into her mouth.

His steps were slow, restrained as if he didn’t quite trust himself in his actions, “Of everything I have ever done; of all the horrible, evil, despicable sins I have committed,” His hand shook as he trailed his fingertips along the skin of her neck to cup the back of her head, drawing her closer, inhaling that deliciously strong scent of blond wood and rose. “I would do far worse for you." Their lips were a hairsbreadth apart; so unbelievably close to satisfying the need for them on her. The minuscule gap between their bodies hummed with electric energy, pushing and pulling them closer as if begging them to become one and the same.

Sam didn't know which way was up.

His lips were blissful perfection as they descended upon hers, caressing in a slow, sensual kiss that had her weak in the knees and arching into his chest. Calloused hands slid around her waist, dragging the fabric of her dress up her body as his fingers found purchase against her skin. The nightdress fell from her hands, pooling on the floor between them as she grabbed the sides of his belt, pulling his body the rest of the distance toward her. Sam felt her lips vibrate from the growl he emitted as their hips knocked into each other, the grip on her back tightening as his fingertips dug deeper into her flesh.

As quickly as it started, Azriel reluctantly ripped away from her, stepping back to create the illusion of distance between them. He was trying so damn hard to resist the urge to tear the flimsy materials from their bodies and sink himself into her so deeply that she could do nothing more than scream in ecstasy. To claim her in the very same house that Akar was currently in, to let him hear who she belonged to, so that he wouldn’t even dare.

He would live up to the horrifying stories told about him, step right back into the monster he knew he could be and would be again. It would almost be too easy.

“It’s already too late for me, Sam.” He quietly admitted, watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Beautiful, even as tired and run-down as she looked, Azriel couldn't help but stare at her. "Fuck.”

He closed the distance between them once more, backing her against the wall to mold his lips to the contours of hers. At her surprised gasp, his tongue swept into her mouth, seeking to find the far corners so he could taste her better. She didn't have it in her to feel embarrassed by the needy moans and gasps slipping from between their lips. His kiss was intoxicating, world-altering, like everything around them had fallen away and only they existed in this incredible, passionate moment.

Sam had never been kissed the way Azriel kissed her, as if it was the first and last time, every time. As if one second spent apart was torturous, that a mere moment away from her was a lifetime of agony, and she was his only saving grace. Each time his lips met hers, it was an explosion of heat and need, of passion and want, and nothing would suffice or satisfy him until he had her. It was dangerous territory she was venturing in, but she craved it all the same.

Shaking beneath her hands, Azriel tried to gently pull away to tell her. He needed a moment to collect himself, or it was incredibly likely he would lose the ongoing war with the beast within. Never, in the centuries of life, had he ever felt so out of control – so dangerous.

"I fear that if we don’t stop, we won’t." The words were whispered like a secret, a vow meant only for her ears. With his forehead resting against hers and their noses gently brushing against each other, he continued before Sam could interject, "You have had an intense and stressful day, partial blame falling upon mine and Cassian’s shoulders. You need rest." Azriel smoothed the skin of her cheek with his palm. Unable to help himself, he pressed a quick kiss to her lips before pulling away entirely.

“I mean..." Sam responded with a slight shrug. She tried to calm her breathing, to steady her racing heart, but with him standing so close and looking at her like that, she was struggling just as bad as he was.

“Careful,” He warned with a slight tilt of his lips. "You don't know what you're asking for yet, but I assure you – you will." He stepped aside to motion to the bathroom door. "Go get changed, I’ll be waiting out here for you.”

Sam felt herself blush at the realization that he did, in fact, intend to sleep with her tonight. She hadn’t shared a bed with someone for a while and had grown accustomed to spreading out like a starfish across the mattress. Would he be okay with her constantly stealing the covers? Would he steal them right back? Did she snore? She didn't think she did, but what if she does? What happened if she talked in her sleep and didn't know it?

Oh God, what if she passed gas in her sleep?

Mortified at her own self-musings, she quickly hurried to the bathroom to get ready for bed. She didn't have the mental capacity to sort through the events of the day or the implications some of the information seemed to point toward. Instead, she would be content to sleep for as long as possible, letting the world pass by and catch up with it all when she felt like her usual self.

As she brushed her teeth, she, for some reason, thought of Eris. She should send him a heads-up that she would likely be unreachable for the next few days while she recovered. Since she first began corresponding with him, it had become a daily routine, touching base with him and he with her on any developments that had arisen. At some point, their conversations got easier, smoother – like they were figuring out which level of civility they would like to be on. Somehow, it was more akin to testing the proverbial waters, flowing more into friendship than acquaintances, and figuring out the nuances of their relationship and the boundaries they each upheld.

His flirting with her was still at a high level, but Sam didn't think much of it.

Now that she was with Azriel, though, she had to let him know, didn't she? In her world, her significant other conversing with another person of the opposite sex into the wee hours of the night, knowing there was flirting happening within the conversation, would definitely rub Sam the wrong way. If it were Eris Vanserra she was conversing with, it would likely not go over well if kept hidden.

She also wanted to tell him about the memory of her mother that slipped past the wall — something that meant the world to her —and shared with someone she truly cared about. At the same time, she was apprehensive because Rhys was constantly in and out of Azriel's mind to communicate with him. Should she risk telling him about it or keep it to herself until she found out more information?

Finishing washing her face, Sam bit the bullet and decided she needed to tell him...at least about the notebook. Until she knew what the memory meant, she would hold on to it. Eris probably wouldn't like Azriel knowing that he had direct access to Sam with the enchanted notebook, but Sam was now in a relationship and had to think about others' feelings, not just her own. The foundation couldn’t be built upon secrets and lies…

But isn’t that what Azriel had just warned her about? The secrets he kept? The lies he would be forced to tell? Was it any different?

Sam couldn’t keep her head straight with the overwhelming, contradicting thoughts running rampant in her mind. The headache was beginning to set in, throbbing around the edges, and she only had a bit longer before a full-blown migraine took hold. She had hoped to be totally catatonic by the time it did.

"I have somethin' to tell you," Sam said as she walked back into the bedroom, pulling the strap of her nightdress over her shoulder. "I-" She stopped short, jaw nearly on the floor as her brain short-circuited at the sight before her.

Azriel stood at the side of her bed in nothing but his black boxer briefs, wings relaxed but still held high above the floor. Deep shadows hallowed out the hard lines of his chest and abdomen, muscles rippling under his battle-scarred skin as he turned to face her. From his shoulders down to his legs, his entire body was carved with lethal muscle, and it felt like a sin to look at someone so fucking perfect.

Sam let her eyes follow little wisps of shadows down the length of his body, sliding over the expanse of his broad, tanned chest; following the contours of his bulging biceps and the thick, corded muscles of his forearms. She absentmindedly licked her dry lips as her attention trailed down his defined stomach toward the narrowing of his waist and the dip of his hips; the stiff, sculpted thigh muscles slowly being revealed to her by dissipating shadows, as if the sneaky little things were putting on a show for her.

Sam risked it. She was no better than any man sexually eyeing a woman. Her attention honed in on the obscenely large bulge between his hips, the fabric of his boxer briefs being stretched nearly beyond their limits. Sam could see the heaviness pulling the waistband down and away from his stomach, trace the long outline of him to the ridge of the tip resting against his left hipbone, only to follow the curve of his shaft back to the middle of his lower abdomen.

The strangled noise she made in the back of her throat was completely involuntary, her body igniting hotter than it ever had in her entire life. She had to remind herself that Azriel was not a human man and likely did not have the same anatomy as her previous lovers. No, he far exceeded her past lovers. He would absolutely wreck her when the time came. She would be ruined for anyone else, as he would carve out his spot inside her body just for him.

He was truly a god.

“Oh fuck me," Sam whispered, her voice shaking as she inhaled. Suddenly, her nightdress was too hot, and her skin flushed as her body reacted to the sudden temperature change. She couldn't tear her eyes away from him; Azriel was fucking perfection carved into flesh. Jesus, the things she would do to him, the things she would gladly do for him. Anything he asked or told her to do, she wouldn't hesitate to do. He could degrade her, fuck her any way he wanted, use her for his pleasure only, and she would let him do it and more.

She had never been more thankful that Azriel couldn’t read minds.

“See something you like?” He quipped as his shadows reduced to a minimum, revealing his body to her in its entirety.

“Oh God, yes.” Sam struggled to get out, resting a hand on her lower abdomen to regain some sense of control and decorum. She suppressed a groan, watching as the fabric over his cock became strained. "You sure it's a good idea to sleep next to me? Are you sure I'm too tired, cause, bay-beh, I don’t feel tired in the least right now. Hell, I’m ready to go!”

A beautiful, soft laugh sang around the room, and the sound of his laughter filled her with a lightness that made her nearly giddy. She smiled at it, at him, deciding that she needed to hear more of it. If making a fool of herself for him caused that to happen, she had no problem doing it over and over again.

It was something about seeing him in that moment, slightly embarrassed but allowing her to see his scarred, battle-worn body, that made the air in the room lighter. She could see the apprehension in the way he moved, the tension in his shoulders, and the twitching of his wings, but he was letting her see him. The lethal weapon he had for a body, all the healed injuries from battles far beyond her time, and the centuries of training that had led to the sculpting of the masterpiece that was Azriel.

He was so far out of her league.

“There will be more than enough opportunities, I promise you.” He smirked, pulling the covers back on the bed.

Sam choked on her own spit, mumbling under her breath, “Thank fuck.” She had half a mind to lift her hands up in praise, screaming, 'Take the wheel, Jesus! Hallelujah!’

Azriel did his best to wipe the grin from his face as he slid into bed, even as his wings rustled behind him at the praise. “What do you need to tell me?”

Sam was suddenly nervous, sliding into bed and busying herself with fixing her pillows to avoid looking at him. “I…” Ah, fuck. She hated this part with a passion. “Uh, well, I...I have a notebook that, uh, allows me to talk to someone in another Court.”

Azriel hummed as he moved the blanket around and pulled his wing in tighter to his back as he settled into the mattress next to her. “You mean the one you use to talk to Eris?”

Sam froze mid-fluff of her pillow, eyes snapping to him with guilt written all over her face.

He was already looking at her with an eyebrow raised, “What kind of Spymaster would I be if I didn’t know? I was wondering when you would tell me about it.”

Sam felt relief begin to overtake the guilt as she pulled the covers over her legs. “I didn’t know how to tell you or what you’d think of it.”

“I knew about it as soon as I found you at the training grounds that night.” Azriel replied casually, "His scent is all over that book, and it was strong on you that night. I knew something else had happened besides talking." Sam hesitated in moving closer to him as his wing relaxed behind her against the pillows. “You can lie on my wing, it won't hurt. Just don't dig your elbow into it. It’s the forearm of the wing you have to watch out for...it’s...highly sensitive."

Sam nodded to him as she settled in beside him, lying gently on his lower wing and curling into his side. She would file that important detail away for later use. "I know the feelin's surroundin' Eris and the history between y'all. He didn't explicitly say I couldn't tell anyone, but it was implied, I suppose. Or, well, that’s how I took it.”

His arm came around her, pulling her as close as he could against his side. Sam rested her head on his hard chest, fingers trailing down his front over the muscled bumps of his bare stomach. "I don't like it. I don't like Eris, and I don't trust him or his intentions. He's made it clear he is interested in you, and, knowing Eris for as long as I have, he has his own agenda he is not sharing with us. He’s in this for his own reasons and, unfortunately, he has decided that you play a role in his game.”

“Isn’t Rhys doin’ the same thing, though?” Sam asked bluntly, resting her hand on his chest and propping her chin on the back of it to peer up at him. “Yeah, he’s tryin’ to find answers, along with hidin’ them, but...it’s all just a game of chess to them both and I’m a pawn, bein’ moved exactly where they want me.”

The arm curled around her tightened ever so slightly, “I’m sorry that I can’t tell you things, Sam. You have no idea how badly I want to. Every second of every day, it’s right there…all of it.”

Sam twisted her body to lie halfway on him, wrapping her left leg around his. "And it's okay. As long as you can be okay with how I have to get those answers."

He sighed heavily, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Just be careful around Eris, Sam. I don’t know what he wants. He’s keeping the reason close to the chest.”

Sam hummed, slowly becoming addicted to how easy it was to lie in bed and simply talk with Azriel. "I'm always careful."

He let out a sharp, loud laugh, “That’s the biggest lie I think I’ve ever heard.”

Sam gaped at him, lightly smacking his chest as he continued to chuckle at her expression. “It is not!”

He hummed behind a closed lip smile, "It's definitely a good one. Should we start a 'Top 5' of the biggest lies you've ever told? Because that one will at least make the top three."

“Now, wait a damn minute -”

“I still like the first lie you ever told me,” Azriel smirked, looking up towards the ceiling. “How you’ll never drink again.”

“If you don’t quit -”

“You’ll what?” He whispered, curling a finger under her chin to tilt her head toward him. His kiss was soft and gentle, sending warmth spiraling through her veins. She let a moan catch in her throat as he pecked her lips again and again, stealing every rebuttal and thought from her within seconds.

She blinked, “Huh?”

His eyes softened as he studied her dazed look, muscles relaxed and free of stress, and eyelashes brushing against her cheeks each time her eyelids fluttered closed. Steady hands smoothed her hair back behind her ear, a look of wonder upon his face as he continued to burn the moment into a memory.

A faint dusting of pink appeared along the apples of her cheeks. "I could get used to this.”

A ghost of a smile appeared as his shoulders eased from their drawn-up position near his ears, "As could I, Sam."

-x-

Days went by until nearly two uneventful weeks had passed. Nothing came out of the Day Court since Helion and Akar had returned and begun researching wyrdstones and wyrdmarks. Every few days, Helion and Akar would come back to the Night Court to report their findings, if any, and try to break the runes carved within the wall of her mind. So far, nothing had proven effective. Each time they attempted to rune-break, Sam was left with migraines and ears ringing that would take days to recover from.

Sam had gained a copy of the runes supposedly inside her mind, yet she continued to hit dead end after dead end in the library. She didn't have much faith in the tomes of the Night Court's library. Day Court had all the knowledge the Night Court had and more, yet even they were having trouble finding the answers. Why did she think she would be able to crack the code by herself?

The thought that she had a literal rock in her head, suppressing her memories. It was completely insane but also…

She couldn’t wrap her head around the implications Helion had hinted at. How could she have magical blood? How could something from this world be implanted inside her head if she didn’t have some kind of connection to Prythian? Truth was, she couldn’t deny any of it, not when the facts were beginning to add up and prove otherwise. She had to have had some kind of history with this other-world, even if she was finding it hard to believe.

Harry Potter didn’t exactly prepare her for this.

Twirling her earring within her earlobe, Sam sat in the study of the River House, tuning out Helion and Rhys’s conversation happening in front of her. She had been lost within her own thoughts more so than usual lately. Not unexpected, given everything happening, but it also seemed...safer to be lost within her own musings than engaged in reality.

Another added layer of confusion, mystery, and fear was twirling within her fingers.

The tone in which her mother spoke about removing the earrings left Sam deeply apprehensive. Her mother had been scared, worried that someone might come and snatch younger Sam from her if she removed them. The earrings were a protection charm of some sort, right? An invisibility charm? Clearly, Sam needed to brush up on the magicks and magical objects in this world, not just on the Courts and Prythian's laws.

One side of her wanted to take the earrings off just to see what would happen. She was grown now, protected, and already in a different world. What's the worst that could happen now?

“...allow her to stay with us.”

“In the Day Court? She is a citizen of Night, as you forfeited your rights.”

“I am more than willing to extend the travel visa to her, if not grant her dual citizenship, if necessary, to ease your troubled mind, Rhysand.”

“One of our own must accompany her during her time there. She will have direct access back to Night at all times.”

“I will request that Lucien return to the Day Court. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

Sam blinked, lightly shaking herself out of her dazed stupor to zero in on the conversation again. Clearly, she had missed an essential part. “I’m sorry?”

Helion, oblivious to her previous lack of attention, replied, “With you in the Day Court, we will have a better chance at breaking the runes if you are there. We are finding helpful information and possible solutions; however, we are having to wait days on end to test the theories before we can come here. It would be a pleasure to host you in the Day Court until we can get this resolved.”

Sam’s attention flickered back and forth between Rhys and Helion, eyes wide and brows furrowed. Leave the Night Court? Leave Azriel? For how long?

“Not long,” Rhys replied softly to her. His violet eyes looked pained at the thought of Sam leaving the Court. Sam immediately visualized the brick wall forming in her mind. “As much as I do not wish you to leave, unfortunately, Helion does speak sense.”

"It's not as rare as you claim it to be," Helion grumbled, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, his biceps flexing with the movement.

It was Rhys's turn to roll his eyes, "It is up to you, Sam. The bargain was that you could go anywhere outside of the Court as long as you agreed to it. You can not be forcibly removed from Night."

Her breath caught in her chest as both High Lords looked at her for an answer. Didn't she have time to think about it? Couldn't she consult Azriel, Cassian, or Nesta and get their input on it? Surely, it wouldn't be an immediate move.

Noticing her turmoil, Helion leaned forward, "I can come collect you at the end of the week. You do not have to go right away, but it would have to be soon. It is important that we continue our research and attempts at extraction at the earliest convenience.”

Sam nodded, peering down at her lap while her fingers twisted the fabric of her skirt. She knew it would be in her best interest to go to Day; they obviously had a better chance at securing the answers than Night did. She needed answers to the questions plaguing her mind, and it was clear that whatever answers Night had, Rhys wasn't keen on sharing them with her.

“I will alert Cassian and Azriel to the situation's developments; they may not be back in time to see you off."

Sam couldn’t help the defeated slump of her shoulders or the crestfallen expression marring her face. Cass and Az had just left that morning to make their way toward the Continent after word had gotten back to Rhys about growing tension along the Montesere and Vallahan borders. A small piece of unoccupied land nestled between the two territories was the cause of the trouble. While it was just a sliver of land, it had access to the coast, something Vallahan wanted to capitalize on and take as theirs. Ever greedy and drunk on power, Vallahan wished to continue expanding its territory, even at the expense of neighboring countries.

Mor had been repeatedly visiting Vallahan as of late, likely trying to convince them to sign the peace treaty from the last war against Hybern. Resistant to peace, Vallahan refused, and Mor had left each time empty-handed. Montesere had been no different, but Rhys had pledged assistance if a neutral party was needed to sort out differences.

“Can they visit me there?”

“Of course,” Helion replied with a chuckle, “They are not barred from the Day Court.”

“Only Cassian is barred from Summer.” Rhys cracked a small smile and waved his hand. “Something with a building, he would have to tell you about it.”

Sam appreciated Rhys's lighthearted tone, but it did nothing to quell the disappointment sinking like a stone in her gut. For the past two weeks, she had gotten comfortable with navigating her new slice of heaven with Azriel. Every day life, no matter how mundane some of those days were, had become so easy and comfortable with him. It wasn’t hard to get used to waking up beside him in the morning and feeling his wandering hands at night.

“I will inform Aella to ready your room. It will be the same one you had originally, overlooking the garden.”

Sam said nothing, only nodded in acknowledgment. After a few moments of quiet talking between the two High Lords, Sam decided that she was done with the meeting. It was clear to everyone involved that she would be going to the Day Court for the foreseeable future. So, Sam got up, tilted her head at Rhysand, who returned the motion, and left the room.

The rest of the day passed slowly. Sam went through the motions with her mind in a never-ending daze. She had made her way back to the Townhouse from the River House, where she stayed when Cassian and Azriel were unable to get her to and from the House of Wind. With the constant changing of residences, Sam supposed she would like to have a more permanent place to call her own. Being in the Day Court could solve that for her until she could get back to Night and ask Rhys if she could rent an apartment somewhere in Velaris.

She wasn't sure how she would be able to afford rent, but she had been in worse positions.

Sam reclined on the sofa with the notebook settled in her lap. The heat from the crackling wood in the fireplace soaked into her skin and wrapped around her like a comfortable blanket, chasing away the draft that had seeped into the house. While she was physically alone in the Townhouse, Sam knew she wasn’t truly alone, if the dense slips of shadows writhing along the walls were any indication. Azriel may be halfway across the ocean by now, but a part of him was still in the living room of the Townhouse with Sam.

Did Rhys tell him she would be going to Day? Was he upset or angry that she agreed? Would they see each other in time? Did he want to turn back and come home?

Home.

The word had begun to work itself into her daily vernacular, utterly unaware of when it exactly started. Whenever the word was thrown around in conversation, by her or someone else, her mind went directly to the House of Wind. At some point, she had gotten comfortable enough to associate Velaris with home, with safety. A feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

She snapped herself out of the warm thoughts and turned her attention back to the notebook. The indecision of contacting a somewhat egotistical redhead that she would call a friend had been tormenting her for the better part of an hour. Though she used the term lightly, their relationship had grown stronger since he gave her the notebook. Usually, she used it to talk to him about Autumn Court and what life was like there, slowly getting to know him better. The narrative others constantly painted him in never seemed to favor the light in him, focusing mainly on the darker, sinister aspects of his character.

'I need you to help me with somethin’.”

Sam watched the ink dry on the paper, waiting for a response she wasn’t sure would immediately come. Responses from Eris were either immediate or drawn out, Court duties taking precedence over anything else. She wasn't sure what Eris's usual day entailed, but she was sure chaos was likely a regular part of it. With the tremendous weight of the Crown of Autumn bearing down upon his shoulders, Eris was an incredibly busy male, which made correspondences with him unpredictable.

‘You need me? Why, Samantha, I thought you would never admit it to yourself, let alone me. I’m delighted.’

She rolled her eyes, ‘Did you just ignore the rest of the sentence or are you bein’ intentionally dense?’

A few moments of nothing passed, only the sporadic pops of the burning firewood cutting the silence to count the minutes.

‘Admittedly, I stopped reading after the first three words.”

Sam let out a sharp laugh. Of course he would. ‘Can you do me a solid and re-read it then? I’m being serious.

’Tell me what it is and then I will decide if I should help.’

‘That’s not how we build trust, Eris.’

‘Then what is it about?’

‘Me.’

‘A little more information would be helpful, as it seems nearly everything causing me headaches these days has something to do with you.’

‘Eris, please?’

‘Are you begging? How I wish to have heard it in person.’

“Oh, Christ on a cross,” Sam huffed out loud. ‘Eris, please. I don’t and can’t turn to anyone else.’

‘I don’t see how that is my problem.’

‘But I’m already your problem.’

‘Truer words have never been spoken, actually.’

‘No one can answer my questions without signin’ a contract or suffocatin’ on their own intestines. I need help, and you are the only one I can think of who might be able to.’

‘You still need to give me more information before I agree, Samantha.’

Sam let out a heavy sigh, and with it came the caution she was supposed to have around him. She wouldn't get any further if she didn't give him something. ‘Have you heard of wyrdstone?’

The longer the response took to come, the more skin disappeared from her lips. Random ink spots appeared and disappeared as if Eris had been holding a dripping quill over the page. For once, she may have rendered him speechless.

‘Where did you hear that term?’

Her gamble caught his attention. ‘I told you that I needed you. Will you help me?’

‘Are you worth it?’

Sam felt a sharp sting in her chest as she read the question. Was a human worth anything to a fae? When she didn’t reply, elegant script began to appear upon the page again.

‘You want information I was sworn to protect by your own High Lord. I have told lies to cover your tracks, your existence, within my own Court to my own people. My father.’

She felt scolded as his voice echoed in her head, her eyes tracing his beautiful handwriting. Eris had been protecting her long before she knew him, and now she was asking him to do more, possibly putting himself at severe risk of being found out. Putting herself at risk.

‘You understand how unwise it is to ask me for help with something of this magnitude?’

Sam’s eyes slipped closed, the disappointment sinking in her gut like a stone dropped in the sea. He wasn’t wrong. Though she tried not to put too much thought into it, she could see how it could all potentially backfire.

‘Are you worth suffering the horrible death that awaits those convicted of espionage?’

His questions burned in stark contrast against the parchment, the possibilities bleeding into her brain in an endless loop. She had heard the stories. She had seen how others reacted to his name – his Court. As beautiful as the Court was, the blood Autumn had soaked its legacy in had tarnished more than just one male. Lord Beron’s cruelty was unmatched. Death, no matter the method, would be a blessing to some under his reign.

She couldn’t imagine the death that would possibly await him if Beron found out his own son, next in line to the throne, was a spy.

‘Please.’

Another pregnant pause stretched between replies, long enough that Sam had almost given up hope. She had nothing to offer him, nothing to give him in exchange for his help.

‘Saturday. 9PM. Backroom Bar on the edge of Velaris. Don’t be late.’

-x-

On Saturday evening, Sam wandered through Velaris, far from the marketplaces and past the riverside vendors all lined up to trade the last of the evening's goods. She expertly navigated away from Carys’s stall without being seen, wishing to avoid conversation with her and her family. With Azriel and Cassian still tending to their Court duties on the Continent, Sam couldn't help but feel relieved at the timing, if not a bit guilty at the thought. What would they say if they knew she was meeting with Eris at a seedy, run-down bar on the outskirts of town at night?

Didn’t she go through an entire ordeal over the fact that she was being reckless and stupid? What category would this decision fall under?

After finding herself in a neighborhood on the outskirts of the city, she decided to continue walking. Rhys had assured her in the past that Velaris was safe, even if she did manage to get herself lost. Even though she was walking alone, she still had a prickling on the back of her neck that she was being watched. She had tried to look behind her, using the reflective surfaces of her surroundings, but didn't see anyone. Nothing but the still melting snow and city faelights.

While exiting the neighborhood, she made a left turn onto a worn, beaten path. Run-down businesses spread sporadically along the broken cobblestone street, an area of Velaris not as well-kept as the rest. Sam felt better in this area of town; it felt more lived in, like this place had a deeper story to tell and didn't need the 'perfect glamour' that seemed to cover every inch of Velaris she had seen so far. She loved Velaris, but even beautiful things had ugly parts; she had hoped to find the less-than-perfect side of this city, and now, she had.

The soft vibrating force of the wards washed over her as she stepped out of Velaris. The treeline backed up against the shady businesses, forming a dense barrier between the woods and the buildings. Towering trees stood like silent guardians, watching as the neighborhood's inhabitants shuffled from the bar and then stumbled into their homes just down the road.

On the warded borderline of Velaris and what was the rest of the Night Court, Sam halted as she turned to look behind her, back at the city she had just left. The air felt different out here, a little more tense and hostile than what lay behind the wards. The added layer of protection around the thriving city slipped away, leaving her feeling a little more vulnerable and exposed.

It was deathly still outside of the wards, the dry branches of trees not even daring to make a rustle. Sam's heartbeat filled the silence instead. The heavy exhales in the still cold weather became the soundtrack of the trek toward the neglected-looking bar nestled at the crossroads at the end of the street.

The door hinges creaked to signal her arrival, the warmth of the bar latching onto her immediately as she stepped through the threshold. Warm wood tones greeted her as soon as she walked in, thick beams running along the ceiling and decorated with real, thick cobwebs. The rickety, circular tables and well-worn booths lining the walls weren't in the best condition, and the dim light from the fireplace cast strange shadows across them. How many stories had been told at the tables? What secrets were exchanged in those booths? Would Sam add to the history of conversations that have taken place within these four walls?

This... was a very sketchy place for a human female to be in, but Sam felt oddly comfortable and thought the place had character. In Savannah, she preferred the bars on the outskirts of downtown. Locals and outcasts congregated in the booths and around tables to watch football games or drink away their sorrows while some ol’ coot sang a horrible rendition of ‘It’s My Life’. She had some of the best nights watching football on the big screens and taking shots with random strangers in those bars.

"You lost, miss?"

Sam turned her head to the bartender who had just spoken to her. "No, sir, I think I'm righ’ where I need to be." Sam gave him a smile and made her way toward the bar top.

A few patrons cast her curious looks after hearing her speak, their intrigue only increasing as she lowered her hood, her rounded ears providing answers to their unspoken questions. Sam paid them no mind; they were allowed to wonder. She was in their space, after all.

"Then welcome, mortal," the bartender nodded in greeting. "It's not very often we see your kind here in Velaris, let alone this far into Prythian."

Sam snorted as she sat on one of the hard stools at the bar. "So I’ve been told," She looked around the old, ramshackle establishment with a fond expression. "But, this reminds me of one of my favorite bars back home. After a while, you get kinda sick of all the...." Sam waved her hand, trying to think of the word to describe the clandestine beauty of Velaris as a whole.

"Spit-shined bullshit?" The bartender supplied as he cleaned a glass with a clean rag.

Sam let out a sharp, shocked laugh, relieved that someone else thought the same as her. "Yeah! Don't get me wrong, it's beautiful here, but...every now and then...it gets to be too much."

"Then you are, indeed, in the right place." He placed a napkin on the bar in front of her, along with the glass he had just cleaned. "What are you havin’?"

"I'm not sure, dealer's choice?" Sam cocked an eyebrow as she removed her outer jacket to lay across her lap. She didn't know what any of their liquors were called, and rather than make a fool of herself, she would take what she was given.

“You a whiskey drinker?”

“I am.”

The bartender, who gave her a smile, turned around and grabbed a bottle filled with amber liquid off the shelf. "This is Autumn Court whiskey," he told her as he filled two fingers in her glass. "Best whiskey there is."

Sam thanked him as he poured, watching the light catch the deep amber liquid. Flashes and specks of gold and caramel swirled through the glass like smoke caught in crystal. She expected nothing less stunning from Autumn Court, even their whiskey was beautiful to watch settle.

As she picked up the glass, the smell of oak hit her nose and overwhelmed her senses. The sharp, rich spices of cinnamon and clove tickled her nose and smoothed over the smoky vanilla undertone that she could nearly taste. As the whiskey slid across her tongue, Sam resisted the urge to roll her eyes in pleasure. It was intense, blunt, but delicious. The burn lit up her throat like a soft pile of smoldering oak before layering the soothing balm found in the flavor notes of vanilla and caramel. It was sweet and woody, the scent of what she could only describe as a fall night drenched in cleansing rain.

"Wow!" Sam exclaimed, then took another sip to savor the heightened flavors. "I can absolutely see why this is the best."

The bartender grinned, pouring himself a glass of the same whiskey. "Cardan."

"Sam." She greeted him and raised her glass, letting it softly clink against his.

This fae had stories, a life well lived, and wanted to pass his time as peacefully as possible. He was good-looking and had more of a rough edge about him, a warrior who had laid down his sword in pursuit of peace. Long, chestnut hair curtaining a pale face and stunning blue eyes that seemed to shine with curiosity. His facial hair was well-groomed, enhancing his beauty, and the air hung heavy with mystery.

"So, what is a human doing this far into Prythian?" He asked, sipping his whiskey as he studied her. Sam allowed the body glance to go unchecked; it wasn't disrespectful or what she considered leering. She still felt comfortable talking with Cardan, even though her back was to the rest of the room and the door.

Sam suppressed a sigh as she looked down at her drink. "It's a long story,"

Cardan accepted the answer for what it was. "I'm sure it is," he surveyed the other patrons sitting at tables and booths behind her. "You're welcome here for however long you're here in Prythian. No one at this bar will bother you."

"Thank you, Cardan," Sam said as she slowly sipped her whiskey, the warm buzz filling her body and lightening her head. "I appreciate it. I know some fae don't take kindly to humans."

"We get the occasional riff-raff here, being just outside Velaris. Some Illyrians come down from the mountains, but we don't get many folks from Hewn City, as they aren’t supposed to leave there. We deal with the problem ones quickly. But here, we take in the outcasts and the outsiders, the ones who don't quite...fit." He looked at her with a knowing glance. "Something tells me that you know how that feels."

"You have no idea," Sam muttered down into the swirling dark liquid of her glass. This whiskey was giving her a nice buzz very quickly, something she welcomed with open arms after these past few weeks.

The door to the bar creaked behind her, "Commander Eris, welcome back, sir."

Sam whipped around in her seat to see the Autumn Court heir standing just inside the doorway, his golden amber eyes already on Sam. She sat up straighter in his presence, something about this meeting suddenly feeling far more intimate than their previous encounters. A brief look of understanding, of vulnerability, passed between them; equally surprised that the other had bothered to show, given the heightened risk of the situation.

For a moment, they did nothing but watch each other, a silent conversation stretching between them within the air of the quietly buzzing barroom. The flutter of butterflies exploded in Sam's stomach, and her heart rate spiked as Eris lowered his hood. In the dim faelight of the bar, Eris was still graceful and refined despite dressing down in everyday civilian clothes. From the deep emerald tunic under his fur-lined cloak to the dark-washed trousers and heavy leather boots, Eris was still clearly of royal descent. Sam would never not be impressed by the aura of this male and the respect he silently commanded.

This felt different.

Cardan pretended not to notice the tension between them, slipping back into his role as the bartender. "Usual?" He asked the High Lord, already reaching for a glass.

"Please," Eris replied, finally making his way to the bar to settle into a stool next to her.

Sam looked down at her glass as she got adjusted to Eris's presence. He sat a respectable distance from her, but he was close enough to engage in conversation. The air was thick with tension, hanging heavier than the cloak Eris was beginning to shrug off.

Cardan set a napkin and a glass full of a different colored whiskey in front of Eris, reaching behind him for the bottle Sam's whiskey had come out of. Cardan's eyes flickered between her and Eris as he filled her glass a little more than he had the first round, almost sensing that she would need it. When she looked up at him to thank him, Cardan only winked and walked off to leave her and Eris alone.

Thick silence filled the space between her and Eris, the uncertainty growing unbearable with each passing second. He must have felt the energy shift between them, turning his head to allow his eyes to roam over her. With the knowledge that this was a choice they both made, it sat heavily upon each of their shoulders.

“Come,” Eris suddenly said, standing from his seat and motioning towards a secluded booth in the far corner.

God, this was such a bad idea.

But Sam followed, grabbing her glass to follow Eris as he led her toward the booth. He motioned for her to slide in first, nerves rattling along her skin as he stepped aside. She glanced at him before sliding into the curved booth, settling in the middle so she could still see the door. They must have been more alike than she initially thought, as Eris sat closer to her, his thigh pressed against hers, so that he had a direct line to the door as well.

“You are so full of surprises, Samantha,” Eris said lowly as he leaned back against the cushions of the booth, eyes roaming the room and its patrons.

Sam took another long pull from her glass, “Why? ‘Cause I showed up?”

Eris hummed, “That you turned to me for help.”

Sam sighed as her leg began to bounce underneath the table. She ran her thumb over the lip of the glass, “There’s no one else who could.” She whispered.

“You must realize that this could end badly for both of us. With what you are poking around in, that knowledge, it can get us both killed."

The seat of the booth began to shake softly as the bouncing of her leg increased. "I know. I'm sorry to put you in this position, Eris, but...I don't think I have a choice."

She felt his hand grip her thigh above her knee, halting her leg's movement. Keeping her legs uncomfortably still, she turned toward him. The mask she usually saw him wear had been left behind; instead, he looked at her with a seriousness that calmed her anxiety. It did nothing to stop her from chewing on her bottom lip as she worded her questions in her head.

“I don’t know why you’re been holding yourself back, Samantha.” Eris watched her for a moment, his red hair falling over his shoulder as he tilted his head. “You need to get comfortable with taking what you want.”

Rather than answer him with sarcasm, she decided to take his advice. “Are you bound by Rhysand’s High Lord order?”

The question came out so bluntly that it caught Eris off guard for a moment. His perfect teeth flashed in a smirk as his brows rose, "Ohhh, you have figured somethings out, haven't you?"

"I need your help, but first I need to know if you even can.”

"No. Rhysand can not command me as he is not the High Lord I am sworn to." Eris replied, swirling the liquor in his glass with the other hand that was not on her leg. "I did sign a contract to not divulge any information to outsiders of the situation, but as you are the source of the situation, I see no harm to befall me if I do choose to help you.”

Sam nodded, running her tongue along her suddenly dry lips. “Eris,” She breathed softly, stopping herself short before she continued. Her nerves were twisting within her gut as her eyes kept flickering between him and her glass of whiskey. Whiskey used to make her bold, brash, and outspoken – now, it seemed to make her nervous, small, and quiet.

“Take what you want, Samantha, ask the question.”

Sam sat back hard against the cushions, heaving a sigh and running her hand through her hair. “God damn it,” As she turned her attention back to Eris, she stared at him. Why was it she always got tongue-tied and nervous around him?

Eris studied her back, quiet and intense. She fiddled with the bracelet Azriel had given her, her heart longing for him as she sat next to the Autumn Court heir. What would Azriel think of this? What would he say? She could only imagine the shit show that would follow afterward, once she told him, if she got the chance to. He likely already knew, given her shadow guards, and the thought that they had to say to him instead of her sent guilt ripping through her. She could take four showers, but the scent of Eris would still linger around her; the cool magic of Autumn would cling to her skin long after they separated.

"You belong here, Samantha." Eris finally told her. Her eyes locked on his surprisingly supportive gaze. Sam blinked, not sure if Eris was confirming the very thing she was trying not to think about. "You belong in Prythian."

“How?”

“You asked about a wyrdstone; they are extremely powerful, exceedingly rare magical conduits that can either enhance magic or dampen it. Rumor also has it that they can sometimes do both at the same time, snuffing out the magic of one thing but amplifying another."

Even though his hand was still on her thigh, her leg tried to bounce beneath his touch. "So, you...are you..?" Sam took a deep breath. "I mean, in theory, could a wyrdstone suppress...magical blood?"

Eris’s grip tightened on her leg, “Yes.”

“Oh God," Sam's vision blurred, and she half hoped it was from the whiskey. "Eris."

“Ask the question, Samantha.”

“Do I have magical blood? Am I from here?” The burning in the back of her eyes increased as her entire life began to splinter and split from within.

"You have a blood disorder," Eris spoke calmly and softly, eyes flashing around the room for any eavesdroppers. "You asked about a wyrdstone and traveled from another world to this one, where these particular stones originate from. When you arrived in Autumn, the entire country felt the ripple effect – felt you enter into this world. You can see how all this can add up quite quickly."

“But...how...I’m...I can’t - “

“Why can’t you? Because it’s not possible?” Eris raised a brow at her, sipping his whiskey slowly. “Anything is possible, my dear.”

Sam swallowed the lump that formed in her throat, "Can you tell me more about the wyrdstones? How to break wyrdrunes?”

Eris held up a finger, "Before I divulge more of what I know, you must agree to something in return."

Sam pinched the bridge of her nose tightly between her fingers. Of course, there would be a catch. As if her entire life falling apart in a shamble of lies wasn’t enough for her. "Oh, here we go."

Eris scoffed, “A favor.”

She threw him a disbelieving glance, “A favor. What kind of favor?”

"Whatever I choose it to be." He shrugged, finishing off his whiskey in one large gulp.

"Yeah, this ain’t gonna fuck me in the end," Sam muttered under her breath before taking a sip from her own glass.

"That mouth, Samantha, is a work of art."

She was going to strangle him, "So, lemme get this straight: you want me to grant you an unknown favor to be called in at a later date in exchange for you tell me information that you know about me that could potentially, probably, upend my entire life?"

"Beautifully summarized. Remarkable, really."

"Eris."

"How bad do you want answers, Samantha?" He leveled her with a stare that stole the breath from her chest. “What are you willing to do to find the truth? What would you sacrifice? Your pride? Your dignity? Would you give up something you hold dear?" He leaned closer toward her, his voice lowering with every question he asked. "What would you do? What would you give?”

Sam shuddered from the warmth radiating from his skin, the flaming swirls of burgundy flashing within the amber of his irises. Her eyes darted between his, trying to find a reason, an excuse, to not agree. Whatever Eris knew, Sam knew she needed it, but was she desperate enough for it?

"How much is the truth worth to you, Samantha?” Eris whispered in her ear, suddenly a lot closer than she expected.

What was it worth?

She turned her head toward him, coming within mere inches of his. She watched him study the features of her face before returning his undivided attention to her green eyes.

"I will grant you your favor."

-x-

Across the vast, rolling ocean separating the Continent and Prythian, a messenger burst through the towering throne room doors of the Castle of Vallahan, carrying a wax-sealed letter addressed to the King upon a golden platter.

His footsteps echoed across the enormous room like an ominous warning of impending disaster. The platter shook in his hand as he knelt before the King, holding out the envelope while he bowed his head, staring at the floor with wild, wide eyes.

A guard swiped the letter off the disc, sending a swift, hard kick into the shin of the messenger. Without speaking, the guard handed the letter to the King and returned to his position beside the throne as the messenger scrambled from the room.

"He's been rather skittish as of late." The guard murmured to the King, who was breaking the letter's seal.

"The whispers of Prythian's arrival have embedded themselves into the villages. Some are wary of the Shadowsinger being in our lands again." The King replied nonchalantly, unbothered by the recent arrival of the Night Court in their mountains. "They will realize they have no power here soon and will be on their way."

“They are consistent, I will give them that.”

“Hybern should have burned them first,” The King said, “It would be a better world if the Illyrians had been wiped out long ago.”

The King’s lips stretched into a cruel, sinister grin as he read the contents of the letter.

“Perhaps...another world is the answer.”

'It's not Asra. It's the child, and I know where she is.'

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