Happy one year anniversary to The Chase, the Eris fic I sat down to write, thinking I’d get it out of my system.
The joke was on me because I then went on to write 70 more ACOTAR fics including approximately 50 Eris ones, 17 Azriel ones, 3 threesome fics (two with Azriel and Eris, one with Rhys and Eris) and 1 with reader x Cassian, reader x Rhys, reader x Azriel and reader x Eris.
I haven’t written in a bit, but I have to say it’s been such a fun journey from that first Eris fic that I thought would be my only one written.
So I’ll also link my ACOTAR Masterlist to celebrate as well. 🎉
A/n: Hello, my fellow readers, I know it has been a long wait, I've been super occupied lately, but I'm hoping to make it up to you guys. This fic is super angsty and emotional, oop. Enjoy and I will be writing so much more in the next few days. Comment for part 2!!
Pairing: Azriel x fem reader! x Eris
Summary: Two years after shattering the mating bond, Azriel is forced to face the female he lost. She returns with a new mate, a child with her eyes, and a happiness he can never reclaim. But as buried truths begin to surface, he is left questioning whether he ever chose to betray her at all.
Warnings: mentions of cheating! super angsty and teary, mentions of regret!
"And I don't wanna learn another scent"
"I don't want the children of another man"
"To have the eyes of the girl that I won't forget"
Azriel
It had been two years since you left.
Two years since he'd last seen you. Two years since his heart had shattered so completely that not even time could piece it back together.
Beyond the balcony, the sea churned beneath a colourless sky, violent waves crashing against the jagged cliffs below. Once, he had found comfort in storms. Now, they only mirrored the turmoil within him, restless, empty, forever searching for something that no longer existed. A void stretched through his chest, vast and unforgiving, one that no amount of time, training, or solitude could ever hope to fill. The House of Wind had changed after your departure.
Or perhaps it was simply him.
The halls that had once echoed with your laughter now stood oppressively silent, every room stripped of the warmth you had unknowingly left behind. Even the air felt colder. Your favourite books still rested untouched upon the shelves, your abandoned shawl remained draped over the arm of the sitting room chair, and yet, with every passing day, even those small remnants of you seemed to lose their meaning.
That frightened him more than anything.
Some mornings, he could still remember the exact shade of your eyes when sunlight caught them, the sound of your quiet laughter drifting through the halls, the warmth of your hand finding him without a second thought.
Other mornings… He struggled. Your voice became little more than a distant echo. The delicate lines of your face blurred around the edges of his memory, and each forgotten detail carved another wound into his already fractured heart. The guilt never eased.
Rhysand had noticed.
Over the past few months, he'd quietly reduced the number of missions Azriel was assigned, offering excuses about needing him in Velaris more often. They both knew it wasn't the truth. A distracted Shadowsinger was a dangerous one, and Rhys no longer trusted his brother to return from every assignment unharmed. The conversation from the previous evening still lingered in his mind.
"I don't understand you," Rhys had said, his violet eyes hard with something that looked far too much like disappointment.
"You're the one who replaced her."
A long, suffocating silence.
"So why do you look like you're the one who lost everything?"
Because he had.
He'd simply realised it far too late.
Elain had become little more than a distraction.
Quiet conversations over late-night drinks. Lingering touches that neither of them acknowledged. The occasional kiss stolen in moments of weakness. Nights spent convincing himself that if he reached for someone else, perhaps the ache in his chest would finally disappear. It never did.
Every moment they shared felt hollow, a poor imitation of something he had once believed impossible to lose. No matter how desperately he tried to drown himself in her company, his heart remained stubbornly tethered to you.
Sleep offered him no escape.
Every dream ended the same way with your face. The devastation in your impossibly blue eyes as they searched his, silently asking the one question he could never answer.
Why?
He woke each morning with that same expression burned into his mind, your disappointment haunting him long after the dream had faded.
Elain noticed.
She suggested morning walks through Velaris, hoping the fresh air would clear his thoughts. She lingered beside him during meals, filled the silence with gentle conversation, and stayed close whenever she sensed him drifting into himself. She tried, in her own way, to become the comfort he so desperately needed.
But grief was a cruel thing.
It did not loosen its grip simply because someone else reached for your hand.
Deep down, Elain had never cared for you. She had hidden it well enough behind polite smiles and carefully chosen words, but there had always been something unreadable in her gaze whenever your name was spoken. And when your relationship with Azriel crumbled, whatever guilt she might have felt disappeared with it.
The questions never stopped.
What if he'd walked away before the argument escalated?
What if he'd trusted you enough to tell you what had been happening to him?
What if he'd fought for you instead of letting his impulses win?
Would you still be here?
Would the bond still exist?
Or had fate already decided long before either of you realised?
Rhysand knew where you were.
Everyone did.
Azriel had stopped asking.
The first, and only, time he had, Rhys's expression had hardened into something colder than anger.
"You don't get to know where she is."
That had been the end of it.
He had no right to search for you. No right to demand forgiveness. No right to intrude upon whatever life you had managed to build from the ruins he had left behind.
His shadows mourned you almost as much as he did.
Once, they danced eagerly around you, slipping through your fingers and curling around your wrists whenever you laughed. Now they rarely ventured far from his shoulders, quieter than they had ever been, as though they too had lost something they could never recover.
Sometimes, in moments of unbearable weakness, he wondered if you had found someone else.
The thought twisted painfully inside his chest.
But if you had...
He couldn't bring himself to hate you for it.
If another male had succeeded where he had failed, if someone loved you the way you had always deserved, then perhaps that was the punishment fate had intended for him all along.
Flashback
"Azriel."
Your voice drifted through the study like sunlight, effortlessly pulling his attention away from the reports scattered across his desk.
He looked up to find you leaning against the doorway, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.
Mother above.
He didn't think he'd ever grow tired of looking at you.
Your smile had always undone him. It wasn't simply beautiful,it was warm. Gentle. The kind of warmth he'd spent five centuries searching for without ever realising it. Growing up, affection had been a foreign language spoken by everyone except those around him. Then you arrived, and somehow made it feel as natural as breathing.
His own lips curved instinctively. They always did around you.
"Yes, love?" he asked softly. "Do you need something?" You stepped inside, your hands clasped behind your back as though hiding some great secret.
"I was wondering if you were alright." His brows knitted together.
"What do you mean?" You tilted your head innocently.
"I haven't felt you through our bond for the past few days."
His heart lurched. "What?"
For one terrifying heartbeat, every ounce of colour drained from his face. Then you laughed. Bright. Unrestrained. The sound echoed through the room, chasing away the silence that had settled there.
"I'm teasing you." You crossed the room until only a step separated you, reaching up to smooth an invisible crease from his tunic.
"Of course I can still feel you." A grin spread across your face.
"I just wanted to see your reaction." Azriel let out a slow breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You are impossible." "So I've been told." "By Cassian?" "And Mor."
He sighed dramatically. "I'll have words with both of them."
Your laughter returned, softer this time, and Mother, he'd have gone to war every single day if it meant hearing that sound waiting for him when he came home. The smile lingering on your lips slowly faded. "But..." you said quietly, "...Mor wasn't entirely wrong."
You searched his face carefully. "She mentioned you've been... distant lately." Guilt settled heavily in his chest. "I've had more court work than usual."
"And?" "I leave for the Illyrian camps this evening." "And?" His shoulders sagged beneath your patient stare. "I've just been busy." You nodded slowly. "Of course." You smiled again, but something about it felt different. Smaller. As though you believed him… yet wished you didn't.
The lie sat heavily on his conscience long after you'd left the room. Because the truth was far more frightening. Something inside him had changed. He just didn't know when. Or why. It began with fleeting moments he couldn't explain. A glance held a heartbeat too long. An unfamiliar flutter in his chest whenever Elain entered a room. Thoughts that didn't belong to him, yet refused to leave. He hated himself for every single one. You were his mate. His equal. His home. The Cauldron itself had woven your souls together long before either of you had taken your first breath. Nothing should have been capable of severing that certainty. Yet every time Elain appeared, something inside him shifted. It wasn't love. It couldn't be. It felt... wrong.
Like a splinter buried beneath his skin that he couldn't reach no matter how desperately he clawed at it.
Her lavender scent lingered in the air long after she'd gone, invading his senses against his will. His instincts sharpened whenever she spoke. His gaze sought her out before he could stop himself, only for shame to crash over him moments later.
He despised it.
Despised himself.
Each night, he lay awake questioning his own mind.
What is wrong with me?
Why can't I stop this?
Why does my own heart feel like it's betraying me?
Because he loved you.
He knew he loved you.
Nothing, not his guilt, not his confusion, not even the strange pull threatening to consume him, could change that truth.
So why did it feel as though fate itself had turned against him?
Something wasn't right.
Something was terribly, terribly wrong.
Over the following months, Azriel found himself spending more time in Elain's company than he ever intended.
She had taken a particular interest in the gardens surrounding the River House, cultivating plants so rare that even the healers of Velaris struggled to grow them. Delicate blooms with silver-tipped petals. Vines that only flourished beneath starlight. Flowers whose roots held remarkable healing properties when brewed correctly.
It fascinated her.
The Night Court's healers often sought her knowledge, requesting tinctures and remedies crafted from the herbs she nurtured so carefully. Some mended broken bones within days, while others restored strength after long battles or replenished depleted magic.
Before every mission, she'd insist on preparing several bottles for him herself.
"Just in case," she'd say with a gentle smile, pressing the cool glass into his scarred hands.
Azriel had never questioned it.
Why would he?
She was helping him.
The first few times Rhysand sent him into the mountains with Cassian, the potions proved invaluable. A cut that should have taken days to close disappeared overnight. Bruises faded before morning. By the end of each week-long assignment, he'd return to Velaris almost untouched.
Eventually, drinking them became routine. Two bottles a day. Every mission. Every patrol. Every battle.
He never noticed when routine became dependence.
He tried to keep his distance after that. Whatever had begun stirring inside him whenever Elain was near... he refused to entertain it. For days, he deliberately altered his schedule, taking different corridors through the River House, leaving meetings early, arriving late to training. Anything to avoid crossing paths with her. It made no difference. She was everywhere. Passing him in the gardens with dirt beneath her fingernails and sunlight tangled in her golden hair. Laughing quietly with Feyre over breakfast. Offering him another bottle before a mission with the same soft smile she'd always worn.
And every single time she appeared, something inside him tightened. It was as though his instincts recognised her before his mind did. Her lavender scent lingered in the air long after she'd gone, refusing to leave his senses. His gaze sought her out without permission, lingering for a heartbeat too long before guilt crashed over him with suffocating force. He hated it.Mother above, he hated it.
You were his mate.
The female he'd chosen every day without hesitation.
The female whose laughter filled every empty corner of his heart.
So why...
Why did another woman occupy his thoughts against his will?
Had the Mother made a mistake?
Was the Cauldron capable of choosing the wrong souls?
Or was something inside him simply... broken?
The worst part was that nothing between you had changed. You still greeted him with sleepy smiles each morning. Still reached for his hand beneath the dinner table. Still laughed whenever he pretended to be annoyed as you absentmindedly ran your fingers along the sensitive membranes of his wings, earning a quiet grumble that never fooled you.
He was happy.
Wasn't he? So why, as your fingers remained intertwined with his across the table...did his eyes betray him, lifting over your shoulder to find Elain standing on the opposite side of the room?
The guilt that followed was immediate. Crushing. And for the first time in five hundred years… Azriel was afraid of his own heart.
Velaris glowed beneath a blanket of starlight, the city alive with music and laughter as thousands gathered to welcome the fallen stars. Lanterns floated through the streets below, their golden light reflecting across the Sidra like scattered constellations, while the House of Wind buzzed with celebration.
As it always had. A feast stretched across the grand dining hall, filled with friends, family, and every member of the Night Court. Glasses clinked together in celebration, laughter echoed through the halls, and for one fleeting evening, the burdens of war and duty were forgotten. It should have been perfect.
You stood beside him, your hand comfortably resting in his, dressed in a gown of deep crimson that caught the candlelight every time you moved. He'd already caught himself staring more times than he cared to admit.
You were breathtaking.
His mate.
His home.
Everything he'd ever prayed for without knowing prayers could be answered.
Then Mor appeared, a mischievous grin already forming on her lips.
"I refuse to let you spend the entire evening attached to him," she declared, taking your wrist before either of you could protest.
You laughed, looking over your shoulder at him.
"I'll only be a minute."
"I'll hold you to that," Azriel replied, the corner of his mouth lifting.
You disappeared into the growing crowd, Morrigan already pulling you towards the centre of the ballroom as music swelled around you.
He watched you go.
He always did.
Then someone stepped beside him.
Elain.
She smiled politely, folding her hands in front of her.
"It looks like you've been abandoned."
He let out a quiet huff of amusement.
"So it would seem."
Silence settled between them.
Azriel's gaze never left you.
You were laughing now, spinning beneath the lights as Mor twirled you effortlessly across the floor. Every so often your eyes searched the room, finding his almost instinctively before smiling once more.
His chest tightened.
He loved you.
Mother above...
He loved you.
So why wouldn't this feeling stop?
It had only grown worse over the past few weeks.
Every day it became harder to ignore.
Harder to breathe whenever Elain stood too close.
Harder to silence the thoughts that didn't feel like his own.
He hated himself for it.
Hated every instinct screaming at him to turn away from you.
To look at her instead.
His fingers curled tightly around the crystal glass in his hand until tiny fractures spread across its surface.
Stop.
His shadows writhed anxiously around his shoulders.
Please... stop. But the pressure inside his mind only intensified. His pulse quickened. His breathing became uneven. The scent of lavender surrounded him, sweet enough to make him dizzy. Something was wrong. Something had been wrong for weeks. He just didn't know what.Then Elain reached for his arm. The moment her fingers brushed against his sleeve… Everything snapped. His body moved before his mind could catch up. One hand found her waist. The other cupped her face. He kissed her. Hard. Desperately.
As though some invisible force had seized control of every instinct he possessed.
For one horrifying second...
She kissed him back.
Silence. Not throughout the room. Only within him. The world stopped turning. His eyes opened. And across the ballroom… You stood frozen. Your smile was gone. The music still played. People still laughed. Stars still drifted across the night sky. Yet somehow, none of it reached him anymore. All he could see...was you. Those brilliant blue eyes stared back at him, wide with disbelief. Confusion. Heartbreak. Then something inside them shattered.The bond between you tightened painfully, burning through every part of him until he thought his soul itself might split apart.
"Love..." The word barely left his lips. You took one slow step backwards. Then another. Tears gathered in your eyes, though none ever fell. You simply looked at him as though you no longer recognised the male standing before you."I waited," you whispered. Your voice was so quiet he almost thought he'd imagined it. "I kept hoping you'd choose me." His heart stopped. "I'm sorry. please let me fix this" The words sounded meaningless. Pathetic. Worthless. You shook your head.
"No."
A bitter smile crossed your face. "No, Azriel." Your fingers rose to the place above your heart, where the bond connected the two of you. "I refuse to spend eternity wondering if I'll ever be enough." Power rippled through the room. Every conversation ceased. Every head turned. Even the stars outside seemed to still. Your magic surged around you like a storm. "I release you." The mating bond screamed.
It wasn't a sound heard with ears. It was felt. A violent tearing through the soul itself.
Azriel collapsed to his knees as agony ripped through his chest, his shadows shrieking wildly around him. It felt as though someone had reached inside him and torn away the very piece of himself that had made him whole. Across the room, you swayed but never looked away.
Your own pain was written plainly across your face.
"I hope," you said, your voice trembling for the first time, "that one day you find the happiness you chose over me." You looked at Elain.Then back at him. "But it will never be with me." You turned. And walked away. He never saw you again.
Present Day
The memory still haunted him. Every detail remained painfully vivid, replaying itself each night the moment he closed his eyes. For months afterwards, he'd continued accepting Elain's healing tonics out of habit, convincing himself they might somehow numb the hollow ache left behind by the severed bond. They never did. If anything, the emptiness only deepened.
Elain stayed close, offering quiet words of comfort and leaving fresh bottles upon his bedside each morning before he woke. Whether out of guilt, affection, or something else entirely, he never asked. One morning… He'd had enough.The bottles shattered against the marble floor with a deafening crash, glass scattering in every direction as crimson liquid seeped between the white stone.
"Don't," he'd snarled, his voice rough with months of grief. "Don't ever bring me another one."Even now, long after the stain had been scrubbed away, he found himself staring at that same stretch of marble.
It was the very place where your red gown had once pooled around your feet on nights when laughter had filled these rooms instead of silence.
His dreams belonged to you. Always.
Those impossibly blue eyes haunted every restless night, staring at him with heartbreak, disappointment, and questions he would never be able to answer.
He woke with tears he never remembered shedding. For the first time in five hundred years...Azriel, the Shadowsinger, felt utterly helpless. The Inner Circle had never truly forgiven him.
Cassian spoke to him only when duty demanded it. Mor could barely look at him.Feyre's disappointment cut deeper than anger ever could. Rhysand remained his High Lord. But no longer his confidant.
To them… He hadn't simply broken your heart. He had driven you from the only home you had ever known. And some wounds, they feared, could never be mended.
The meeting room felt strangely incomplete. Your chair remained exactly where it had always been, tucked neatly between Rhysand and Feyre.
Only now...Elain occupied it.
Azriel's gaze lingered there for a moment too long before forcing himself to look away. A replacement. Not because anyone expected her to become you. Because no one else had been willing to sit there.
The silence stretched until Rhysand finally broke it. "She'll be here tonight." Every muscle in Azriel's body tensed. For the first time in two years, hope stirred painfully inside his chest.
Rhys's violet eyes met his own. "I expect you not to do anything reckless." Azriel swallowed."I won't."
Rhys studied him for a long moment, as though deciding whether he believed him. Then, quietly, he added, "She's not coming alone." The words barely registered.
"What?"
A heavy silence settled over the room.
"She's moved on," Rhys said evenly. "Just as you did."
His heart stopped. "She'll be arriving with someone."
The words struck harder than any blade ever had. Across the table, Mor folded her arms, her expression colder than winter itself. Cassian stared at the polished wood in front of him. Feyre remained unusually quiet, her fingers intertwined with Rhys's. Nesta simply watched him, unreadable.
Not one of them offered comfort. Not one of them looked surprised by his reaction. Azriel lowered his gaze."...I understand." But he didn't. Not really.
Every passing minute tightened the knot in his chest until breathing itself became difficult. Two years. Seven hundred and thirty days. He'd imagined this moment more times than he could count. Perhaps you'd yell. Perhaps you'd ignore him. Perhaps...
Perhaps you'd let him apologize. Maybe, somehow… You'd forgive him. It was a foolish hope.Yet he clung to it all the same.Beside him, Elain quietly slipped her arm through his.Her thumb rubbed slow circles across his sleeve, a silent attempt at comfort.He felt...Nothing.
The front doors opened. Conversation immediately died away.
Azriel looked up, and a small blur of red raced straight through the entrance.
Laughter rang through the hall. A little boy, no older than three or four, darted between startled guests, nearly colliding with Azriel's legs before giggling and changing direction. His hair burned a brilliant shade of copper beneath the candlelight.But it wasn't the hair that stole the breath from Azriel's lungs.
It was his eyes. Bright. Vivid. An impossible shade of sapphire blue. Your eyes. Exactly your eyes. His entire world tilted.
No...
No.
His gaze snapped towards the doorway. Then he saw you. For a heartbeat, everything else disappeared. You looked... happy. Healthier. The exhaustion that had haunted your features during your final months in Velaris had vanished, replaced by a quiet confidence he'd never seen before.
And beside you...Eris. Your fingers were intertwined. His arm rested comfortably around your waist. The male looked down at you, murmuring something that made you laugh softly before pressing an absent-minded kiss against your temple. The gesture was effortless. Natural. Practised.
Azriel's heart shattered all over again. "She replaced you... just as you replaced her." The thought echoed mercilessly through his mind. You greeted everyone with warm embraces. Rhys hugged you longer than anyone else. Feyre wiped discreetly at the corner of her eye. Cassian smiled for what felt like the first time in years. Even Nesta's expression softened as you embraced her. "I've missed you," Feyre whispered. You smiled gently. "I'm doing better now."
Better. The word lodged like glass in Azriel's throat. Better… Without him.
Only then did your eyes finally meet his. For the briefest moment. Your smile faded into something polite. Distant.
"Hello, Az." That was all. No anger. No bitterness. Not even sadness.
Just two simple words spoken to someone who no longer occupied a meaningful place in your life. Somehow...
That hurt more than hatred ever could. Eris stepped forward, his hand never leaving your waist.His amber eyes met Azriel's for only a second.
Protective. Warning. As though silently reminding him that the female standing beside him was no longer his to grieve. Azriel's hands curled into fists. Not from anger. From regret.Beside him, Elain instinctively moved closer.
For the first time...
Her touch made him recoil. His attention remained fixed on the little boy now hiding behind your skirts."...Is he..."
His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, though it did little to steady him. "Is he your son?"
You looked down, smiling so tenderly that it stole what little air remained in his lungs."He is."
You crouched, brushing a stray lock of fiery red hair away from the child's forehead before kissing him softly.
"Our son."
Eris rested a hand on the boy's shoulder, the child leaning instinctively into him. The gesture answered every question Azriel hadn't been brave enough to ask.
You stood once more, your fingers finding Eris's with unconscious familiarity. "We were married last year."
A quiet laugh escaped you. "I never imagined my mate would be so insufferable." Eris smirked. "I'll choose to hear only the 'mate' part."
You rolled your eyes affectionately before looking back at Azriel. "I was shocked when the bond snapped into place."
Your smile softened. "I suppose fate had other plans for both of us."
Fate. Azriel had spent two years cursing that word.Now...
It mocked him. He looked at the little boy nestled comfortably against Eris's side. At the wedding band resting upon your finger. At the peaceful smile on your face.
This wasn't his family. This wasn't his mate. This wasn't his future.
It belonged to someone else now. "...Yes," he whispered, barely recognising his own voice."Fate."
For the first time since you'd walked away… He truly understood what it meant to lose everything.
You and Eris had always been flirty with one another, but there was no way he'd ever been seriously into you. When Rhysand suggests you demonstrate what you used to do whilst working as an exotic dancer, Eris volunteers to be a pretend client. It turns out, he's very into you indeed.
Pairing: Eris x Reader
Word count: 3.6k
Rating: explicit
Warnings: pwp, public orgasms, grinding, dirty talk, exhibitionism
a/n: This is not beta read, I absolute shit this out during nap time lmao. A little suspension of disbelief is needed YES but it's just pwp. I just want to grind on Eris and have him cum in his pants so. There's this.
(I haven't written smut it toooooo long so I apologise)
“I’m sure we could all use a demonstration.” Rhysand said smoothly over his wine glass before he took a sip, trying to hide his smirk. Feyre smiled mischievously at his side, clearly they’d discussed it mentally and were keen to learn. You’d been discussing your previous employment. It wasn’t a secret or something you were embarrassed about but it wasn’t something you ever brought up whilst in the presence of nobles…and certainly not in front of a High Lord and Lady. The job you’d held for a few years when you had run away from home at the tender age of 19 was extremely unbecoming for a High Lord’s daughter and your father had died without knowing about it. In an open minded establishment in the Summer Court, you’d danced intimately for customers. Thankfully, no one present in this conversation was overly prude. Cassian, Eris, Rhysand, Feyre, Nesta…none of them were sheltered and all were prone to lewd comments and stories. Which is how this all came about.
You tilted your head as you turned from the table where you’d been refilling your drink. The area they were sitting in was separated from the rest of the room, by a few small stairs and a glass fence. Other guests milled around below them, also seated in chairs and sofas, or at tables and a few danced to the low music.
“I’d need a volunteer.” You said seriously, taking a sip of your own drink and locking eyes with the smirking High Lord of Autumn. His amber eyes shone with delight. The two of you had always had a flirtatious relationship since you first met a few years ago, but you’d never taken him seriously. Especially not since he’d become High Lord. However, you’d been sitting next to him the whole evening, his arm languidly resting along the back of the sofa behind your shoulders, and when he’d spoken to you it was in low tones, almost in your ear. He’d watched you with hooded eyes as he’d looked down his nose, trying not to seem too interested, you’d guessed.
“I volunteer.” He smirked, lifting his chin slightly so he was still managing to look down his nose at you, despite him being seated and you stood. You swallowed slowly and smiled. You placed your drink down on the table and started walking slowly towards him. His volunteering was redundant, really, you weren't about to dance on any of the mated fae in the room, in front of their mates no less. You valued your life.
“I need you to sit in the middle of the sofa, with your hands behind your back.” You instructed carefully as you stopped just before the sofa he was sprawled on. He held your gaze for a moment before placing his glass down and moving himself as you requested. You appraised his position and nudged his foot with your own to widen his legs.
“So I don’t get to touch you? Seems unfair.” He drawled, attempting to be casual but you caught the excitement that bubbled underneath. You smiled serenely, slipping into teaching mode. You’d taught a few of the new starters, often shy girls who perhaps didn’t wholly choose the job themselves.
“Where I worked, the customers couldn’t touch me and I could barely touch the customers.” You turned to face the room, Cassian was grinning at you and Nesta looked intrigued. Rhysand and Feyre were listening intently.
“The no touching rule kept us dancers feeling comfortable, and it made disputes easier, if there’s a no touching at all rule you don’t have to discern between appropriate vs inappropriate contact. However, it also makes the experience more erotic. To have something you desire so close and unable to touch is a powerful aphrodisiac.” You explained with a grin “which is what makes it a wonderful form of foreplay.” That earned a low chuckle from the room and you smiled.
“I will only touch your legs.” You told Eris as you looked down at him, noting the twitch of the muscles in his neck. He kept his cool demeanor, but you could almost smell the anticipation that crawled over his skin.
“For now.” He winked and you grinned at him fondly. You backed away a few steps.
“Depending on how much the customer paid, depends on how intimate the dance and how long you danced for. Since you’re all mated, I’ll show you moves from a top price dance.” You explained “whilst keeping my clothes on.” You added quickly.
“I wouldn’t be opposed-” Eris started before you shot him a withering look “dress stays on. Of course.” He nodded seriously.
“Would you prefer I talk through it, or just do it?” You asked, Cassian shrugged, Nesta waved her wine glass in a ‘up to you’ manner, Rhysand titled his head and Feyre just smiled.
“Talk through it, it’ll feel less voyeuristic and more educational.” Rhysand answered with a smile and Feyre leant forward on her crossed knee.
“I’m excited!” She grinned, throwing a filthy smile towards her mate before gesturing for you to continue. You nodded and turned back to Eris who took a long, slow breath in as he watched you carefully.
“Everything the moment we stepped into that room was a performance, every move is designed to be sultry. So taking off the dress…” You mimed slipping the straps down your arms and over your breasts to your hips, before you turned and bent forward, as if sliding the dress down, keeping your legs straight. You flicked your hair back while you arched your back as you straightened, pretending to step out of the dress and turned back to Eris. You caught his eyes flicking from your ass back to your face and fought a smile. You stalked forward slowly, before placing a knee on the sofa beside Eris’s spread thighs, and extending your other leg over his lap to the other side, being careful not to touch him. You held onto the back of the sofa behind his shoulders and flicked your hair over one shoulder, titling your head as you mimed undoing your bra.
“And taking off the bra....” You pretended to dangle it in front of his face before dropping it and palming your breast. Eris had followed the movement of the hand with the invisible bra and breathed in sharply as he watched you grope yourself. You shifted your weight to your other leg, easing yourself over his lap, swapping hands and breasts. After a few moments you dramatically lifted the extended leg off the sofa and span to stand up, turning to face your audience. His thigh was between your legs and you bent, hands braced on your knees as you rolled your hips, keeping your back arched. You knew the view was better in your underwear, but the thin back panel of the dress barely covered your ass, you could feel the air on the curve of your cheeks. You span as you stood between his legs and leant forward, holding the back of the sofa. Your faces were close and his pupils were blown wide. He licked his lips and you tracked the movement, suppressing a groan at the sight. He must have realised anyway because those beautiful lips curled into a smirk and you locked eyes with him again. You offered him a lazy grin before leaning forward, and climbing onto the sofa again. You rolled your body, ensuring as you rose up to place your other leg over him that his nose nearly brushed through your cleavage and almost touched your sternum. He inhaled deeply and a small groan rumbled in his chest. You’re sure you wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t as close as you could be without touching. Heat was pouring off his body, you couldn’t tell if it was in arousal or just his natural state due to the fire coursing through him. But either way it made your nipples peak. Still not touching him, you rolled your hips gently over his crotch, rising and falling slightly.
“The idea,” you said, shocked by how breathy your voice was, you cleared your throat before continuing “the idea was for us to mimic sex, without touch and without it being obvious. It was to give the customer enough visual stimuli that their imagination could fill in the blanks.” You explained as you gently rolled and rocked over Eris. Suddenly he smelt sweeter and stronger, just for a moment before it vanished. He had glamoured the scent of his arousal, you realised. Was that for you or for the audience? You suddenly wished you had decided to do this naked, you wanted him to see that you were genuinely enjoying this. A shock of arousal jolted through your cunt as you thought about Eris using this visual stimulus later as he touched himself. Eris must have smelt the change in your scent before you glamoured yourself because his gaze snapped to yours, delight colouring his smile. You blushed slightly and he dropped his head back and went back to watching your body over his. You stepped back in between his legs and turned before dropping down, and hanging one arm over each knee. You leant your head back, far to the left so it didn’t touch him, but allowed a view down your body, your knees spread on the carpet. You rolled your hips a couple of times before you rose up, pretending to grab the sides of your underwear.
“And then when taking off your underwear, if you pull it to your knees, then hook one side under your heel, when you lean forward you can use your feet to take it off while giving them the best view.” You explained, not meeting the eyes of the audience and you mimed the actions. You leant forward, pushing your ass in the air, which if you were naked, would have exposed your wetness to Eris. You turned a whine into a cough at the thought of him seeing you. His leg shifted and you knew he was imagining it too. You walked your hands out slowly pushing your chest down until you were almost laid flat then turned on your back. You pulled your legs towards you before spreading them and placing a foot either side of him. You ran a hand down your body, squeezing your breast and arching your back as your hand slipped between your thighs. You twitched as you accidentally brushed your clit and cleared your throat again.
“So we used to do a trick, bending our finger under our hand at the last moment, so it looked like we’d pushed it in, but obviously this can be your chance to put on a show.” You explained, showing the trick over the panel of your dress that prevented your damp underwear from being on show. You looked at Eris carefully, the open jaw, the heaving chest and then you noticed the flames blazing in his eyes as he watched your hand. Your breath hitched and you bit your lip. Eris looked at you then and tensed his thighs.
You sat up, and moved to all fours. You crawled to Eris, keeping your eyes locked in his as your hands over each knee and slowly up his thigh. You took your time, slower than you would have to an actual customer, relishing the feel of his powerful muscles tensing under his tight green trousers. Eris was breathing so heavily his tight shirt stretched taut across his torso with every breath in. His arms jerked as if he was fighting to keep his hands behind his back for a moment as you leaned yourself closer to his crotch, maintaining eye contact until you bent your head and bobbed it a few times. On your final bob down, your nose hit something invisible that made Eris jerk his hips and gasp. You both froze for a moment, while the thought you’d just hit his hard cock sank into your head, and caused heat to flare through your core. He’d not only glamoured his scent then. You looked up at him, to meet his flamed gaze as he now openly panted. With a slow smile you slowly moved to brush your nose against his hardness again. His eyebrows knotted and his jaw clenched as every muscle in his body locked up. The sight was painfully arousing and you realised you were nearly drooling and swallowed heavily. You moved up his body, keeping an inch or so between you, held the back of the sofa and lifted your leg to place your foot beside his head. You stood and leant forward, your crotch in his face. You slid a hand up your thigh and caressed your center over your dress, enjoying the way Eris seemed to watch your fingers in a trance. You timed lifting your glamour with his inhale and quickly put it back into place. He groaned and his eyes shuttered briefly, the scent of your arousal having the desired effect.
“Usually we’d do these moves a few times over and for longer. And to end we’d give them a kiss on the cheek” you pulled your leg down and leant to press your slightly parted lips to his cheek with a deep inhale “to signal the end of the dance and ask if they’d like to buy another.” You explained, dropping down onto the sofa next to Eris, one leg stretched over him, an arm around his shoulder as you grinned to the audience. Eris hastily freed his hands and wrapped an arm around your waist, the other holding your leg over his lap tightly. He pulled you closer and you made an unflattering noise in the back of your throat as your clit brushed against his hip. Cassian clapped exaggeratedly and the others joined in with a laugh.
“I thank you in advance.” He said as he stood up and hoisted Nesta over his shoulder and turned to the stairs as she squealed.
“Hope you were paying attention,” they heard him say as he slapped her ass and made their way into the crowd before Nesta winnowed them out. Rhysand chuckled at his brother’s behaviour and finished his drink. Feyre’s eyes sparkled with knowing.
“Your review, Eris?” She asked, grinning ear to ear. She didn’t have to use her powers to see how affected he was. Eris chuckled, squeezing your hip, sliding his hand to your ass.
“Outstanding. Shame about this…dress.” He eyed the revealing dress, not quite like Feyre’s scraps of gossamer but not far from it. The two of you stared at each other. Feyre laughed and Rhysand stood, holding his hand out to her.
“Well, I’m also eager to try it out. We’ll report back.” Feyre smiled dreamily up at Rhys, a hand on his chest. He hummed his agreement, before flicking his gaze over the two of you, still stuck in your staring contest.
“Of course.” You answered distractedly, testing by pushing yourself against Eris. The flames blazed in his eyes again and he sighed with a slight groan.
“Do enjoy.” He said carelessly, eyes roving over you and shifted his hips, and you felt his hardness against your leg. You didn’t notice the High Lord and Lady leave, but Eris must have because he heaved you into his lap, and you both moaned as you ground against each other. You wrapped your arms around his neck, sliding your fingers under his silky hair.
“Did you enjoy dancing this much for anyone else?” He murmured to you, gently bumping your nose with his own as you breathed in each other. You dropped your glamour and he followed suit. His scent clouded your mind entirely for a second, and it was all you could focus on. You always thought he smelt amazing, all cold air, woodsy and spice, but his arousal sent you skyward. You shook your head and gently leant forward so your lips almost touched and shifted against him again, causing him to hiss.
“No, never. Only you.” You breathed, before whining and dropping your forehead to his to watch yourself rubbing against his large bulge. Eris looked down too and groaned, pushing his hips up.
“Hmm, next time sweetheart, I want you completely naked.” He dipped his head to your neck and brushed his lips gently over your pulse. You tilted your head back to allow him more space and he slowly kissed your neck, open mouthed and gentle. For a moment your brain short circuited.
“Next time?” You managed to moan, still moving against him slowly, trying to remember they were in a room full of people. You felt him smile against your neck before he sniffed deeply.
“Next time.” He promised, his teeth scraped against the skin on your neck before he bit down. You moaned loudly, clutching his shoulders. This earned you a strained chuckle. You pulled back to look at him, a flush had spread across his cheekbones, his eyes had returned to their usual amber, not that you could see it his pupils were so wide.
“Next time you’re going to be naked, you’re going to dance and you’re going to touch yourself for me, you’re going to come undone by your own hand in front of me.” He told you as you gazed at him dumbly, barely able to focus on what he was saying with his cock brushing your clit so deliciously. A particularly rough thrust made you gasp and throw your head back. Eris groaned, before grabbing the back of your head and forcing you to look at him again.
“Once you’ve come for me,” he carried on, his other hand massaging your ass as he controlled your movements against him. You whined and keened into him, needing him closer, needing more more more of him. You ripped his shirt up and slid your hands over his abdomen, scratching across his tensing muscles. The feel of his skin, starting to get slick with sweat, made your brain go fuzzy. You stared down at him, watching his mouth as he spoke.
“I’m going to fuck you full. When one hole is full, I’ll move on to the next, until you can hold no more.” He growled, chest heaving as his movements became faster. He let go of your head and gripped your hips with both hands. His honey eyes flicked over your face, seemingly memorising every reaction.
“Please…Eris…fuck.” You managed to get out between pants, falling forward and pressing your forehead against his. He hummed, lifting his chin to ghost his lips across yours.
“Please what?” He murmured and you surged forward and kissed him. He grunted his surprise before kissing you back hungrily. You desperately ground yourself against his cock, the sheer size of it not truly registering in your lust-addled brain, you just needed more friction, more of him. You were getting embarrassingly close. Eris swallowed every moan and whine you made, his tongue moving with yours. He broke the kiss as his entire being locked up, he hissed and tried to hold you still, but you fought him.
“Stop-” he choked out, his eyes snapping wide as he gasped. You must have looked absolutely feral, a snarl of pure animalistic desire burst out of you as you broke free of his hold and rode him mercilessly. You were so close, soaked through your underwear, you needed this and needed him to cum.
“Fuck- sweetheart, please, I’m going to- fuck!” He moaned, his head falling back as he watched you use him, mouth falling open at the mess you’d made on his trousers.
“Me too, Eris…fuck, Eris!” You near squealed as he suddenly gripped you and thrust against you faster and harder. Your pleasure reached its peak and you shattered above him, in sudden desperation to muffle the scream you could feel was about to escape, you lurched forward and bit his shoulder. With a broken groan of your name Eris pushed against you one final time, and you felt his cock twitch as he came under you.
You collapsed against him, both of you breathing heavily. Reality came crashing back to you, your hearing suddenly working again as you heard the music and the chattering of the other guests. Eris ran a hand up your back soothingly as you buried your head in his neck.
“I forgot where we were.” you mumbled, embarrassed and not wanting to look to see if anyone was looking your way. He laughed, the sound vibrating through you as he held you tight to him.
“Me too.” he answered, kissing the side of your head and taking the tip of your pointed ear into his mouth and nibbling. You pulled back and cupped his cheek as you studied him, your gaze flicking over his amber eyes burning with adoration, his gorgeous freckles sprinkled across his slightly flushed face.
“You were always serious, weren’t you?” you asked him quietly. He smiled ruefully and sighed, stroking your hair back out of your face, watching his thumb trace over your cheek.
“Every single time.” he told you earnestly and you didn't have the words, so you kissed him instead. It wasn’t as demanding as before, but it was no less hungry. He shifted beneath you and you realised he was still painfully hard.
“And if you think that I'm done with you sweetheart,” he said quietly as he peppered you with kisses and his hands started to roam again. You moaned into his mouth and whined when he pulled back again to grin at you.
Part 1: To Catch A Priestess | Part 2: The Pull | Part 3: The Connection | Part 4: The Thread
Your past returns with a vengeance—throwing a wrench in your friendship with Eris. It forces you both to share the final pieces of yourselves, allowing one last truth to finally surface.
A/N: We made it to the final part of To Catch A Priestess! I’m so sad to see this end as I grew so attached to these too and spent so long with them. But I had so much fun writing these two and their respective journeys and the one they went on together. I hope y’all enjoy the last installment!
Huge thanks goes to @harvest-bunny for all the writing process help and beta reading this! 💕
ERIS
An entire week passed.
Eris spent every night waiting long into the night for her, hoping against hope she’d appear. She never did. Each passing night only deepened the panic and concern that plagued him.
Training had become unbearable, watching her go through the motions like she no longer cared. Gone was that fierce determination and grit. What was left in its place was a female even worse off than the version of her he’d first met.
It was worse because now he had the knowledge of just how much she could brighten a space, fill his day…hold his heart.
The mating bond raged in him. That bond, that damned bond—the one he’d spent so long ignoring, assuming it was more manageable that way—only made itself more known. He walked around constantly feeling like the air was being squeezed out of his lungs and that his heart was being sliced apart, slowly.
She’d made herself practically unreachable—and not just physically. He felt the emotional distance, the wall she’d built around herself—like a blade to his chest.
A blade to his chest would’ve hurt less.
Eris felt helpless. He yearned to help her, but had no idea how he could. He didn’t even know what was wrong. What sort of mate could he be if he couldn’t even tell what was wrong with her?
Old anger flared again, reminiscent of the early days after meeting her. This time, it wasn’t directed towards her, but at the situation. But Eris quite literally felt angry with the world nowadays. It didn’t help that he was constantly on edge, irritation flaring in him at his inability to be useful.
Every time her gaze passed over him like he wasn’t even there, a physical ache went through him. He’d experienced so much in his centuries alive—enough to leave scars—but nothing left him feeling as raw as this had. The absence of her in his normal routine hadn’t helped matters either.
He knew there were parts of her he didn’t know, hadn’t been privy too, but he also knew this version of her was wrong. Amidst all of this, he still felt the nagging worry that he’d caused all this. That his inability to control his selfish desires had scared her off, pushed her away.
Left with no answers was dangerous for Eris, especially as a male that thrived on certainty.
That bond pulled even more taut as the days passed, like a string pulled far too tight. He halfway wondered if it was capable of snapping in half. It only furthered his agitation.
Though he managed to mask his rising panic well—with his usual cool indifference—it wasn’t enough for everyone else that surrounded them to quickly notice something was amiss.
One morning he said her name as she passed, itching to reach out and touch her, something. She didn’t bother to slow or even glance at him as she walked by—the most concerning part being that it seemed like she hadn’t even heard him.
Whatever world she’d been pulled into, the horrors that lurked within, had trapped her, causing her to retreat to a place that he couldn’t reach. The incident had made his jaw tighten and hands ball into fists beneath his folded arms.
One morning, Cassian finally broached the subject as it neared a week of complete silence from her.
“Is something the matter?”
“Other than it being scorching out today?” Eris drawled, unimpressed—and very unwilling to divulge.
“For a male who wields fire, I’d assume you’d be fine with a little heat.”
Eris cut the Illyrian a glare, both at him pressing and the double meaning to his little comment.
“He won’t ask, so I will,” Azriel cut in, having joined them just as Cassian voiced his previous comment, “Did you say something to her?”
Eris knew irritation flashed on his face, flames likely sizzled in eyes at the insult.
“How easy it is to assume I’m the one at fault,” he sneered.
“Answer the damn question,” Cassian bit out.
Eris’s anger flared, but he reined it in, dropping his crossed arms and standing straighter.
“I have as little knowledge of what’s troubling her as you do,” Eris answered stiffly, “Unless you know something I do not.”
Both males’ protective anger seemed to bank then vanish entirely as it morphed into wary confusion.
“We just assumed…”
“It’s been no secret that you and she seemed to be…acquainted,” Azriel hedged, cutting Cassian off.
Eris snorted, but didn’t answer.
“I don’t know what you’ve done—”
Eris was seconds away from shooting a derisive look towards the shadowsinger but the male continued.
“But I’ve never seen her more alive than she has been in these last few months,” Azriel finished.
He faltered at that, the harsh edges of his irritation softening just slightly. To know that he’d had such an impact on her…
Eris studied the males, contemplating what to say when he finally settled on, “I truly do not know what’s wrong and I find myself…troubled by that fact.”
Cassian looked over to where a group of the females had gathered around the water ewer, chatting as they got a much needed drink. Nesta was among them, a serious look on her face as she listened to something one of the priestesses was telling her, nodding in answer. The General of the Night Court turned back to him before speaking.
“I think the most important thing is not to give up on her. Wherever she’s retreated to, she’s going to need your help climbing out.”
Which was exactly why Eris found himself sitting under the moonlight again that night—night seven of this. He’d never intended to give up on her, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it was a fruitless effort. Even worse, he feared she’d never return.
He sat staring at the archway that led to the stairs like he could will her into existence. He could almost picture her walking through it, that sly smile on her face, the barely contained amusement blooming over her features as she took in his presence. Something in his chest twisted when he was only met with silent night air.
He missed her greatly—and he didn’t know what to do with that fact.
Stiff from hours of sitting, he finally stood, deciding to call it a night. He couldn’t force her to meet him or even talk to him. He looked around the shadowy space, sighing deeply, resigned as he winnowed back to the Autumn Court.
Maybe he’d try again tomorrow.
He had no way of knowing that only moments after he’d departed, a lonely, broken priestess had just cleared the archway into a dark and empty training ring.
•••
You were the most horrible person alive.
The lone thought cycled through your head in the week that’d followed. The days of your past and present bleeding together—when you’d feared Eris to be no better than Finneas—were long gone. Though you no longer thought the Autumn male to be anything like the one who’d destroyed your life, something still held you back.
You weren’t even sure if you were okay. You didn’t quite know what you were, truth be told. You’d fallen into a state frighteningly similar to how you’d been in your early days after arriving at the library.
The nightmares still continued—all pertaining to that final night with Finneas. It sent you to a dark place of despair with worrying speed.
You hadn’t intended to punish Eris, to push him away and avoid him, but you hadn’t wanted him to see you like this. You were too ruined, too imperfect for someone like him to care about. If he knew the horrors that lived in your head—what had happened to you—he’d never look at you the same.
So as the nightmares continued hounding you, you pulled further into yourself and kept on ignoring Eris. Ignoring everyone. Gone was the female you’d felt like you’d started rediscovering. All the hope and joy you’d once felt seemed to have vanished. You pulled further into yourself, narrowing your world back to just you, alone. After all, you could only count on yourself.
Your days had turned into the monotony of training, returning to the library for your work and crawling into bed. You skipped services, you skipped dinners most evenings and you definitely didn’t venture up to the roof to meet Eris.
He’d probably forgotten all about you anyway. You’d likely only been a way to pass the time. Whatever had been between the two of you was only meant to be short lived, you were sure. You never had figured out why he’d been so taken with you and for so long.
You’d been foolish to think you ever deserved even a modicum of happiness.
As dark circles started reappearing under your eyes and your spirit plummeted even more, you found yourself feeling like you were drowning again. Finneas’s words echoed in your head, along with your other doubts.
Maybe he’d been right when he’d said no one would love you or want you. You were but a shell, so broken that some days you felt like you were made of nothing but jagged shards of glass.
It was Clotho that noticed your deteriorating mindset, first.
You were busy placing books on the cart one afternoon, four days after you’d stopped meeting Eris, when you heard the familiar sound of a pen scratch.
You’re quieter than usual.
You shrugged, picking up another book and placing it on the cart. You were organizing the books by levels so it would be easier when it came time to shelve them later.
“Just tired is all.”
You waited for her enchanted pen to stop moving.
Your eyes tell a much different story.
You let out a long breath, a strand of hair fluttering out of your face in reaction. You had no idea where to even begin on what you truly felt. Clotho wrote again.
We are never meant to traverse life and its challenges alone. Sometimes it’s a blessing to let another person carry some of the load.
Clotho was dangerously close to the truth of what Eris had become to you lately. Even if there were still parts of you he didn’t know, he’d provided stability and familiarity—comfort—in a way you hadn’t been expecting.
Somehow, over the months, he’d started filling the lonely cracks that had been gaping open in your chest for far too long. Nightly meetings with him had even seemed to chase the nightmares away at one point. He’d become a constant in your life as you’d begun to grow and heal. A lot of that had come from your own determination, but he had played a significant part in who you’d started to become.
“Sometimes people disappoint you,” you finally spoke aloud.
Which wasn’t fair to say. Eris had done nothing to make you question that—certainly not in the ways Finneas had. Even if you’d been the one to pull away from him—in fear, hopelessness and despair—you still missed him. He’d snuck into your life so craftily that you found you now missed the place he’d so easily occupied. This last week had stretched on endlessly while you’d walked around with an aching hole in your chest.
This hurt felt different from the types you’d experienced before though. Instead, this felt like an intricate part of you had gone missing, the dull ache only growing as the days passed.
Clotho seemed to be studying you from under her hood. For a concerning moment, you were afraid she could read all your vulnerable thoughts. The enchanted pen wrote again.
Is it others that frightens you? Or yourself?
“If I didn’t know you were High Priestess, I would think you were my counselor,” you mumbled.
A breath of amusement fluttered from beneath the hood as the paper returned to her to continue the conversation.
It has been nice to see you full of life lately. Whatever—or whoever—has caused that deserves to have a place in your life.
“Maybe,” you answered, noncommittally.
Even if she wasn’t daemati like the High Lord and High Lady of this court were, Clotho always seemed to possess an unnervingly excellent ability to read individuals. She’d always been able to when it came to you. You knew she meant well and cared about your wellbeing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain the raw feelings you’d carried with you this week.
For once, thoughts of Eris and Finneas intertwined for a different reason, though it hadn’t been unusual for the past and present to bleed together. But now, the stark differences between the males were more apparent.
Eris was the present, potentially a future, the male of such unexpected kindness and good intentions hidden beneath a deceptively cold face. Finneas was the past, the male who had actually possessed such cruelty beneath a friendly face.
Even still, the hesitancy and apprehension remained in you.
Sometimes, the heart knows before you do.
Your mind filled instantly with images of familiar amber eyes, pale skin, a curtain of red hair—of a male with such a sharp mind and keen talent of perception. One who had a unique sense of humor, tinged with arrogance and snark, yet who concealed a compassionate, good male, beneath it all. The very same male that, at first glance, seemed cold and calculating—unfeeling—but who had instead spent time with you in the most vulnerable of ways, even sharing pieces of his dreams for his court with you.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” you finally answered, placing the last book on the cart, “I better get busy returning these books. I’ll see you later, Clotho.”
With that, you left the High Priestess, pulling the cart of books behind you as you went, her advice echoing in your mind and heart as you went.
That night, Gwyn found you in front of one of the fireplaces of the library—where you once regularly found yourself when you couldn’t sleep.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
You started, not having heard her approach.
“What are you doing here?”
It was late, close to midnight by your guess. Far too late for Gwyn to typically make a visit.
“I had Azriel drop me off. I wanted to find you. May I?”
She motioned to one of the comfortable velvet chairs that sat in front of the fire. Specifically the unoccupied one right next to you. You nodded and she took a seat next to you.
“You wanted to find me?” you prompted.
“Yes.”
The pretty, freckled face of your friend was tight with concern and you had good sense to know where this conversation was heading. But she didn’t launch into demanding an explanation or prying questions like you’d anticipated.
“I’ve been worried about you.”
You shrugged halfheartedly, peering down into your lap.
“I’m fine.”
Gwyn was silent for a moment before answering.
“I used to say the same thing as well—in that exact same tone.”
You bit your lip, tears unexpectedly springing to your eyes. Just her confession alone had something unraveling in your chest—the knowledge that you weren’t the only one who’d been in this same place.
The truth was you weren’t fine. The past had ensnared you again but in a new and bigger way, making you afraid to live again—to have a future. It was doing its best to convince you that you didn’t deserve one.
“I recognize drowning when I see it,” Gwyn said so gently that your eyes squeezed shut, willing the tears away.
It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen you cry before, that wasn’t it. You were just so tired—of the shame, the fear, the thoughts that kept your head too loud. You’d been foolish to believe healing and making positive progress meant this part was over.
“I thought I was finally okay,” came your broken whisper.
You hadn’t known what would come out when you finally allowed yourself to talk about this. You’d kept it locked up inside of you all week—the storm of emotions only gaining in strength rather than disappearing. You hadn’t expected that to be the first words off your lips, but you knew they carried so much truth to them.
Gwyn didn’t comment and you took the invitation to continue.
“I was finally stepping out of the shadows and into the light for a change—quite literally,” you huffed a humorless laugh, “I started waking up looking forward to the days ahead instead of dreading them. I no longer felt that heavy weight that once seemed to try to pull me down. I felt like I was capable of…anything. But perhaps I was fooling no one but myself.”
Your friend was contemplative in her silence, not rushing to agree or to reassure you, letting your feelings and words settle in the air between the two of you. You were so emotionally fatigued you weren’t even sure what you wanted anymore.
“Did something happen? With Eris?”
Her pleasant voice filled you with such comfort, reminding you of all the times she’d spent helping you in the past. But the mention of his name sent a dull ache through you. The male had become so deeply tangled in emotions surrounding a situation he had no knowledge of. While that was no fault of his own, it only made things more confusing for you.
“No. Yes. I don’t know.”
“Well, at least that covers everything,” Gwyn responded wryly.
You exhaled a half laugh, her attempt at humor making you feel lighter for just a moment. You heaved a deep sigh, knowing Gwyn was someone you could trust and were comfortable with being vulnerable with. After all, she was your friend.
“He didn’t do anything. He didn’t do anything at all,” you answered her earlier question.
“Well…” she hesitated, “It has been rather jarring to notice how the two of you went from rather familiar with each other to impersonal almost overnight.”
Your eyes slipped shut again, guilt flooding you.
“That was all my fault.”
Again, she waited for you to continue, not filling the silence with unnecessary commentary. You toyed with the edge of the blanket that was folded neatly and resting over the sidearm of the chair.
“When I first met him, I didn’t trust him,” you stated simply as you finally turned back to face her.
Both of her copper brows rose in surprise.
“You see, the male— with my past—”
You cut yourself off and took a steadying breath. Even if you didn’t intend to share your entire history with Gwyn, just sharing this was difficult enough.
“I unfairly assumed his intentions were the same. I only expected the worst because I had been taught to be on my guard in all the wrong ways. You know how he is—how he appears. That didn’t help matters.”
Gwyn’s lips twitched in answer, like yes, she was more than familiar with the front Eris showed the world.
“But somehow, that changed. I found myself more intrigued by him and less frightened. You remember how I told you about the time he found me on the roof? Well, those nightly meetings became something I looked forward to. I don’t know if it was just the company or what, but somehow we formed this—”
You paused, searching for the correct word.
“Understanding,” you concluded.
“So what changed?” came her soft inquiry.
Images of that last night with Eris flashed behind your eyes—his vulnerability as he told you what he wanted to accomplish as High Lord, the way he’d looked at you.
“Last week, after the last rooftop meeting with Eris, I started having nightmares again. It was like being back there, living through it once more. My head got…loud again. I—I can’t explain why I pulled away, from him, from everyone.”
“You were scared,” she said.
She made it sound so simple, but in all truthfulness, it rang the most true.
“He scares me,” you admitted softly.
“He does or what he represents?”
Your brow furrowed in confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“Safety. Happiness. Closeness. Is that not what you’ve felt with him?” she asked, ponytail shifting as she tilted her head in curiosity.
She wasn’t analyzing you, but merely questioning, assessing where your head was while simultaneously allowing you to come to your own conclusions.
“It is not unusual to be haunted by your past—I still live with memories of my own. But it’s not fair to yourself to let it hold you back in life. I know what it’s like to live with shame of what you’ve survived and the fear that happiness doesn’t last for long. For far too long, I held myself back from embracing all life had to offer me. I don’t want to see you make the same mistake.”
“It seems safer to rely on only myself though.”
For you had started to trust Eris, rely on his companionship. Old habits made you fearful that something so precious could easily be taken away. Especially now that you were beginning to realize just how much you cared about him.
“Is that fair though?” she asked, “Rather than try and fail—you would take the safe road? Is it living to take the safe road?”
You didn’t have an answer for her. Gwyn’s words were firm, but heartfelt as she continued.
“The male in your past wins if you let what happened to you continue to have this power over you. The pain will always linger in some sense, but it becomes more manageable over time—easier to live with. It’s a matter of learning how not to be swept away with it when it sometimes does return.”
She reached out, grasping one of your hands in both of her own.
“I realize I have no knowledge of what you endured, but what I do know is that I’ve watched you grow and change—in a positive direction—so much over these last few months. Words cannot describe how proud of you I am, for all that you’ve already accomplished. That female is still within you—she’s always been in you—she’s just buried right now in uncertainty.”
A tear finally slid free and you let it roll down your cheek as her words sank in, a balm to all the fears you’d been harboring throughout the past week. Blunt honestly came slipping from your lips in a whisper.
“I think—I think I found myself caring about him in a way I never expected.”
A small smile played on Gwyn’s lips like she wasn’t all that surprised by the revelation.
“I think he’s also seen more of me than I’ve shown anyone and that became terrifying too. I’m afraid he’ll see me differently when he eventually learns about my past.”
Gwyn’s features softened as she listened to your fears.
“While frightening, that sounds like a risk worth taking, don’t you think? Especially if he’s someone you’d like to remain in your life.”
You knew she was right, even though your heart pounded at the thought of being so vulnerable. But he had shared things with you, perhaps it was only fair you finally returned the sentiment.
Gwyn let you ruminate in the silence, turning over everything in your mind as she gave your hand a squeeze before pulling away.
“Tomorrow’s a brand new day. I think it’s time for that strong and fierce female we’ve come to know to make a reappearance, don’t you think?”
Her smile was bright as she stood, making you feel lighter than you had all week. Between Gwyn’s words now and Clotho’s from earlier in the day, resolve settled over you—determination to once again fight for the life you wanted to live. One that came with all the good and bad.
As she bid you farewell—letting you know she’d see you in the training ring in the morning—you knew what you needed to do. Pushing up out of the chair you’d been settled in, you headed to the stairwell that led to the roof.
What you hadn’t expected was to find it completely empty, devoid of the presence that knew how to fill a space. Your eyes were met with only shadows as they roamed the darkened training ring.
The other thing you hadn’t anticipated was the disappointment that settled deep within your chest—or the realization that you couldn’t bear losing him.
•••
ERIS
Once again, something had changed. But this time, it was for the better.
Eris watched her put all her determination and energy into training the following morning. She completed her warmups early, did them harder, faster. She hit all the marks in the sword lessons of the day, her footwork precise, her body perfectly aligned with every turn.
She pushed herself hard through the hours long lessons and by the end of it, she was panting, hairline soaked with sweat as she pulled off the jacket of the leathers she normally donned every day now.
He couldn’t help the relief that flooded him to see her will returning, but something like sadness tugged in his chest momentarily. He hated feeling it, but it gnawed at him that he hadn’t been able to help her—couldn’t pull her out of whatever had been bothering her.
She fanned herself, her face sweaty and flushed as she retrieved a drink of water. He tried not to be too obvious as he watched her every move, assessing to make sure that somehow she truly was doing better.
She flashed one of the priestesses—Deirdre, he recalled—a pretty, bright smile in response to something the female had said. His heart stuttered at the reappearance of the smile that had gone missing for over a week.
While a hint of that smile lingered on her lips, her eyes flicked his way, holding his gaze. Her face turned a shade more serious as something charged hung in the air between them—oddly similar to that instance when he’d felt the mating bond snap into place.
The spell was broken by Azriel calling his name, pulling him into a conversation with the shadowsinger—one that had Eris’s back turning to the females. When it wrapped up a few minutes later, Eris was surprised to turn and find her waiting for his attention to free up.
Up close, he realized that while her demeanor had improved, there were still dark smudges under her eyes, shadows lingering within the gaze that peered up at him. He could tell the difference between her behavior as of late and now, but even then he knew she wasn’t fully alright.
“Tonight? Same time?”
The sound of her soft voice was music to his ears. It felt like he hadn’t heard it in centuries. The hope that bloomed in him at this turn of events sent his pulse skittering.
“Yes—of course.”
She merely dipped her chin in a nod before turning to leave.
The day passed dreadfully slowly and Eris found himself closest to fidgeting than he ever had been. For someone who knew how to handle unease and anticipation, without displaying a single indication of what he was feeling, he was struggling with the skill today. The minute he was free of his duties back home, he escaped to his chambers, winnowing to Velaris practically the moment his door closed behind him.
Despite arriving a tad earlier than usual, he was surprised to see her sitting in the middle of the training ring, cross-legged. She was back in the pale blue priestess robes, her hair loose and fluttering gently in the warm summer night. Her head turned as he approached silently, head tilting up to look at him.
Wariness lined her features, a sort of defeated look about her. Her eyes weren’t empty as they had been previously, but he could see the exhaustion in them—an exhaustion that wasn’t physical.
“There’s something I want to tell you,” she said, hesitation thick in her words.
“Alright,” he said, sitting down next to her, so close that their shoulders almost brushed.
Her fingers tapped nervously against her leg before she caught herself, curling them into her hand. His eyes took in how her nails dug into her palms. She took an audible breath—her chest expanding with it—and blew it out slowly. Eris waited patiently, though concern tugged at his ribs, right at that strange place that seemed to wait for her.
“Five years ago, I was brought to this library.”
Eris’s spine stiffened and he automatically sat up at the severity in her voice. He hadn’t known what to expect by her greeting, but he hadn’t considered it would be this—that she would be sharing the story that had impacted her life so greatly.
“Rhysand found me in the alley behind Rita’s, bleeding, half frozen, left for dead.”
Anger, nothing but pure anger flared through him, followed by an overwhelmingly sickening sense of horror at what she’d just said. She gave a humorless laugh.
“I probably should start at the beginning.”
Eris only tensed further, irrational protectiveness flooding his senses as he tried to prepare himself to hear a story that he knew had to be incredibly difficult for her to share.
“Five years ago, I knew a male by the name of Finneas. He was beautiful—practically perfect—the kind of male that one could only dream of. I think I fell in love with him from the first moment I laid eyes on him.”
Eris scolded himself for the momentary envy that slid through him, oily and wrong—especially at such an inopportune time. But something in him still reacted to hearing her talk of another male in such a way. He inhaled through his nose quietly, trying to rein in the absurd reaction that he had no control over.
“You see, I used to own a bookstore—here in Velaris. It was my dream to own one, ever since I was a child. I didn’t own it long, just over a year, but the short time I did have it are some of the happiest moments of my life.”
Surprise filled him at the discovery of this piece of her history, a brief smile appearing. Somehow it didn’t surprise him to know that she’d once owned a bookstore. It seemed that no matter where she’d been in life, she always managed to end up surrounded by books. He made a mental note to ask her more about it at a later date.
“He came into my store one day and the rest was history. Unfortunately.”
The last word sounded like it came with much regret, the weight to it so heavy he felt the air around them shift with the severity of the moment.
“He told me he was the son of a lesser lord and that he was estranged from his parents—though I’m still to this day unsure if that was the truth or another one of his lies. He claimed the aristocratic world was far too formal to hold his attention for long. Thinking back now, I realize I truly knew little about him or his life. I don’t even know where he hailed from—whether it was from Prythian, the Continent or even other faraway lands. All I knew was that he was a handsome High Fae male with the palest of blonde hair and striking green eyes and had a penchant for traveling. I’d always assumed he had ancestry from the Spring Court. I don’t even know if his parents were alive. Guess that should’ve been my first warning, huh?”
Eris felt a sense of dread creep over him as she spoke, not entirely knowing what to anticipate, but knowing it couldn’t be good. He didn’t speak, his eyes focused wholly on her as she spoke, though her gaze stayed elsewhere.
“At first he was charming, so incredibly charming. He said all the right things, complimented me endlessly and just showered me with attention, appreciation and even gifts. It was overwhelming in the best of ways—I thought I was the luckiest female alive.”
“I take it that didn’t last long,” Eris rasped, a statement more than a question.
She shook her head, a halfhearted exhale escaping her—one that sounded like it was meant to be a self-deprecating laugh.
“No, it did not,” she answered, “But, thinking back, I feel like it was a distraction of sorts—a sleight of hand, if you will. His attempt to preoccupy my attention so I would never anticipate his true intentions.”
She nervously tucked a piece of hair behind an arched ear, attempting to steady the shaking of her hands. Eris noticed every small movement, his chest aching at the sight. He resisted the urge to reach out and take her trembling hands in his broad ones.
“It didn’t happen quickly—the changes. In fact, it was so subtle I didn’t even realize it when it was happening. It seemed to be a series of strange moments, ones where he acted oddly. But I kept brushing them off, explaining them away.”
Eris didn’t know whether he should let her talk or say something, but the question came out before he could stop it. If anything, at least it proved that he took this incredibly seriously and that she had his full attention.
“Such as what?”
She shrugged, glancing over at him quickly before looking back towards her lap.
“He’d start criticizing me over the strangest things—what I wore, a decision I made about the store. I figured he was just strongly opinionated. Then it escalated in frequency to the point where I was second guessing myself and my abilities.”
Her robes rustled as she shifted into a more comfortable position.
“Then came the possessiveness and the irrational jealousy. He’d make me feel guilty if I had other plans with anyone other than him. He’d get irrationally angry if a male was even kind to me, automatically jumping to the conclusion that he was flirting with me. Then he’d turn around and accuse me of being far too friendly with them. Little by little he narrowed my world until it was only him in it. I trusted him and relied on him, I even thought I was in love with him.”
His jaw clenched but he kept on listening.
“I don’t know how it really started. I know there was a distinct moment it began, but in the plethora of bad memories, I don’t remember it. You think I would recall what led to it, wouldn’t you?”
It was a rhetorical question and he didn’t answer, just waited, tensely, as that sense of dread grew, positive he knew exactly what was coming.
“The first time he hurt me he gripped my wrists so tightly that I had bruises for days. He slammed me into a wall with such force, my teeth rattled. I was left with a knot on the back of my head after that incident.”
Her voice was so small, so quiet, filled with so much shame. Eris wasn’t sure he was breathing. The female that had been made for him—the one that the Mother had tied him to—had experienced such horrors so similar to his own, to what his own mother had endured. That quiet place that only answered to her seemed to roar again, fury and agony entangled.
Amongst those reactions laid a sense of astonished awe at the irony of it all. Every iota of him loathed that she had to experience even a fraction of the sort of physical abuse he’d been subjected to, but in the same breath he knew that those shared tragedies allowed him to understand her far more deeply than she realized.
Another realization struck him. That deduction of his—when he’d first noticed how she’d flinch around males—had been absolutely correct. She’d been on edge for far longer than she should’ve been—always anticipating a strike or explosive anger because of invisible scars this piece of shit had left on her.
“Besides his words, his fists were his favorite way to hurt me,” she uttered, beginning to sound detached, “But of course I was naive and a damn fool for thinking things would eventually improve.”
“You were never a fool for thinking you could trust someone that was supposed to care for you,” he said, perhaps a tad sharper than he meant to.
Her eyes lifted to his again and he didn’t think his chest could ache any more than it did in that moment. In the moonlight, he saw the deep pain etched into her face. That haunted look had returned to her face, mixed with grief, despair and regret. Whatever his own expression beheld apparently gave her the strength to continue her story.
“He always apologized—every time, actually—said he was sorry and it would never happen again.”
“I take it that was far from the truth.”
Eris barely bit back the grimace at his inane and very obvious question, though she didn’t give him any grief for it. She pulled her legs to her chest as if trying to shrink herself, make herself less vulnerable in this situation as she continuously exposed herself.
“You would be correct,” she said flatly, “I’m sure you can guess what the rest of the story is like. The brutality continued and I learned to become smaller, never too much, fearful of upsetting him or triggering his anger. I thought I didn’t deserve any better. I lived in such a state of constant fear that it’s a wonder that didn’t kill me before he tried to.”
Every muscle in his body tensed in reaction. He heard her take in a shuddering breath as she prepared to voice what he assumed to be the hardest part of her story. Without even thinking of what he was doing, he laid his hand—palm up—on the ground between them. She’d once offered him reassurance in a small touch, he could offer her the same courtesy.
The motion caught her eye as she glanced down and saw his silent offering—support, strength, and comfort in the gesture. All to let her know she wasn’t alone, not now or ever. One hand fell from where she gripped her legs, reaching out for his hand, her fingers just barely curling around his.
“One night he went too far,” she breathed into the night air.
Eris felt the pain in every syllable. His fingers twitched against hers.
“Similarly to what led to the first time he put his hands on me, I don’t recall what led to this night either. All I remember was pain and paralyzing fear.”
He squeezed her fingers gently in silent encouragement, giving her the needed courage to continue.
“Rhysand said I had a black eye, broken nose, busted lip, several broken bones—including a few ribs—and a massive head wound that had left me so bloody and broken he later admitted that, at first sight, he’d been terrified I was already gone.”
Wrath raced through his bloodstream, nothing but pure wrath. High Fae were harder to kill, yes, but he also knew the strength they had. If that brute force had been taken out on an individual…it would very much leave them in a state just like she’d described. His eyes closed briefly—not only to settle the intense emotions swirling in him—but because of all she’d just revealed.
He couldn’t bear to imagine the female sitting in front of him—the same he’d seen display such fierceness and strength—reduced to nothing, physically and emotionally.
“Finneas left me for dead in that alley behind Rita’s. That’s where Rhysand found me. He healed me as best as he could before he brought me to the library—where others like me resided. Ones who experienced such unimaginable horrors. This is where I’ve been for the last five years.”
There was still one question that nagged him, that he knew he needed the answer to. If only to calm the rage that made his blood boil.
“What happened to him,” Eris snarled through clenched teeth.
“Rhysand hunted him down and looked into his mind to see what he’d done—to avoid me having to relive it by telling him. Then he killed him.”
Eris was of the mind to consider the male lucky because with the way he was feeling, he knew he would’ve done the same thing if he was still alive and breathing.
As he studied her, in the aftermath of sharing all that she had, he realized how much of it made sense now. Her reluctance around males, the confidence that had been shredded to pieces, the haunted look in her eyes that first night he’d found her up here. That was why she’d looked like a frightened animal when he’d unintentionally startled her.
It was also the explanation as to why she’d been in the library for so long. Not because she was weak, as he’d once assumed, but because her life had been so brutally interrupted that rebuilding it was no simple matter. He’d been an asshole about it—questioning why she was still living there—all because he was furious at fate.
He had just opened his mouth to apologize for that encounter, once again, but apparently there was more she felt the need to share.
“I started having nightmares again last week. It pulled me back into such a dark place that I felt I could no longer maintain the female I thought I was becoming. I was terrified of you seeing me like this too, afraid when you inevitably discovered the truth you’d see me differently or think me foolish for allowing this to happen to me—”
He said her name so sharply that her eyes instantly flew to him. She’d been staring at where their hands were still loosely connected as if he was the only thing grounding her in reality.
“The only way I see you is as a female who finally decided to take her life back after some asshole tried to crush her spirit,” he said vehemently, “You are not lesser for what you’ve had to endure, you hear me?”
She managed a small nod, tears finally flooding her eyes. That tugging pain in his chest returned as the tears began to fall down her cheeks.
“I think I knew for a while I wanted to tell you, I was just so scared that when you knew the truth…you’d leave too. I was forced long ago to believe that I could count on no one but myself—that getting too close to people would only end badly.”
The painful truth was that she had no idea just how much he understood that sentiment. All the instincts he’d been pushing down for months swelled again and this time, he didn’t ignore them as gently he pulled her into his arms.
He found himself surprised at the gesture because this wasn’t how he usually offered reassurance, but then again it was rare he offered it to begin with. With her though—with her, it felt natural as she fit perfectly in his arms, against his chest. His arms settled around her, one broad hand flat against the center of her back, thumb brushing soothing strokes back and forth.
The tears weren’t the dramatic sobs he’d half expected, but more quiet. As if something within her was fracturing but rebuilding stronger—a healing of sorts. More than a small part of him hoped that even sharing her story with him would go a long way in her healing.
Her arms stayed bent against his chest, pressed between both of their bodies as her own expelled all the pain and grief of the last week—and likely far longer. Between quiet gasps of breath and sniffles, he felt her fingers tangle in the lengths of his hair, as if they’d always belonged there. He said nothing though as he sat and held her, content to be there for as long as she needed.
If only to let her know that she’d never have to be alone again.
•••
You didn’t know how much time passed or how long Eris sat holding you in his arms. You felt so incredibly raw and exposed, bordering on feeling shameful and embarrassed by not only your past, but your reaction to it.
You briefly thought about apologizing for your dramatics when the rumble of his voice in his chest made you pause. But it was the words that stopped you cold.
“I’ve been tortured by my father more than I care to admit.”
You stiffened, the words clanging through you with such strength you struggled to make sense of them. Slowly, so incredibly slowly, you pulled out of his arms. His grip loosened as you sat back to look up at him.
His face gave nothing away, the tenderness and concern of earlier completely replaced by cold indifference—distance. His mouth was set in a straight line, jaw tense, eyes devoid of any of the warmth you knew they’d been capable of in the past. Of mere moments before.
“What?”
Your voice absolutely cracked around the word. You couldn’t explain why, but it felt like a fist had reached into your chest and ripped your heart out, straight through your ribs, the pain and panic that flooded you, instantaneous and irrational.
“As you’ve probably gathered, my father isn’t a pleasant person. I’ve long known what sort of creature he is.”
His touch slid from your body, the loss of the comfort and warmth leaving you cold—almost as cold as his confession had. He rubbed his jaw nervously, the first time you’d seen him so ruffled, if you were honest.
“I understand what you’ve endured more than you realize,” Eris finally said, anger flashing in those amber eyes.
You gasped softly as flames sparked to life in his eyes at the first sign of his anger. You’d halfway noticed it and dismissed it earlier, too focused on getting what you needed to say out. But now, you could see the golden flames sizzling in his eyes. His eyes closed and he took a deep breath before opening them again, the flames having vanished as he reined his emotions in.
“I understand because my father is exactly the same kind of male as the one that hurt you.”
You once didn’t think you could take anymore pain, that nothing could hurt worse than the suffering you’d survived. But somehow, this was a new kind of torture. You wanted to scream, cry, howl in reaction to what Eris was telling you, you hurt so deeply for him.
You knew how horrible it was to experience what you had, so to know Eris had far too much experience with similar things—things that nearly broke you—almost shattered you into a million pieces.
“Do you recall how I mentioned Lucien once got along with the lesser faeries of Autumn?”
You merely nodded, still unable to find the words to say.
“Unfortunately, he fell in love with one of them—Jesminda. My father—” he sneered at the word, “—took it upon himself to display just how much he disapproved of his son falling in love with a female not good enough for a High Lord’s son. He had her executed in front of Lucien.”
You gasped, horror making you recoil slightly.
“Beron also delights in putting his hands on my mother—and me.”
His jaw worked as he looked away from you. Your heart pounded, unable to process fully what he was saying.
“Myself? I can deal with that. But my mother?”
Barely restrained fury rippled his body.
“She deserves none of that,” he said, voice so cold you had the good sense to know that one day he would make the High Lord of Autumn pay for his actions.
“Eris.”
His name seemed to rip from your throat. His gaze had gone distant as he’d stared out across the darkened training ring. At the sound of his name on your lips, his eyes slid to yours.
“What do you mean he tortures you?”
His answer was so blunt it made you want to vomit on the ground you sat on.
“He’s been known to dose me with Faebane—to keep me weakened and slow the healing—then inflict pain on me, leaving injuries that take twice as long to heal. The reason why differs between him wanting information from me to pure enjoyment, depending on the day.”
A broken sound escaped you. He must’ve seen how pale you’d turned, how sick you probably looked in response. He ran a hand through his hair—the first time you’d ever seen him do such a thing, his fingers tangling in the lengthy strands. He looked as rattled and off balance as you felt, the emotional maelstrom of the night seemingly taking a toll on both of you.
“I’m sorry. I probably should be more tactful while telling you such things. You’ve already experienced enough of such horrors.”
“There is no nice way to phrase things like this,” you whispered.
“No,” he murmured, eyes meeting yours, “There isn’t.”
“I am so sorry,” you breathed.
It wasn’t pity you were expressing—after all, you knew you’d abhor pity as well—but sheer understanding and empathy you were trying to convey.
“I shared this because I wanted you to know that I understood. Especially the part about not being able to rely on others.”
You opened your mouth—to say what exactly, you didn’t know—but he continued, as if he knew how much at a loss for words you were.
“I learned long ago that relying on others was dangerous.”
Your face tightened with concern, the ache within you spreading. You knew what that was like—the fear and hesitancy that came with putting your trust in someone enough to depend on them. But Eris was also a male positioned to inherit a throne, you could only imagine how much deadlier his circumstances were, in comparison to your own.
“The world I was raised in values power more than anything. Affection becomes leverage. Weakness becomes entertainment. The only person one can count on is oneself. Which was why you came as such a surprise.”
You blinked, surprised. You didn’t miss how Eris appeared like he wished he could take the words back—like he’d said too much.
“Me?”
“Yes,” his voice was rough, gravelly, “I think, with you, I started to learn what trust looks like—what it should look like.”
You realized he had done the exact same thing for you, without you even being aware. Gratitude towards the male in front of you rushed through you like a gentle caress. Your eyes traced the pattern of the splattering of freckles across his cheeks before your eyes returned to his amber gaze—where it was already steady on you.
“I’m sorry for what you had to endure,” Eris murmured, “But I’m very glad I met you.”
You didn’t break his gaze as you answered.
“I am too,” you whispered, not wanting to break the precious moment, but adding, “And I, too, am sorry for what you endure, Eris.”
You knew words wouldn’t be able to soothe the hurts caused. You didn’t even think you had the appropriate words. So you did what he had for you earlier in the night, laying your hand on the ground between the two of you—palm facing the sky—giving him the option to reach out for you if he wanted it.
His eyes dipped to the gesture and a beat later, his warm hand covered yours, fingers lacing through your own. It didn’t make things better, didn’t erase the horror either of you had experienced. But as you leaned into him, your head gently resting against his shoulder, his hand interwoven with yours, you realized just exactly what it was.
It was an, I see you.
•••
ERIS
“Tell me about your bookstore.”
Though life continued on after the night he’d bared his soul to her—after she had to him—he was still shaken after hearing her story.
He watched her differently now during training sessions, understanding the importance of taking back the power, building her strength and resilience after such horrible circumstances had tried to knock her down permanently. It hurt every part of him so much to hear what sort of brutality she had endured—from someone she thought she could trust, too.
He watched her carefully when they were alone up on this rooftop, just as he was tonight.
He hadn’t initially planned on sharing about his own grievances—hadn’t wanted pity. But somehow, the words had come tumbling out. It was odd how she always seemed to put him at a sense of ease without even trying.
She’d offered him no pity though—just mere understanding and her presence. Somehow, that night, a solidarity had formed between them during their shared tales and the quiet moments in between.
Once, a few nights after their conversation, he could tell she had been hesitant to ask what lingered on her mind. They hadn’t spoken much of his own set of circumstances and he’d appreciated that she hadn’t made a big deal of it. But still, she asked.
“You’ll tell me if it happens again, won’t you? I refuse to let you deal with that alone,” she’d said with such determination, her chin titled in defiance, shoulders straight, that he couldn’t refuse her request.
“I will,” he’d promised.
He’d meant it too.
Beron was never one for predictability. There were some periods he went months—even years—without resorting to brutal tactics to keep him in line. Sometimes, it happened more often in a shorter timespan. Currently, it’d been a while since he’d borne the brunt of his father’s wrath.
But Eris knew when the inevitable came, thoughts of her would be the only thing to get him through—and as much as every fiber of him wanted to protect her from such cruelty, he knew he’d keep his promise to her. He’d come to realize she was much stronger than he’d initially assumed.
Now, tonight, under the full moon, he sat, once again playing chess with her.
She moved her knight forward toward the center of the board and his eyes sparked with knowing. His gaze scanned over the chess pieces, spotting the damning move plainly. He wondered if she did, too.
She’d positioned all her pieces in the middle of the board like he’d taught her to and had also prioritized moving only some of her pawns out early—a common strategy as it wasn’t wise to advance them all too quickly. After getting her knights and bishops in play, she’d begun to make the more tactical moves.
His eyes roamed the board and saw all her pieces carefully positioned in a way that had his king trapped. He saw the exact move she could make to checkmate him.
But he hadn’t spoken now in an attempt to distract her, but out of mere curiosity. The little piece of her history that he hadn’t known had stuck with him, intrigued him.
She smiled faintly at the pleasant memories he was sure surfaced.
“It was just a small shop,” she brushed it off with a modest shrug, “It was a place of peace at one point. Then again, I think I’ve always been happiest if I’m surrounded by books.”
He smiled at the sentiment—one he shared wholeheartedly.
“You still have fond memories even with him so entangled in them?”
Her shoulders stiffened and he bit back a curse. It had been careless to ask such a thing—even more so in the tactless way he’d done it. But then he watched her instantly relax again, as if she’d begun realizing that she wouldn’t shatter into pieces every time the horrible male of her past was mentioned. He studied her as she worried at her lip, studying the chess pieces. He wasn’t sure if she was actually focusing on the game or her answer to his question.
“Yes, I do,” she eventually responded, “Because my love for books is something so grand that no one has the power to take that away from me.”
His chest warmed again—it’d been doing that a lot here lately, annoyingly so. The very present bond still very much hidden inside of him had become harder to disassociate from.
“I’m happy to hear that,” he murmured.
“Isn’t it ironic though?”
“Hm?”
She laughed, pushing strands of her long hair over her shoulder and out of her way.
“That even here, I somehow managed to end up surrounded by books.”
He was sure that amusement showed on his face because he’d had the same thought.
“What did you call it?” he asked.
“Don’t laugh,” she pointed at him seriously.
He arched a brow.
“I promise I won’t.”
“Under The Stars Bookshop.”
He blinked at her, the irony enough to make a short burst of disbelieving laughter to escape.
“You said you wouldn’t laugh!” she huffed, exasperated, “I know, it’s a little on the nose, but I liked how it sounded.”
“It’s not that,” he grinned, “It’s just…rather appropriate, don’t you think?”
His gaze tilted upwards to the opening of the training ring, the stars twinkling bright, high above them.
“You know, since you’ve become rather acquainted with the stars, lately,” he quipped.
“Is this your way of calling yourself the moon to my stars?” she teased.
She said it so playfully, but the question settled between them, making him pause. In a way, she had become like the stars, shining in an immortal life—his life—that had become so dark. She, herself, had emerged from darkness with a light that refused to dim, no matter how much the world tried.
It reminded him of the warmth in his chest that had only grown stronger in her presence as of late.
“Yeah,” he murmured, “Something like that, actually.”
“It is rather interesting how the threads of life seem to weave together so seamlessly, isn’t it?”
That internal thread seemed to flutter in response. As he watched her return her gaze to the chessboard—likely contemplating her next move—realization dawned on him slowly. The truth washed over him, undeniable. His eyes followed as fingers tucked loose strands behind her arched ear.
These nights of companionship hadn’t been out of duty or obligation—even if they’d initially been born from that. They had continued because he’d enjoyed them. Because, somewhere along the way, he’d begun to look forward to them. The temporary absence of them had left him at a loss—affecting him far more than he cared to admit.
He pushed the thoughts down, tucking them away. Close—too close to something he couldn’t afford.
Instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own.
“How are you? Has it been a good day today?”
He’d fallen into the habit recently of checking in with her—questioning if it had been a good or bad day for her. It settled something inside of him to know the good days far outweighed the bad.
“It has,” she smiled, “I think it’s about to get even better though.”
His mouth quirked to the side.
“Is that so?”
“Oh, yes,” she answered, nonchalantly, moving her bishop in just the precise move his knowing eyes caught earlier, completely trapping his king.
“Checkmate, Eris.”
She was beaming so brightly that he couldn’t help but smile back at her, pride welling in his chest. She radiated excitement and joy at finally beating him.
“Well deserved, I do believe,” he bent his head in recognition, the smile still lingering on his face.
She was resetting the board, putting the pieces back on their rightful squares when her soft, hesitant comment floated into the air between them.
“What about you?”
He cocked his head in confusion.
“What about me, what?”
“Is it a good day for you?” she bit her lip as she looked back up at him.
He wasn’t stupid. He knew by the look in her eyes, the things she said—and didn’t say—that she was concerned for him. He wasn’t purposely trying to brush her off, but he knew there wasn’t much he could say to soothe any of her worry due to his own circumstances. It was what it was.
“It’s always a good day when I get to see you,” he crooned.
She huffed a laugh, shaking her head. But she was persistent and didn’t give up—not that he expected her to.
“I’m serious, though.”
The smirk tugged at his lips.
“So am I, priestess.”
“Eris,” she gave him an exasperated look.
He didn’t think he’d ever tire of hearing his name on her lips. It was hard to believe not too long ago he didn’t care if he ever did or not. Curious how drastically some things could change.
“You’d let me know if there was anything I could do for you, right? I mean after all you’ve done for me…”
“Your company is more than enough,” he assured, falling serious for a moment.
She didn’t look entirely satisfied with the answer. It was strange, he had to admit, to have someone care so deeply they were offering up more than they even had the capacity to give—all in the name of compassion.
“You know what could make my day better?” he prompted.
“What?”
He jerked his chin towards the wooden pole where the ribbon hung from. He knew she’d been avoiding it. In fact, she hadn’t even attempted to cut it since before that black hole of despair had nearly swallowed her again.
A few more in the class had managed to cut it, though she and a handful of other priestesses were still left. She just scowled at his silent request.
“I hate that thing,” she muttered.
“You’ve never struck me to be a quitter,” he drawled.
Anger sparked in her eyes. Good. Strong emotions were typically the best motivators.
“Because I’m not,” she shot back.
“Then why haven’t you cut the ribbon?”
He sat back, folding his arms across his chest as he studied her. Her lips pressed together as her own arms crossed—more in a defensive and protective way than his change of position had been.
“I can’t do it—I’ve tried.”
“Can’t? Or won’t?” he pressed.
As a result, something in her seemed to snap.
“I’ve failed at too much in my life—protecting myself, ignoring what was right in front of me before it was too late, not being able to heal. This is just another thing I’ve failed at. I can’t even be a good friend to you! At least not in the way you have been to me.”
Her chest heaved, breath fast and uneven, clearly overwhelmed from the torrent of emotions that had just struck her.
“I need you to listen to me,” he said so quietly that her shoulders stiffened in response.
It was the deadly quiet, severe voice he used as a courtier—the one that let others know he meant business.
“You have not failed at anything in your life. You have not failed me. But right now, the only mistake you’re making is not letting yourself have the opportunity to prove yourself—and others—wrong. The tragedy here is you giving up on yourself, nothing else.”
She was quiet, teeth worrying the corner of her bottom lip as her gaze avoided his. He knew well enough that she was processing his words though.
What if I can’t do it?” she asked, voice so small it made his previous stern demeanor soften considerably.
No, she wasn’t a female who gave up easily. But she was also a female that had been beaten down by life far too many times. Even though she had shown remarkable bravery and determination in the time he’d known her, he knew it wasn’t unusual for her to doubt herself and her capabilities too.
“I did this,” she motioned around them to the training ring, “So he wouldn’t win—I can’t let him win. I was so tired of being weak and afraid. But I can’t even do something as simple as cutting a damn ribbon.”
She watched warily as he stood, brushing off the legs of his finely tailored pants. Rounding where the chessboard lay, he slid a hand under her arm and pulled her to her feet—not roughly, but with enough strength and ease that she knew he was serious.
“Come here.”
She followed after him silently as he led her across the ring to in front of the wooden beam. He paused there and pointed to it.
“You are not doing this because of him. You’re not doing it for me. You’re not doing it for Cassian, Azriel, Gwyn, Nesta, Emerie or any of the other priestesses. You are doing it for yourself.”
She stayed quiet, watching him as he spoke to her—to the soul that was still fragile despite the progress she’d made.
“This is only a small part of what you’re facing. It’s a challenge but it’s not impossible—and I know you realize that too.”
Her head turned to peer back at the ribbon—the daunting truth dangling before her. He took in her profile as she did so. His stomach clenched as the dangerous truth that’d struck him earlier once again attempted to claw its way to the forefront of his mind.
Instead, he did something unusual. He didn’t think twice about it as his hand lifted and he gently grasped her chin in his thumb and forefinger, turning her face towards him. He’d rarely been so bold in touching her. Once, he’d been apprehensive of startling her. The last time he’d touched her was that night they sat in the moonlight, their hands connected as their own personal histories tangled in the air between them.
Her eyes met his, her lips parting in surprise at his unexpected gesture, but she did not look afraid.
“He will never win because you’re far stronger than you give yourself credit for,” Eris whispered, “The moment you picked up that sword—the moment you stepped into the training ring—the moment you made the decision to no longer fear, that is when he lost.”
She stared up at him, utterly silent. The look of vulnerability and trust that shone in her eyes was enough to undo him completely.
“You once chose to fight for yourself—to take back your life. I want you to see it through.”
He didn’t intend to do it, but his thumb brushed her jaw lightly—just once—before his touch fell from her face. His gaze remained steady on her even as the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, playful.
“For what it’s worth, I believe in you.”
A beat passed, the air between them taut as their gazes remained locked. She seemed to turn over his words in her mind. He was the first to break the connection, eyes dropping away as he cleared his throat. He stepped away, momentarily, walking to the weapons rack. He pulled a sword free, carrying it back to her. He held it out towards her for her to take.
“Why don’t you try to cut it, and we can walk through it step by step? Maybe then we can figure out—together—what’s holding you back.”
She watched him curiously, newfound determination in her eyes. Still, she reached out and took the blade from his hands. As she settled it in her grasp, she finally responded to him. He didn’t expect the words that followed though.
“It’s okay to believe in yourself too, Eris.”
His eyes met hers once more, quiet acknowledgement in them—letting her see his appreciation for her belief in him, even when they’d been discussing her. A slight dip of his chin was all the response he gave before he stepped backwards, prepared to observe.
“Now, show me what you’ve got, priestess.”
•••
One test remained.
Months ago, you’d left the library for the first time in five years. You’d begun exceeding in your training, you’d even beaten Eris at chess—though that wasn’t something you’d ever expected to do.
Now, you stood in front of the ribbon.
You knew Eris was present—could sense him nearby. But for the moment, all of your focus was trained on the strip of white.
Flashes of all the horrible things that had led you to this moment appeared in your mind. You saw all the times Finneas had struck you, the times you felt you’d never heal from wounds so deep, the female you’d once been.
Never again. You owed it to yourself to leave that version in the past—to thank her for leading you here, all while acknowledging she wasn’t who you were meant to be forever.
It had been a dark place you’d emerged from the day you’d set foot in the training ring—but what you hadn’t realized then was it had marked the beginning of something new. While those experiences would always be a part of your story, that broken version of yourself no longer defined you. New images replaced the ones that flashed in your mind.
The group of females you’d spent countless hours training beside, through rain or shine.
The pride you’d felt when you’d mastered your first combination of sword movements.
The joy on Gwyn’s and Clotho’s faces as your life began to take new shape and you’d begun to thrive.
A male who had once put you on edge, only to become a familiar and welcome presence in your life.
Red hair and a scattering of freckles across a pale face. The way amber eyes brightened ever so slightly when a smile graced his lips. Soft chuckles. Laughter. Encouraging words that had been shared many a night.
Mostly, you remembered the feeling of power that came with each accomplishment, especially when you’d thought it impossible. You’d approached numerous hurdles such a way, healing and training being the two biggest.
But somewhere along the way, you’d learned you could do these things for yourself. Had been encouraged by such an incredible group of individuals—all who were standing and watching you take this step.
Varied encouragements were spoken aloud to you from your sisters, Gwyn included.
“You can do it,” she said to your left.
“You got this,” Nesta added, tone serious but genuine in her own encouragement.
“We believe in you!” Emerie chirped, excitement tinging her voice.
For what it’s worth, I believe in you.
The words floated through you like a phantom wind—as if he were right next to you, speaking the words aloud.
With a deep inhale, you lifted the sword—ready to face the ribbon once and for all.
•••
ERIS
Eris could feel it in his bones that today would be the day.
A few nights ago, they’d run through all of her positionings and movements, and had broken it down to each minute movement. He hadn’t been able to detect anything amiss—she was hitting every mark perfectly.
Deep down, he wondered if it was a mental block and not one stemming from her physical form. He’d noticed in that period, when she’d almost fallen back into the pit of despair, that she’d stopped attempting to cut the ribbon at the beginning and end of training as they all had been doing.
Perhaps mentally she had thought she wasn’t capable of it.
But Eris knew she could. He’d known it before she’d proved it to him that night—when he’d watched the way her movements had flowed as smoothly as silk, as easily as waves of the sea.
In the days since, the rest of the females left had faced the ribbon and cut it. Now, it was her turn.
She stood before the white ribbon, her blade in hand. Concentration was etched deep on her face. Every muscle in her body was taut, primed for the strike. She stared down the ribbon like one would their opponent.
He stood on the edge of the ring with Azriel and Cassian, his arms folded over his chest as he watched. The other females were gathered around her, in solidarity, already figuratively cheering for her as if she’d already cut the ribbon. Clearly they had just as much belief in her as he did.
Similar to the way she’d joined training, she was the last one who’d yet to cut the ribbon. Though she may be last, she wasn’t any less important. Her accomplishment would be just as impactful as everyone else’s—especially to him.
She lifted the sword in both hands, held near her right shoulder as she took in the white ribbon that fluttered before her.
Time seemed to slow as the sword left her shoulder. She stepped forward, her weapon arcing through the air a heartbeat later. As it approached the ribbon, her wrist turned slightly, angling the blade perpendicular to the hanging fabric. In the last second, she twisted her body just slightly, adding power to the cut.
The sharp blade cut cleanly through the middle of the ribbon and Eris watched as the bottom half fluttered to the ground. A symphony of cheers broke out around the training ring as she realized what she’d done.
Overwhelming pride filled him as he watched the way the females ran to hug her—the last sister to finally achieve the title of Valkyrie. Her expression of shock made a smile tug at his lips.
He’d always known she could do it.
It was Gwyn who bent to the ground, picking up the scrap of ribbon, tying it across her brow—just like every other female in this ring had been crowned in their victory. He saw the female’s teal eyes shining with delight even from where he stood.
“Valkyrie,” the red-haired female whispered.
She smiled brightly as fingers touched the silk on her brow. The joy that lit her entire demeanor made something in him sing, glowing so brightly in answer that the words came unbidden to the forefront of his mind.
His mate.
The words clanged through him in a way not unlike the way the mating bond had. It was the first time he’d truly acknowledged who she was to him without any sense of anger, hesitancy or fear.
He was proud to call her his mate. In fact he was even prouder to be her mate. The truth from the other night returned with an undeniable force as he gazed upon her celebration.
He was in love with her.
She finally turned his way, her eyes catching his, a small huff of laughter escaping her—as if she couldn’t believe the reality. Then she did something he didn’t see coming.
His mate rushed from where she’d been across the ring and launched herself into his arms.
She threw hers around him as she hugged him tight. The force of her impact caused him to stumble half a step backwards but he exhaled a small laugh of his own as he wrapped his arms around her body. He knew everyone was staring but he couldn’t be bothered to care as he stood there, holding the female that had been created perfectly for him.
His equal. His mate.
She had done it.
•••
The fire in you lasted for days, to the point you felt like you floated through the world. There was such lightness to your steps—to your entire existence if you were honest.
You hadn’t needed the ribbon test to prove that you were capable or were worth it. You hadn’t needed the validation that you were as much of a warrior as your sisters, but accomplishing it had proven something to you.
Fear no longer gripped you. The empowerment that you’d felt in the months of training—all the friendship and support you’d found along this journey—had gotten you to this point. You’d never imagined you’d be a female that felt so strong, so certain about her place in life, but here you were.
You weren’t completely healed, no, but this had shown you that healing was far more achievable than you’d once thought it to be.
You showed up every morning for training, genuine joy in your heart and an eagerness to learn more—to push yourself harder. It was made even better knowing Eris was there. Often, lately, nightly discussions turned to training—positions and movements—now that your knowledge had expanded enough to have conversations on the matters.
Training didn’t cease simply because everyone had now cut the ribbon, thus earning the title of Valkyrie. Cassian, Azriel and Eris still had much to teach you—throwing everything they had at you. There was still much to learn, they'd said.
And all the females had been eager to learn more.
Life, while remaining busy, seemed to fall into an effortless routine. Training in the mornings, your normal job of assisting Clotho, priestesses services and nightly rendezvous with the heir of Autumn. You had begun seeing your counselor again, eager to utilize the services once more, motivated more than ever to continue the journey of healing. There’d even been some brief talk of one day soon leaving the library, if you chose to.
While your future still seemed to be up in the air, it was comforting to have stability in your every day routine—the privilege of being able to rely on familiar things.
Such as Eris.
It had been odd, recently, how you seemed to light up from within every time your eyes landed on him. When he was around, your heart seemed to sing. A smile would find its way to your lips at the mere thought of him.
So it wasn’t unusual when you had found him on the roof as per usual. But today had been a tad different. You’d felt an unexplainable pull upwards—a desire to ascend the steps a few hours earlier than you usually had. Following that instinct had come with the pleasant surprise of finding Eris already waiting for you.
The two of you had been out here since sunset—Eris having winnowed the both of you to the exact spot he once had for the both of you to watch the sunrise, so long ago. The daylight had softened into hues of pink and orange as nighttime rapidly approached.
As the sun slowly slid beyond the horizon, the sky became painted in vibrant shades of orange that bled into golden yellows, a soft pink blurring the edges where the sunset met the quickly fading blue of day. You and Eris sat in companionable silence as the darkening sky overwhelmed the last of the sunset, the dazzling palette finally surrendering to night.
Late nights with Eris, as of late, had come with more variety than ever. Some involved chess games, others came with sitting and talking as usual. Occasionally, both you and he would grab a sword and you’d get to practice your newfound skills while sparring against him. You’d come to look forward to those instances the most.
The stars were finally winking into existence when you broke the comfortable silence.
“Living doesn’t seem as hard anymore,” you mused aloud.
You hadn’t meant for the sentiment to slip out, but something about the peace that surrounded the two of you—that filled you entirely—left you feeling more honest than normal.
When you looked over at Eris, you found him already studying you, as if digesting your statement.
“I’m glad to hear that,” he eventually responded, earnestly.
“Taking it a day at a time helps, I think.”
You turned back to the starry sky, your eyes full of wonder at the sight. It was strange, yet remarkable, how the world seemed to hold much more beauty and brightness now that you felt lighter. It was as if your eyes had at last opened to all the world had to offer.
When Eris didn’t answer, your gaze slid back to him at your side. You found him still staring at you, as if he hadn’t torn his eyes from you for several minutes. Your heart fluttered at the intensity in those amber eyes. They seemed to swirl with so much emotion that he didn’t know how to convey.
“What?” you breathed, curious about his attention.
He seemed to be turning his answer over in that sharp mind of his, lips pursing slightly as he pondered. Mother help you, your eyes definitely caught that tiny shift, and you quickly dragged your attention away from that particular distraction.
“You look different these days,” he observed, “Calmer. Steadier. Happier.”
“I think I am,” you smiled, feeling that sense of contentment settle in your chest again, “And you? Are you happy?”
For all your happiness, you weren’t exactly sure why you felt such a need to know that he was okay too. He wasn’t one to speak much about his own grievances—nor did he want pity, which you understood well. But you also knew he was aware he could talk to you if he ever needed to. You believed his initial promise to tell you if anything changed.
You took that as a good sign that it hadn’t yet. Mentally, you sent a wish to the Mother, herself, that she protect him. Eris had done so much for you—he deserved peace and happiness as well.
You expected a teasing smile or a snarky comment in response to your question. Instead, his face remained carefully neutral, though you saw softness in his eyes. That intense fluttering sensation returned, stronger this time.
“I think I’m the closest to experiencing happiness that I’ve ever been.”
His normally deep voice, tinged with the smoothness and easy charm of a courtier and heir, was softer now, roughened around the edges. Truth laced his every word. The honesty of the moment surprised you so much that a teasing remark slipped from your lips for a change instead of his.
“Well of course, I’m delightful,” you parroted his teasing remark from a long ago training session.
He laughed, realizing it as well. The smile remained on his lips as he took you in.
“You’re definitely different than the female I first met.”
“You’re different than the male I first encountered,” you teased, smile faltering for a moment, “For a while, initially, I had far too much fear that you were just like…him.”
While you’d acknowledged he’d forever be a part of your history, you no longer felt the desire to say his name. It was a little thing, but not naming him gave you the ability to bury him—leave him behind—like he’d always deserved to be.
“I don’t know whether to be insulted or concerned,” he replied dryly.
You huffed a laugh, shaking your head at your past self.
“Well for one, he was a lord’s son—you’re a High Lord’s son. You both had that same intensity. And it didn’t help that you walked around with such a cold demeanor that one might’ve thought you hailed from the Winter Court. Not to mention, from the moment we met, it seemed like you took an unusual interest in me. It was unsettling at first. It made me think perhaps the same pattern that happened with him was repeating itself.”
His amusement from a moment earlier vanished, face tightening in concern and regret.
“I apologize—as it was never my intention to make you fearful of me.”
But the truth had eventually made itself clear. Eris had never been like him. Eris had been the one to show you what it meant to trust again—something so precious after it had once been ripped from you. The realization hit hard enough that you couldn’t contain it. You knew you needed to tell him.
“You could never be like him, Eris. Or your father for that matter.”
You didn’t regret the last part that slipped out, unvetted. But the surprise that lit his face made your unexpected declaration that much more worth it. You had the feeling very few had ever said such a thing to him. Deciding to push your luck, you made sure he knew the depth of your sincerity.
“You’re a better male than they’ll ever be.”
Eris had never been one to be vulnerable, easily, you’d learned. So it surprised you when he actually responded to the declaration of his character.
“I appreciate you saying that,” he said, quietly.
It wasn’t overly exposed, but you picked up on the sincerity.
You and he had been sitting shoulder to shoulder since he’d winnowed the both of you up here, but now he shifted, stretching his legs out. One booted foot drifted toward yours, nudging it lightly—almost imperceptibly—before speaking again.
“I’m proud of you. You’ve come a long way.”
Your chest warmed at the compliment, one corner of your mouth tilting upwards.
“I’m proud of myself too.”
You turned contemplative, finally deciding to voice something that had been turning over in your mind for weeks now. It had been even more persistent lately—ever since you’d cut the ribbon. Your gaze momentarily turned back to the sparkling night sky.
“It’s strange. It almost feels as if I was always meant to cross paths with you.”
You turned back to him, fully prepared for him to scoff at your silly comment, perhaps even laugh it off. Instead, you discovered he’d shifted closer to you—closer than he’d been a moment ago. Your voice gentled even further as you found the bravery to continue your line of thought.
“Almost like fate or the Mother willed it. I think—” you paused as you gazed up at him, “I think I was always meant to end up here.”
Something flickered in his eyes—perhaps an acknowledgement of sorts. It was there and gone too quickly for you to decipher. You forgot your desire to a heartbeat later when his eyes dipped to your lips.
“Yes,” he whispered, “I believe you were.”
He was close enough that you could count every single freckle that dotted his skin. He was beautiful—you’d always thought so. Even when you’d been unsure of him, it had been something you couldn’t deny, down to your very core.
The pull that tugged you forward felt similar to the one you’d felt earlier when you’d found him on the roof. It was oddly akin to the one you’d subtly felt around him all along. You didn’t spend energy on it as you closed the distance, your lips brushing the warm ones awaiting yours.
Something exploded in your chest, a mixture of happiness and golden light that you couldn’t see but could sense. You felt gentle fingers brush your jaw as hesitancy faded into certainty and the kiss deepened.
A sense of rightness settled over you the moment your lips had connected to his. It came with a sense of belonging—as if you’d truly found where you were meant to be all along. As your hands found his chest, fingers tangling in the ends of his long locks, you felt something tug at your rib—almost like the foreign object wrapped around it—before it settled deeply into your heart.
Much too soon, he was pulling away, but was clearly unable to resist leaning back again as his lips met yours a second time. His hand finally cupped your face in his large palm, touch so tender against it that it made you melt further into the kiss.
You couldn’t stop—didn’t want to stop—as his tongue swept into your mouth, a soft sigh escaping you. One hand slid past the curtain of his hair and curled around the back of his neck. His skin was so soft—as soft as his lips beneath yours.
Your mind was a haze of bliss as lips parted and met repeatedly—a series of kisses tumbling one after another. He tilted your head ever so slightly as he gave you one last lingering kiss, enough to steal the breath from your lungs.
He pulled away so achingly slow—though that may have been due to how you missed his lips already. It took a moment for your eyes to flutter open and you found the familiar amber gaze waiting for you.
Realization slammed into you—as if you’d known all along but was just catching up, your soul just now clueing you in. Your gasp was quiet, though not dramatic, nothing but pure surprise filling you. You weren’t sure what your face conveyed, but it was as if he knew exactly what was happening.
Questions seemed to flood your mind, dangle off the tip of your tongue, but they suddenly seemed less than important. His hand still caressed your face, his thumb moving in the barest hint of a stroke across your cheek.
“You’re right where you belong,” he murmured.
In hindsight, it was so obvious. The ease and comfort he’d always provided you. The protectiveness you’d been feeling towards him. The inexplicable intrigue—that tug. All the pieces fell into place in an instant as your eyes remained on his.
Somewhere along all the nights spent together you’d fallen in love with Eris. All this time, you’d been falling in love with him.
A plethora of small moments, interwoven perfectly, had led you here—led you to the very training ring you sat above right now. An intrinsic part of you had always known—always recognized him, it seemed.
A soft, fond smile spread across his lips as he watched the realization dawn on you fully. For the first time in a long time, you felt whole. As you leaned forward and kissed him again, the thought came to you, unbidden.
Borne out of darkness, you’d found healing, growth and most importantly, your mate.
Part 1: To Catch A Priestess | Part 2: The Pull | Part 3: The Connection | Part 5: The Equals
When others start to sense something changing, your friendship with Eris gets increasingly more serious, especially when more late nights come bearing honesty, vulnerability and even some chess lessons. But just as life starts falling into place, you and Eris face obstacles neither one of you anticipated.
Pairing: Eris Vanserra x f!reader
Warnings: brief flashback of domestic violence (towards the end of the part, in italics, if you need to skip it), priestess reader, secret mate bond, longing, slow burn, fluff, lil bit of angst
Word Count: 13.1k
A/N: Welcome to part four of To Catch A Priestess! As I’ve mentioned, I absolutely fell in love with these two while I wrote them, so their journey became a little longer than I initially planned. Please bear with me with the chess scenes as I spent an extensive amount of time researching and reading up on the subject in hopes to write it in a way that was as realistic as possible and in a way that’s understandable. Stick around as the finale will be the next part after this!
Thank you so much @harvest-bunny for all the writing help and beta reading this! 🥰
You were still slightly disoriented and sleepy as you descended the House stairs down to the library, yawning as you went.
You’d apparently fallen asleep on Eris’s shoulder, exhaustion and a lack of sleep finally catching up to you. Which had been embarrassing enough.
He’d sat there with you for hours, letting you sleep, waking you just before sunrise.
“I didn’t want you to miss the sunrise, since you seemed so adamant to see it,” he’d uttered softly as you’d tried to blink the sleep from your eyes.
Even though you’d been humiliated and had apologized profusely, the sunrise had been worth it—the beautiful shades of golden yellow, burnt orange and rose pink coloring the sky as the sun rose above Velaris for another day. You’d stayed a bit longer than necessary, simply taking in the sight.
After the sun had risen fully, the sky was still filled with soft tones of honey gold and tangerine and you gazed in awe, unable to fully comprehend its beauty.
“Worth staying up for?” Eris had teased, an amused glint in his amber eyes as he glanced sidelong at you.
“Technically I slept through most of that waiting for it,” you’d grinned sheepishly.
Soon after, he’d winnowed the both of you back into the training pit, bidding you farewell for another few hours. Even though you'd slept, you were looking forward to crawling into your bed to try and catch a couple more hours of sleep before the day’s training began.
You walked through the quiet library, taking a shortcut back to the dormitories, when you heard a familiar voice coming from a chair in a sitting area you’d just passed.
“I’ve been wondering where you’d disappeared to.”
You turned, having missed the redheaded female who was currently giving you a mischievous smile that you knew only meant trouble. She’d been half hidden by the shadows of the fire that now burned low in the grand stone fireplace.
It also hadn’t helped that she was sitting in a chair facing the same direction you’d been heading. You’d have completely bypassed her, clueless to her presence if she hadn’t spoken.
Gwyn lifted a brow, looking thoroughly amused.
“And just where have you been that entails you coming in just after sunrise?”
You blinked, your drowsy brain still trying to catch up to the fact Gwyn was here in front of you. It wasn’t unusual for her to still come visit even though she’d long ago left the library, herself, but you couldn’t piece together why she’d be here today. At this hour.
“What are you doing here?” you voiced your question.
“Nesta wanted me and Emerie to arrive earlier today—we’re going over some logistics of lessons to teach the others eventually. I thought I’d make my way down here and see if you still had a habit of curling up in front of the fire on nights you couldn’t sleep. When I didn’t find you, I figured you must be asleep, so imagine my surprise when I see you strolling in like you’ve never been to bed.”
You hadn’t, actually. Some nights, right after lights out, you’d head straight to the roof to meet Eris. That usually occurred around midnight—after the more dedicated priestesses finally turned in after a long day of poring over their research, a good few hours after the others had gone to bed.
You finally approached, taking a seat next to her. The fire crackled and popped, soothing to your ears. With this unexpected detour, it didn’t look like you’d be going to sleep anytime soon.
“I haven’t. I still don’t sleep all that well at night sometimes.”
Her face softened in understanding, having once been there as well.
“So if you weren’t awake in the library, where were you?” she questioned.
“On the roof.”
“Not alone, I take it,” she mused.
You startled. Apparently Gwyn didn’t miss a thing.
“What makes you say that?” you hedged.
“Because you walked in with a smile on your face.”
You huffed, indignant.
“What? I did not!”
Though you couldn’t say for sure what had been on your face. All you knew that other than being half asleep still, you’d felt steady—at peace—for a change.
“Hm. So you say. You didn’t happen to be in the company of a certain Autumn male?” she grinned, likely knowing she was right without you even having to answer.
“You’re full of assumptions this morning,” you deflected.
She tossed you an amused look.
“I have thorough deduction skills, give me some credit. Besides, it couldn't be Cassian or Azriel—who I left at home still asleep by the way—and there’s only one male you seem to light up for.”
You gawked at her.
“I do not light up!”
She just chuckled.
“You underestimate how much we’ve all noticed these months. How much I’ve noticed. Such as the way you seemed to take to him? How much attention he seems to be paying you? I don’t see him out here complimenting just any female or brushing their hair out of their face.”
You scowled, not realizing she’d been witness to that strange intimate moment—which had only happened once anyways. You opened your mouth to protest, but Gwyn silenced you with another knowing look. You decided to cave—just a little bit.
“Alright, alright, you dragged it out of me,” you sighed dramatically, “Yes, I was on the roof…with Eris Vanserra.”
You bit your lip, eyes shifting towards the flames in the fireplace—the ones that, annoyingly, reminded you of the male that you’d left not that long ago. Something deep in your chest twisted, felt slightly hollow, as if not being around him left something empty within you. You couldn’t have said why you suddenly missed him so greatly.
You didn’t wait for Gwyn’s response before continuing.
“I’ve been meeting him nightly for more than a month now.”
It sounded absurd to say outloud. Sometimes you had wondered how so much time had passed with nightly encounters like this—and how you’d somehow never been bored with him. There were some nights that were filled with more silence than not, but it was always companionable silence, never awkward—the kind you’d never felt a need to fill. Other nights had been spent with plenty of conversation. You’d found you didn’t care what type of night it was, as long as he was there with you.
Somehow you and Eris always managed to find a topic to discuss.
And somehow…the days had bled into weeks, the weeks into a month and you weren’t quite sure how you’d ended up here. Not that you were complaining, but it did strike you as rather bizarre. Your friend looked genuinely interested in what you had to say as she tucked her legs under her.
“How’d that come to be?”
You exhaled a part breath, part laugh.
“By pure accident, actually. After nightmares kept me awake one night, I decided to head to the roof and get in some extra practice. I was actually working on my hand to hand combat—was busy letting the sparring block have it and we ran into each other.”
“Oh this is a tale as old as time,” Gwyn muttered to herself.
You tossed her a baffled look, in which she waved off while simultaneously motioning for you to continue.
“I was deep in some…bad memories,” you sighed, “And he startled me.”
Your chest was heavy with sorrow for the female you’d been a mere month ago—so frightened, so worn down, so tired of running from the things your mind conjured.
“You see, he hadn’t known I was up there when he arrived. But that’s not the point. He sat with me—across the ring—until I was okay. In fact, he sat with me until an hour or so before sunrise when Azriel stumbled upon us.”
Gwyn’s teal blue eyes seemed to soften, roaming your face, taking in whatever was there. You had no way of knowing just what exactly that was, though.
“That was very kind of him.”
“It was,” you whispered, a tad wistfully, “Then it kind of morphed into…this.”
“Into watching sunrises together?” she teased lightly.
You huffed a laugh, nodding.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Is that why you’re smiling?”
You scoffed again, exasperated, giving Gwyn a bewildered look.
“I am not smiling,” you clarified again, defiantly.
She was trying her best to hold back a smile but didn’t press further. You found yourself continuing on, without the need for any prompting.
“He’s…kind. He listens to me. He makes me laugh. We can talk about anything or even talk about nothing and it never feels like time wasted. He brought me a book he thought I’d might like—I devoured it of course.”
Gwyn giggled, as if she knew you all too well to know you wouldn’t pass up a good book either.
“He got me a bouquet of my favorite flowers. He winnowed us to a cliff on the mountain just above the training ring, simply so I could see the sky when the sunrise happened. I fell asleep on his shoulder and he sat there with me like that the entire night. He even woke me before the sunrise so I wouldn’t miss it.”
Your cheeks colored at the way the words had come rushing from your mouth. You hadn’t intended to share so much, but it was like you couldn’t stop it.
“Sounds like someone special,” Gwyn whispered, no hint of teasing in her voice now.
You shrugged half heartedly.
“He’s my friend.”
You weren’t sure if that was even what Eris was. Gwyn watched you as you tried to gather your thoughts, though, at the moment, they felt too oily—too slippery—for you to grasp. It was as if the harder you tried to make sense of your current set of circumstances, the less you understood it. So, you settled for the truth.
“I think it scares me sometimes.”
Gwyn didn’t know your story—as you didn’t hers—but she knew enough to know why something as intimate as a friendship with Eris could be enough to unnerve you. Simply because it was something new—coming at a time when you were trying to rebuild yourself, your life, especially after facing something that’d impacted and disrupted it for far too long.
“Eris?”
“Him and being vulnerable. It’s scary.”
“Usually the things that are worth it are.”
You sighed heavily, suddenly feeling the weight of too many conflicting emotions weighing down your chest.
“You deserve happiness too, you know.”
You merely nodded absently, not necessarily dismissing the genuine comment from your friend, but because you felt the exhaustion of your emotions and the long night catching up to you.
“I know,” you finally voiced, “But knowing it and accepting it are two different things.”
“I understand that far more than you think,” Gwyn said gently.
You tore your gaze from the dying fire you’d been staring at, looking back over to her. The female looked about ready to say something, but seemed to decide against it.
“You should get some sleep. I know better than to suggest you skip training this morning,” she smirked, knowing your determination well.
You shook your head, dismissing the mere suggestion of the morning off.
“I’ll be there.”
You stood, readying to return to your room when Gwyn spoke your name. You turned, curious.
“I’m proud of you, you know.”
A smile bloomed over your lips, a peaceful joy slowly warming your chest at the unexpected praise.
“Thank you. I’m proud of myself too.”
As you returned to the dorms, ready to crawl into your bed to catch a tiny bit of shut eye, you realized that your conversation with Gwyn had unearthed something within you. It became even more apparent when you caught a glimpse of the vase of chrysanthemums sitting on your desk before you shut your eyes. A quiet happiness settled deep down, a slight smile forming on your lips as you dozed off.
After it had been broken so badly, trust had become something incredibly difficult for you. Yet, somewhere along the way, Eris had earned it.
The last thing you felt before sleep claimed you was gratitude—for his friendship and for the simple fact that he was in your life.
•••
ERIS
He had to give it to her.
Every day—before and after training—she tried to defeat the ribbon. Even if some of her fellow priestesses had begun to conquer it, it didn’t diminish her spirit—though he could tell it was beginning to frustrate her.
“Damn ribbon,” he’d heard her mutter as she stalked by where he was standing.
It’d been a week since the night they stayed up to watch the sunrise—something Eris couldn’t get out of his mind. The look of wonder on her face and how the warmth of the dawn shone across her beautiful face still stuck with him.
Training had gone as normal, just with the extra time spent teaching the females a few of Autumn’s techniques a few times a week—amidst their daily practice with the steel blades. He watched her day after day as she worked hard to perfect each and every stance and swipe of her sword.
In the short time Eris had known her—mere months actually—she had blossomed into a lively, strong female. One that was now full of life, kindness and strength.
It was this that he was pondering as he set up the item he’d brought along with him tonight as he’d winnowed to the—now so familiar—rooftop of Velaris. Her scent alerted him of her approach before the lift of her voice ever floated to him.
A beat later, lavender and vanilla wafted to him—the sweet calming scent of her always easing the tension in his body. Neither was ever too powerful or too sweet, but the perfect amount to send his heart racing every time she was near.
“If this is some sort of statement about how long it takes me to get up a few flights of stairs, then I’m insulted,” she quipped, finally stopping just in front of the item he’d sat on the ground before him.
He peered up at her, the moonlight bathing her face with soft light, making the amusement shine even brighter in her eyes. He tried to ignore the way his breath caught, his fingers twitching around the small object in his hand—tried not to acknowledge the reaction he always had to her.
“I believe I once told you that one day I’d have to teach you,” he smirked, holding up the light colored piece, “Care for a game of chess?”
Her brows rose as she lowered herself to the ground, her robes swishing with the movement. Her hair was tucked behind her arched ears, loose and flowing, unlike it had been that morning at training, when it was tied tightly back in a braid.
“You actually brought a chess board,” she chuckled, more of a statement than a question.
“I’m a male of my word,” he answered casually, setting the pawn that’d been in his grasp back on the chessboard.
She looked down at the board, brows pulling together.
“This looks complicated.”
“It looks intimidating,” he corrected, “But you’ve never let that stop you before.”
She looked up at the challenge in his voice as if taking his words into consideration.
“Alright. Where do we begin?”
He quickly rattled off the amount of pieces each player had, running through the count of each chess piece. It was information he knew by heart at this point. She merely blinked at him, as if he’d been speaking the language of the Ancient Fae. He had to refrain from laughing at her befuddled expression.
“Don’t worry, I’ll go through it slowly,” he reassured her, “Firstly, this is the king.”
One finger tapped his own piece, the tallest of all the pieces of the board, set apart with a cross crowned on top of it.
“This,” he pointed to the similar, smaller piece, “Is the queen. A player only has one of each.”
The queen was shorter, lacking the cross on the top of it though it bore a coronet instead.
“Well, I’m following you so far,” she said dryly.
He huffed a laugh before continuing.
“You see these pieces that look like towers?”
She nodded, eyes following.
“These are rooks—there are two of those.”
“And these?” she pointed to the chess pieces with the slats in their tops.
“The bishops,” he confirmed, “Two of those per each player as well.”
“The horses?”
Eris had to choke back another laugh. Clearly this would be far more entertaining than he’d anticipated.
“The horses are the knights,” he answered, an amused smirk threatening.
“Let me guess—two of those as well?”
“Look who’s catching on,” he teased.
She just tossed him an unamused look that he chose to ignore.
“The last chess pieces are pawns,” his hand gestured over the line of them across the front of his set up pieces.
“Why so many?”
“Because they’re the weakest chess piece. They’re the only piece that cannot move backwards, they can only move forwards. Now—since you know the pieces, I can tell you how they move.”
She blinked at him again, dumbfounded.
“You mean they don’t just all move…forward?”
“Oh, sweetheart, you have so much to learn,” he sighed.
He froze the instant the sentence left his lips. He hadn’t meant for the pet name to slip out—had only meant for playful teasing. He peered up at her subtly through his lashes, trying to pretend he was still studying the chessboard. He was almost afraid of her reaction to his unintentional slip up.
If she’d noticed, she didn’t show it, her own gaze fixed on the chessboard, fingers brushing over the different pieces—as if she was truly soaking in all the information he’d already given her. He watched as they skimmed over each piece, eyes looking over the board like she was imagining what they’d look like during a game.
Thanking the Mother that she hadn’t seemed to notice, he continued on with his explanation, launching into the various movements.
“The king and the queen are the only pieces that can move backwards and forwards in any direction—horizontally, vertically and diagonally—as long as there isn’t another piece occupying the square.”
He showed her as he spoke before moving on to the other pieces on the board.
“The rook can move forwards and backwards as well,” Eris informed her, “No matter what color square, though only horizontally and vertically. It also can capture an enemy piece by moving to the square where it stands, thus removing it from play. Not to mention it may participate in a process called castling—which is done simultaneously with the king.”
“Eris, you’re losing me,” she said flatly, giving him a blank look.
His lips twitched in response.
“Just stay with me.”
He picked up one of his bishops, showing her the light hued chess piece. He motioned to one of hers, only hers was the dark equivalent.
“A bishop is a special piece—simply because it can move quite the distance. It has the ability to move as many spaces as it likes, as long as it’s not blocked by another piece. It moves diagonally across the board, but never departs from the color of the square it starts in. You see, one of your bishops starts in this dark square?”
One of Eris’s long fingers tapped her dark colored bishop, sitting perfectly centered in the dark square. Her gaze followed.
“Yes,” she answered, eyes flicking up to him, awaiting his next explanation.
“Then it will only ever move diagonally to the dark squares of the board. The same applies to the bishop that starts in the light square. It will only move to light squares across the chessboard.”
“I think I’m following,” she mumbled.
He chuckled.
“You’re doing better than you think. Now, on to the horses.”
“Now you’re just mocking me,” she huffed, indignantly.
He gave her a half smile, rather enjoying teasing her—though he meant no harm. Eris found he was having a rather pleasant time teaching her. It’d been centuries since he’d taught anyone to play chess. In fact, Lucien had probably been the last individual he’d taught the game.
Her arms were crossed as she pouted, but he thought he saw the corners of her lips twitch, like she, too, was fighting back a smile. Oddly enough—and quite unusual for him—he found the sight adorable. She certainly had a talent for evoking unexpected reactions in him.
“The knights move in a pattern of two then one. It can move two squares—horizontally or vertically—then move one square to the right.”
Eris moved one of his knights from where it sat to the right of the chessboard—located amongst the back row of pieces, one space inward, right next to a rook. He indicated the move, jumping over the pawn, though he didn’t stop in the space directly in front of the lesser chess piece. Instead, he settled it one square to the right.
“It can also jump over other pieces,” Eris clarified.
“So many rules for one mundane game,” she mumbled.
His hand shot to grip his chest dramatically as he stared at her.
“Mundane game,” he repeated, mock offense dripping from his words, “You wound me.”
“My head hurts,” she mumbled, rubbing her temples, “Learning the eight pointed star was less confusing than this.”
He hummed, casually replacing the knight to its rightful place.
“Yet you managed to perfect that in no time,” he mused.
“Chess suddenly seems more daunting,” she grumbled, an elbow on her thigh as she rested her fist on her cheek in defeat.
“You don’t seem the kind to give up easily,” he murmured, suddenly focused on making sure every single chess piece on his side of the board was centered perfectly within its square.
Maybe it wasn’t right to push her in such a way, but something within him knew it’d be the kind of encouragement she needed. He’d picked up rather quickly upon meeting her those handful of months ago that she didn’t take well to pity. It was an attribute he understood and admired—one he’d respected.
Simply because he was the exact same way.
Her back straightened, a determined set to her shoulders as she sat upright. She stared him down—he could feel her searing gaze on him before he even lifted his eyes back to her face.
“Teach me,” she said matter-of-factly.
His lips curled upwards in a smile, pride unfurling in his chest. There was the female he’d come to know. He let just a little bit of the snark, the charm he knew how to wield just perfectly, shine as he spoke.
“Let’s begin then.”
•••
You lost track of the time as Eris taught you the art of one of his favorite past times. He spent the time after his previous lesson, running through a game, walking you through moves, just so you could get a feel for how the game worked.
“I can’t believe you find this relaxing,” you muttered at one point, slightly exasperated as you tried to grasp the nuances of the game.
You’d risen to the challenge in his voice from earlier—hadn’t wanted to give up before you’d even tried. Something you’d done far too much on yourself in these last few years. You had no idea how Eris had known that you needed that extra push, but you were glad for it. So, you’d sat there and tried to make sense of the mountain of information he’d given you about the inconspicuous looking chessboard and its pieces.
“It keeps my mind sharp,” he drawled as he made his move.
Your eyes scanned your pieces, frustration mounting. It seemed like such a complicated game, one you were still struggling to make sense of. Your fingers hovered over one of your pawns and Eris cleared his throat. Your eyes cut up to him.
“A piece of advice,” Eris said, tilting his head.
The warm night breeze ruffled a tendril of his red hair and your gaze dropped to it, briefly. An odd sense to reach out and touch the long strand filled you—something you tried to banish from your mind quickly. Even if you wondered if it would be as soft against your fingertips as you imagined it to be.
“Of course,” you answered.
“Moving your pawn would be unwise. You’ve moved too many, unnecessarily, anyways. You’re also ignoring your king’s safety, which is one of the quickest ways to lose a match.”
You groaned, your head falling back. You were beginning to question the male’s sanity to be able to enjoy such a game.
“You’re trying though,” he offered, when you lifted your head again, “You deserve credit for that.”
You scowled, becoming increasingly annoyed with yourself for having such difficulty understanding. Seeming to sense your mood, Eris leaned forward, his forearms resting against his thighs as he studied you.
“I didn’t bring the chessboard to upset you,” he said, falling serious as he took in your current demeanor.
You chewed on your lip as you studied the pieces, not responding. You weren’t upset with him at all, only yourself.
“The simplest thing for someone new to the game to prioritize are these three things: move at least each piece once, get your knights and bishops out of their starting spaces—making sure your knights move out before your bishops—and don’t bring your queen out too early.”
He gestured to the board in silent question, as if asking permission to show you. You nodded and watched as made each move as if he were you, playing, providing commentary as he went. Your eyes took it in, absorbed his words, finding yourself falling into a bit of a trance as you became engrossed with the game he played out, step by step.
“You cannot expect mastery at a skill you’ve only attempted a handful of times.”
You jerked at his words, snapping out of the haze of concentration you’d inadvertently fallen into. He studied you for a beat before speaking again.
“You wanted to know why I enjoy the game so much? Simply because it’s not all that different from the version I already have to play.”
You cocked your head, intrigued. Despite having discussed many things with Eris over the amount of nights spent together, you realized you had little knowledge of what role he played in his home court.
“Strategy is involved—calculation. There’s an incredible amount of assessing every possible move, every outcome. It pays to be a few steps ahead of your opponent—ahead of your current standing. You learn their tells, their weaknesses and where to strike. You observe what they may give away, use current circumstances for your own advantage then assess what may be the best outcome for yourself.”
You got the sense he wasn’t talking about just chess. You couldn’t help but think of the weight one must carry—to always operate in such a way—how exhausting it had to be. The words came out before you could stop them, honest and heartfelt.
“That sounds…exhausting.”
This smile he gave you was more rueful, as if accepting of his fate.
“Good thing I’m rather excellent at it.”
You didn’t know what to say to that—and suddenly you felt incredibly self conscious at the knowledge that there was much about him, about his life, that you did not know. Of course, there were plenty of things about yourself that Eris didn’t know either.
For some reason, you had the overwhelming urge to ask him, to learn everything about him you could. The desire was so strong it nearly took your breath away. You hoped one day to be able to. You found yourself hoping you’d find yourself sharing things with him too—things you’d once thought you’d never be able to with anyone.
His demeanor shifted back towards teasing, the swift change a clear dismissal of the previous topic. Knowing you, too, disliked being forced to discuss matters you weren’t ready to, you let the matter drop.
“Eventually you’ll beat me—or I may take pity on you and allow a victory. Perhaps once or twice. Just to keep you from sulking.”
A crooked grin tugged at his mouth, his amber eyes sparking with wicked delight at his teasing. You threw a chess piece at him, which, of course, he caught effortlessly in his hand due to that swift fae speed.
“You’re incorrigible,” you huffed, “And I do not sulk.”
Though you pretended to be offended, a small laugh escaped you. Mainly at his tendency for dramatics. He hummed disbelievingly. A chuckle followed—one of the deep and very unintentionally sensual ones that he seemed so overwhelmingly competent at. You felt a fluttering sensation deep in your gut—almost imperceptible, but there. You realized you couldn’t pinpoint just exactly when you’d begun having such reactions to him.
You spent the rest of the night playing increasingly unserious games with Eris—at one point disregarding the rules entirely and stealing his king right off the board.
“The only way I’ll get a checkmate!” you’d managed to get out between breaths of laughter, even as he pretended to be less than amused.
He’d only muttered under his breath as he’d snatched his king back from your hand, shaking his head at you. You hadn’t missed the ghost of a smile on his lips though.
You may have not beat him in a single game, but when you crawled into bed in the hours before dawn, you felt lighter than you had in a long, long time.
•••
ERIS
It was almost frighteningly easy how she’d become a normal part of his everyday life—how naturally it had happened. Nearly every day, Eris found himself winnowing to Velaris twice a day. Once for the Valkyrie training in the mornings and a second time during the night—usually long after the moon had arisen over Prythian.
His father kept him so busy on a normal day that it was rather simple to invent some excuse for where he’d been. He still managed to work his way through his hefty to-do list so effortlessly that there was never any question of his whereabouts, mercifully.
It had become rather inconvenient though how much stronger the strain felt when he was away from her. Not only did he miss her when he was busy tending to his duties back in the Autumn Court, but he could feel the hollowness in his chest. Eris had no other way of describing it than he felt like a piece of him was missing.
He knew why. Of course he knew why. But acknowledging it fully and living with it were two very different things, he’d come to realize.
A kernel of truth had snuck up on him at some point over the nights spent with her—one that he’d never wholly realized. It had never dawned on him just how lonely he’d been before her steady presence in his life. The realization had snuck up on him so silently, it had nearly left him in shambles.
The mornings were filled with more training as the priestesses kept gaining in knowledge and strength, each maneuver and position they were taught being perfected. They kept learning the combination of the Illyrian and Valkyrie techniques all while maintaining and practicing the Autumn Court positions he’d taught them as well. Eris often couldn’t help the pride that welled in him as he watched not only her but the entire group of females day after day. They’d come so far since the first time he’d visited the training session out of mere curiosity.
He couldn’t help but feel like he was witnessing history unfolding before his eyes—as if fate were stirring. The energy that filled the training ring every time the females picked up their swords was enough to give anyone chills. It was as if this had always been the Mother’s plan for these females—to lead them here, to this very moment.
Eris often wondered if he was always meant to end up here too. One look at the individual that always drew his attention—not because of who she was to him, but because of who she was as an individual—told him that yes, the Mother had always had a purpose for him here too. Even if he still didn’t understand it, himself.
One by one the priestesses had begun cutting the ribbon. First it had been Deirdre, then Ananke. Roslin, Riven and Lorelei. There were still more than half of the group of priestesses to accomplish it yet—she, too, was one of them.
Even though he’d found himself enraptured with observing her grit and determination throughout training, he most looked forward to the more intimate time spent with her when the rest of the world was asleep—when the Night Court was at its most beautiful. Admittedly, he’d seen more of Velaris than he ever once expected to, but these days he wasn’t complaining.
In the nights that followed his first chess lesson, he’d occasionally conjure the board between them for her to practice. She was steadily improving, even coming close to beating him once. Despite his teasing, he hadn’t let her win simply to spare her feelings. He’d wanted her to earn that victory herself, though it seemed she enjoyed the games more for the entertainment of it and had little desire to defeat him.
Her attention seemed split tonight, her concentration weak as he captured another one of her pawns.
“That easily could have been avoided,” he mused.
She hummed, sounding distracted, eyes drifting across the ring to her current arch nemesis. The object of her attention was behind him, though he hadn’t needed to look over his shoulder to know what she kept glancing at.
The wooden beam with the white ribbon stood there, refreshed after each and every person that had managed to cut the ribbon. He sighed as she scowled its direction once more. With a wave of his hand, the chessboard and all its pieces vanished into thin air, back to its place in his room back home. Her hand was midair, ready to move one of her pieces when it disappeared. She made a noise of protest, hand dropping from where it’d frozen.
“You’re distracted and I was ready to checkmate you anyways,” he drawled.
“It’s taunting me,” she grumbled, eyes moving back to the ribbon.
Eris finally peered over his shoulder seeing the ribbon, in fact, fluttering tauntingly in the gentle breeze of the night. When he looked back at her, his expression was no nonsense.
“You know, cutting a ribbon doesn’t make you any less of a warrior,” he pointed out.
Clearly it had been the wrong thing to say as her eyes flared with anger. Eris wondered if it was merely watching her peers achieve the goal or if it was something more that pushed her. Something that he didn’t have knowledge of.
“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” he said, a shade gentler.
“I’m not trying to prove anything,” she shot back, arms folding over her chest.
He recognized deflection when he saw it—knew she was one wrong move from shutting down if he didn’t handle his next words with care. Normally, with most people, this would be where he’d press. A weakness, a bruise, a vulnerability that he could use to his advantage.
She wasn’t most people though—and he had no desire to push her. Something more simmered just beneath the surface of her denial and her frustration. He knew it would do neither of them any good to push the matter.
Instead, he sat and studied her. His eyes assessed her, trying to determine what crawled underneath her skin—if it was much like the things that haunted him. Sometimes he forgot how intimidating his sharp gaze could be because she shifted uncomfortably under his stare.
It was then that he knew what to do. Motioning his head towards the weapons rack along the wall, he voiced his command.
“Grab a sword.”
•••
Fighting techniques—while appearing similar on the surface—definitely differed, depending on the approach. Illyrian techniques focused on grand movements, brutal force and overpowering your opponent rather quickly. The Valkyrie techniques put emphasis on discipline, unity and endurance during both fighting and training.
You and the rest of the group had learned a combination of both groups, a new version, morphing both into something different and unheard of. But Autumn Court techniques—at least the ones Eris had decided he wanted to teach—were definitely different than anything you'd already learned.
“What made you decide on these specific methods?” you’d questioned as he motioned your feet in the proper stance.
“I figured it would be a different skill set for you and the other females to utilize,” Eris had answered simply before nodding, happy with the placement of your feet.
“Oh?”
You were intrigued as he hadn’t explained much when he’d ordered you to grab a sword. You’d half figured Eris had planned to give you some pointers on how to finally cut the ribbon, but when you’d voiced the thought he’d only shook his head, telling you that you needed to focus your attention on something else for a short time. Despite your determination to cut the ribbon, you knew he was right, it would’ve only furthered your frustration.
“The skills I want to teach are an entirely different approach to a sword fight,” he’d said, folding his arms as he watched you raise your sword.
“While not something one may always encounter in combat, it benefits an individual to have a well rounded education. What I want to teach is more restrained, precise and calculated.”
“Isn’t that what most sword training is?” you’d inquired, not understand the difference.
“Yes and no. Some methods I use—some I’ve found in my research that I want to implement in the future—focus on disabling instead of immediate killing blows. There’s a test of patience to it. One aspect I teach is how to rely heavily on deception. I tend to lean into being as unpredictable to your opponent as possible.”
It had made sense to you and you’d nodded, taking in the information. After all, Cassian and Azriel had continuously stressed that not all sparring matches were made equal. There could be minimal all the way to drastic differences between one battle to the next. Not only was there the possibility of an opponent that could be more skilled than your last, but location and numerous other factors could make a difference.
You’d seen why Eris had been interested in teaching the differing techniques.
“Predictibility will kill you faster than a steel blade,” he’d said bluntly.
You’d blinked at his directness.
“Which is why it benefits having an arsenal of varying skills?” you filled in, though it came out more like a question than a statement.
His mouth had turned upwards in one of his smug grins. You’d begun to think he’d perfected that look by practicing it in the mirror. Only from the simple fact that it came so easy to him.
“Now you’re getting it.”
He’d eyed you, your foot placement and your posture, then he’d jerked his chin your way.
“Fix your posture. If your body is showing hesitancy, an opponent will use that to their advantage and strike hard.”
Your brows had pulled together, not understanding what exactly in your posture needed to be fixed. You’d shaken your head, conveying your difficulty understanding what he was asking of you.
It’d taken only a few footfalls for him to be directly in front you.
“May I?” he’d murmured, asking for permission before he touched you.
Moving only after you’d nodded, he’d walked behind you, a palm lightly placed on your lower back, encouraging you to straighten your spine—though you hadn’t been able to tell if it was your body naturally correcting itself or if it had been in reaction to his touch.
Your breath had hitched, your body going preternaturally still for just a beat. There’d only been a handful of times that Eris had touched you and yet that had seemed to be the most intense. If he’d noticed your reaction, he’d said nothing as his hands settled—respectfully—along your hips.
“Straighten your spine and relax your hips. Your power and balance comes from your core and you’ll be twisting a great deal. Keep your hips loose—not locked tight.”
Your stomach had tightened at the intimate touch—at his proximity—and you’d mentally chided yourself at your foolishness. Even if you’d been extremely aware of his presence behind you.
“Alright,” the word had whooshed out, as you’d tried to focus.
Then his gentle touch had relocated to your arms, guiding them into the correct position—shoulder level and bent at the elbow. His touch seemed to linger on them for a beat longer than necessary before his hands dropped from you.
“There.”
His simple word had come out softer than you’d expected it and you’d eyed him as he’d stepped back around you, once again in front of you. You’d had no words for what had just transpired between you and Eris, but he’d once again surprised you with his next comment.
“Consider yourself my experiment before I begin teaching this tomorrow,” he’d purred, grinning wolfishly as he examined your newly corrected posture.
“Something tells me I should be worried,” you’d mumbled at him, taking in his arrogant amusement.
“Oh you should be,” he’d smirked, “I can be just as brutal of a teacher as Cassian or Azriel.”
You’d grumbled but hadn’t argued as he led you through a few different combinations of movements.
Now, under the warm summer sun the following morning, you were building on that initial training that Eris had begun with you the night before.
He hadn’t been lying when he said that Autumn methods differed vastly from what you’d already learned. Not only that, but Eris definitely differed in teaching style from the other males. You’d been used to the different personalities that came in your tutors—from the Illyrians: Casssian, Azriel and Emerie, all the way to Nesta and Gwyn. But Eris was simply something different.
He could be brutal, unforgiving—given that he made the entire group repeat a certain motion long past the point of exhaustion, simply to pinpoint any weaknesses that surfaced. Though it seemed harsh, it was an effective strategy to catch any mistakes made, early on, before they became a habit.
Even with that, he still remained fair and helpful—always keeping an eye out to correct any individual and offer advice. The amount of patience he seemed to display shouldn’t have surprised you, and yet it did—especially when paired with the leniency he showed you and the females still unfamiliar with his tactics.
Calculation and deception—as he’d told you the previous night—was truly the crux of the Autumn approach.
Instead of wasting momentum, Eris instructed in smaller, tighter movements. While you and the others had been used to powerful swings, these motions consisted of short thrusts and controlled turns of the wrist.
The male also focused on targeted strikes instead of killing blows. Cuts to the wrists—along the tendon—and thigh muscles were used specifically to weaken. Combined with the other tactics he was teaching, it could be as lethal as Eris, the General of the Autumn Court’s forces, could be.
Other drills he’d had the group perform involved the shields—something that had only newly been introduced in the Valkyrie portion of training. Though what Eris had in mind didn’t involve using them for actual shielding as opposed to what you’d been learning.
For Eris’s exercise, he wanted each individual to hold the heavy shield in one hand, forcing oneself to learn movements with the sword one handed. It shouldn’t have been all that difficult—in fact it hadn’t sounded all that difficult, especially since that was essentially what was involved with the new addition of using the shield for the Valkyrie lessons. But it proved to be rather difficult to control the more tight movements without both hands on the sword.
“Some fights force you to only use one hand—whether you’re using a shield for its proper use,” Eris motioned to the shields in their hands, “Whether you find yourself in a confined space or you’re injured.”
He also taught a way to force a blade from your opponent’s hands—something he taught his own soldiers, he’d said. As he demonstrated for the group, you thought you recognized some of the movements from that one night you’d handed him a sword and told him you wanted to see how he fought.
“You’re used to blades clashing—steel against steel—which works. I use that as well in my own soldiers’ training,” Eris called out from the front of the ring, “But instead of overpowering and forcing the sword from your enemy’s hand, this strategy provides you the opportunity to steal control over the other sword.”
He’d pulled Azriel up to aid in his visual, the shadowsinger’s Illyrian blade out and crossed against Eris’s own sword. Eris pulled back, effortlessly catching Azriel’s blade with a redirected strike, approaching from an unexpected angle. The guards of both swords locked together as a result.
Azriel had been instructed not to make it easy, to fight like he normally would, but with a flick of Eris’s wrist, the Illyrian blade flew from scarred hands. You had to admit even Azriel looked rather impressed.
With the entire group paired off, you’d spent twenty minutes practicing the skill the male had just shown. It definitely seemed easier in theory.
Footwork was also notably important in Eris’s training of the Autumn Court soldiers. Unsurprisingly, as elaborate as he seemed to be, so was the footwork that came with the unique tactics Eris was teaching. It wasn’t too unusual that an individual be light on their feet, but Eris was partial to moving in sweeping arcs and circles instead of pointedly forwards or backwards. He utilized the ability to pivot—usually during calculated feints—the movement aiding in making it harder for the foe to corner him.
“Now I know Cassian and Azriel have taught you that being light on your feet is important. This is no different. This specifically keeps your attack angles unpredictable to your enemy and they won’t be able to anticipate your next move, which is the goal.”
Eris demonstrated as he spoke, his feet seeming to glide over the ground, so effortless it seemed like he was floating instead of moving.
“Think of it as a dance,” he explained.
You’d been leaning against the pommel of your sword as you’d observed with the others. You scoffed at his statement.
“Says the one who can actually ballroom dance,” you’d muttered under your breath.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” you heard his voice raise, clearly having heard your retort.
It wasn’t strict or annoyed, but you heard the barely contained playfulness in it as if this delighted him. He peered past the females that were towards the front of the group—who were very much enraptured with the lesson today—his eyes finding yours immediately. A small handful of your sisters seemed much more attentive to today’s lesson—more so than they tended to be with any of Azriel or Cassian’s, that’s for sure.
Thank the Mother he was actually fully clothed today.
Ignoring the strange sense of irritation that slithered along your bones, you straightened from where you’d been leaning, biting your cheek to hold back the grin that threatened.
“Nothing,” you quipped, “You may continue.”
You waved a hand lazily, indicating for him to do just as you’d said. He hummed thoughtfully, eyes raking down your body—the gaze filled with much more than you could pinpoint.
“I assume you will refrain from further interrupting my lessons today?”
Dry amusement laced his words though his face remained stony. To anyone else, it might’ve appeared that he was being stern with you. You merely nodded in answer though.
Those amber eyes lingered on you for a beat longer than necessary before he pulled his attention from you and returned to the lesson.
The banter hadn’t stopped there.
Later, while continuing to focus on footwork—Eris instructing everyone to abandon their blades to focus solely on their feet—you’d stumbled. It had happened during an exercise of practicing quick turns on the balls of your feet. The male had made sure to prioritize the practice of learning on both sides, insisting it was beneficial to possess the skill on the non-dominant side just as much as the dominant.
In a sword fight, the ability to pivot and turn sharply on the ball of your foot, provided a few crucial seconds. Additionally, it was a perfect maneuver to narrowly miss a blade angled toward one’s side. The miss might be slight, but any advantage mattered in combat.
Apparently, you’d been a bit too enthusiastic and had thrown too much momentum into the spin, causing you to stumble precariously, losing your balance in the process. You fell to your knees in the process with an irritated huff at yourself as you stood and brushed off your pants.
“I would’ve expected you to have the pattern memorized by now, priestess,” he called out to you, arms folded as witnessed your fumble, "After all, you’ve had the benefit of extra practice.”
Some of the females surrounding you turned curious eyes towards you. Ilana smirked at you. Nesta and Emerie looked delighted. Azriel and Cassian just blinked in befuddlement at what was unfolding before their very eyes. Gwyn was the only one who didn’t look surprised in the slightest.
His comment was playful without giving too much away—only alluding to the fact that just the night before he’d begun showing you some of the very techniques he was teaching the entire group today.
“I kept my promise to keep it a secret until lesson time, did I not?” you blinked at him innocently, “Can’t have everyone else fearing you favor a specific student, now can we?”
You watched amusement flicker over his face—so minuscule you wondered if anyone but you noticed it. You’d come to realize that Eris was a male who’d perfected the art of controlling his reactions. He never gave anyone the ability to read him well. At some point you’d learned his tells well enough to be able to pick up on such things—something that made you feel a flicker of pride. You didn’t think many could make such a claim when it came to the heir.
“Well we know you tend to be distracted by some more than others,” Eris quipped, flashing you a grin that you knew meant trouble.
Your cheeks heated as you remembered when he’d begun his first lessons only a few weeks ago, the sight of his pale, freckled skin—his sculpted bare chest—on display. Or the fact that he had caused you quite the distraction. Though it wasn’t like you’d been the only one to pay attention.
You stared him down, not backing down from his taunt, willing to match the same energy. You desired playing with him.
“You think highly of yourself, lord,” you responded coolly.
“Why shouldn’t I? I’m an absolute delight,” he threw back without missing a beat, a feline smirk gracing his sensuous lips.
“I don’t know what’s happening, but my gold marks are on her,” you heard Cassian mutter from the sidelines.
Multiple pairs of eyes seemed to bounce between you and Eris, taking in the sight, but you ignored them, your attention focused on the red-haired male at the front of the ring.
“If your sword was as sharp as your tongue, you’d never lose a fight,” you retorted.
His brows flicked up at your response, appearing to fully enjoy every second of this. A smug sort of amusement seemed to radiate from him followed by a knowing, quiet chuckle that curled down your spine.
“One might say discussion of my tongue is inappropriate talk for the training ring, sweetheart.”
The nickname clanged through you, your eyes locking with his for a brief beat, until you digested what he’d said. Your awareness of your surroundings—of who surrounded you—slammed you back into reality. So quickly had you slipped into a world where only Eris had existed, completely forgetting where you were. You felt your face heat, your boldness of a moment before vanishing in an instant.
Mercifully, Nesta spoke up, avoiding any awkward silences.
“Well, it’s not every day that training comes with an intermission of Eris being sassed.”
“We could use more of it,” Emerie quipped, making you smother a laugh into your shoulder as you bent to retrieve your sword from the ground.
Tinkling laughter sounded from the other priestesses, easing the moment that surely had piqued everyone else’s curiosity.
“Now if you ladies are going to be insulting,” Eris huffed, though there was no real exasperation behind it.
“Better get used to it, Eris,” Cassian warned, “This is only a fraction of what they’re capable of.”
Even Azriel seemed to be amused at the unexpected turn in the morning lessons, only one shadow curling around his neck while the others avoided the bright sun, remaining in the shade. His own lips twitched with laughter before he, too, piped in.
“They handle everything we throw at them. I suppose it’s only fair that they get to verbally hand it back. Though they do tend to be as hard on us as we are on them, training wise.”
Adding on to her mate’s remark, Gwyn beamed at you, mischief sparkling in her teal eyes.
“Welcome to the club. We’ve all had a few smart remarks for these insufferable males at one point or another.”
“So does that mean I can order him to do a hundred squats whenever I feel like it?” you joked, your head tilting in Eris’s direction.
“You get that privilege when you can complete your set in under two minutes flat like we can,” Cassian retorted, motioning between himself, Azriel and Eris.
You grumbled under your breath, though the mood remained light as the chatter and laughter continued. It took a few moments for everyone to fall back into position to resume the lesson, you included.
As you did, you caught Eris’s eye once again, a shared smile passing between the two of you. It left you feeling light as a feather for the rest of the morning.
•••
ERIS
That night, due to her complaints of him leaving her—and likely the rest of the trainees—sore beyond belief, he didn’t summon the chess board for them to play as they’d done rather frequently here recently. Instead, he decided just to keep her company.
Surprisingly enough, she’d actually beaten him to the roof for a change. He’d found her sprawled across the mat, on her back, looking up at night sky, when he’d winnowed in.
“How long have you been waiting?” he asked as he’d lowered himself to the ground to sit next to her.
“Since sunset,” she’d answered, “I’m too sore to move so I thought it was simpler just to stay and wait. At least I got to see the stars come out.”
His eyes had roamed over her body, still in the Illyrian leathers from this morning’s lesson, worry flooding him. He’d resisted the urge to ask after her wellbeing though, despite the instinct that’d flared in him.
“You did well today,” he’d said instead.
At that, she’d simply turned her head and offered a small smile that had that neglected thread buried deep down inside him flaring brightly in answer—filling his chest with unexpected warmth and something akin to contentedness.
After that, their conversation had turned playful for a bit, even casual. He’d asked what the priestesses' services were like and she launched into a detailed explanation about the beautiful music—instruments and singing voices included. She crowed about her friend Gwyn and the musical talent the female had.
Eris had listened intently, hanging on to every word. The joy that lit her face while talking about something she enjoyed was more powerful to him than any fae magic.
Tonight, the secret he kept hidden within him seemed to become wilder, having gained a newfound strength as it raged within him, much more sensitive to her than ever. He was momentarily lost in his own thoughts when she asked a question that he hadn’t expected.
“Are you truly the heir to the Autumn Court? The future High Lord?”
He snorted, unable to help himself.
“You’ve known me for how long—spent many nights like this—and you’re just now asking?”
She shrugged irreverently.
“Didn’t seem polite to ask any other time.”
He flicked a brow up, amused, but she pressed.
“Well, you are, aren’t you?”
She finally sat up—with a slight wince that he noticed—facing him, awaiting his answer.
He exhaled a deep sigh—one that seemed to carry much more weight than he intended to show. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to discuss the topic, especially when she was so curious, but it was one that came tangled with conflicting emotions.
“That’s what they tell me,” he joked, attempting at humor, the corner of his mouth quirking.
She tilted her head, some hair shifting forward over her shoulder as she studied him, brows crinkling with whatever thoughts that were forming in her mind.
“Do you not wish to be?”
He contemplated his answer for a beat.
“It’s not that, but it’s the weight of what it brings. I want to protect my court, its people—my people. I want to do right by them. There’s just…there’s a lot of change that needs to happen eventually. I would hope sooner than later. But it’s also going to be a long and arduous process, I believe.”
It was probably the most honest he’d ever been with her and the vulnerability left him uncomfortable. He willed his face to give nothing away, even though he felt like he’d just offered up a part of his heart, bruises and all. His jaw clenched as he turned away from her, unaccustomed to being so straightforward without his usual snark.
“If you could become High Lord today, what would you change?”
Her voice was a whisper, as if she was hesitant to voice the question too loud—like the Mother, herself, might be paying too close attention to their conversation. Genuine curiosity filled her voice like she actually cared to hear what he had to say.
At first, Eris thought about brushing off the question with an easy, noncommittal answer. Deflection came easy to him. But something stopped him—a realization that he wanted to share some of the thoughts and dreams that he’d kept tucked close for so long.
“My father doesn’t pay well for his crops, for one,” he snorted bitterly, “He has a…very low opinion of lesser faeries. Even more so of the general commoners of his court. Unfortunately for him, my youngest brother, Lucien, once fit in best with the non-aristocratic people of Autumn. He spent much time among the people of the countryside.”
Close—perhaps too close—to a painful past. He chose to skip over the brutal details of a time long passed, even if the wounds left from it still lingered centuries later.
“It may not be work I’m familiar with, but each individual helps keep the court running smoothly. They deserve fair wages along with protection from their High Lord. It shouldn’t be one over the other,” he said firmly.
She remained quiet, listening intently, even as her finger traced invisible patterns over the fabric of the mat they sat upon. When she didn’t comment, he continued on.
“Trade routes are weak right now,” Eris sighed heavily, feeling the weight of all that he desired to change, resting on his shoulders again, “Which ties into the fact I desire to strengthen Autumn’s allies—improve relations with the other High Lords. For far too long have we been isolated until only necessary. No thanks to Beron.”
She finally looked up, her tracing paused.
“What do you mean?”
Something fond unfurled in his chest at her innocent naivety. He’d briefly forgotten that she wouldn’t be familiar with courtly politics as he was.
“Beron sees allies as useful only for what they can provide him. It’s never about the safety of the court, unsurprisingly. He’s dealt very little with the other courts in his time as High Lord of Autumn—they’re only a necessity, it seems, in times of war. Only when he needs them.”
Eris could feel the irritation rising in him—at the centuries of poorly handled situations. He had the awareness that being a High Lord came with many difficulties, but some decisions his father had made still needled him to this day.
“Autumn needs stronger alliances,” he huffed in agitation, “Which is why I’ve spent years trying to forge them on my own.”
Realization dawned on her, spreading across her face.
“Which is how your involvement with the Night Court came to be?”
“Partially, yes. We’ve been tentative allies since the war with Hybern a few years ago,” he filled in, “Then Nesta developed an interest in creating a female fighting unit. I was intrigued. It was closely connected to other dreams I had for Autumn.”
“Which was what?” she prompted.
His face set in grim determination as his jaw worked, the passion he felt for this specific topic so closely linked to matters a bit too close to home.
“Beron doesn’t have a high favor of females,” Eris said, a tad too stiffly, “He sees them as objects to possess, control and belittle. He’s always been of the opinion that they’re beneath him, incapable of doing the very things I see in this training ring daily.”
He saw anger tighten her face at the words. Eris had the sense that she knew just the sort of male Beron was—had experience with those sorts of males. The thought tightened his gut. Just imagining her having encountered anyone as horrible as his father made him sick. To not linger on it, he attempted to carry on, finding himself venturing much too close to honesty than he intended.
“My mother—” he cut himself off with a shake of his head, unable to voice what he’d been about to share.
He swore he caught a cautious, curious glance from her, perhaps tinged with a shade of concern—for him.
“Autumn may not have a female fighting unit, but they will have the respect and decency to fight alongside such warriors,” he said instead, settling in much safer territory.
“That’s very noble of you.”
The sentiment was heartfelt as her previous anger faded into softness once again—the kindness he’d come to expect from her.
“Someone has to do the right thing,” he brushed off the compliment with a half shrug.
She was studying him though. He felt exposed under her own assessing gaze—as if she’d recognized all the defenses he had in place like a fortress of solid iron.
“That sounds like a lot to carry,” she voiced gently.
Eris said nothing—neither agreeing nor disagreeing. She fell silent, looking contemplative as she stewed over whatever was twirling through her mind. Eris was just about to open his mouth to ask when her following soft question had him peering sideways at her again.
“Do you ever do anything for yourself?”
She looked genuinely distressed that he had to carry such matters all on his own.
He had an answer on his tongue—chess, walks through the woods with his hounds, occasional hunting with them—but the answer that came out was unexpected and far more honest than he’d intended.
“This,” he responded truthfully.
Momentary surprise lit her her features as she instantly realized what he meant—these nightly meetings with her was the one thing he did for himself. Something he didn’t have to share with anyone else. The surprise melted into something softer as the hint of a smile bloomed on her lips.
“I’m happy you have this,” she declared.
So was he. He wondered if his expression portrayed that as his eyes roamed her face. Something in the honesty he saw in her expression had him divulging more than he planned to.
“Autumn isn’t just a season for dying things, you know. It’s a season of change—of transformation. When the world morphs into something beautiful and different, shedding what no longer serves it and emerging that much more beautiful. There’s such good brought by the season—such as your precious chrysanthemums who wait to bloom only then.”
She smiled, likely remembering the flowers he’d sent her weeks ago. He wondered if she’d noticed that they’d been spelled to last longer than normal. He’d wanted to give her something beautiful—wanted them to bring her joy for far longer than just a few days. His fingers found a loose thread on the sleeve of his shirt, worrying it between his thumb and forefinger—the tiny motion meant to preoccupy him from his discomfort before he continued.
“Something I desire to bring to the court is its natural joy. It still exists, even beneath centuries of rot—I feel it every time I walk through the forests or sit by the rivers.”
He looked up from his shirt sleeve, still not looking toward her as he turned his face toward the star flecked sky before speaking again.
“Autumn has been merely surviving for far too long. I think it’s long past time for it to thrive again.”
With his attention upward, he wasn’t aware of her movement until he felt a featherlight brush against his pinky. Long red strands shifted into his face as his head dipped, seeing her hand right next to his, her own pinky having just barely brushed a line against the side of his. He hadn’t even taken note of how close their hands were prior to this.
It wasn’t a demanding touch but one filled with quiet camaraderie and compassion—a silent reminder that he wasn’t alone. Even after his acknowledgment of the action, she didn’t move her hand away.
It tugged at something deep in his chest, somewhere along his ribs, that thread winding tighter than ever. Once, she’d struggled with close proximity to males—had a negative reaction to it. Now, she had placed her trust in him, was even initiating contact.
Her attention had fallen away from him though, despite her hand staying where it was.
“You know, I don’t want to stay here indefinitely. I don’t want to be stuck on top of this mountain forever,” she sighed, looking around the training ring.
“Is that so?”
She nodded, almost seeming resigned for a brief moment.
“I appreciate this place—the library—it’s done so much for me. But…I’m beginning to believe it’s not my permanent home like I once believed it was.”
She paused, seeming to gather her thoughts.
“There’s so much of the world to see.”
“That there is,” he agreed.
She finally turned to look at him, such longing and wistfulness on her pretty face that it made the empty place in his chest that’d been there for months, ache even more fiercely. The fingers of his opposite hand twitched against his thigh, repressing the urge to reach out towards her.
To do what exactly, he wasn’t sure.
“Autumn sounds like a nice place to visit—to live,” she finally uttered.
Something like pride welled in him—pride in his court, in his home.
“It has the potential to be. I hope to make that permanent someday,” he murmured, truthfully.
“Maybe one day I’ll get to see it,” she responded, then added with a crooked grin, “For the hounds, of course.”
He chuckled dryly.
“Of course—the hounds.”
Silence fell between them. A handful of moments in which he realized just how much they’d migrated towards one another.
“For what it’s worth,” she whispered, eyes locked with his, “I think you’d make a great High Lord.”
He couldn’t have restrained it if he’d tried, his gaze flickering down to her lips. They were so close that neither of them would have to move far forward to close the distance. He marked the instance she’d noticed his eyes dip. A quiet inhale followed by her lips parting with the breath.
Suddenly, it was all he could think of, the temptation far too strong to kiss her. Those ancient instincts cried out to him, wanting him to claim, to taste. All he had to do was lift the hand that still rested on the ground next to hers, tilt her chin and press his lips to hers.
He didn’t though. Instead, his eyes took in her face—the anticipation on it—the hope that she barely masked. What he also saw was the purple smudges under her eyes. He knew she often had trouble sleeping well and though he enjoyed her nighttime company, he also wanted her to get some rest—especially after a hard day of training.
“You should get some sleep. The rest will help soothe the worst of your sore muscles,” he mumbled softly.
She looked as reluctant to let this almost moment end as he felt. But, he knew well enough that acting too early in a situation never ended well. Perhaps, it was nothing but his foolish mind denying something his soul seemed to crave—to desperately need.
“You’re right,” she agreed, her exhaustion seeming to double instantly now that she’d acknowledged it.
She tried to get up, but groaned—rather dramatically, he thought—and he gave her a hand, exhaling a soft huff of laughter through his nose. She gave a tired laugh at her own struggle too.
“I now see what you meant about how staying still makes it worse,” she groaned again.
The corner of his mouth curled arrogantly, always appreciating when he was proven right. It softened slightly though as he took her in. He didn’t sense any disappointment or confusion in regards to what had just happened—just a sudden deep desire for rest and sleep.
“Rest well, okay?” he murmured.
“I will,” she assured him.
Her eyes roamed him as if she wanted to say something more, but held back. Instead she seemed to settle for something safer as a parting comment before she turned to leave.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Eris made sure she was fully out of sight as she descended the stairs before he winnowed home, a dangerous truth twining with that secret thread in an elegant dance.
He’d wanted to kiss her terribly—and he almost had.
•••
Despite the peaceful night with Eris, monsters once again showed up on your threshold.
You didn’t know what had caused you to regress into this—what had triggered it. It had been weeks without a nightmare, days at a time had passed without you even thinking of Finneas.
You’d felt more in control, stronger, like you’d had purpose in life again. You’d fallen into a comfortable routine and had started to feel settled again—like life wasn’t as terrifying as you’d once believed it to be.
You’d started to become happy.
When you’d fallen into bed not long after the strange moment you’d shared with Eris, nothing had been troubling you—save for the bone weary exhaustion and sore body that indicated he’d been right and you desperately needed sleep.
You’d been left feeling a tad off balance as you hadn’t known what to label the sudden intensity and connection you’d started to experience with the male, but you hadn’t spared it much thought either. Whatever had happened likely had been imagined by you anyways, despite the strange sensation you felt more loudly nowadays when he was around.
It was as though something called to you, begging you to pay attention to why you’d felt drawn to him from the beginning—first with uneasy curiosity and growing into the familiar steadiness of the present day. But you couldn’t figure it out.
That night though, after leaving Eris, you’d been chased from sleep by nightmares—ones you hadn’t had this intensely in some time. Images of an angry face in yours, wild eyes—wide and bright with fury. A hand coming across your face in a slap so hard it knocked your head to the side.
You’d jerked from sleep so violently that you’d shot up in bed, your heart at a galloping speed as you struggled to pull breath into your lungs. Panic tinged you with icy dread as you wrestled with disentangling reality from your dream.
Flashes of it—of your memories—appeared behind your eyes, in your mind.
“You ungrateful bitch! Can’t you do anything right?”
A hand gripped your hair so tightly, tears formed from the brutal grasp.
“Look at me when I’m speaking to you,” he snarled.
Your head was yanked to the side so harshly, a whimper escaped your throat. Fear flooded your veins, your body tensing for impact, knowing even the smallest of noises would only make him angrier.
“No one will ever love you like me. No one will want you.”
The words were cold, cruel. They sank into every part of you that trembled in his grip. Tears spilled freely down your cheeks, the overwhelming desire to apologize, to beg for forgiveness—to make things better again—rising in you.
A fist slammed into your stomach, the impact so brutal it knocked the breath from your lungs as you doubled over.
“Maybe next time you’ll learn to keep your mouth shut.”
The horrible words echoed in your ears as the memory and dream combination faded. You pulled in ragged breaths, sweat dampening your body. Your eyes scanned the room, realizing you were in your bed, in your room in the library built underneath the mountain.
Breathless sobs wracked your body, the fear and panic once again raw, as if the healing wound had just been ripped right back open.
It had been the night he’d almost ended your life.
Your mind—even all these years later—had completely erased the reasoning for the incident happening. You had no memory of what caused it or what had set him off. All you remembered was being shrouded in blinding pain and fear.
By the look of the light just starting to spill through the glamoured window of your room, you could tell dawn was rapidly approaching.
You sat hugging your knees to your chest, trembling long after the sun rose.
•••
ERIS
He knew something was wrong from the moment she stepped into the training ring.
He watched as she grabbed a sword from the weapons rack and took her place, awaiting for lessons to start—all without even glancing his way. Eris tried to reassure himself he was jumping to conclusions.
But something was different, he could tell. Something that could likely be dismissed by others at first glance. He wasn’t teaching today, thank the Mother, which allowed him to keep a closer eye on her.
As Cassian started today’s lesson, running through the myriad of turns and moves they’d started to combine into different motions, the unease kept growing within him. He stood by the sidelines, his arms crossed, his gaze barely leaving her for more than a few seconds at a time.
She was tense, face like stone, as if the spark he’d seen come to life over these last few months had been snuffed out. There was a rigidness in her posture that hadn’t been there last night or at training yesterday.
Perhaps nothing was amiss other than just exhaustion and the sore muscles from yesterday. Maybe he’d kept her awake too long last night and she was dragging this morning.
But then she continued ignoring him—didn’t even look at him once. Eris felt his body tense further as training progressed and her demeanor didn’t seem to improve.
He was more than familiar with what she looked like when her focus was on training. Even then she’d always made time to peer his way occasionally. Sometimes she’d shoot him a smile, an amused glance or a roll of the eyes at something that was said. Occasionally even teasing remarks or expressions thrown his way had been included.
Today, there was none of that. It was like watching a completely different female.
Even more concerning was it wasn’t just him she was acting like this with. She was far quieter overall, this morning, interacting with no one. There was no trace of the bright, jubilant female that had just been in his presence this time yesterday.
It was as if she was trying to shrink her presence, becoming smaller to take up less space. She was willingly pulling away from everyone else. In fact, the way her shoulders hunched, she looked defeated.
Concern blared through Eris, conflicting emotions warring within him. All he wanted to do was make sure she was okay, pull her aside and ask what was wrong. Such a drastic change had to be brought on by something.
He spent the entire morning keeping a worried eye on her, praying to the Mother it was simply a bad mood, a sluggish morning—he would’ve even settled for her just being plain irate with him. That last thought sent the realization hitting him like a bucket of ice cold water being dumped over his head.
Fuck. What if she was angry with him because of last night? Had she been able to tell he wanted to kiss her? What if she hadn’t wanted that? Was that the cause of this sudden change?
He knew he wouldn’t be able to relax until he knew for certain.
When she finally looked at him—right at the end of training for the day—he had to bite back the very visceral reaction he nearly had.
Empty, dead eyes met his—the beautiful eyes he’d seen light up so many times before. The ones that always pulled his attention back to her face time and again. Gone was all the happiness and playfulness he’d once seen in them.
In its place was a cold reservoir, as if all life had been drained from her, leaving a pool of murky despair. Her eyes were still beautiful, but they were haunted now, lacking all the warmth he’d come to know in them.
She said nothing, just strolling past him as if they’d never known one another.
Later that night, Eris found himself waiting on the roof, on top of the mountain, in Velaris—as he always had. Darkness thickened and deepened around him as the hours crept past with absolutely no sign of her.
Eris waited and waited, hope diminishing with every hour that passed. When he finally winnowed back to Autumn before dawn, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his gut—or the feeling that something was very, very wrong.
It felt like something cracked deep in his chest, pain rushing in at the turn of events from the day. Somewhere along the way, he’d begin to care deeply for her.
And for the first time in two months, she hadn’t shown up.
Part 1: To Catch A Priestess | Part 2: The Pull | Part 4: The Thread | Part 5: The Equals
Following the night Eris stumbled upon you on the roof, your life begins to change in ways unexpected. What once began as mere accident turns into a plethora of late nights spent together as the both of you grow closer, finding camaraderie under the starry skies of Velaris.
Pairing: Eris Vanserra x f!reader
Warnings: brief mentions of domestic abuse, priestess reader, secret mate bond, longing, slow burn, friends to lovers, idiots to lovers kinda, lil bit of fluff
Word Count: 14.3k
A/N: Part three of To Catch A Priestess has arrived! Now we’re really getting into the connection between these two and I kinda fell in love with them and their journey, which is why there’s still two more parts to this 🤭
Thank you so much @harvest-bunny for all the writing help and for beta reading this! 💕
ERIS
He’d stayed there with her all night.
They hadn’t spoken, but she’d eventually relaxed enough to lower herself to the ground and sit in the same spot where she’d been standing. Eris had thought of a dozen things to say, but had held his tongue. He hadn’t known what she needed, but excessive talking probably wouldn’t have helped things.
A part of him wondered if his presence had helped calm her though. Not just because of who he was to her—despite her not knowing—but because she wasn’t alone in that moment.
He’d actually been surprised at how fast the night had passed. He’d spent the time observing her, watching her, memorizing her. It had been the first time he’d truly seen her without the hood of her priestess robe on her head—something he hadn’t realized until long after they’d fallen silent. At some point, she’d pushed it back off of her head and he’d missed the action—likely too stunned by the entire scenario to catch the motion.
Her unbound hair had fallen loosely past her shoulders in a smooth curtain, long strands cascading over her chest and arms. Even from a distance it looked like spun silk. For a while she’d sat with her head tilted downwards, not even looking at him. He’d taken notice of how the tips of her arched ears poked out of her hair while her head was bent forward. She’d sat there, a finger tracing patterns only she could discern along the ground. If that had been what she’d needed, he wasn’t about to be the one to deprive her of it.
So he’d sat with her. First counting the rise and falls of her chest—listening so very closely to the way her breathing eventually evened out again. He’d noticed when her pulse no longer sounded frantic and became a steadier rate. He saw when the fear eventually began to soften, the scent of it completely vanishing. He’d watched as slowly her body began to relax, one muscle at a time.
Whatever terrors she’d been battling had clearly loosened its hold on her—had no longer had its claws in her.
Other than a sniffle here and there, he could tell her tears had dried—and even though he knew he had absolutely no idea how to offer comfort, every inch of him fought the urge to. It had been the most puzzling thing. He knew why, of course. But it still didn’t mean any of it had made sense.
In the quiet of the night—in the quiet between them—he’d had a lot of time to think. About her, about himself, about the bond.
Though the anger wasn’t present like it had been in the early days, he was still left with the confusion he’d felt from the very beginning—left wondering why he was tied to a female that deserved much better than he could ever offer her. Though his wonderings had begun with him and his woes, his mind quickly turned towards her as he’d studied her.
What had occurred to cause such fear in her? What kind of horrid person had affected her so deeply that she lived with ghosts only she could see?
Clearly, it had to be something dreadful. Eris had gathered as much from the brief explanation Rhysand had once given him. All the priestesses in the library had faced nightmares worse than some of the horrid beasts Prythian could ever conjure.
But the female that had been before him that night…she wasn’t the same one he’d seen in training on a semi-regular basis. At least it wasn’t the same one he’d come to know in the last little while. She’d grown stronger, gained confidence in herself and abilities, had started to come out of her shell—all things he’d observed.
This female had seemed to try to make herself smaller—make herself disappear.
The sound of a soft shuffle of feet against the ground and rustle of the fabric of her robes had made his attention snap fully to her again, pulling him from his thoughts. She’d pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. Resting a cheek against the top of her bent legs, she’d settled and faced away from him. As if she’d been trying to fold in on herself.
Every shift of her body, every sound she’d made, he’d instantly catalogued, always on alert to ensure she was still alright. Something in his chest had ached at the sight of her. He didn’t know her story, but seeing that broken female across from him had made him hope that one day he’d get the chance to hear her story.
It had been Azriel who’d stumbled upon them, at least an hour before sunrise. It shouldn’t have surprised Eris since the shadowsinger definitely seemed to be the type to be awake and ready to start his day well before most of the world.
She’d scrambled to her feet the moment his boots scuffed the ground at the archway of the stairs. Eris couldn’t tell exactly what the Illyrian thought of the scenario he’d walked into, but Azriel had given him a quick dip of the chin before approaching her. Though he gave her an appropriate amount of space, he murmured something to her, too low for Eris to hear. She’d simply nodded before heading towards the archway that led to the stairs—which meant she’d have to pass by him as well.
As she did, she’d looked his way.
Too many conflicted emotions had swirled in those pretty eyes of hers. Underneath them were dark and heavy circles and not just from the long night. She’d almost looked like she’d been about to say something. Instead, she’d looked away and walked toward the stairs—back to the library she resided in.
As he’d watched her retreating form, his soul seemed to scream at him.
Help her.
But that was the cruelest twist of fate—because he had no idea how.
The sight haunted him for days.
•••
You couldn’t explain the disappointment you’d felt when Eris hadn’t shown up at training for several days, a crushing weight suddenly settling in your chest. Which was preposterous. You hardly knew the male.
You’d regretted not thanking him for staying with you. You’d been about to that morning as you’d passed by, but shame had stopped you. He’d probably thought you were nothing but a fool for being so frightened by his unintentional sneaking up on you.
But then he’d stayed.
You’d figured he’d meant only for a few minutes—perhaps until he realized you weren’t going to fall apart. But he’d sat there with you, in complete silence. He hadn’t pushed you to talk, had respected your boundaries and space, but had also shown patience with you. All of it which you felt you hadn’t deserved.
Especially since he knew you as little as you did him.
But something about it had…helped—this odd occurrence. In some strange way it’d felt magical, though no fae magic had actually been involved. It was as if his silent presence and support had been just what you’d needed that night.
How different he had been from the male you’d encountered in the library which now felt so long ago.
When Azriel had arrived on the roof—much earlier than any of the trainees—you’d been worried he’d be angry with you or scold you for being where you didn’t belong. But instead, he’d simply asked if you were okay then proceeded to give you the morning free of training, to sleep.
You’d had no idea how he seemed to recognize it had been a bad night for you. Perhaps he’d witnessed it happen with Gwyn—as you and she used to meet some nights when both of you were dragged from nightmares of your pasts.
You’d also had no idea what Azriel might’ve thought of Eris’s presence. It confused you—the unfamiliar comfort you’d found in a near stranger—though maybe it was from not being alone in a bad moment.
When Eris had returned to training a couple of days after the nighttime incident, nothing was said about it. So, you’d tried to go back to normal—move on and forget about it.
You’d needed to focus on your lessons anyway since according to Cassian and Azriel, it wouldn’t be long before the group as a whole would be moving on to preliminary work with the steel blades. It had both delighted and terrified you. You’d once never imagined joining training let alone getting this far, improving this much.
Despite your desire to wholly focus on your training, you couldn’t help the intrigue that continuously pulled you to Eris. While he’d once been intimidating and frightening, you’d started to find him more of a mystery—left to puzzle out the odd run-ins you’d been having with him in your time since knowing him.
Your eyes still found the male during the next week of training—this time though, he hadn’t bothered hiding his staring back. He was so mysterious to you. Even more mysterious was the pull you felt to him—how fast the apprehension had faded then morphed into curiosity. Perhaps all it had taken was a night spent in silent solidarity.
Also odd, was after that midnight practice session with the sparring block, something else in you had changed.
Curiously plagued with insomnia more now, and you kept finding yourself in the training ring more nights than not now. Even when it didn’t involve running from bad memories and nightmares, you found the extra energy burned helped relax you and tire you enough to get a few hours of sleep.
The next several times you wandered up to practice, you had the ring to yourself, something you’d fully expected every time—that first clearly being an anomaly.
Which was exactly why you’d been so surprised to find Eris once again.
It was another sleepless night in a frequently reoccurring pattern.
You’d never slept amazingly, but in the last year, you’d been able to get a passable amount of sleep, despite the occasional nightmares you’d still had. Lately though, these nights hadn’t been filled with bad memories, you just couldn’t sleep.
You’d begun feeling a restless sort of energy, a desire—a tug—to be somewhere else but bed. It was as if your body was itching to move, so you constantly found yourself treading up the stairs and back to the training ring.
That first night—besides the obvious distress of the nightmare, bad memories and Eris sneaking up on you—you’d realized it’d actually felt good to expel some of the emotion and energy you’d needed to get out. So that second time when you’d felt that same sort of peace afterwards, you’d done it for a third night. A fourth.
You eventually lost count as the nights had gone by and it started to become a nightly ritual. Almost as if you couldn’t sleep well until you’d moved your body the extra amount it needed—despite having hours of training in the mornings and packed days in the library.
But this night was different—something you noticed immediately when you’d cleared the archway from the stairwell. You blinked in disbelief at the sight before you.
There, leaning against the wooden punching block, hands in the pockets of his finely tailored pants stood Eris.
On the roof.
In the training ring.
At three a.m.
“I figured to not startle you this time, perhaps I should arrive first.”
You didn’t know whether to laugh or gape. Which, a beat later, you found curious. Once, you’d have thought Eris showing up at a place you were at, again—and technically for a third time—would’ve been nefarious. A warning sign. Something too much like Finneas.
But you currently too confused, too intrigued as to why Eris—heir to another court on the other end of Prythian—was in the Night Court and up here in the middle of the night. You’d apparently settled for gaping as you finally pulled yourself together enough to ask the most important question.
“What are you doing here?”
He shrugged, nonchalantly.
“I heard the view was nice.”
His eyes fell to your already wrapped hands. You’d fallen into this habit so much lately, you’d taken some supplies back to the dormitory in the library so you could save yourself a few minutes. At least it provided you with the ability to wrap them properly in the light of your room instead of shadowy darkness.
“Late night practice, I take it?”
You had so many questions, but you simply nodded.
“Helps clear my mind.”
Eris only nodded, but it didn’t seem to be a dismissal of what you said. In fact, if you didn’t know any better, it almost looked like he knew exactly what you meant.
“Do you mind if I watch? I’ll stay out of your way.”
His words seemed casual, but he also seemed to be holding his breath—as if he fully expected you to say no. Maybe that’s why you didn’t.
“That’s fine.”
He stepped further away now—much closer than he had been that night he’d sat up here with you, but still enough to give you some space. Tonight, he was only a few feet away. The way he appeared to be aware of your need to have space—as to not make you uncomfortable—warmed something in your chest.
“Don’t be too harsh. Not all of us are generals, you know.”
You swore you heard a sharp exhale of breath, perhaps in amusement. When you peered over at him though, his face remained serious as he watched you, saying nothing. You sighed quietly, trying not to let his presence intimidate you. Not because he was a male or even due to his typical demeanor, but because of his observation of your skills.
Once the first punch came, everything else, Eris included, disappeared from around you.
You quickly became involved, all your focus narrowing to your target. It was only when he spoke after your final landing blow, that you were reminded of his presence again.
“You’ve improved greatly.”
Your chest heaved from the exertion, sweat dampening your brow. You’d taken to pulling your hair back in a tight braid, leaving your hood off for this.
“You mean for a female that’s not all that great at training?” you parroted his words from a month earlier.
His lips pressed together. You couldn’t tell if it was in irritation or not.
“I fear I may have made some uncalled for and presumptuous assumptions.”
You simply hummed, turning back to the block as if contemplating starting another round. You still felt wide awake, your body buzzing. Though you weren’t quite sure if that was because of energy you’d yet to expel or the male in your presence.
“Can I offer you a piece of advice?”
He sounded nowhere near the snarky insufferable male he had in the library. No condescension dripped from his tone as it had that afternoon. No, he actually sounded genuine, even if it came off rather neutral—as if trying not to sound too eager nor too reprimanding.
“Of course.”
“When you lunge into the punch with your left, you’re still a bit too stiff in your posture. If you loosen your hips and unlock your knees, you’ll get a stronger and more precise strike. Can I show you?”
You braced yourself for him to touch you—which you would’ve given him permission to do—but he surprised you, demonstrating what he meant with his own body. You watched as he showed you again and you mimicked the move.
He nodded, gesturing for you to try the newly corrected positioning out. You did, throwing a harder, more direct punch with your left hand.
“Did you feel the difference?”
“Yeah,” you breathed, astonished, “It felt more powerful.”
You swore you saw something like pride flicker across his face.
“If you want to continue, don’t let me stop you.”
He inclined his head towards the block, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips.
Something in you rose to the challenge.
“Maybe it’s time I show a general how it’s done,” you said, perhaps with a touch more confidence than you were wise to have.
The future High Lord actually looked amused. He merely crossed his arms and waited patiently.
So you turned back to your opponent, the wooden block, raised your arms and began again—this time including the corrections in your stance that he’d given you.
You never did find out why he was on the roof that night.
You blinked away the memory from just a few days earlier, still trying to come to terms with what it meant. Unsurprisingly, even though your mind and attention had drifted, your body had kept up with every single drill that Azriel and Cassian took turns calling out.
As time had ticked by, Eris had migrated from watching by far walls or the sidelines, towards the front, observing as if at any moment he would be the one to throw out an order.
“You want to get some practice in while you’re here, princeling?” you heard Cassian taunt, challenge in his voice.
Your eyes shot to Eris who was rolling his shoulders.
“Might as well. It’d do me good to stay sharp. Would you care to show these ladies a proper sword fight?”
You picked up the hint of challenge in the Autumn male’s tone too, an eyebrow raised just a bit.
You’d never fully picked up on what sort of relationship the male had with Cassian and Azriel, but they seemed cordial enough. It also struck you that it likely wasn’t often something like this happened—an individual from another court being so involved with training here.
Azriel, next to them, shrugged. There’d been a few instances that Cassian and Azriel had demonstrated for you and your fellow priestesses—something you were positive they’d done for Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie’s tutelage too.
“Since they’ll be starting with the steel blades next week, it’d be a good introduction,” the shadowsinger said.
Cassian jerked his chin towards the weapon rack that was just behind you.
“Grab a blade then.”
You peered over your shoulder at the line of properly stored blades, eyeing them. You weren’t entirely sure what urged you to do it, but you turned fully—missing the male strolling across the ring towards the rack already.
You grabbed the one nearest to you, momentarily surprised at its weight. You tucked your own wooden practice sword under your arm so you could get a better grip on the sword to hand it over. Your hand curled around the hilt, blade facing downward.
You turned, not realizing his long strides had quickly delivered Eris right before you. You didn’t startle, though you suddenly felt a tad foolish and shy, even as you were trying to be helpful.
“Here,” you said softly, holding it out to him.
Eris merely blinked at you for a moment before reaching out and taking it from you.
“Thank you.”
You lifted your eyes to his fully—just for a second—and nodded slightly, a small smile on your face. His own pale face seemed…softer, more contemplative. You were close enough to see the freckles that dotted the handsome features.
In fact, you realized as he turned to leave, it had been the first time you’d been so close—willingly to the male.
As he returned to Cassian, your eyes met a variety of intrigued and curious faces of both Illyrians, Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn—the latter with her brows raised high. They’d clearly noted every movement of the interaction and had most definitely taken interest.
Something like fate seemed to be stirring—shifting—within the walls of this training ring in far more ways than just the female unit being formed.
So it truly should’ve come as no surprise when you entered the training ring that night to find Eris there.
•••
ERIS
Somehow, they’d fallen into a pattern. Somehow, Eris found himself unable to stay away.
“How are you always up here?”
She peered at him curiously—a tad suspiciously—as she cleared the archway from the stairwell into the training ring. It had started to become a normal thing for him to be here nightly where she, too, always seemed to be. It was ironic if he thought about it. A pull to one another that only he understood.
The mating bond. Something he’d yet to let himself think much of yet. But after that first night, then the next one where he’d watched her at the sparring block, had helped her with her stance, it had become impossible to ignore.
That deeply buried desire to always be around her kept flaring within him at the most inopportune times. Between visits to Velaris—which by this point was multiple times a week—he felt the tug to return to the city as soon as possible, even amidst his daily duties in Autumn. Even during the Valkyries’ training, he fought the urge to constantly be closer to her.
Instincts had become louder nowadays. He’d traded his resentment and anger for curiosity. Quite similar to how she’d traded her initial apprehension for intrigue, as well. At least so it had appeared.
Her comment upon arriving had his lips twitching. She had fire in her, just the faintest hint of a flickering flame right now, but he still caught it.
“Let’s just say I made a bet with an Illyrian and the Illyrian lost,” he drawled.
In all honesty, Rhysand had actually lifted the wards that prevented anyone from winnowing directly into the house on top of this mountain. Likely, he was probably sick of transporting Eris all the time. But perhaps, it had been a gesture of good faith, a favor to him, likely even a nudge. Whatever it was, for some reason, Eris found himself grateful.
“Does the Autumn Court not have any place where one could alleviate their insomnia?”
“Who says I have trouble sleeping?”
She looked at him, unamused.
“Why else would anyone with sense be up at this hour, not to mention, traveling to an entirely different court?”
He smirked, eyeing her in the moonlight. Other than the first two nights he’d spent with her, every other time he’d seen her, she’d kept her hood up and invoking stone on. Tonight was no different.
“Well, the Autumn Court doesn’t have views like this.”
She positively snorted.
“I find that hard to believe.”
He shrugged, casually, eyeing her hands and seeing no wraps there like there usually was.
“Well, let’s just say, it’s…different here.”
She nodded as if accepting the answer, unmotivated to press further. His eyes flickered to her hands again.
“No hand to hand combat tonight?”
“No,” was all she simply said.
He watched curiously as she picked up one of the swords that hung nearby on the weapons rack and approached him with it—so very similarly to how she had just a week ago.
Eris had been stunned when she’d approached him, had been so thrown off he was certain he’d gaped at her—simply because in all his time knowing her, she’d hesitated and downright avoided voluntarily approaching any male. But then she’d approached him with that sword.
Something had changed in him that day—something quiet that he couldn’t pinpoint. But a sort of protectiveness had started settling into his chest, a kind that felt deeper than just from the unanswered bond he’d been carrying around.
Once again, she handed him the blade and his brows raised in surprise.
“I want to see how you fight,” she said.
“You want me to demonstrate?”
“Yes.”
“With no opponent.”
“Yes.”
“So just a demonstration of my tactics?” he pressed.
“I realize as a general you tend to give orders but is really that hard to receive them?”
This time his mouth quirked, an eyebrow arching at the snark in her tone.
“Very well. Step aside and prepare to be left in awe.”
Normally, a remark like that from him would be filled with nothing but arrogance—for good reason too—but this time, he couldn’t help the playful edge to his words.
“Of course, your majesty.”
He didn’t rise to her taunt, steeling his body, positioning himself before he launched into motion.
Without an actual opponent, it was harder to demonstrate different movements properly, but not impossible. Eris imagined an invisible opponent before him as he moved. He dodged and pivoted, twisting through each movement as his blade sliced effortlessly through the night air.
He imagined himself advancing on the phantom opponent, driving them backwards. Eris stepped in, struck and slid out—a movement that kept one guarded and anticipating the next strike.
Something he prided himself on during a sword fight was his ability to keep his opponent on their toes. Whether it was from a feint or an angle change, he never struck the same place twice, never angled his body the exact same way too often.
Instead of retreating from the imaginary foe, he slid sideways, stepping back diagonally as he imagined the opponent’s strike towards him. He repositioned at the exposed flank, knowing in a real sword fight, he’d perform the same movement.
Eris could picture the individual in front of him, blade flicking and aiming for the shoulder only at the last second to redirect the blade towards the ribs. Even in a pretend fight, he anticipated what the other person would do, could practically hear the sound of the blade slicing through the air, could see the glint of metal as it was directed towards his open and vulnerable side.
Quick on his feet, he spun on his heel, away from the oncoming attack, his curtain of red hair swishing through the air in response to the quick movement.
In reality, he knew sparring of such kind could go on for quite some time—either until one surrendered, was forced to surrender or was defeated. To wrap it up, Eris angled the sword into mid air, capturing the opponent’s sword against his own. He pictured how it would look for metal to press against metal, his sword crossed against the other’s. With a sharp flick of his wrist—sending his blade moving downward and away—he wrenched the weapon from invisible fingers.
Eris stepped back, dropping his sword to his side, his chest heaving. He’d gotten caught up in the intricate dance of swordplay, expelling more energy than he’d originally planned to for this demonstration.
He’d initially planned to just walk through some steps, demonstrating some generic movements, but found himself caught up in the tantalizing rhythm of sparring. It was something he’d always enjoyed, the intricate maneuvers of a sword fight, every movement carefully planned and thought out.
The rhythm and flow of sparring made his blood roar every time, the sensation it evoked in him intoxicating. He wasn’t sure why he enjoyed it so much other than the fact it was something he could lose himself in every single time.
Sometimes in training, sparring allowed him to turn off other parts of his brain that tended to be too loud—focus all his energy on something else for a bit. It was a way to use his cunning mind—one that was perfect for thinking through every possible outcome—for something other than twisted politics and courtly matters. It was something that replenished him rather than drained him.
He’d also be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t put more effort into it than intended, just to show off a tad, as well.
Eris was surprised to see her looking rather entranced like she’d just witnessed a performance at the theater and not him acting out a one-sided sword fight. Her lips were parted in surprise, head tilted slightly as if she’d watched every single maneuver, though she likely couldn’t yet pick apart single movements in the blur of the fast motions.
His next statement came naturally, without having to give it a second thought.
“I can teach you some of the footwork, if you’d like.”
“Okay,” she agreed.
Though Eris realized she likely knew the basics, she didn’t seem to object when he ran through the different things with her.
“Feet shoulder width apart. Don’t plant your feet. I realize you know all of this but—”
Her eyes were focused on his feet as she copied him but they shot up to his face.
“It’s okay.”
Eris simply nodded, but she continued.
“As you said, it will be slightly different when I have a real blade in my hand.”
He didn’t comment further, but resumed his instructions.
“It’s important to always stay light on your feet. In any confrontation—in a sword fight—you need to move quickly, nimbly.”
“You’d have hated to see me in my first weeks of lessons,” she mumbled.
He chuckled lowly, pulling a surprised look from her as she once again met his eyes. As if she was surprised he could make such a sound.
Truthfully, he was surprised a bit himself.
He cleared his throat, continuing on.
“Something I do—something I’ve taught my soldiers—when you dodge a strike, don’t fall into the habit of taking a step back. Even though your body is tempted to.”
“How come?”
“You lose ground and opportunity.”
She blinked at him and he realized this sort of lesson was likely far more advanced than she’d yet learned. But something in him kept going, even if it sounded like nonsense to her at the moment.
It was like he couldn’t help continuing talking to her—didn’t want it to stop.
“Noted. So what do you do instead?”
“You might’ve seen me do it but—”
“I saw you do plenty of things that looked complicated but were as effortless as a dance. Not all of us non-warriors are capable of such a performance,” she broke in, with more than a tiny bit of sass in her tone.
Eris arched a brow.
“I would guess it pays off that I also know how to ballroom dance,” he replied, dryly.
“Of course you do,” she huffed, as if that were no surprise.
His lips twitched at her exasperation, at the teasing and ease that had somehow slipped into their conversation.
“May I continue or are you going to spend all night being snarky during your extra lesson?”
She sighed heavily as if affronted, but he swore a ghost of a smile painted her lips.
“You may continue,” she said, waving a hand, “You said you demonstrated the movement you’re speaking of at some point during your dramatic and flawless performance?”
He couldn’t help the smile that actually formed this time at her words, the warmth that her teasing brought to his chest. But he continued with his explanation, trying to remain serious.
“Yes. When retreating from a strike, your foot needs to step backwards diagonally. You angle your body outwards and it gives you a chance to survive longer.”
She looked contemplative as if she was turning his explanation over in her head.
“I think I’ve noticed Cassian and Azriel doing that when they’ve demonstrated for us before.”
Eris nodded.
“They probably have. It’s not an uncommon tactic in sword combat.”
She fell silent and against all of his good sense, he blurted the first question that he’d been wondering about.
“Why don’t you let Azriel or Cassian near you?”
Why do you only let me? was the silent, unspoken question that followed his voiced one.
She looked hesitant—almost ashamed—as if the truth would strip her bare more than she cared to be. Since he’d put her in an uncomfortable position, Eris attempted to throw her a lifeline.
“I may not always see eye to eye with them but they are good males. They would never harm you—or let anything happen to you ever again. Neither would I.”
It had likely been too honest—but if she’d caught on to his own vulnerability, she didn’t let on. In fact her face turned determined as she looked up at him, a grim set to her features.
“I refuse to let anything happen to myself, too. After all, that’s why I joined training in the first place.”
He felt that strange taut warmth beneath his ribs again, followed by a hollow tightness that nearly stole the breath from him. In that moment, everything in him felt drawn to her at a higher intensity than he’d yet to feel. He had to casually cross his hands behind his back to conceal how tightly they’d curled into fists, an attempt to control himself. But she spoke again before he could find the appropriate words to say in response.
“I refuse to be weak ever again.”
Eris wished he had the courage to tell her that she was anything but. That she had just as much metaphorical fire in her as he did, magically.
“Well, I think I’ve occupied enough of your time for one night. Thank you for the impromptu lesson.”
That tether in him felt like it twisted, a hint of panic spiking through him at the fact that she intended to leave soon. But then Eris looked at her face and reassessed her intentions.
The dark circles of that initial meeting had faded some and she didn’t look nearly as haunted as that night, but they were still there. He could tell she was tired, the presence of those shadows under her eyes alerting him to the fact that she hadn’t slept well in some time.
“My pleasure. I hope you can get some rest.”
She’d wrapped her arms around herself, whether to protect herself from the late night chill or to protect herself from her earlier vulnerability, he wasn’t sure. But her eyes found his as she nodded.
“I hope you can too, Eris.”
Then she was passing him, taking the path that led back indoors. She paused after only a few footfalls, turning back to him slightly.
“See you soon?” she asked, though he thought it sounded a tad hopeful.
His voice was hoarse as he answered her, honestly.
“Of course.”
Seemingly satisfied with that answer, she parted from him with a small smile sent his way—one that made his stomach flip.
As he watched her depart towards the stairwell Eris got the sneaking suspicion that there was much more to the female than he’d ever once thought.
•••
It didn’t even surprise you anymore when you walked into the shadowed training ring in the middle of the night and found Eris already there waiting for you.
In fact, it had grown to be a comfort.
You’d stopped questioning how or why he always managed to be there, how you’d managed to fall into this pattern with the male and started accepting maybe it was just meant to be. Even if it was for a short period of time, you’d quickly stopped taking advantage of it. Though most nights you still braced yourself as you climbed the stairs, halfway expecting this to be the night he wasn’t there.
But he was. Every time.
What had started as training help—Eris helping you improve on your posture or skills that you were a tad weaker in, amongst other things—somehow started to morph into conversation.
At first it was safe territory. He would keep his distance—though not as nearly far as he did that first night—and talk about training.
“Are you eager to start with the steel blade soon?” he’d asked you one night.
You’d merely shrugged, trying to downplay any excitement and apprehension, simply answering you were always eager to learn more, to become stronger.
By this point you’d lost count of how many times you’d met Eris up on this roof. But somehow, with each meeting, the distance between the two of you seemed to shrink. At some point, you two had started drifting closer as if drawn to one another in ways neither of you could explain—or even bothered to address.
It was something that simply…happened.
Tonight, you comfortably sat next to him. There was still at least a few inches between you and him, but it didn’t bother you. You leaned back on your hands, looking up at the night sky through the opening at the top of the ring.
The sky was inky black but peppered with thousands of pinpricks of white, the stars shining so bright. Sometimes it hurt to know how long you’d been cooped up in the library, missing such beautiful wonders like this. There were spelled windows in the dormitories, but still, nothing captured it quite like being outside to see the beautiful sight.
Tonight though, conversation dipped into more familiar territory, more personal.
“I believe we got off on the wrong foot. You know—” his head tilted towards the House, indicating the library underneath.
You raised an eyebrow as you peered his direction before lifting your eyes back to the star flecked sky.
“I’d say that’s putting it mildly.”
He huffed a breath—something like an agreement or an acknowledgment of what you said to be true.
“I’d still like to apologize. My less than stellar mood was not your fault.”
He sounded sincere.
You turned back to him, contemplating his words. He’d turned from you, eyes on the high stone walls that blocked any sort of view other than the one through the opening high above—unless you were to sit high above the training ring.
You took in his profile—the pale freckled skin, strong jaw, straight nose, pale pink lips.
A part of you wondered why a handsome fae heir like him spent so much time with you, what catch there had to be to his attention. You weren’t necessarily comparing him to Finneas as much these days—Eris certainly didn’t seem to be like the unpredictable, abusive male you’d tangled with in your past—but you’d been taught to be hesitant, to second guess any sort of generosity.
But maybe here, you didn’t need to.
“I forgive you,” you uttered.
You’d learned in many sessions with your counselor how healthy—how important—it was to approach apologies by not saying ‘it’s okay’ when a good portion of situations that called for an apology weren’t okay. It was a bad habit you’d fallen into every time you’d accepted countless apologies from Finneas—ones you had soon come to realize meant very little. Especially when he’d only turn around and break his promise of ‘never again’.
Eris turned to you, catching the difference, but didn’t seem to take offense. In fact, he seemed surprised at the distinction, perhaps even looked quietly appreciative that you hadn’t brushed away his actions to make him feel better. After all, he seemed to be a male that didn’t bother with niceties nor did he dance around his intentions.
You didn’t know what you expected him to say next, but what he responded with actually caught you off guard.
“Is there a reason you usually keep the hood up? Or the invoking stone on? I notice others don’t seem to as often as you.”
He wasn’t asking to be rude, but asked with genuine curiosity, his amber eyes taking in your appearance—momentarily flicking upwards to the priestess hood and invoking stone. You paused yourself, reflecting on the question, actually searching inward because it wasn’t something you had an easy answer for.
There was no rule that a priestess had to wear them at all times and they were never shamed for removing them—as many did for training sessions. You chewed on the corner of your lower lip as you turned contemplative.
Eris watched you the entire time.
“I suppose it’s just habit—comfort. For five years it’s been a constant in life, so it accidentally became my normal. But you’re right. There’s no need to.”
You reached up, removing the hood, pushing it back off your head.
“In fact, I feel like it hinders my ability to see during training. Which was why it was down the first night you found me here.”
Eris hadn’t responded though. In fact, it was odd as he stared at you—stared at you like he’d never seen you before. Whether it was because of your admission or the fact you’d actually removed your hood, you couldn’t be sure.
“Five years?” he asked, gently.
Your eyes dropped, not entirely sure how to broach the subject. You didn’t want to be rude and completely ignore his question, so you met him halfway.
“That is correct,” you answered softly.
Mercifully, Eris didn’t push you. Instead, surprisingly, he changed the subject—at least from the events that led you to living in the library.
“What do you do in the library? I mean, I assume everyone is tasked with different duties. I know many are acolytes and spend most of their time dedicated to research.”
Eris shifted, stretching his long legs out in front of him, crossing one over the other, the rustle of the fabric of his elegant pants loud in the quiet night. He leaned back on his hands, peering at you with a healthy dose of curiosity.
“They do. I basically fetch and shelve books. Apparently I have an excellent memory when it comes to where books are located. It’s not exactly impressive work, but it keeps my days busy,” you shrugged, a little embarrassed.
You weren’t like some of the other priestesses—Merrill for one—who busied their days with mountains of research. Or even Gwyn who had spent her time in the library being Merrill’s assistant. Your position in the library was definitely less than thrilling—nor very important.
“You also keep things running smoothly, it sounds like. Without you, I fear they’d be lost,” Eris said casually.
You huffed a laugh.
“Now you’re just trying to flatter me. I assure you, it’s not exactly grand work.”
“Perhaps not to you. But you also have a job that many aren’t willing to do—you provide source materials to those that need them, saving valuable time they can instead devote to their research. You’re an important piece in the overall puzzle,” he answered smoothly.
You blinked, surprised. You’d never once thought of it like that. Eris certainly had a way of looking at the world that differed greatly from your view.
“I supposed I never saw it that way.”
“Everyone has an important task in my forces, whether they consider it menial or not. They’re all equally as important."
You glanced sidelong at him. He was very different from the male you’d first assumed him to be, that was for sure.
“You live in a library,” Eris began.
You side eyed him, curious to where this statement was leading.
“It would truly be a tragedy if you didn’t enjoy reading.”
A breath of laughter actually escaped you at his dry remark. He looked pleasantly surprised at the noise as your lips stayed tilted upwards.
“Lucky for you, I do rather enjoy reading in my spare time.”
“What do you like to read?” he asked.
Suddenly you were grateful for the dimmer lighting—the moon briefly disappearing behind a cloud—for your cheeks turned pink at the thought of the latest book you’d read. You’d nabbed it from Gwyn when she’d accidentally left it on her last visit. You particularly enjoyed romances—though she’d told you once how Nesta and Emerie had introduced her to some more smutty romances.
All that to say, your interest had been piqued.
When she’d caught you reading it during an impromptu visit—on a day you hadn’t expected her—she hadn’t chided you, but had grinned knowingly and encouraged you to keep it until you’d finished it. It had been a delightful read.
But you certainly weren’t going to be telling Eris that.
“Different things. Usually anything that piques my interest.”
That certainly was the truth.
“Mysteries, history sometimes, poetry,” you continued on, “What about you? Do you like to read?”
His lips twitched, like the question was preposterous to ask—not at your lack of knowledge, but likely from what he answered with.
“I’m positive I’ve been in the middle of a few books at any time my entire life,” Eris quipped.
“Sounds like an excellent problem to have,” you retorted, pulling your legs to your chest, your robe rustling with the movement.
“Well books have always been a source of knowledge for me—entertainment as well—but I always put an importance on learning as much as I could from a young age. It comes in handy,” he shrugged, as if not wanting to make a bigger deal out of it than it was, “But some recreational time is spent reading, amongst other things.”
“Such as?”
You rested your cheek on your knees, facing him, and you swore he paused, watching your motion. A strange expression passed over his face. Oddly enough, it was something much softer and more at ease than you’d thought you’d ever seen on the male.
“I taught myself to play chess,” he responded.
“Did you teach yourself ballroom dancing as well?”
“Ah, you remembered that little tidbit, did you?” he smirked, eyes twinkling, “No, that came with my thorough education.”
“Sounds on par for a princeling, I’d suppose,” you quipped.
He tossed you an amused look before continuing.
“Have you ever played?”
You lifted your head, shaking it.
“I never learned how.”
He was silent for a moment as his gaze flickered over you. You half wondered what was going through his head.
“Maybe someday I can teach you.”
Strangely, your stomach fluttered at the kind gesture—even if he had no intention to. The words in itself meant a great deal to you. You felt a smile grow on your lips.
“I’d like that.”
•••
ERIS
It amazed Eris how much he started looking forward to their nightly rooftop meetings.
The fact didn’t escape him how little by little she kept letting him in—the space between them shrinking nightly, physically and emotionally. There was something about her that brought him such peace and not just because of what she was to him, but her actual presence, her companionship.
They didn’t typically sit up all night—only spending a few hours of the night together—but he knew if there was ever a time she’d want to stay until sunrise, he wouldn’t hesitate to. It also didn’t escape him that he was never the first to leave—he always waited for her to and followed her lead. It was usually when the exhaustion finally caught up to her and she knew it was time to get a few hours of sleep before sunrise.
Eris didn’t know when it had happened, but he had found he’d softened considerably towards the female. Though he’d realized it’d been happening for a while, nothing compared to how he currently felt.
For all he knew, it had to do with how the bond seemed to tug and strain more relentlessly, with more urgency lately, as if it was begging him to acknowledge it. Which he had—he’d done plenty of acknowledging it. Only to himself, that was.
He had no inkling what to do about the mating bond, but she, as an individual, was a completely different manner. He wasn’t stupid enough to—nor did he desire to—force a mating bond on her. She wasn’t his and he wasn’t entitled to her. She was her own person—one that seemed to still be healing. One that seemed to grow into a stronger female as the days and weeks passed. It had actually passed a month now since that first run in on the roof—more than two since he’d first laid eyes on her.
How far she’d come since that day.
Not only in her demeanor, confidence and strength, but also her appearance. For today, for the first time, she’d opted to attend lessons in a pair of Illyrian leathers. Some of the other priestesses had opted to make the switch long ago while others decided and preferred to stay in their robes, Eris had noticed. It had made little difference to the Illyrians and the trio of females who’d inspired this. They were happy to teach them in either.
It was different seeing her in something other than her priestess robe but pride swelled in his chest at the change. For someone that seemed to once hold tight onto what was comfortable, she was embracing change, welcoming it, actually.
And for some reason, Eris was just so damn proud of her.
Gone was the invoking stone—likely tucked away in a safe place during lessons now—and her long hair was pulled back out of her face. It now fell in a long braid down her back, whipping through the air with her movements.
He watched as the gathered group did their normal warm ups, which usually consisted of push ups, abdominal curls, squats and more equally taxing exercises. After that would follow Valkyrie sprints. That involved a pattern of exercises where they sprinted for ten seconds, trotted for thirty seconds and then returned to a full sprint for ten more seconds—repeated for fifteen minutes straight. It was unforgiving and strenuous cardio, but he watched the females push through it all, time and time again.
They didn’t typically compete with others, though Eris got the feeling that they often competed with themselves—each female striving to better herself and surpass her latest personal achievement. From watching her specifically, he knew she did exactly that. It was how she pushed and motivated herself. After all, it was what he’d recommend his own soldiers do.
During the current warm ups, Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie were right at the front as per usual, participating and learning alongside the other females—even if they occasionally led, since they were now much further advanced.
Nowadays, Eris tried constantly to also focus on the others and not spend his entire time watching her—which was what he’d just been doing when he heard Cassian speak.
“There’s no way you’re finished already.”
“Yet suspiciously I am.”
He knew that teasing tone and voice anywhere.
Eris’s eyes instantly found her sitting in her designated place, cross-legged and looking flushed, but smug. In these last few weeks Eris had started to see her personality come to life—both during lessons and in private, with him. Each tiny piece of her revealed had filled him with a sense of wonder in different ways. Mainly because it was such a far cry from the timid and fearful female he’d first met—the one who had flinched when Cassian or Azriel got too close.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her have a reaction like that. He hoped he never did again.
He still spent too much time pondering what could’ve happened to her. From what he could see, there were no physical marks left on her like the types some of the priestesses bore—but that didn’t mean there weren’t scars in places he couldn’t see. Not everyone bore physical scars like himself.
But to see her teasing, happy, laughing—though most of the latter ones only came to the surface most often with him—it did him good. Maybe that’s why he opened his mouth in the first place because he certainly hadn’t planned to.
“Don’t worry about her, Cassian, she just likes to show off. Clearly she’s learned from the best.”
Though his arms were folded, he couldn’t help the way his fingers curled on his biceps simply in reaction to the look she gave him—part surprise, part mischief. It made his blood roar and that tether deep inside him tug harder, a sense of pride and possessiveness washing over him.
He’d intentionally left the comment open ended and vague, making it sound like he could’ve been referring to Cassian or even Azriel. He saw the way her lips curved upwards, amused, laughter sparking in her eyes as she looked at him. He heard Cassian call her name and she pulled her gaze from him and turned to the Night Court General.
“Have you been sneaking in extra lessons elsewhere without my knowledge?” Cassian asked, arching a brow.
Her grin was so dazzling it did something funny to Eris. Half of him was in awe at how the bright smile lit her face, transforming it. He remembered how once he’d only wished to be on the receiving end of one of her smiles. The other half flared with envy, wishing he was on the receiving end of it now.
“I’ll never tell,” she sing-songed.
Cassian’s eyes narrowed, not believing her for a damn second before he shook his head, pointing to the ground.
“Do another fifteen abdominal curls since you’ve got time to kill.”
She groaned dramatically and flopped backwards onto the padded mat on the ground.
“Let this be an important lesson ladies,” Cassian called out, “None of you should have time to be bored.”
Even while Cassian spoke to the group, Eris could feel the Illyrian’s curious stare on him, knowing good and well the male was attempting to puzzle out what was unfolding before him—and everyone else for that matter. Before she launched into the set of exercises she’d been ordered to do, her head turned his way again, laughter dancing in her eyes.
Despite Cassian’s questioning gaze, that didn’t stop Eris from sending her a playful wink, teasing her right back. He certainly didn’t miss the blush that colored her cheeks as her gaze darted away and back to her task at hand as she launched into the first curl off the ground.
The curious stares only got worse by the end of the lesson though.
She’d made record timing on her warm ups and sprints—beating her own personal best record—then hit every single stance for the sword training, meaning she’d be able to start with the steel blade, along with the rest, soon. Considering she’d had the latest start and had the most catching up to do, it was rather impressive and showed just how hard she’d worked, how far she’d pushed herself in the months since she’d first stepped into the ring.
She was sweaty, breathless and devastatingly beautiful as she approached him. It sent his brain into dangerous territory that he quickly shook himself from. She radiated pride and joy at her day’s accomplishments.
“You did well today,” he complimented her, wholeheartedly.
“Proud of me yet?” she teased with a grin.
More than you may ever know. The silent truth floated through his mind.
“I don’t know. Only if you keep it up. Can’t have you slacking now,” he joked.
She pretended to look offended.
“The fact you think I’d have time to, is insulting. Especially with those hard asses.”
She tilted her chin over her shoulder where Cassian, Azriel and the trio of females seemed to be trying hard to look like they weren’t eavesdropping—the latter especially. If the female in front of him noticed, she didn’t comment on it.
“Be thankful you aren’t training under me. You wouldn’t have time to even think of sassing back,” he said simply.
“Oh, believe me, I’d make the time to,” she retorted, stubbornly.
He believed it too.
The wind had whipped strands of her hair free from her braid during the hours-long lesson and it kept blowing in her face as they spoke. His gaze kept focusing on it and the way she kept trying to shake it out of the way.
He thought to ask a moment before he reacted—never wanting to touch her without her permission first.
“May I?” he asked, lifting his hand slightly.
She grasped what he meant instantly. Her chin dipped in barely a nod and he reached out slowly, as not to startle her. Long, pale fingers brushed the silky strand of hair out of her face, slowly tucking it behind an arched ear.
“There,” he murmured, amber eyes meeting her own, “Better.”
Somehow the moment had turned heavier, tension filled. He could’ve sworn she leaned into his touch ever so slightly. His thumb twitched, half tempted to brush against her cheek, but he wasn’t about to take something that wasn’t offered to him.
The air between them grew taut—eerily similar to the way it had felt that infamous day when he’d felt the bond snap between them. Just like that day, there were others around. Which is exactly why he let his hand drop instantly, taking a step back to put some distance between them.
The moment instantly dissolved and she blinked, like she was waking from a dream.
They said nothing further, but she dipped her head in a farewell before taking her leave. When Eris turned back from watching her depart, he was met with the stares of five individuals. Ones that said—without the need for words—that they knew something was changing before their very eyes and they were all witnesses to it.
In truth, they only knew the half of it.
•••
“What’s your favorite color?”
You chuckled, amused at the abruptness of Eris’s random inquiry.
“Why?”
“Do you always question someone’s intentions when trying to get to know you?”
You bit your lip, recalling how, no, once you hadn’t—and at a time you’d probably should’ve. When it was crucial that you should’ve.
“No. You just caught me off guard,” you explained.
You didn’t want to get into where your mind had just gone—that is if he’d even caught your brief hesitancy. You didn’t know. Eris only awaited your answer.
It was another night under the stars, one of many that had occurred over the last few weeks. Meetings with Eris had soon felt as natural as breathing.
“Blue,” you finally answered, “And don’t laugh. I know it’s probably the most obvious answer.”
You motioned to the pale blue robe you were in and the blue of the invoking stone at your brow.
“It’s calming,” you explained.
“I wasn’t judging,” he said, voice sounding serious.
You leaned back against the stone wall the two of you rested against tonight. Your head shifted against the coolness of it as you turned to look at him. Tonight, the two of you were the closest you’d been yet, barely a hand’s width between your body and his.
“What about you? What’s your favorite color?”
He scoffed.
“I don’t have one.”
You just gaped at him.
“Come on. Everyone has a favorite color,” you prompted him.
“Well, I do not,” he said, flatly, almost unamused.
You weren’t deterred by his unenthusiasm though.
“No color is just beautiful to you or brings you peace?” you pressed.
He sighed, chest rising and falling with his deep breath, his exasperation with you apparent. But you could tell by the twinkle in his amber eyes that he wasn’t truly annoyed with you—that it was merely the sort of game you two played. You teasing him, him pretending to be aggravated—all while probably secretly enjoying the effortlessness of the back and forth dynamic.
You watched some sort of emotion flicker across his eyes—whatever he was thinking clearly evoking the brief emotion. What beautiful eyes they were.
As foolish as it sounded, those eyes had started to feel familiar—safe. They were comforting and grounding when your own would meet his amber ones during lessons—see them spark with mischief, gleam with pride or even soften in something that almost looked like care.
If you weren’t careful, sometimes you felt like you could drown in them and that was a dangerous realization.
“Well maybe not just one color,” he started.
You shrugged.
“That’s okay. Tell me anyway,” you encouraged.
“I enjoy the colors of the trees in Autumn. The jewel tones of deep reds, rusty oranges, golden yellows and rich olives, warm browns of the leaves that have already deepened past the other colors. I realize it sounds unusual, but it’s as though they blend into one beautiful color to me—the color of autumn.”
Your head tipped back as your eyes rose to the domed opening far above, the beautiful Night Court sky twinkling. You’d realized that this court—this city was the only part of this world you’d seen. Something that had shrunk into an even smaller existence after Finneas. Something within you ached with a desire to one day see the sights that Eris described—to see more of this world.
“That…sounds beautiful.”
Your voice sounded wistful to your ears as you tried to imagine the sight. Of course there was autumn in the Night Court and you’d once watched the leaves change from behind your room window—now you’d started seeing it from the training ring. But you could only imagine the beauty of autumnal leaves in the court where it was always autumn. You would bet many gold marks that the beauty was indescribable.
“Yeah,” his voice seemed to trail off, “It is.”
Only the Mother witnessed the way Eris was looking at you when he said that though.
•••
Time seemed to pass at a warp speed once the preliminary lessons with the steel blades began.
The first time you held a steel blade in your hand made you feel more powerful than you’d ever anticipated. You’d never imagined you’d one day be holding such a weapon, learning how to utilize it—how to become a weapon, yourself.
Over these last few months, you’d morphed into a female that the old you wouldn’t have even recognized. It was a better, stronger version of yourself, one that you might’ve never fathomed becoming if it hadn’t been for the events that led you here.
You were haunted less and less these days of bad memories. They were still there, but they’d loosened their hold significantly. You still struggled with sleeping, though, even if you weren’t always chased from sleep with nightmares. Sometimes you still found you weren’t sure how to turn your mind off.
The nightly meetings with Eris helped greatly and you’d become grateful for the steady presence of him, the reassurance of his company. Something told you that even if you could sleep, you’d have still somehow found yourself traversing up the steps to the roof nightly, just to see him.
More changes came alongside the group moving onto swords. Along with it came a brand new instructor, though you should’ve seen it coming.
Eris was now teaching some short lessons.
Cassian and Azriel were starting small in an attempt to incorporate some techniques from the Autumn Court along with the Illyrian and Valkyrie mix you all were already learning and memorizing. That alone came with some conflicting things.
For one, Gwyn had introduced a test for everyone—one that she, Nesta and Emerie had already mastered, not to your surprise with that group of females’ determination. It was what crowned the three Valkyries—the first in over five centuries.
It had been quite some time ago, but you remembered that pride in your friend when you’d learned Gwyn had been the very first to cut the ribbon. You’d recalled how she’d told you of her accomplishment. Gwyn had been the first of her friends to be declared an official Valkyrie, too.
To slice the ribbon in half meant becoming a Valkyrie—but it was also a test of patience, hard work and determination of one’s self.
At every practice, before and after, you and the others attempted to slice the floating piece of ribbon in half—a task that looked much easier than it really was. Every time you faced it, it was like it taunted you as it blew lazily where it hung from the wooden post that had been hammered into the ground.
No one else had yet to slice it, but you had an inkling it wouldn’t be long before some of your sisters would be able to. You wanted to achieve that for yourself, too, so badly.
But that hadn’t been all of the changes.
The others that came were most definitely a surprise.
For one, you were not prepared for the sight of a shirtless Eris leading the start of lessons one warm summer morning.
You’d known and expected the sun to be warm—even this early in the morning—and had been plenty used to the occasions when Azriel and Cassian had needed to peel off their shirts to keep from overheating. At this point, you were very much used to the impressively sculpted bodies and didn’t even bat an eye at the sight anymore. But neither of them had caused you to nearly stumble over your feet at first glimpse.
He wasn’t nearly as muscular as Cassian or even Azriel. He was leaner, but not without being sculpted as well. Strong shoulders, defined pecs and very noticeable biceps greeted you—the same biceps you’d been able to notice even through his jacket sleeves back in the library so long ago.
What was even worse was the defined expanse of his stomach, ridges and dips indicating he’d worked hard to hone such a powerful body over the centuries. His hair gleamed under the bright sunlight, turning it fiery, as it draped loose over his bare chest.
As if all that wasn’t enough, then there was the freckles. He was speckled with them, over his chest, dispersing and becoming more sparse over his arms and stomach, small clusters breaking up into lone freckles the closer it got to the chiseled vee of his pelvis. The same one that dipped below the waistband of the pants that’d matched the jacket he’d shed before anyone had arrived.
You instantly jerked your eyes away, gluing them to the ground. You were not about to let your mind wander to such thoughts.
You also hadn’t expected the spike of irritation as you heard some dreamy sighs next to you. You were positive Roslin, Lorelei and Ananke sighed every time Eris walked past. You were also positive your hands gripped the hilt of your sword tighter each and every time you heard it.
You couldn’t explain why something dark and ugly twisted in you, hearing their—very valid—reactions to him. He was a stunningly gorgeous male. They had eyes. After all, he didn’t belong to you. He was your…friend.
Eris was your friend.
That had been an additional surprise—the realization of something so obvious that you hadn’t even noticed when it had truly happened. At some point over the months of late night conversations, you’d become friends with the Autumn male.
Even with that, the irritation lingered, you being unable to shake the feeling even after training was over.
Your mood had only further soured when you’d tried your hand again with cutting the ribbon. Again with no luck. Azriel had only encouraged you quietly, kindly reminding you not to give up. It was still early in your journey with using a sword, it wasn’t unusual to not be able to conquer the ribbon yet.
Which was why the final thing that day came as the biggest surprise.
It was after practice when you’d found yourself back in the library, standing in front of Clotho’s desk, blinking, confused, an odd sense of déjà vu filling you.
Eris had once asked what your favorite flower was and you’d told him the truth—that you’d never had one until you’d come to the library. It was something you’d only discovered in the last handful of years.
Elain Archeron always had arrangements made—picked right from her gardens—and then proceeded to send bouquets to the library for Clotho to display on her desk. Not only did they liven up the place, they were beautiful and always made the library smell so lovely.
Chrysanthemums, you’d told him.
Elain had once sent a bouquet of nothing but the colorful blooms, each flower separated with tiny leaflets for you to see each and every petal. It had taken your breath away as it had quite literally been a rainbow of hues—ranging from burgundy, red and pink to orange and yellow, all the way to purple and white. There had even been some that were a mix of more than one color.
Clotho had seen how much you loved the beautiful flowers and had given you permission to keep one. You’d chosen one that was a perfect blend of red petals closest to the stem, fading into an orange towards the middle with a center of complete yellow.
It had looked like a flame in flower form.
You’d kept it in your room until it died, then you’d carefully pressed it between the pages of one of your favorite novels, so you could keep it forever.
Now, you stood, blinking at the vase on Clotho’s desk that held another bouquet of your favorite flowers, making you feel like you’d traveled back in time to that one instance long ago.
Elain may have been a seer, but you had no idea she read minds too. Undoubtedly, they were beautiful, but it had come as a surprise. It wasn’t as often these days the female sent flowers since according to the rumor mill she was kept busy with her work outside of the Night Court.
“I didn’t realize Elain would be sending a bouquet,” you mentioned to Clotho, still slightly dumbfounded as you stared at the pretty bouquet.
The pen scratched against paper as Clotho wrote her response to you. Your eyes dipped to the paper when she was finished.
These are not from Lady Elain.
Your brows furrowed.
“Then where did they come from?”
You waited as she answered.
I believe the card will answer that question.
“What card?”
Clotho gestured with a nod toward the flowers and your attention returned to them. You saw a small square of paper tucked behind one of the flowers. You gently pulled it free so you could read it better.
How interesting that your favorite flower blooms in autumn. Luckily, the Autumn Court is rife with these. Maybe someday you can see them for yourself. Until then.
-Eris
Your eyes flicked back up to the head priestess.
“Did you peek at the card?”
How else would I have learned who they were for?
“I never knew you to be a busybody, Clotho.”
Her shoulders shook slightly in amused laughter as you huffed, gathering the vase to take back to your room. But on your journey there, something like warmth unfurled deep in your chest.
Eris had remembered your off handed comment about your favorite flower. He’d also unwittingly made your day so much brighter with one small gesture.
Something told you he remembered far more than he ever let on.
Something also whispered there was a reason for that too.
•••
ERIS
Eris had been antsy all afternoon through meetings and typical courtly duties back in Autumn, practically counting down the hours before he could winnow straight here and be able to see her again.
It had turned into a little game between them, actually, seeing who could beat the other to the roof. So far, he was winning—her only beating him a few times when he was delayed in slipping away.
She’d argued that he had the benefit of winnowing on his side. He’d argued that she actually lived on site, so she already had an unfair advantage.
Tonight was no different as he winnowed in, appearing in the training ring. It really had become more convenient to do so than bothering one of the Illyrians for a flight up. Eris often wondered if Rhysand knew just how much he was up here, solely for her. He suspected he might, but if he’d had any issue with it, he’d yet to bring it up.
This morning had left him off balance though.
Somehow, he’d been roped into participating—into teaching. The females, so far, had learned a combination of Valkyrie and Illyrian techniques—as had he over these months—but now he was teaching some maneuvers he used for his own soldiers in the Autumn Court.
If anything, the group of females would be well rounded in fighting skills, that was for sure.
It had been unusually warm, summer starting to approach, the end of spring soon coming to a close, thus resulting in a far warmer morning. Before any of the priestesses had shown up, he’d pulled off his jacket, thinking nothing of it. It wasn’t unusual for Cassian or Azriel to do so—the priestesses not even batting an eye.
She had been a different story though.
He’d felt her eyes on him the entire morning. Despite him having been shirtless many times when he’d exercised—or being in such a state while he led his own soldiers in training—he found himself resisting the urge to fidget, a tad self conscious.
He hadn’t been able to believe how nervous she made him. Not in a bad way, but knowing he’d kept capturing her attention not only flattered him, but had also made him sort of uneasy—had made him feel rather exposed.
He’d also failed to resist the urge to flex once or twice—or a few times.
Gods, he had been no better than a lovesick youth.
His eyes had met hers once, catching her in her admiration of his bare skin and the body that he’d worked hard for. He’d lifted a teasing brow and he watched as color rapidly spread across her cheeks, a small smile on her lips as she dipped her head, knowing she’d been caught.
His composure had slipped for barely a heartbeat, stomach tightening with some sort of ridiculous, fluttering feeling. A sort of nervous energy followed, the flare of that tether attached to his ribs answering in response to the female.
His chest had felt lightweight the entire rest of the morning.
He had been leaning against the wall, arms crossed, when he’d heard the shuffle of footsteps approaching and instantly straightened, back stiffening as he felt that undeniable pull deep inside him. It was as if the half acknowledged bond sang the closer to her he got.
When she’d cleared the archway, still quite a distance from him, she spoke.
“You are a sly bastard,” she quipped, pointing an accusatory finger at him as she approached.
He laughed lowly. He never failed to be surprised at the things that came out of her mouth.
“If this is about beating you here again, I have mentioned that you do have the home advantage,” he pointed out with a lazy smirk.
“Don’t try to be cute.”
“I’m always cute,” he purred, sitting down now that she’d arrived, “Now care to explain your dramatic entrance?”
“You sneaking flowers to me—my favorite flowers by the way.”
She settled right next to him, without even blinking, lowering herself to the ground so close he could feel the warmth of her. She continued talking as if nothing was amiss.
As if his pulse didn’t start going crazy the closer she got to him—as if the mere proximity of the two of them didn’t even faze her as she continued talking.
“I thought Elain had sent some more flowers,” she huffed, “But nope, just you.”
He snorted at her dramatics, actually endeared by it. He saw the way the edges of her lips twitched though, her eyes soft even through her performative teasing.
“That was really thoughtful of you, though, thank you. I didn’t realize you’d remember what my favorite flower even is.”
His eyes fixed on her, serious and unwavering.
“I tend to pay attention when important matters are involved,” he responded, voice softer than he’d initially intended, though no less heartfelt.
He’d come to realize that while at first he’d had no idea how to be who she needed, didn’t think he knew how to be gentle, somehow she had brought it out of him. She managed to do it so easily and effortlessly—all while having no idea who she was to him.
Though sometimes conversation had dipped into serious topics, he’d never once broached the subject of her past. Even if every part of him ached to know. Not because he was nosy, but it was the question that constantly haunted him. What had happened to dim this beautiful female? Who had broken the female so thoroughly that she was just now finding herself again?
But it wasn’t any of his business—mate or not—and she would only share if she chose to. He’d never pressure her to.
She looked thoughtful as she gazed back at him. Eris’s brows narrowed, confusion settling over his expression as he tried to puzzle out her sudden contemplation.
“What?” he asked.
“You know, you’re not as awful as everyone thinks,” she whispered.
That comment alone caused his breath to catch—not only in her sincerity, but the fact such kind words were coming from her. He gave her a half smile in return, though.
“You’re far more delightful than I imagined, too.”
The shy smile that graced her face triggered a smile on his, a soft laugh escaping him.
“It shouldn’t surprise me that you wield flattery like a weapon, Eris.”
He’d heard his name on her lips occasionally over the months, but it never failed to send a chill shooting down his spine. He could spend a concerning amount of time dissecting the way each syllable rolled off her tongue.
Trying to clear his fogged and distracted mind he picked a much safer subject.
“What do you think of the book I brought you?”
A few days ago, he’d brought a book for her—one he’d thought she’d like, though it was a different genre than she’d mentioned reading. But it was one of his own—one that he’d seen on the shelf of his room back in Autumn. It was one that the moment he saw it had made him instantly think of her. So he’d brought it for her to read.
She immediately brightened at his question.
“I meant to tell you I finished it this morning! I was almost late to training because I was trying to finish the last pages.”
Which he’d noticed, of course. Made even more obvious when she’d practically stumbled over her own feet at his appearance earlier that morning.
“It was awful!”
He tried to bite back his wince at being so wrong in his thinking, then covered it with a snarky comment, something he was more than used to doing—how he always hid any vulnerability.
“You wound me,” he intoned dryly.
“It was awful because it made me lose track of all time and I’ve gotten scolded twice this week by Clotho for my tardiness.”
His brows flicked up,
“So you truly enjoyed it? And by all means, don’t hesitate to spare my feelings. I can take it.”
Even if he was nervous of her critique—unusually so. He never did understand why the book had reminded him of her so much.
“I mean the only thing that annoyed me was the sidekick character. He really could’ve used less page time—he didn’t even contribute to anything! I’m telling you he appeared every fifty pages to make some profound remark and then just disappeared off the page, doing who knows what! Where was Sebastian? What was he doing? No one knows!”
She flung her hand in mid air, in exasperation, as if to prove her point. He really did try to keep a straight face, but clearly wasn’t doing a good job at it because she pointed at him.
“Don’t laugh. You have to admit, you could’ve taken him out of the story and it would’ve been the exact same.”
“I mean he did offer up enough clues to keep the story going,” he commented, lips still quirking in amusement.
“Point taken,” she conceded before continuing, "Thank you for bringing it to me. It brought me a lot of joy. Sort of like you have.”
Eris blinked, momentarily stunned. He’d never heard such words from someone and especially not about him.
“You’re welcome,” he barely whispered.
She didn’t seem to pick up how much her words had affected him as she continued on.
“I’ll have to remember to bring it next time as to return it to you.”
“Keep it as long as you wish,” Eris said, genuinely.
She looked ready to say something but instead of words coming out, a yawn replaced it.
“You’re tired,” he observed.
Part of him, selfishly, twisted in disappointment. They hadn’t been out here long—perhaps less than half an hour at this point—and as much as he knew she needed her rest, he hated to see her leave so soon.
“I haven’t been sleeping well,” she murmured.
He’d realized that to some degree—if she hadn’t she wouldn’t have been out here in the middle of the night, first to train then just to meet him. But still, the revelation bothered him. It triggered the desire to want to help her, even if he had no knowledge of just how to do that.
“How come?” he asked, voice as low as hers had been.
Dangerous—such dangerous territory that he’d have to carefully tread.
“Sometimes my mind is too loud,” was all she said.
He understood that well enough.
“You should get some sleep,” he suggested.
“I want to stay up to see the sunrise,” she answered, “I’ve always heard it’s beautiful, but I’ve never had the opportunity to see it from up here.”
“You’re not gonna see anything from here with these high walls,” he scoffed, peering around, before noticing the perfect spot.
He’d often seen Rhysand drop in sometimes and observe from the same exact location. If he could just winnow…
He turned back to her where she’d rested her head against the wall, resting her eyes for a moment.
“Are you that committed to seeing the sunrise?” he inquired.
“Yes,” she said stubbornly, even though her eyes didn’t open.
“Do you trust me?”
It was a crazy idea, he knew it was. But if it was something she desired…
“Yes,” came her immediate answer as she opened her eyes to again peer at him.
Her answer was so immediate, it left him astonished for a moment.
“Then take my hand and hold on. Okay?”
She looked baffled, but slid her hand into his, following his instructions as her other hand curled around his forearm.
In one quick flash Eris had winnowed them from where they’d been seated in the pit to the lip of it, settled safely on the flat mountain top that looked over the open air training pit—and the glittering city of Velaris. The perfect seat for a fully glorious view of the horizon.
Eris had to admit, it was quite the breathtaking view. Present company excluded.
She jolted with a gasp, clinging tighter to him for a quick heartbeat before relaxing slightly after realizing where he’d taken them. She gasped at the sight as she took it in, touch falling from him—much to his disappointment.
“You alright?” he asked.
He studied her profile, making sure she was indeed okay—hoping it hadn’t been a foolish mistake doing this. But the wonder on her face made up for any hesitancy he briefly had as she turned to him.
“It’s like I can see the world,” she breathed.
His mouth curved upwards.
“Yes,” he agreed.
Even though it was still the middle of the night—hours away from sunrise—she turned back to the view, taking it all in like it was the best thing she’d ever seen. Perhaps it was the best thing she’d ever seen—as of lately, that was.
They fell into a comfortable silence after that. Then, it happened without him even realizing it was coming.
He felt a soft weight at his shoulder, her head having naturally fallen against it. He tensed for half a second before relaxing, letting the warmth of her body meet his. He felt a small, involuntary shiver come from her, the nighttime air still a touch cool even with summer rapidly approaching.
Moments later, the bubble of air surrounding them warmed just slightly—enough to chase away any chill. A tiny bit of his fire magic to keep her from being too cold. She didn’t say anything, but he swore she leaned just a bit closer into him.
“Tell me something about yourself,” she mumbled, “Something I don’t know.”
She sounded drowsy, voice softer and heavy with exhaustion. Eris thought for a moment, head moving carefully to peer down at her. She was still staring out at the view through bleary eyes.
“Well, I possess fire magic,” he said quietly, though he felt like that was rather obvious right now.
“Does that ever intimidate you? Scare you?”
Eris paused at her question.
“Scare me?”
“Yeah. To know you hold such power to hurt or destroy someone—or something—with such powers. With the power of fire.”
He’d never thought of it like that. Her voice was inquisitory, but he thought he felt her body tense at his side. He wondered if it had to do with her past, this line of questioning.
“I would never harm someone for enjoyment,” he said, voice deadly serious.
“But you’ve had to before?”
“I have, yes. But only as a last resort. To protect myself or those I care about,” he responded, hesitating a beat, the vulnerability slipping through every word, “It is never something I’ve particularly enjoyed.”
He wasn’t sure what she thought of his answer, but she seemed to accept it.
“Tell me more.”
He chuckled, enjoying the way she seemed to melt into him the sleepier she sounded.
“Well, I have smokehounds—twelve of them. They’re born with magic of their own. Gray, sleek like smoke. They can race as fast as the wind and sniff out any prey.”
“Twelve? Sounds chaotic,” she yawned again.
The grin from earlier stayed on his face.
“A little. They like naps and having their fur stroked when they’re not busy working.”
“Similar to their master, right?” she mumbled, though he could hear the obvious playfulness in her teasing tone.
He actually laughed outloud, his chest rumbling with the sudden outburst. Peeking down again at her, he saw a smile curving her lips, even though her eyes had slipped closed again.
“I think they’d like you.”
The comment slipped out before he’d had a chance to vet it, but he’d realized it was true. He wholeheartedly believed his beloved hounds would take well to her. She hummed, sounding halfway asleep already. Glancing down, he saw her lashes fanned across the tops of her cheeks, looking the most at peace he’d ever seen her.
Her breathing became more deep, steady, evening out as she slipped under the tantalizing pull of sleep. Eris had an inkling she wouldn’t make it to sunrise, though it didn’t concern him in the slightest.
Part 1: To Catch A Priestess | Part 3: The Connection | Part 4: The Thread | Part 5: The Equals
Grappling with the aftermath of a life changing event, tension starts to arise between you and Eris. As your training continues, your past and present starts to bleed together and you find yourself questioning the male’s newfound attention—and the intent behind it.
Pairing: Eris Vanserra x f!reader
Warnings: brief mentions of domestic abuse, priestess reader, angst, tension, hostility, secret mate bond, trauma, some canon cruel Eris
Word Count: 10.9k
A/N: Part two of To Catch A Priestess is here and boy do these two have some emotions to work through. Buckle up because it’s going to be a journey. We still have three more parts to go!
Thank you so much to @harvest-bunny for the library scene inspiration and for beta reading! 💕
ERIS
Eris had never known the Mother to be so cruel.
The creator of their universe sure seemed to have a wicked sense of humor, at least.
Ever since his last trip to the Night Court, Eris had battled with the knowledge he now possessed. He’d ended up spending the entire following week with a head too full of thoughts. More so than usual.
Normally, his visits had occurred about once a month—sometimes even fewer if he struggled to fit it in with his busy schedule. He’d tried—he’d really tried to stay away until his next scheduled visit. Which had been over two weeks away.
He hadn’t been able to.
After sending a letter to Rhysand, Eris had appeared in Velaris the next week—weeks earlier than expected—to once again observe the females’ training. The Illyrians were surprised, but hadn’t commented. He’d felt the pull to Velaris though, no matter how much he’d try to ignore it. There would’ve been no way he could’ve waited any longer.
The second time he’d been there, he’d half hoped it had been some sort of fluke, a mistake, a misunderstanding on his part. But the moment he laid eyes on her he’d known. Training had already been in session due to his late arrival, though he’d quickly spotted her in the group—as if he already had the instinct to locate her easily.
He’d watched as she’d followed along with Azriel’s spoken instructions, body shifting with her movements. Eris’s chest had tightened and ached at the sight of her—even as something within him had simultaneously eased with her proximity.
It had been no fluke.
Thus had followed an entire month of the same cycle of tangled thoughts, anger and repeated visits to Velaris. He had been convinced the Cauldron got it wrong. If he were to have a mate, he’d have preferred one like Nesta Archeron, one that was strong. Instead, he’d been thrown this specific female.
He hadn’t even wanted a mate.
He was cold, calculating—a mastermind at the twisted games of the Autumn Court. A court that was made up of nothing but cutthroat brutality. He operated off insults, arrogance and indifference. In some ways Eris was as ruthless as the court he hailed from.
Emotions and softness were frowned upon in his world. It was seen as a sign of weakness. He’d taught himself long ago that in order to achieve his goals, he’d have to become someone that could survive the environment.
So he had.
He was the direct opposite of what someone like her needed. Barely controlled danger, a heartless, cruel male—at least that’s what most of the world believed him to be. Even if that was only what he let the world believe.
So after the fact—after the shock had worn off—Eris had gotten angry. The anger and resentment that started forming the day the mating bond snapped had finally blazed to life—more ferociously than any flame he could summon.
He hated the concept. Hated that he was thrown a mate that would never trust him. Hated that he had to be shackled to anyone—which in hindsight, he’d regretted even having that thought.
But he’d been angry. So much so that he’d let it show during an unexpected encounter with her in the very library she resided in. He’d been there for some research on age-old Autumn battle strategies—something he’d been considering and discussing with the Illyrians. Skills that could perhaps be incorporated into the females’ training.
There were techniques he was familiar with, but Eris knew that there were plenty likely lost to history. He’d yet to find much in Autumn’s libraries, so while he’d been in Velaris one day, he’d ventured down to the priestesses’ library—entering with their permission, of course.
It was a mistake on his part to act like he had. So much so that he couldn’t even bear to remember it—or the scent of her fear and anger she’d left behind as she’d scurried away from him. But that had been early on, not long after the bond had snapped, when the anger had still burned like molten lava.
By the end of the month, though, something in him had shifted. It’d been just another normal day, but when he’d taken in her face that morning—her presence—the guilt had flooded him for the trail of thoughts he’d allowed to consume him. The angry and anguished ones that had hounded him for far too long. Thoughts born of confusion and pain—something he couldn’t begin to understand.
Eris had gone from infrequent visits to the Night Court to appearing once a week—and even then, it hadn’t seemed enough. The privilege of a few hours a week spent around the female he’d discovered to be his mate hadn’t even begun to touch the ache within him. He felt it so strongly now when he was such a long distance from her.
The ache hadn’t just come from this ancient, primal thing. His normally clear head—one that could assess every situation thoroughly and anticipate every outcome—had turned into a mess of unwelcome thoughts, enough that it was becoming a distraction. That was half the reason he started attending training more often—in hopes to quiet his mind enough.
His mate.
He didn’t know what to do with that information. Not to mention he didn’t know what to do with a mate in general. One that was so…fragile.
Although fragile wasn’t exactly the word for her either. In the short time he’d known her, he’d watched her train harder, faster—saw the way she constantly pushed herself. That sort of grit didn’t come from a fragile individual. Perhaps delicate was a better term for it.
Someone had instilled such fear in her—had left such a deep seated instinct that she still couldn’t fully relax around Cassian or Azriel. The flinching when they got too close had minimized, but it still occurred occasionally. Each time Eris had caught the involuntary reflex—the slight motion that went unnoticed to most—his shoulders tightened, inexplicable fury blaring through him. Some male had left scars in her that were invisible to the naked eye, but still lingered.
Which was exactly why it devastated him that she had the misfortune of being tied to him.
The fact of the matter was, he wasn’t soft behind the mask he let the world see. Even if some of it had fallen away in a years-long alliance with the Night Court, what was underneath was still rough and hard to love. He knew how to be ruthless—exercised the ability when needed. He was strategic and typically acted in his best interests.
Even if he tried to be nothing like his father, sometimes he was still too much like him. She needed something he had absolutely no idea how to be.
He had no knowledge of how to be softer, gentler. Even if he hadn’t even interacted with her, the innate desire to protect her still flared within him. Made him want to be softer for her.
He’d spent every visit so incredibly quiet, tried to make his presence smaller as to not frighten her—though he tried to convince himself it was for all the priestesses’ benefit, not just her. Despite the fact the other females had grown used to his presence months ago and barely paid him any attention now. Partially due to their focus on their education in combat.
It took him a month before he worked up the nerve to ask the Illyrians about her. He was standing between the General of the Night Court and the shadowsinger, watching the independent practice they’d been assigned when his inquiry came.
“Who is she?” he murmured to Cassian, chin tilting towards where she practiced, an effortless slice being performed.
They were still practicing with the wooden practice swords, but as a group they were a deadly force—even more so as individuals. Eris was constantly impressed with how hard they’d worked, rain or shine, no type of weather slowing them down or dampening their spirits.
Her own confidence in her abilities had grown in the month he’d watched her. He’d seen her fight harder, work past the things that haunted her, turning into a stronger warrior by the day. Pride swelled through him to witness the strong female beginning to emerge, to see her starting to climb out of the shell she’d been reduced to.
Those first few weeks though…he knew he’d made her nervous, even if he kept discovering her eyes drifting his way more often than not. He’d tried to smooth over his usually cool face, tried to be more approachable.
Eris still felt like he’d looked nothing short of foolish because he’d had no inkling of what his face held. Something had caught her attention though because he often found her studying him as if trying to puzzle something out. Perhaps it was due to her eyes finding him so often that she quickly stopped being skittish, afraid, and had become more bold in the action.
The third week he’d been there, he’d attempted to give her a smile—a genuine one, lacking the arrogance it usually held. Perhaps it hadn’t worked because she didn’t return it, she only kept staring at him. Her eyes had only narrowed as if trying to figure him out before turning back to Azriel—who had been trying to get her attention.
“I’ll have to kick him out if he’s going to be this much of a distraction,” the spymaster had muttered to her.
“Please,” she’d huffed, “As if you don’t ogle your mate on the daily.”
Her snarky tone had made the shadowsinger’s brows raise nearly to his hairline, a smile tugging at his lips. Azriel hadn’t been the only one surprised at her retort as Eris blinked in surprise as well. But that hadn’t been what had nearly knocked Eris from his feet.
It was the laughter that had escaped her lips, her face shining with the teasing nature of her comment.
“Don’t worry. If you don’t judge me, Azriel, I won’t judge you.”
Azriel had only smirked, laughter bright in his eyes before he’d motioned with his head for her to get back in position.
Eris, in turn, had felt like his chest had collapsed. The sound of her laughter had nearly sent him to his knees. It had knocked him off kilter in ways he hadn’t been able to describe.
He’d barely interacted with her up to that point—other than the library incident. But it hadn’t stopped his gaze from consistently finding her this entire time, fighting instincts warring within him that he barely understood, himself.
But then she’d laughed—and Eris knew then he was in trouble.
Which was what had led him to finally inquire about the female who was his mate. He could’ve easily discovered the information on his own, yet he hadn’t. A sort of rebellion—for at least a month’s time—against what fate had dropped into his lap. But curiosity had eventually won out.
Cassian looked over at him, skepticism lining his face.
“Why?”
Eris rolled his eyes.
“Must you be stubborn about everything?”
It was Azriel that spoke her name.
Something within Eris reacted at the name, some intrinsic part of him responding to the information. He kept his face carefully neutral as the male continued talking.
“She just joined training a few months ago. She was the last of the priestesses to join—well, she’s our latest addition, at least.”
“Haven’t you been training them for a while now? What took her so long?” Eris asked, genuinely curious.
Apparently it came across as too harsh—perhaps too personal because the shadowsinger cut him a sharp look.
“These females—”
Eris sighed.
“Yes. I know. It was not my intention to come across as insensitive. It was a mere question.”
“We don’t know,” Cassian finally answered, “We don’t know what happened to her—to most of these priestesses. The only ones that know are Clotho and Rhysand.”
Eris watched her as she practiced with another priestess, this one with dark black hair, slowly walking through the movements one would when sparring with an opponent. His eyes fell to her feet and he saw the misstep almost before it happened. A heartbeat later it caused her to stumble the slightest. She recovered quickly though, blocking a hit from her opponent.
Good girl.
He tried not to read too much into the thought that popped in his head—so effortlessly it was a tad concerning. But he couldn’t help the pride he felt, watching her improve day to day.
“You’re glaring,” Cassian rumbled.
“I am not.”
“If you’re trying to make a good impression on anyone, I’d say you’d need to stop looking like you’re sneering at everything,” Cassian said bluntly.
“I do not sneer.”
A dry snort came from the shadowsinger at his right. Eris just cut him a look, but as he turned back to her, he tried to…relax his features. He tried to appear more neutral, less threatening.
“You’re grimacing,” Azriel muttered dryly.
Eris sighed deeply, closing his eyes, praying to the Mother for strength—and perhaps a different face at this rate. He was clearly doing a fine job being anything less than intimidating.
“If you’re trying to preen for a certain priestess, I wouldn’t waste the energy,” Cassian commented.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Eris uttered.
But his gaze hadn’t lingered from where she practiced, watching her smoother and much more fluid movements than from moments before. She’d improved greatly in the month since the bond snap.
“I just find her interesting. She has potential,” Eris added, nonchalantly.
Potential to change his entire life, that is.
“Sure.”
Cassian didn’t sound convinced, but that didn’t stop him from continuing, as he straightened, Illyrian wings rustling at his back.
“Rhys wants to see you when training is over. Me or Az will fly you down.”
Eris grimaced again and not at the mentioning of the flying—though that was always awkward and unpleasant—but at the fact that he knew it could only mean one thing.
He had thought he’d been more subtle with the amount of interest he’d been showing in her—had thought he’d kept his observations detached from the storm of emotions and instincts that warred within him every time he was here.
Apparently he had not.
Clearly, the Illyrians had picked up on it long before Eris had asked after her and reported back to their High Lord. He kept his voice neutral, unbothered, his demeanor unruffled.
“What about?”
“He didn’t say,” came Cassian’s answer.
Eris simply nodded, continuing to keep an eye on the female as she beamed brightly to the priestess she’d been practicing with, pleased with how she’d just mastered a move.
Eris was left to wonder if one day she’d ever give him one of those smiles.
An hour later, Eris found himself in Rhysand’s study in his private residence—a place he’d only been a few times before now.
“If you wanted a report on my thoughts Rhysand, I’m sure you could’ve just asked Azriel or Cassian,” Eris said dryly, arms crossed as he stood in front of the High Lord’s desk.
The hard look on the High Lord of the Night Court’s face didn’t intimidate Eris. But it sure confirmed what he’d suspected from the moment he’d learned of this meeting.
“That’s not why I wanted to see you,” Rhysand said, tone deadly serious.
“Then why have I been summoned, High Lord?” Eris sighed, lacing the question with bored indifference.
“Cassian and Azriel have brought it to my attention that you seem to have taken a tad too much interest in a certain priestess.”
And there it was.
“I’m curious about their training. It’s not unusual that I tend to watch some individuals more than others.”
Eris shrugged a lazy shoulder, staring the male down. Rhysand wasn’t buying it though, his violet eyes narrowing. The air thickened, becoming heavy, the pressure in the room feeling like it weighed more on him than it had moments before. Darkness rippled behind him, the High Lord’s anger beginning to show.
Rhysand was one who could control his temper, making it that much more terrifying and deadly—much like Eris, himself, could. Eris’s eyes took in the coiling darkness around his shoulders.
“Careful, High Lord,” Eris purred, a cultivated smile tilting his lips, “There’s no need to treat me like I’m the villain.”
“Then I expect you to stop playing games and answer me truthfully.”
His voice was calm—lethal—but the quiet command in it left no room for Eris to argue. He said nothing as he waited for the male to continue.
“Why are you concerned with her specifically?”
“Would it not be easier to just look into my mind?” he drawled, ignoring the pointed question.
“I’d prefer to hear it from you instead,” Rhysand said coolly, leveling a steely gaze on him.
But Eris couldn’t bring himself to say it. Hadn’t even said it out loud. So he offered the next best thing—quietly, seriously.
“I give you permission to look.”
Rhysand was surprised, but excelled at not giving away too much. Only a slight twitch of the brow conveyed his surprise. He clearly hadn’t been expecting Eris to say such a thing.
“Very well.”
Effortlessly, Eris recalled the memory of that day. As if it was a file that had been plucked out of the folder in his mind where he’d tucked it away.
His eyes meeting ones filled with such caution.
The way his chest had squeezed, as if air was being stolen from his lungs.
That strange, ancient instinct that filled him. Rushed through his blood, whispered along his bones. That lone word. Mate.
The overwhelming urges that had filled him. Ones he’d never experienced before. Ones that were so finely tuned to her.
Eris knew Rhysand saw it all. He wondered if it was similar to the High Lord being in his body for the memory or being an outside observer—possessing the ability to still feel every emotion while he saw what had happened. Eris had never been exactly sure of what it was like for a daemati to actually take in memories in others’ minds.
He wondered if Rhysand felt the anger and frustration—the resentment—that had taken root that very day. Even if it had ebbed greatly since then, it had still been very much present that day.
He was left wondering precisely that when only seconds later, Rhysand returned to the conversation, having completed his task—distant gaze clearing once more. His lips had thinned and, frankly, he looked even colder than before.
But if he looked closely…
Eris could see how shaken the High Lord of the Night Court actually was. He recognized that look from his own face sometimes.
Rhysand was furious, but he was also rattled. Eris knew that feeling well. He also suspected that Rhysand had read just how unenthusiastic he had been in the moment that the Mother had practically slammed fate right into his path.
“She’s your mate,” Rhysand rasped, almost unbelievingly.
Eris knew he was wary, and didn't trust him. Good. It was probably the smartest thing to do, after all.
“Yes,” Eris said simply.
Rhysand’s eyes were hard on him.
“You are to treat her with respect.”
“I haven’t even spoken to her,” Eris replied, dropping his folded arms, resting his palms against the front edge of the male’s desk.
It was a blatant lie. But he knew mentioning the library encounter wasn’t going to win him any favors with the High Lord. He leaned against the desk as he stared into the cold face.
“If I hear of one instance that you’ve upset her—”
Eris snarled, cutting him off mid-sentence.
“She is my mate.”
Despite him having never voiced it aloud, Eris was momentarily surprised at how easy it was for the declaration—the word—to slip out. Apparently mate instincts overpowered even the most conflicted and complicated emotions.
Rhysand’s brows only furrowed, jaw clenching.
“You don’t even know her,” he argued.
“You’re right. All I know is that she’s weak, she hides in that damn library and Beron would decimate her without blinking.”
It was Rhysand’s turn to snarl, but Eris had only been voicing the final remaining doubts that still lingered in his mind. The whispers he needed to exorcise from his mine because they were all true.
It was thoughts that had turned over repeatedly in his mind for the last month. Ones he now realized might not be fair, but were also the truth. If he were honest—despite feeling the curiosity towards her—Eris still didn’t know how he felt about her being his mate.
“You have absolutely no idea the horrors she’s faced,” Rhysand uttered lowly, venom lacing his every word.
“Then tell me,” Eris challenged.
“It’s not my place and you should know that.”
He did. He hadn’t expected Rhysand to tell him. Eris sighed.
“The reason you called me here was presumably to question me about my interest in her, was it not? To inquire what my intentions are with her?”
Rhysand said nothing, gaze not breaking from his own. Eris’s lips thinned as he contemplated his answer.
“Well, now you know the cause of my interest. She is my mate—whether I like it or not.”
Rhysand only studied him before sitting back in his chair. The tension had eased a bit, the room feeling lighter, but the promise of violence still shone in those eyes, displeasure radiating from the dark haired male.
“That attitude right there is why I do not trust you to be around her.”
Eris scoffed.
“How else am I supposed to get to know her? It’s insulting that you would think I would bring harm to her, Rhysand. I’m not that lowly of a male.”
Rhysand’s searing, serious gaze didn’t leave him, even as he reclined in his chair.
“You’re treating her like an obligation—one that’s an inconvenience to you.”
Eris straightened, shoulders stiff as his hands slid into his pants pockets.
“I will not deny that I was angry for a while. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand why her, yet I still would do anything in my power to make sure she never has to go through anything like that again.”
“You’re a fine example of that,” Rhysand snorted.
Though he knew flames likely sizzled in his eyes, his voice was a deadly calm when he responded.
“I would never harm her, Rhysand.”
Perhaps it had been the lethal quiet of his voice, the low whisper, heavy with the weight of the truth in his statement that made Rhysand straighten. The male looked at him, assessing whatever it was on his face.
Rhysand only nodded once.
“Very well. Though I advise you to not let on how much this mating bond seems to inconvenience you,” he intoned dryly, “She doesn’t deserve that at all.”
Eris’s jaw clenched, his hands fisting in his pockets as he looked away, not particularly fond of being this vulnerable.
“It’s not that I resent her or it…it’s the fact I have no idea how to be what she deserves.”
And there it was. The truth that had been buried deep—one he hadn’t wanted to face. But no matter how much he avoided it, it still sat there, heavy, in his chest.
Rhysand said nothing for a moment, studying him, likely trying to assess if he could or should trust him around her. If he should still trust him to attend the Valkyrie training.
“Then I think that’s something you should spend time figuring out, Eris.”
Eris knew he was right, but the words still chafed, still irritated him, especially in his current position where he was at a loss for what to do. It was as if he was in a stalemate between him and fate. At this rate, he was happy to let fate handle things in whatever way it saw fit.
“I have no intention of bothering her,” Eris finally said quietly, “Mate or not.”
Rhysand only nodded, dismissing him.
Eris headed to the door, knowing he’d be back in a few days time for his usual observation, regardless of the looming situation at hand. He was tied to a female that very well was not his match—who would likely reject that bond the instant she learned of it.
He was not about to let himself have any sort of hope for a situation that was doomed from the start. Whatever was meant to happen would happen.
But still, something within him stayed…unsettled.
•••
The cold faced male was staring again.
You could feel the gaze slithering along your bones. You felt like a target under such a permeating stare. You tried to not let it distract you as you readjusted your form, giving a sidelong glance to Ilana at your side as an example.
Awareness prickled your spine though, something you’d noticed the moment you’d stepped into the training ring earlier this morning. It was as if you’d sensed his presence—became aware of it—before you’d ever spotted the red-haired male. Though now, it didn’t leave your senses soaked in cold dread—similar to the cold sweat you’d been left in after nightmares you’d had for quite some time after the incident.
Even in those initial weeks when you’d battled wariness towards this stranger, you had found yourself experiencing sensations much more complicated. For instance, something seemed to stir in you the moment you’d learned of his name.
Eris.
An odd recognition had slithered through you, as though you should know it—as though, somehow, you already did. Azriel had mentioned it that first day, but you’d been too preoccupied to catch it.
Then there was the first time you’d heard Eris speak. His voice had hummed along your bones.
It had only been days after that strange moment you’d shared with him. You’d been the first to arrive on the roof that morning, somehow beating even the trio of females who’d begun overseeing yours and the other priestesses' training, while still learning from the Illyrians, themselves.
You’d busied yourself at the weapon’s rack, trying to appear busy, though it required no such amount of intense attention. Even more so considering that all the effort it took was to pick up a wooden practice sword—it wasn’t as if they were assigned to specific individuals.
You’d run your fingers over the neatly lined up swords as if focusing all your attention on which one to pick for the day. Azriel and Cassian—as per usual—had already been there, preparing for the day’s lessons.
Eris had been with them.
You could hear them speaking to the male, though you hadn’t the faintest idea what the topic of conversation was. But when he’d spoken, it was like your entire being reacted to it, a chill shooting straight down your spine.
The silken, deep cadence had come with more than a hefty amount of authority, tinted with something like arrogance—though it didn’t seem necessarily malicious. Just something that was. It came with an air that he was confident enough in the matters he spoke about, even if he had a teasing, taunting edge to his words. Something you’d quickly picked up on.
His voice had been as velvety and rich as some of the chocolate cake that was sometimes served for dessert to the residents of the library. It had left you feeling disoriented, not understanding why you’d had such a reaction.
You still had no idea what to think of him, of the strange feelings he evoked in you every time he was near. It had now been weeks, a month actually, since that strange day—when you’d been caught in his gaze, trapped like prey spotted by a predator.
You had no explanation for what had happened that day, couldn’t even begin to understand it. You’d spent days afterwards, still shaken, afraid old patterns were beginning again.
Finneas had set his sights on you from the very beginning—though back then you’d been flattered by the attention. It had been the same sort of intense attention that Eris regarded you with. Though Finneas was always flirtatious, his attention was just as intense as the amber eyes that often found you while you participated in training.
But this male felt far deadlier. Which had frightened you more—at first that is. His cold demeanor had been intimidating and the fact you could never determine what he was actually thinking made it worse. Those first few weeks had left you feeling on edge, like you had to always be on guard around him.
It wasn’t fair to him—as he was just a random male, a mere stranger to you—but you couldn’t help but be fearful that he was just another Finneas. That he was a male just like the blonde that still haunted you to some degree, even today.
Did he delight in making females suffer? Did he take his bad days out on someone else? Did he, too, only feel better about himself by making a female smaller?
You hated having such thoughts. He hadn’t approached you or given you any reason to mistrust him—besides his intimidating demeanor.
At least, that was until the library, nearly a week after that first encounter with him at training. You found your mind wandering, tuning out the different formations Nesta was calling out—loudly enough for the entire group to hear.
Even though your body followed instinctively, moving with each instruction, your mind turned to that one specific encounter—one that had left you conflicted, in more ways than one.
Despite training for more than a month now, most days left you with an aching body.
It wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been in the early days when you’d first begun, but Cassian and Azriel knew how to push you and the priestesses. Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn, too.
While they were all excellent teachers in their own right—and you were grateful for the opportunity and privilege to grow in such a way—some days you still cursed them. Especially when your body protested with every incline you had to walk to access the different levels of the library.
Most of your work in the library had been to shelve and retrieve books—not only for Clotho, but for others. Briefly, you’d had the help of Nesta Archeron, but before and after her, the task had mainly been yours.
It turned out it was something you were rather skilled at. Not exactly the shelving part—something that had started as busy work, for Clotho, to keep you active and busy during the days—but the finding part. Somehow, you’d gained the knowledge of where most books were located, whether it was the general area or even specific location. You’d realized you were rather good at remembering where certain books you’d shelved were located, even taking in the books surrounding it.
Due to your excellent memory and ability to find books with ease, you’d quickly become the individual to refer to when other priestesses were in search of specific books. Normally, one would be annoyed with such tedious work, but you’d quickly come to find you’d enjoyed it. Not only had it grounded you, it kept your days busy and gave you purpose.
Most of your days had been filled with a list of books that needed to be found and delivered to various priestesses—and when you weren’t kept preoccupied with that, you were shelving the books that had accumulated behind Clotho’s desk. Just like other priestesses finding their place in the library, that had been the way you found your own.
It had made your chest warm when Clotho had commented once—in a written note—that it did her good to see you thriving. Truth be told, it had felt good to be useful again. To have something to do.
All of that had come before the training though, so now, your body was getting twice the exercise it usually did, despite it being used to spending most of your days on your feet anyways. You were using muscles you most definitely didn’t use on a typical day in the library.
You’d grabbed a few books from Clotho’s desk that needed to be shelved on level four and left the High Priestess with a casual comment that you’d be back in a few minutes. Your mind had been turning over movements from today’s training, trying to perfect and memorize the one you were still weakest at—at least compared to the other priestesses.
Your robes swayed around your legs as you walked, your hood up—as usual. You felt the cool sensation of your invoking stone atop your brow where it always was. It wasn’t a requirement for one to wear at all times, but you had, simply out of habit. In a way, it had become a comfort to you, perhaps one you relied on a little too much. Maybe one of these days you’d be brave enough to be like some of your fellow priestesses and remove them from your head during training.
You hadn’t given yourself a chance to linger too long on the strange event that had happened only a few days ago. When the red-haired stranger who had appeared all of a sudden at training had stared you down like you knew something he hadn’t. You’d tried to brush it off, move past it and continue on with your daily life—the library, training and services.
But it was like the Mother decided to remind you of it herself, with a figurative slap to the face. When you rounded a shelf—to take a shortcut through one of the seated areas to get to your destination—you stopped short with a small gasp.
There sat a familiar figure, seated sideways in the chair, half hunched over a book.
His long red hair fell in a curtain over his fine jacket. Impeccably dressed—just like he had been in the training ring days before—the attire looked almost as out of place in the library as it had been in the practice ring. He looked like he belonged in a courtly assembly, not here.
Long slender fingers of one hand rested against the top of his pale, freckled cheekbone, his chin resting in his palm as he read whatever was in front of him. Though he was adorned in courtly finery, you saw subtle hints of strength in his body underneath those clothes. Under the waterfall of red, strong shoulders were noticeable—along with the hint of a bicep through the material of his jacket.
You were close enough to see a pattern of freckles splattered across both cheekbones, meeting across the bridge of his nose.
He was…handsome.
Even amidst your observations, dread crept upon you, forming a hollow pit in your stomach. You’d experienced something much too similar to this, once before.
Finneas, once upon a time, in those early days, had begun to appear everywhere you would be. Back then, you’d chalked it up to mere coincidence, pure fate. You hadn’t thought anything odd of it.
What you hadn’t realized was every single time had been intentional. That in reality, he’d followed you, watched you, planned to always accidentally run into you. It had been a way for him to exert control, to worm his way into your life. For when he’d set his sights on you…well, you hadn’t stood a chance. Nor had you been aware of what he was truly doing.
So to see the male—Eris—there…it sent your mind to dangerous places.
Your voice was a croaky whisper as apprehension sluiced through you in oily waves. You could feel your pulse racing and knew he could likely hear it too.
“Are you following me?”
The male pulled his gaze from the open tome in front of him, towards you—slow, lazy, unbothered. Sharp eyes, amber in color, sparked as he looked at you, finally taking you in. Nothing in them showed anything joyful. They were cold and hard—piercing on you.
“Why would I have a desire to?”
His voice sounded different than you’d heard it that first time in the training ring—which had just been earlier that morning, actually. This time, his voice wasn’t velvet smooth. It was colder—sharper—than it had been hours ago. No familiarity was in his words now. There was a lazy boredom to his tone, as if he couldn’t be bothered to even answer your question.
His mouth turned downward—whether in disgust or annoyance you couldn’t tell. You willed yourself not to stiffen at the way his eyes roamed you, like he was examining you.
He wasn’t Finneas in many different ways. For one, Finneas was never cold—at least not initially, but neither to this degree either. No, Finneas was overly charming, personal and seemed eager to pursue you. Almost as if he’d enjoyed the chase of you. While his attention has been just as intense and deadly as this male’s, the one sitting in front of you seemed to be in a league of his own.
He was a danger of a different sort—and he unsettled you.
Even with some drastic differences, you couldn’t help the memories that flashed in your mind. The coldness that would overtake Finneas’s face when fists came flying toward you—when a grip was too rough, enough to leave bruises in the shape of his hold. When he’d grip your hair too roughly, yanking your head back just to force your attention on him for the sole reason of spewing whatever vitriol he had for you that day.
You blinked, the memories vanishing into mist.
“Do you have permission to be here?” you asked, weaker than you wished you sounded.
You couldn’t help the way you quivered, standing there holding the books to your chest as if that could ground you. The past and present mixed too seamlessly and your body’s instinctual response had begun to take over.
You’d seen hard looks before, just like the one directed on you now. It was typically followed by anger, pain and fear. You willed yourself not to tense as that amber gaze pierced you—tried to remind yourself that you weren’t actually back there in your bad memories.
“Would I be here, if I did not?” he drawled, scowling.
His scowl seemed to deepen as he looked at you—most definitely annoyed. Perhaps at the interruption, but for some reason you got the feeling your entire existence seemed to inconvenience him. Even through your apprehension, irritation flared.
This was your home.
“Why are you here?” he asked abruptly, catching you off guard.
You bristled at the disdain in his tone.
“It is my home,” you voiced your previous thought.
“I mean what brought you here,” he clarified, sharply.
Indignation flared through you—at the fact that he had such gall to even question you when he didn’t even know you.
“That is absolutely none of your business.”
He just hummed, sitting back in his chair as he crossed his arms, taking you in again. This time almost with amusement.
“You’re not very good when it comes to training, are you?”
You were prickling with irritation now, almost enough to outweigh the apprehension you were still very much feeling.
But you’d never once challenged Finneas—had learned early on it was never a safe avenue. You’d done it once, early in the days after you’d started courting him. You couldn’t even remember the topic it had been about, but it hadn’t been something big. It was a mere correction of something he’d misremembered.
You’d never forget the look in his eyes when you’d corrected him, that flare of anger, as if it was the utmost terrible thing to be corrected, let alone by a female. A part of you had wondered if you and he hadn’t been in public if that wouldn’t have been the first time he struck you. But that moment came later, regardless.
You’d had no way of knowing he had been wearing you down little by little until you were too terrified to defy him. You’d quickly taught yourself to always appease him, to always avoid any conflict just to avoid that look again.
You also had no way of knowing that there had been no way to avoid the inevitable.
But here you were, defying this male that sat in front of you. If you hadn’t been experiencing such a maelstrom of emotions, you might’ve been proud of yourself.
“I was the last to join training so I’m still a tad behind the others. Do you always greet someone with an interrogation instead of proper manners?”
He just let out a dry chuckle, almost looking amused with you. That sharp edge remained though.
“So you truly never leave this place?”
His eyes bounced around the space, as if indicating the library you two were currently located. That desire to bite back, to argue, rose stronger than any fear. Deep seated instincts—ones you’d been forced to learn—made you hold your tongue. Perhaps part of it was due to the fact that you didn’t want to cause a disturbance to any of your sisters who were busy working.
“I have no desire to explain myself to you.”
He only hummed in response.
“That’s fine. Shelve your books and go,” he said, jerking his chin to the stacks, before returning to his book, “I have research to do.”
You were a mess of conflicting emotions—the instinct to shrink back, make yourself smaller, warring with the desire to shoot something biting back at him. Then there was the strange observation you’d had when you’d first happened upon him, the awareness of his attractiveness.
But you didn’t as much as glance at him as you rushed to return the books to their proper homes and scurried off, wanting to forget the entire encounter. You wanted to forget the way he left you feeling vulnerable and off balance in ways even Finneas hadn’t.
Somehow, that was even scarier than anything the long dead male had ever done to you.
“You could’ve warned me he was here,” you hissed under your breath to Clotho, the moment you’d returned to her desk.
You’d returned to grab the book cart you needed to shelve books on level two, but you also used the opportunity to express your exasperation towards the High Priestess.
A soft scratching sounded and you peered sideways as the enchanted pen of hers moved on its own accord, spelled with magic to write her thoughts. Clotho, too, had experienced such horrors. Ones that left her unable to speak or even write. This had been how she was able to communicate—something that you’d become so used to, it was just another normal part of your life.
I didn’t realize you two were acquainted. Lord Eris had some research he needed to do.
You snorted as you read.
“Lord?”
It shouldn’t have surprised you—the clothes, the air of self-importance. It fit. Cassian had mentioned something about him being from the Autumn Court and a general, if you remembered correctly.
Clotho just studied you for a long moment before the pen moved again. Your brows furrowed as you read her next message.
Someday soon, you may start asking questions that will lead you to some interesting discoveries.
“What does that mean?” you questioned.
But she didn’t answer, though you could’ve sworn something glimmered in her eyes—as if she had some sort of secret. You sighed, shaking your head, knowing Clotho was sometimes prone to being a bit mysterious.
You pulled the cart behind you as you headed off to level two, your mind full of distracting thoughts.
He wasn’t Finneas—most definitely not since his attitude was horrid—but you still grappled with separating him from your past lover. Even still, irritated and shaken, you couldn’t help but wonder something.
Why did he feel like a thought you couldn’t shake?
The sound of your name being called pulled you out of your memories. Gwyn had her hands on her hips, head titled in amusement, the coppery strands of her ponytail shifting over her shoulder as she looked at you.
“If we’re boring you that much, you could always give us fifteen push ups—and sit ups.”
“Gods, you sound just like Cassian when he pulled that shit on us for cutting up,” Emerie muttered.
“I think she’s better at it than Cassian,” Nesta called from the sidelines where she was observing a smaller group of priestesses doing a different set of exercises.
You’d been so caught up in your thoughts, you had no recollection of when they’d divided the group. You hoped at least your body had looked like it had known what it was doing, even if your mind had been elsewhere.
“Sorry,” you apologized, “Just zoned out.”
She offered you a smile with a small dip of her chin. She likely thought it was from being tired—since she had knowledge of your reoccurring nightmares. She’d been the one who’d first found you in front of one of the library’s crackling fires in the middle of the night—years ago—in the early days of your arrival to the library.
Even if you hadn’t spoken anything to her that time—or even for months afterwards—she’d sat with you, sometimes talking in soft tones, telling you that she had nightmares too. Other times she’d just sat in silence with you, never letting you feel alone. Months later she’d held you while you emptied your soul of long held grief, spilling an ocean worth of tears after the first nighttime service you’d attended.
The female had helped you in so many ways over the years, even becoming a friend to you. So it had been no surprise that she’d been the catalyst for you eventually joining training. That still didn’t mean she went easy on you when it came to training.
You gave her a reassuring smile, letting her know you were okay before your eyes drifted to the sidelines on the opposite side of the ring. There, he stood, the same place he’d been when you checked probably only ten minutes earlier.
You’d learned in full, sometime after the library run in, that the reoccurring visitor—Eris, as you’d come to know—was Eris Vanserra, the heir of the Autumn Court. More than just the General of the Autumn Court’s forces like you’d first thought. More than just a lord like Clotho had led you to believe. A future High Lord.
Ironically, the fact didn’t make you nervous or uncomfortable, even if his presence initially had. It had turned out to be quite the opposite as you found yourself even more intrigued by him. Even if he had seemed to start taking an odd interest in you. Perhaps it was out of pity as you were still clearly the less talented and experienced of all the females.
Still, despite your intrigue, every time he caught your eyes on him, you’d drop his gaze instantly. It left you baffled as to why it felt like you didn’t want him to notice you too much, while simultaneously hoping he would.
Earlier that morning when you were going through the warmup exercises, that awareness of him had heightened again. You and the others had been instructed to do sets of abdominal curls, push ups and squats so intense they had you already sweating despite the cool air of the early spring morning. In the midst of an abdominal curl, your eyes had met his. While his face had given away nothing, the look had been so charged you’d found yourself breathless from more than just the exercise.
It was now more common that along with Cassian and Azriel, Eris, too, now walked around, observing forms. Whether he yet felt comfortable enough to actually make comments or he hadn’t been given permission to yet, you hadn’t been sure. But considering part of his duties was to train Autumn Court soldiers—ones that were skilled in battle, nonetheless—you figured he was rather acquainted with proper form.
With time, you’d also learned that he’d developed an interest in the Valkyrie training pretty early on. Though it wasn’t until the priestesses had joined that he finally showed up in person.
It was something Gwyn had whispered to you one night in front of the fireplace. It was the same one the both of you usually sat in front of, late at night, long after the others had fallen asleep. Nowadays, Gwyn split her time between the library and other things, given that she no longer lived here. Despite the fact that life had grown busy for both of you, she still made an effort to come visit you.
She’d done that from the very beginning when it was finally her time to move on from the library. She’d found herself, purpose, a mate and so much more, signaling to her that she was more than ready to move on from the place she used to call home. Even still, she’d come to visit you. In fact, it was Gwyn, herself, that had gently nudged you and encouraged you to join training for weeks prior to you showing up.
She’d never pushed, never pressured you. In fact, she never offered a direct invitation—she was sneakier than that. No, Gwyn would happen to mention what was happening at the training occurring early in the mornings. It varied from silly stories to personal achievements to even what they were currently working on. You remembered the pride that had swelled when you’d heard she’d been the first to cut the ribbon and become the first Valkyrie in centuries.
It had been an effective tactic though because even if you hadn’t been ready to take that step then, you were ready now.
“He’s taken an interest in the Valkyries because he believes females are meant for more than what Autumn—what his father—has decided they’re worth.”
Something in you had shifted when she’d said that —some sort of realization that it was possible he wasn’t truly like Finneas. He couldn’t be if he had a much better opinion on females than the former male had. The knowledge that Eris posessed the desire to save his court from the likes of males akin to Finneas settled somewhere deep, even if you couldn’t have said what it meant.
Admittedly, that had eased some of your anxiety towards the male.
You’d been deeply unsettled following your run in with Eris in the library and remained wary of him for a few weeks afterwards. It had taken a lot of effort on your part to separate him from the other cruel face you’d once known.
Even if you still hadn’t been able to puzzle out why you, of all people, seemed to draw Eris’s attention so much. Or why you couldn’t shake the thought of him.
While a part of you had been fearful during that encounter in the library, what he’d said and done hadn’t fully been the cause. He hadn’t been responsible for you jumping to the worst possible conclusion—immediately assuming he was no better than your former lover.
While he was intimidating, it had been a mixture of the situation bringing up bad memories and his irritating behavior. Eris needled you in more ways than you cared to admit—and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why.
Even still you’d found yourself reacting to Eris in ways you’d repressed, shoved down—resisted—with Finneas. You hadn’t been entirely sure if that was necessarily a good or a bad thing.
It’d taken you a while to realize that the hesitancy and wariness you’d had with him seemed to be out of habit and not any actual danger. It wasn’t until well after you’d left Eris that you’d realized you actually hadn’t flinched around him. Not in the way you’d tended to with Cassian or Azriel.
You hadn’t flinched in the library that day. Nor had you that first day you’d locked gazes with him—during that strange occurrence.
And you hadn’t in any of the instances he’d appeared for training—which was quite often these days.
In fact, you’d realized, without even being aware of it, you’d become adjusted to his presence—perhaps even relaxed. Though maybe relaxed wasn’t entirely accurate. You still felt like you were on edge around him, but now, it was for an entirely different reason than it once had been.
No matter what you were doing, your eyes would betray you, sliding to his form to look at him again. You found yourself doing it even on days he wasn’t present for training, missing his presence.
“Tighter formation! You’re not a scattered flock!” Cassian called out.
He was never brash, but his tone held firm and carried, loud enough for everyone to hear.
You and the priestesses—still practicing with the wooden blades—were now being taught not as individuals but as an unit. Cassian and Azriel had wanted everyone to get a feel for working as a team before starting on the preliminary work with the steel blades.
You moved fluidly with your sisters through the drills, your own skills having improved greatly the harder you’d pushed yourself. Sweat lined your brow, sliding down your temple and dampening your robes.
“Arms higher!” Azriel commanded, “Hold the swords with pride! Real steel will weigh more than this!”
Your arms were trembling—as were your sisters’—but you’d quickly adapted to their level of determination. Numerous times had the entire group trained in relentless heat and rain so heavy you could hardly hear instructions being shouted over the downpour.
You’d come to the conclusion long ago that if they let little stand in their ways—if they wouldn’t give up—neither would you.
“Block one!” Cassian hollered.
The entire group moved as one, arms moving through the air into the correct position. Swords moved outward, perpendicular to oneself, held upward.
“Slice three!”
Swishes of the wooden blades sounded as everyone slashed downward at an angle. You remembered to lead with the hilt—a move you’d stumbled over in the past.
“Thrust one!”
You pivoted with the group and lunged forward, slamming the sword forward through the chest of an imaginary opponent.
“Block three!”
Hands were dropped as everyone switched to a one handed grip on their practice swords, left hands raising to chests, tucking in close just like the Illyrian males had taught.
“Slice two!”
In perfect harmony, practice swords sliced in a straight line upwards, following Cassian’s order.
“Block two!”
As a unit, everyone spun, pivoting on one foot. You grinned broadly to yourself as you nailed an additional move that had been giving you trouble. With the group, you lifted your sword, as if to block from another invisible blow.
“Block one, slice three, thrust two!”
Shuffling filled the training ring as parted feet—from the previous movement—came together again as the moves were performed flawlessly. At least, you thought so, from a quick glance at the females around you.
It was such an empowering moment—you and the entire group, stronger than ever before, having come so far. It made you realize how far you’d come. The air changed as even it knew the severity of this moment. As if even fate itself knew that perhaps someday, the legion being trained would be a force to be reckoned with.
“Excellent. Take a few minutes and get some water. We’ll resume in ten minutes,” Azriel said with a dip of his head.
Your chest was heaving with exertion when you came to a stand still, these rounds of drills over. You lowered the practice blade, your arms aching, despite the weeks of strength you’d built in them.
It turned out the tedious exercises—like push ups you still dreaded, for instance—actually came in handy, building much needed strength for things such as this.
You’d gotten caught up in the rush of executing each and every brutal movement—the power of doing so soaking your senses in pride and accomplishment. You’d been so preoccupied, you realized your attention had completely shifted from Eris—your eyes not having searched for him in quite some time.
When your eyes slid to where you’d last seen him, you were surprised to see he was no longer there. You couldn’t have said why that disappointed you, why you felt a strange sensation of your heart sinking.
In the controlled chaos of females moving around—some to get water, others walking off to rest on the sidelines until training resumed—you hadn’t seen the male move. The hood of your robes blocked most of your periphery anyways.
Then a silken voice brushed past your senses, coming from behind you.
“Good job.”
It was merely a murmur, still far enough away to respect your boundaries, but close enough that you knew the comment was meant just for you. By the time you’d whirled to face the male, he was already a few steps away, back to you as he walked on, clearly aiming for the two Illyrians.
You stared after the male, brows furrowed, unable to piece together how two simple words could leave you so shaken.
•••
It had been a spur of the moment decision.
After a night of twisted sheets, haunting memories and an inability to sleep, you found yourself on the roof again, back in the training ring.
You couldn’t help feeling like you were doing something wrong—breaking some sort of rule—as you crept up the stairs from the library, up to the area you’d become so accustomed to in your daily life. Perhaps most of it came from the fact it was still and absolutely silent—a stark contrast from the burst of activity you were used to seeing take place in it.
The ring was darkened, though bright white moonlight illuminated the space just enough for you to see what you were doing. In the moonlight, you were able to locate the now familiar items—even if they were cast in shadow.
You made sure to wrap your hands well before approaching the wooden punching block. You’d seen Nesta take advantage of it in the past, between training sessions, and you thought it might help you tonight.
You’d never fully drifted to sleep earlier, but in the moments you had, that familiar face—cold, hate filled eyes—filled your memories. You heard the vitriol in his tone even if you’d long forgotten most of the words that had come with it.
You’d never forgotten the intent.
Sometimes you swore the sound of his hand across your cheek still rang in your ears. It was an event that had happened so frequently that the sting of it became a part of your everyday life.
Your fist flew forward, knuckles making impact against the padded wood in an attempt to drown out the things that haunted you. Frustration and anger mounted in you with the knowledge that he still had a hold on you—even in death.
With every image that flashed through your mind—every slap, strike, shove and yank—you struck the wood harder. Every punch released some of the demons you’d been holding on to for far too long, the bad memories being expelled into energy that went into every hit.
The thud of your fist against the block was loud in the quiet space—a direct and perfect hit. You’d come a long way since Azriel had first explained the proper form for hand to hand combat.
Punch.
Finneas was dead.
Punch.
He could no longer hurt you.
Punch.
You wouldn’t let him win.
Punch.
You were no longer the same female he’d known.
You had no idea when tears had started streaming down your face—didn’t know if they were from your deep pain or were some sort of cleansing of your spirit. You were pulling your fist back for one final blow when you heard something from behind you.
“Your form has improved greatly.”
Your gasp was broken, thick from your tears. You’d assumed you were alone, had heard absolutely no one approach.
It was instinct that flared—one that was still buried deep—as panic filled your veins, your heart galloping in fear as you whirled around, tension lining your entire body.
And found yourself facing Eris Vanserra.
•••
ERIS
It had been an oversight on his part.
Both sneaking up on her and leaving the item behind that he’d come to fetch.
It was long after sunset, the sky thick with darkness, when he’d realized his mistake. The hour was late when he’d winnowed to Velaris needing to ask Rhysand for assistance in transporting him to the training ring.
In hindsight he could’ve left the item since it would’ve likely not been long before his next visit to the Night Court, but for some reason he felt the pull, the urgency to retrieve it tonight.
After all, one never knew when they’d need their sword.
It was the object that he was currently clutching in his hand. He’d brought it with him today to show Cassian and Azriel after many lengthy conversations about Autumn’s battle strategies—continuing the discussion about the possibility of teaching the females some of those things one day soon.
It was an older, traditional sword. Even if there were many things he despised about his home court currently, his sword was one thing he cherished.
While Illyrian blades—and even the swords in the training ring—were sleek and finely crafted, they weren’t the same to Eris, not as familiar to him as his beloved blade. He’d easily consider it one of his finest possessions. He had many, but the one he used most often was this one.
It was an intricately made sword, the craftsmanship impeccable. The hilt, pommel included, was a rich bronze, adorned with an ornate crossguard that flared outwards into autumnal leaves, one on each side. In the center sat a fiery glowing jewel. The rest of the blade was silver, so bright it gleamed even in the moonlight.
But the moonlight catching the blade wasn’t what held his attention—what did was the frightened female in front of him.
She had the look of a trapped animal, fear bright in the eyes under her priestess hood—something he could see from the distance he was from her.
Even halfway across the ring, he could see, could scent her fear. That wasn’t the only thing he could scent, the salty tang of tears was also very much present. He stood a few steps away from the weapons rack—where he’d set down the blade earlier in the day and had forgotten it—but he could sense her fright, hear the sound of her rapid pulse too.
Eris chided himself mentally. He’d had no idea when she’d arrived as he’d been on the other side of the training ring, too preoccupied with trying to remember where he’d set his sword to even hear her arrival. Or her at the wooden block.
It was the strangest thing too—he always prided himself on having sharp senses. One needed to be in a place as dangerous as the Autumn Court. Yet he hadn’t heard a thing.
She was frozen in fear, eyes wide, every inch of her body taut with tension. In the moonlight, he could see the wet tracks of tears shining down the length of her cheeks.
He wondered if she was half trapped between the past and reality—if whatever haunted her was far more present in this moment than he even realized.
The moment his sword hit the ground—gently, so gently, as if not to startle a wild animal—he raised his hands. He stood slowly, palms exposed, as if to prove he wasn’t a threat. He took note of how her eyes carefully followed every one of his movements.
“My apologies,” he spoke into the crisp, night air, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Her chest was still rising and falling much too fast, something he couldn’t help but notice. He could still hear her pulse racing—scent her fear—as she stared him down.
“Are you okay?”
His voice didn’t sound normal to his own ears. It hadn’t since he’d spoken just a moment ago. It didn’t carry the normal cold indifference or the snarky arrogance it usually did. It was softer—more than he thought he even knew how to be.
His eyes fell to her wrapped hands then to the wooden block behind her.
“Why were you practicing in the middle of the night?”
She was still on edge and didn’t look like she would recover anytime soon.
Guilt slammed into him. This was his fault. He had clearly triggered something so awful in her that she couldn’t even speak—or worse was too frightened to.
He wasn’t about to leave right now. He couldn’t leave—not with her in this condition. Especially since he’d been the one to startle her. The least he could do was make sure she was calm before he left her here.
This hadn’t been part of his plan for the night. He’d meant to come retrieve his sword and return to the Autumn Court. Though, he quickly realized, he had no idea how he was getting home since Rhysand had said nothing about returning for him. So, he supposed, he wasn’t in a rush to be anywhere.
“Would it be alright if I stayed? I promise not to come any closer.”
Just to make sure you’re okay, a faint part of him whispered, internally.
She eyed him warily as he lowered himself to the ground, in the same place he’d stood, slowly sitting next to the sword he’d set down earlier. Eris wasn’t sure why he did it, if truth be told. Perhaps only because it would truly be a cruel thing to do—to leave her here, frightened and alone.
All he knew was he wasn’t going anywhere until she was better.
Pairings: Eris Vanserra x OC, Lucien x Elain (mentioned)
Masterlist for Series
Warnings: Explicit language; one bed trope (not what you think though 🤭, enemies to lovers (why have I never tagged this fic with this?), slow burn (seriously the slowest one ever), secret mating bond, arranged engagement, physical abuse, Beron Vanserra being abusive (what good is he if he’s not causing angst), masturbation, mentions of oral sex and fingering,
A/N:
The Lucien/Eris scene is based on a post from October (?) that has since disappeared. It was someone asking for a one bed trope for Eris or Lucien and then there were fun comments about it saying Eris and Lucien! If this was you, I wanted to dedicate this part of my fic to you both and give you credit for the idea but I couldn’t find the original post. 😩
Dividers by @olenvasynyt
Also. Just a warning but I am an amateur writer. I haven't been blessed with the time to take writing classes (I wish I could and love that for anyone that is able to) and yep, in past posts I’ve made huge grammar mistakes (I misused fiancée and fiancé, my paragraphs are kind of choppy, meh). Anyway, I’m trying to get better but if you want perfection, you don’t have to read. I stand firmly on the idea that we should all be here for fun. :)
Those of you that do read, I love you and your kind words! 💋💋💋
I also want to thank my friends @erin-bo-berin, @vermilionskiinmorning, @ejkreader, and @tovibeornottovibe for listening to me constantly brainstorm, whine about my writing, and get delusional about the Autumn Court.
Also @erin-bo-berin for beta reading :)
Gosh, who let me start yapping? I’m going to stop and let you read now.
Eris
"How is your mother?" Helion asked, as he handed Eris one of the many books that lay scattered across the round table they were seated at. The ornate table was located on a large dais in what felt like the center of the behemoth Day Court library where Eris had spent every waking moment over the past two days.
He was still mesmerized at how the bookshelves curved with the walls. Everything in the Day Court was rounded like the sun that they seemed to worship as if it was the Mother herself. Even their statue of the goddess was unique to the court, immaculate and clasping a glowing sphere in both outstretched hands. The crown that was on top of her head had golden spikes that looked like the rays of the sun. It was completely different from the Autumnal version that was adorned in golden leaves and held a bow at her right side.
Eris had been knee deep in research for the past two days and was not sure he was any closer to a lead that would give him the answers he needed. He planned on winnowing home later in the evening hoping to avoid Beron and jump right back into his duties as if he hadn’t been away.
Home. He had never missed Autumn more than in that moment as he sat across from the Day Court High Lord who had apparently decided to accompany him for his last day in his library.
"That's not what I'm here for,” he growled at Helion as he reached for the book.
He had to restrain himself from baring his teeth. He was not in the mood for Helion’s taunts about his mother. Eris had always noticed the subtle looks he had given her over the centuries. The smirks. The mocking nod of his head when she would steal a glance his way.
When he tried to pull the book in his direction, it didn't move. He looked up into a solemn set of amber eyes.
"Seriously, how is she?" Helion asked again, his voice serious, his expression a warning.
Eris sighed. For his mother, he needed to rise above his juvenile feelings. Who was he being loyal to? The beast that had kept him from his own mate for centuries and would force him to torture her if he ever found out her identity? Besides, if Eris played nice, maybe Helion could actually be useful.
"She is doing as well as can be expected. He bothers her very little these days,” Eris told him. “It would seem,” he paused, flipping the page of the book he was looking at, “Beron has switched his focus to solely controlling my life now.”
"Ah, yes. I hear you are to marry Lady Ella Ambrose. They say she’s stunning but I’ve never had the pleasure. I’ve heard that she is most beautiful and does not seem to fit in among your court of rot. Like a flower blooming while the world around it decays.”
“How poetic you are,” Eris said, rolling his eyes.
“I assume she is the reason you are here," Helion ignored his comment and looked down at one of the books in front of him, tapping his fingers on the table.
Eris watched him. Helion was more intuitive than he had realized. When Eris didn’t answer, Helion looked up at him again.
Eris stared at him and waited. How much did he know?
"Hails from two powerful High Fae and yet, didn't develop power of her own?”
"So, we all thought. Beron claims it is dormant. I did not know such a thing was possible."
"Anything is, I suppose. I found that book in with some of the older volumes we have,” Helion said, nodding toward the book that was now in Eris’s hand. “It focuses on different hindrances of magic.”
Eris looked down at the stiffened calico covered book that seemed so out of place in its current home. The book had seen its fair share of wear and tear. It amazed him that there were so many possibilities for failure of a fae’s power. How was he ever going to figure out the problem with Ella’s?
When he opened the dusty book, the old earthy smell of a forgotten time hit him as he skimmed through the pages. He had always found comfort in reading and researching. Everything from the smell of the books to the feel of the parchment on his fingertips had always relaxed him and taken him away from the world of brutality he was born into.
Maybe he should have brought Ella after all. He had no doubt that she would have enjoyed getting away from Forest House. His mind drifted and he imagined her sitting next to him in Day Court attire. Gold. Gold would be her color here. He would have made sure she was covered in it from head to toe.
If she had accompanied him, he would have told the little minx to get to work and help him research. Her response would have been to scowl and call him a prick before leaning forward and taking a book from the pile.
He frowned and pushed thoughts of her aside again. This was how it had been going since he had arrived. He would start getting into the groove of research and then his mind would drift to the way he had wanted to kiss her whenever he had held her face when he told her he was leaving.
He scowled at his book as he tried to focus on its contents. Most of this he already knew or had already read about - self doubt, fear, exposure to the human world, having mixed lineage - all were hindrances on a High Fae’s magic but none of those would explain Ella’s predicament. Being born dull had been what Eris had always thought was the reason for her lack of power. If Beron wouldn’t have slipped up, letting the information out, Eris would have never questioned it.
He slowed when he came to a section about ancient curses and binding oaths. Faebane was Beron’s typical method for controlling those with powers he feared but whatever he had done to Ella was different. He would have had to use a curse to drain her of her magic. Or to make it go…dormant.
Ella would have been too young for a binding oath but her parents wouldn’t have been. He highly doubted Lord Ambrose would have harmed his daughter in any way after watching him dote on her for centuries but Lady Ambrose was a different story.
Eris gritted his teeth as he thought about Ella’s mother using her fire magic to burn her. He would not be surprised if she had something to do with her missing power. If Ella’s powers were a match to Eris’s, then she would have wanted to gain control of her early on.
He thought about what his own mother said about his power as a child.
“I was busy with my own youngling the same age, who was learning his powers and seemed to rival his father's power even then. There was a period of time when I wished you were born without magic, Eris.”
Had Ella shown powers that rivaled Lady Ambrose’s before she could even learn to control them?
“How is Autumn fairing with its assistance to the Spring Court?” Helion inquired. The sound of the High Lord’s voice brought Eris out of his thoughts.
“That,” he started without looking up from his book. Had the High Lord been watching him? “That is none of your business.”
“Eris, I’m trying to make polite conversation with you.”
“And I am busy,” he said nonchalantly, still refusing to look up. He heard Helion sit back in his chair.
“You seem distracted. I had heard rumors this engagement was arranged but my sources must have been wrong. This must be quite the love affair.”
“It is arranged but that does not mean I do not care about the well-being of my fiancée. I do not wish to be married to a powerless female.” His words came out pointed and angry and he internally cringed. What had Rhysand’s Inner Circle called him? A court trained bastard? He didn’t even have to try to sound like one anymore.
“Eris, can I give you some advice?” Helion’s words came out like he had flinched in response to Eris’s comment.
Eris finally looked up, raising an eyebrow at him, the closest thing he would offer as permission.
“Don’t ever call your female powerless. Even if your lady never has her magic, she’s obviously very powerful.”
“Oh, please enlighten me with your expertise on this subject,” Eris said mockingly.
“Pretty little thing probably doesn’t even realize she has the future High Lord of Autumn traveling to another court, researching a way to cure whatever it is that’s ailing her.”
Eris momentarily saw Ella sitting next to Helion. The pout on her lips as she apologized for taking what was his mate’s, when the reality was, it was rightfully hers. He thought about the lengths he’d gone through to protect her thus far and what he would continue to do for her. But she had no idea. No idea how he yearned for her. No idea that he would beg for her.
“She has no idea what she does to me,” he admitted. Why not? Who was Helion going to tell? The Night Court? They’d all see it soon enough.
Helion’s smile was wicked.
“She’s a powerful one indeed.”
Eris opened his mouth to reply when footfalls sounded from the hallway.
“Lord Helion?” his valet called from the doorway.
“Yes, Badrick?”
“Lucien Vanserra, emissary of the Night Court, is here.”
“Send him in,” he answered with authority, glancing at Eris and then back to the arched doorway.
Eris turned his attention back to the book in his hands as his younger brother prowled silently into the room like a stealthy apex predator.
Lucien hadn’t talked to Eris since he had been banished from Autumn. Usually, he wouldn’t even acknowledge him. Eris had subtly tried to reconnect multiple times but Lucien never gave him the inclination that he was ready to reconcile. After some time, Eris stopped trying and just focused on the task at hand when Lucien was around.
“Lord Helion.” Out of the corner of his eye Eris saw Lucien graciously bowing his head.
“Emissary, what can I do for you?”
“I apologize for the intrusion but I’m actually here to see Lord Eris.”
“Oh?” Helion sounded as surprised as Eris felt.
He looked up at his brother inquisitively.
“The Night Court has decided to call in a favor on your alliance with them,” Lucien told him, his posture stiff. “They have requested your assistance tracking down Bryaxis.”
“I see. And as tempting as it is to play, I am busy,” Eris said as he jerked his chin to the pile of books on the table.
“Your research isn’t going anywhere,” Helion interjected, lounging back in his oversized chair, also seemingly interested in Eris’s alliance with Rhysand and the tension between the brothers.
Eris flexed his jaw. He had minimal concentration on his current task anyway.
“Fine. As it was, you were agitating me,” he said standing.
“While you are gone, I have a couple of other contacts to discuss the matter with,” Helion said with a nod
Eris locked eyes with the High Lord.
“You will keep the details of whom you are discussing to yourself,” he snarled. Had he shared too much?
Helion chuckled and glanced at Lucien.
“Of course. I’m better at keeping secrets than you realize,” he said with a quick wink. The hidden meaning in his comment was not lost but Eris pretended it meant nothing to him.
He turned toward his brother and opened his mouth to say let’s go but realized it was not that simple anymore. He had to check in with Sloan and get a message to Ella.
His betrothed. His mate. She would be waiting for him to come home even if it was only to roll her eyes, call him a prick and walk away from him.
“My lieutenant is meeting me at noon to update me on matters back home. We will leave from there,” he explained.
“Is everything okay back home?” Lucien asked, cocking his head and looking at him curiously.
“Mother is fine,’ Eris said simply before walking out of the room. A moment later he heard his brother’s footsteps as he followed.
Eris
“Is she well?” Eris asked Sloan, trying to sound nonchalant as they stood in what Eris supposed would be the shadows of a large marble column, if there were shadows in the Day Court. He could see their reflections on the snow-white lustrous stone, one of many that made up the entrance to the High Lord’s estate.
His lieutenant looked around, always cautious, always alert. The Autumn male stuck out like a sore thumb in the Day Court dressed in his usual Autumn military attire. Eris guessed he felt like he was roasting on a spit but would never let on.
“Lucien has requested that I prolong my time away,” Eris added, as if that would prompt his answer.
Sloan nodded slowly and Eris noted the similarities between he and Lucien’s facial scars. Sloan had been lucky enough not to lose his eye to Beron.
“She’s doing well. Staying close to your shared quarters of the house. She worked with the Lady of Autumn in the gardens yesterday. They attended the Forest House temple this morning and are partaking in their midday meal together as we speak. Anna is making sure she has everything she needs and I am staying close in case there’s trouble but I’m not expecting it. Princess Ella will be fine.”
“You don’t know Ella,” Eris answered him.
“You’ll be home for the ladies-in-waiting tea?” Sloan asked. Eris nodded in response.
“That’s the only trouble I would foresee,” Sloan told him. Eris raised an eyebrow in response. “Putting a bunch of Autumn females in a room together never ends well.”
“I will be back, just not today,” Eris told him. “Will you let her know?” he asked, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.
“Sure, how much might you want me to tell her?”
“You can inform her that I am needed elsewhere and I will be gone for an extended time,” he answered, watching Lucien talk to Helion’s guards. They would be Lucien’s guards one day. “There is no need to tell her that I am leaving the Day Court.”
“Should I tell her you miss her?”
Eris’s eyes snapped to Sloan’s. There was amusement in those chestnut brown eyes that waited for his reaction. He didn’t give him one.
“No,” Eris said, his tone serious. “But you can tell her, I haven’t managed to get eaten by anything…yet.”
“You two are the weirdest mates I’ve ever met,” Sloan said, shaking his head as he handed him a small cloth-wrapped bundle.
“What’s this?” Eris asked, brushing off the comment as he accepted the small parcel.
“Brown bread. After Lucien got word to me that he was looking for you, we figured you’d be gone a bit longer than expected. Anna thought it would be a nice treat,” Sloan explained.
Eris nodded, smiling when the warm, delicious scent of fresh bread hit him.
“If I do find myself getting consumed by whatever horrors await me, will you get her out of Forest House and to safety? Will you get her to the Night Court?” he asked. The Illyrian bastards could at least keep Ella safe if he died on a mission for them.
“Yes, my lord,” Sloan bowed his head before winnowing away.
Eris frowned as he tucked the bread into his bag and stepped out from the shadows. Ella was fine and he wanted to be happy with that knowledge but part of him wished that she missed him, if only a little.
“Let’s go,” he growled at Lucien as he trudged behind him and past the guards. Eris could imagine another look of confusion on Lucien’s face before he turned and followed him.
Eris
“Cauldron boil me, we’re getting nowhere,” Lucien grumbled, suddenly appearing beside Eris in the woods.
Eris looked over at his little brother. He looked tired. His long, red, normally perfect hair was frizzy from the wind. His remaining eye was bloodshot and the corners of his mouth tilted downward.
“Let’s call it a day,” Eris suggested. They were not going to find a creature made of shadows in the dark. They had been at it for hours and hadn’t seen any signs of Bryaxis. He had started to feel like the Inner Circle was sending them on a wild goose chase.
“There’s an inn right on the other side of the Winter Court border,” Lucien suggested.
“You mean where you used to reap the benefits of being the Spring Court emissary?” Eris taunted with a knowing smirk.
“I never…” Lucien growled when realization hit. “It was one time.”
Eris shook his head and held up two fingers. He knew for a fact that his brother had taken two different females there on two different occasions.
Lucien exhaled forcefully. “Stop acting like you don’t fuck everything that walks.”
“I am not the one denying it,” Eris said with a chuckle.
“That’s not me anymore. Stop making yourself familiar with my whereabouts.”
“It is my duty as General…”
“No one cares,” Lucien said and winnowed away.
Eris rolled his eyes and winnowed. His brother’s temper had been short at best.
How had his trip to research possible problems with Ella’s magic turned into a monster finding mission with Lucien?
His younger brother hadn’t given him any more details, other than those necessary. Eris could not help but notice that Lucien was treating him just like the rest of Rhysand’s Inner Circle, even if it was for different reasons.
Regardless, Eris still was not sure how Lucien and he had been drafted to track down Bryaxis and put her back under the House of Wind. He wanted to be finished so he could return home and check in on Ella.
Ella. His thoughts drifted to her more than he cared to admit. Or would be willing to admit as he followed Lucien into the inn.
If something foolish did happen and Eris found himself getting killed, it would be because he could not get his mind off his mate. The bond burned within his chest stronger than ever, only growing worse now that she was in constant close proximity. Forced proximity.
Eris fought to keep himself from wrinkling his nose as they walked through the tavern that occupied the downstairs. Whatever meat was being cooked smelt rancid and was not something he was able to identify even after all of his years of hunting and cooking game.
Lucien and he approached the innkeeper. The female behind the bar was of medium height for a lesser faerie and had skin so white it looked frosted and blue lips. Even her white hair darkened with its length and had blue tips. Eris took a chill just looking at her.
“Good evening,” he said, mentally preparing to play courtier.
The female looked up at him, keeping her expression neutral.
“Hello,” she answered much more informally.
“We are each looking for a room for the night and a shot of whiskey,” Eris said.
“Only got one room left and it’s small,” she answered.
“We will take it,” Eris responded with an appreciative nod. There was an exasperated sigh beside him.
“Make it a double shot of whiskey, with an ale and he’s paying,” Lucien added.
Eris frowned and placed five golden coins on top of the bar.
The female looked down, picking up one of the coins and studying it. This was more gold than she would see in a week.
“Autumn Court,” she said with a pleased tone. “Vanserra gold.”
“That’s right,” Eris answered.
She smiled and turned away from them.
“Of course there is only one room,” Lucien grumbled.
Eris shrugged.
When the Winter Court female turned again, she sat down two short, heavy based glasses and poured them each two knuckle-lengths of the amber liquid. She pocketed the extra coins with a wry smile before running off to retrieve their ale.
Eris picked up his whiskey and sniffed it. It had been made from a cheap blend of grains and hadn’t been aged more than a handful of years. It would have to do as a night cap, as Eris doubted they would find anything better in the Winter Court who was better known for their iced wines and cordials.
He took a sip before he sat the glass back down, not surprised when the liquid was harsh on his throat.
Next to him, Lucien opened his mouth to say something but the innkeeper walked back and placed the cold ale down in front of them.
Eris didn’t even bother looking at her, noting the frosted steins immediately.
“Thank you,” he said.
“You’re quite welcome,” a sweet familiar voice responded.
Eris froze. Ella. How…how was his mate here?
He frowned, she wasn’t. The scent was wrong. Although Ella looked like a Spring female she smelled of Autumn vanilla, not tulips.
“Cute,” he said to the bartender. “But you’re not her. Not even close.” The more he looked at the female in front of him, the more he could see cracks in her glamour.
Ella’s hair was a richer hue of honey and her eyes were emerald green, as if she was of the Spring Court. The green eyes of the Autumn Court were often the color of sage green. The shape of her lips was off, even if he was the only one that would be able to notice.
Eris glanced at Lucien who had a confused look on his face. Sometimes he forgot that his brother’s eye prevented him from falling prey to such illusions.
“Glamour?” he asked curiously, raising the eyebrow above his mechanical eye.
“Yeah. Drink up,” Eris told him, picking up his stein and pouring some of the ice cold ale down his throat.
Lucien snorted.
“Maybe we should check the Weaver’s Cottage tomorrow,” Eris suggested, sitting his half empty ale down.
“I think that’s a horrible idea and a waste of my time,” he answered, before downing his whiskey like it was a single shot.
“Why?” Eris asked with amusement.
“Bryaxis isn’t going to waste her time there. My money is on her being Under the Mountain,” Lucien answered.
Eris picked up his stein again and took another drag of ale. He had no desire to ever return there. Ever. He was about to say as much when the innkeeper returned, the ties to her dress loosened, exposing more of Ella’s generous cleavage. Not Ella’s. His mate’s tits would have fit in his hands perfectly unlike the ones before him that were basically pouring out of her dress.
“You boys doin’ okay?” she asked huskily, leaning over the bar.
Lucien froze.
“We are fine.” Eris answered with a frown.
“You sure? There’s nothing else I can do for you?” she asked.
He snorted. “Does this little trick usually work on other males?” he asked curiously.
She smiled.
“Sometimes.”
“Well, it’s not going to work on us,” Lucien spoke up.
“Pity, I was hoping the three of us would put that last room to good use.”
“As appealing as we must be to you, you have perhaps set your standards too high. Thank you for the good service but please let us in peace to enjoy our drinks and remove the glamour, witch,” Eris told her, reaching into his pocket and pulling out five more gold coins.
She inclined her head with a frown, her features melting back into her own. The disappearance of Ella’s beauty, as fake as it was, made his heart ache for the real thing.
“As you wish,” she said, gathering the coins before turning and leaving.
“We start Under the Mountain tomorrow,” Eris said before downing the rest of his ale and standing.
Eris
Eris cursed as he walked into the room he would be sharing with Lucien for the night. The innkeeper had told them the last room she had available was small but never mentioned that there would only be one bed.
The ice witch was probably downstairs cackling at the thought as she counted the gold Eris had given her.
"For Cauldron’s fucking sake," Lucien muttered from behind him.
“She probably made the other bed disappear.” Eris could tell without turning around that his brother’s metal eye was whirling angrily.
"If it wasn't bad enough having to do a mission with you, I've never slept in a smaller bed. You should have just fucked her,” Lucien muttered.
Eris huffed a laugh.
Lucien still felt it had been unusually cruel of the Inner Circle to request the two of them do a mission together. The younger Vanserra had been fuming about it all day and even after a couple of drinks, still seemed angry.
"Well, since I know you prefer the bottom, I will take the top bunk," he said, starting to walk past.
Eris put his arm out stopping his brother in his tracks.
"I'm not sleeping on the floor,” he said simply.
"Well neither am I,” Lucien growled, baring his teeth at him.
"You are younger and used to sleeping in odd places. Do you even have a home anymore?" Eris regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Not helping.
"What? You can't handle sleeping on the floor, princess?" Lucien taunted, batting his eyelashes at him, cocking his head to the side. A piece of long, red hair fell from the tie that held his hair back.
Eris felt the muscles in his jaw feather and his ears twitch at his words. It had been a very long time since he had experienced his brother’s taunting. He had forgotten how easily Lucien got under his skin. Out of all his brothers, he acted the most like him. Eris had noted early on that his youngest brother had watched and emulated most of his behaviors. He had been fine with it until Lucien used that same snarky, sarcastic behavior against him.
Lucien chuckled with amusement at the agitation that Eris was doing a horrible job masking.
"If you think you don't like me now, I will become a completely different type of male without sleep,” Eris told him, narrowing his eyes.
"Well, then that makes two of us. We're sharing a bed. Today has been absolute hell and I'm tired."
"Mother's tits! I swear, stay on your side and don't you dare hog the blanket," he answered.
"What? Why do you need a fuckin’ blanket? You have fire magic, idiot."
"If you cannot talk like a civilized male, I am throwing you back out in the snow. What is your problem?"
"You know what my gods damn problem is," Lucien grumbled, stalking off towards the bathroom.
Eris frowned as he watched the younger male go. It would be nice for them to talk and clear the air over Jesminda but tonight probably was not the right time. He was too tired for such a heavy conversation.
However, Lucien seemed more resentful every time they were together because Eris never acknowledged the situation. For the longest time, it had been part of the mask. Let Lucien be angry and blame him for being cruel but now that it was time to make alliances, his fury stung more than ever.
Eris shook his head, sitting his canvas rucksack down, pulling the knee-length jacket that he wore from his shoulders. He hung it over the only chair in the room, before sitting on the edge of the bed.
He leaned forward and opened the outer pocket of his bag, pulling out the Autumn brown bread that Anna had sent with Sloan for him. It wouldn't be much but at least it would be better than the putrid slop being served downstairs.
He warmed the small loaf in his hand wishing he had butter.
"What is that?" Lucien asked, walking back into the small room. "Is that..."
"Yes, yes," Eris said, tearing a piece off and putting it out for his brother.
Lucien walked by him, grabbing the larger piece from his other hand.
"Sure Lucien, take all the bread. I was not hungry and I packed it for you anyway," Eris said sarcastically.
"I haven't had brown bread in ages."
"That is a pity," he acknowledged. He never considered all the little things Lucien missed out on being banished from Autumn.
"It is a damn shame!" Lucien insisted. "I tried to have one of the bakers from the Spring Court make it once and it wasn't the same. Oh gods, this is still warm. Do you have any cinnamon butter?"
"What? No, I did not pack butter in my bag.” Eris watched with amusement as Lucien popped a piece of bread in his mouth.
"Cauldron boil me! Hazel made this, didn't she?"
"Probably, Anna packed it,” Eris told him.
"Mother above, it's even better than I remember."
"You are sleeping on the floor. I am not sleeping next to you while you are at full attention over bread."
"You know what? Say what you have to say. I don't care. This is amazing," Lucien said to him.
A corner of Eris's lip tipped up. This was the happiest he had seen Lucien in over a century. He felt like he had his little brother back again, if only for a few moments.
“Gods, I miss the food,” Lucien said, licking his fingertips after he finished the bread.
“Mother’s tits! I miss you having manners. Tamlin’s beast form must have taken root in you too,” Eris told him.
Lucien narrowed his good eye.
“Our mother would be appalled,” Eris added for good measure.
"How is mother?" his brother asked, sitting up.
"She misses you. She worries about you,” Eris answered honestly. He would keep out the part where it seemed like part of their mother died inside when Lucien was banished.
"She doesn't have to worry about me. I've survived it all at this point,” he told him, pain in his eyes.
“You would be fairing better if you kept that damn mouth of yours shut,” Eris told him.
Lucien sighed, lying back down and rolling onto his side away from Eris. He muttered something into the only pillow on the bed that he had claimed.
“What was that? You know I hate when people talk under their breath,” he said with a low growl.
Lucien lifted his head. “I said, you’re right.”
Eris grinned.
“Of course I am right, acorn-head,” he said, laying down next to him, facing the opposite direction. He would not let Lucien know the lack of a pillow bothered him.
There was silence for a while but Eris could tell Lucien wasn’t sleeping.
"How is your mate?" he asked softly when he couldn’t seem to fall asleep himself.
"Elain. Eris, her name is Elain."
"Cauldron, boil me. It’s no better." He could tell by his brother's tone.
"She's fine. I don't like to talk about it."
"That is fair."
"Azriel said you're engaged."
The temptation to be pissed off at the shadowsinger was overwhelming but the official announcement had been made weeks ago. Eris would have been concerned if the Night Court hadn't received the news.
Was this the real reason they had chosen him to assist Lucien on this mission? To see what they could learn about the match?
"Yes," Eris answered.
"He didn't say to whom. Do I know her?"
"I do not know how you could have lived in Autumn for any amount of time and not known her."
"Oh gods! It's not Alette is it?" Lucien asked.
"I did not mean it like that.”
"Who then?" Lucien pressed.
Eris sighed.
"Ella." The silence that followed was deafening. "Get it out. Whatever remarks you have, let’s hear them."
"I have nothing. I never thought I’d ever say this, but Beron is making a smart match.”
"Apparently the Mother thinks so too."
"Seriously? She's your mate? She's the secret you've kept all this time?" Lucien asked.
Eris was surprised his little brother remembered what he had confided in him all those years ago. The youngling had wanted to know her identity so badly.
"Oh it gets even better. She absolutely hates me,” Eris told him. The bed shook from Lucien's silent laughter.
Eris elbowed him.
"I'm sorry but that is nothing new. Ella hated you when I was there. I have never been more disappointed that I am banished from the Autumn Court than I am right now. I would love to hear your consort destroy you," Lucien told him.
"When I told her I was leaving, she told me she hopes I get eaten by something," Eris told him.
Lucien snickered.
“One would think, having Ella Ambrose as a mate would at the very least make you useful on our mission. Although, if you still can’t control her, how do you plan on pulling this off?” Lucien chided.
“Well, this remains the same. You're still not funny.” Eris sing-songed.
Lucien sighed softly.
"At least your mate acknowledges you. I can sit next to Elain for half the day and she hardly moves," he said seriously. “I think I’d prefer to be told to go get eaten by something.”
"Elain has been through something none of us will ever understand. Be patient,” Eris encouraged. “Ella was born fae and is just not nice.”
“If I remember correctly, that was your doing. She’s always been nice to me,” Lucien said.
Eris froze. He refused to think about how he used to taunt her centuries ago. He had reduced the poor female to tears more times than he could count. It had taken centuries for her to finally start hating him and it would probably take centuries to unravel all the things he had done. No. He wasn’t going to think of that now.
Things were better before I left.
“Does it help?” Lucien asked curiously.
“Does what help?” Eris asked, blinking as he let go of the thoughts.
“Being close to her. Even though she’s not nice to you, does it help knowing you’re going to marry her? Does it make the hunger for her any less intense?”
Gods. Lucien had it bad.
Eris chuckled. “Fuck no! I swear she toys with me on purpose now. Even if she felt the bond and accepted it, I do not think I could ever get enough of her. Being close to her is…”
“Intense?”
“Yes,” Eris admitted easily. “I have never felt such a storm of emotions as the ones that female incites.”
A whiny noise came from Lucien.
“I suppose if you have survived this long, then there’s hope for me.”
“Just be patient,” Eris repeated.
His brother snorted. “I bet you’re being so patient with Ella. Poor female was probably thrown to the wolves.”
“No, as much as possible, I have kept them all away from her.”
“Good. She deserves better than the damn Autumn Court,” Lucien said.
Eris laid there and looked straight ahead at the wall. Sawyer had said the same thing. Liam might as well say it. Eris had said it to her mother. Ella deserved better. His mate deserved better than Autumn. Than him.
“Perhaps, she is what Autumn needs though. What you need. Maybe a pretty face next to the heir will inspire hope, bring change,” Lucien continued.
“If she survives Beron,” Eris said softly. He felt Lucien tense next to him and mentally kicked himself.
“I heard about Liam's friend…”
“That happened not long after we were freed from Under the Mountain. He thought Beron might have changed after the atrocities he witnessed there.”
“Liam made the same mistakes I made,” Lucien concluded.
“Essentially.”
“When will it end?”
“I am trying,” Eris said with an exasperated sigh.
He considered explaining his side of the Jesminda story then. Lucien knew about Ella now and with having his own mate, he had to understand that Eris did what he could and possibly could have brought harm to Ella in doing so. But he remained silent. There was already enough tension.
Eris smiled when he heard Lucien's soft snoring from the opposite side of the bed. His youngest brother had had a soft snore since he was a small child after Liam had broken his nose while sparring and the two of them had tried to hide it from their mother by healing it themselves. The result was his snore that their mother found adorable.
"Fuck my life. I am not getting any sleep tonight," he muttered, slipping the pillow from Lucien’s head and stuffing it under his own.
Eris was not sure how long it took to fall asleep but when he finally succumbed to it, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
He slept through the night, only waking in the morning when Lucien rolled into him, cursing and stealing the pillow back when he realized.
Ella. He wanted to get home to Ella. His conversation with Lucien only spurred on the need to see her.
They dressed quickly into fur-lined leathers and silently packed the few belongings they were carrying and left the room. Both had wanted to get the search over with and go home to their respective courts and mates.
"Lucien, about Jesminda, you know why I was not there, right?" Eris asked, as they walked outside into the cold Winter air.
"I saw your back when you dressed this morning. That's when he started dosing you with Faebane and whipping you, wasn't it?"
"It was the first time he realized he and I are not the same," Eris said with a shrug.
"I'm sorry," Lucien said finally.
"You're sorry? I am sorry. I was the only one that had a prayer at stopping him and he pulled the rug out from under me and made me absolutely useless."
"Why are you just now telling me?" Lucien asked. “You could have told me this centuries ago.”
Eris shrugged.
"Would it have made a difference? Have you ever listened to anything I've told you?” Eris asked.
Lucien gave him a sideways glance, a smirk on his lips.
“Besides, it is easier this way. Make me the monster of your story."
The smile disappeared from his face in an instant.
"Shut up or I'm using you for bait," Lucien said, pointing his dagger at him as he winnowed to their destination.
Eris snorted and followed.
Ella
“That’s an actual title? Autumn Court jeweler?” Ella asked, looking at Anna in her vanity mirror as the handmaid brushed out her hair.
Anna chuckled.
“Yes, Foss spends all of his time in Forest House, caring for the High Lord’s wealth. He creates all the jewelry the Vanserras wear,” Anna explained.
Ella thought about all of the gold jewelry the Vanserras wore on a regular basis. All the rings, cuffs, and chains Eris wore daily. The golden studs and bars he wore in his ears. The jewels that Lady Vanserra would accessorize with that would make her mother spitting mad with jealousy. Lord Beron’s golden crown of leaves that intertwined with Autmn-colored gems. The rings she and her soon to be sister-in-laws, or house sisters as she was taught the Forest House custom to call them, were given.
“There cannot possibly be that much wealth that there’s a servant just to care for it.”
“Trust me there is. And Foss is not a servant. He has been taking care of the family jewels since way before either of us were born but he’s not a servant,” Anna told her.
“I thought that taking care of the family jewels was going to be my new job,” Ella muttered bitterly.
Anna snickered. “I don’t think Foss means to keep that job from you.”
Ella rolled her eyes.
“He is excited to meet you,” Anna continued.
“Me? Why?”
“Lord Eris has asked him to design the tiara you will wear for the wedding. It’s a huge honor,” Anna explained.
“It sounds like it is his duty,” Ella said with a shrug.
“Foss has not designed any of the jewelry Lord Eris has gifted you. He turned down the engagement ring that he made and gave you one that he designed himself,” she continued.
Ella gasped silently and looked down at the ring on her left hand. Eris had designed this himself instead of taking one that was already made for her? It seemed like an odd gesture for an arranged betrothal.
“And everyone knows about your necklace.”
“What necklace?”
“Thee necklace,” Anna said.
“The topaz? What about it?” Ella asked with a raised eyebrow. “It is merely a common gemstone.”
“The entire court is whispering about how Lord Eris bought you a necklace centuries ago and you’ve held onto it all this time and it’s symbolic of your epic love story.”
“Cauldron fucking boil me!” Ella huffed. “He bought it from a village shoppe for me when we were young. Right before he became such a prick that I could no longer stand to be in his presence. It has no value. It’s just that…” Ella’s voice trailed off. She hadn’t meant to let on that the necklace meant anything to her.
Anna’s twinkling eyes met hers in the mirror again.
“Just that what?”
“I have always thought it was beautiful.”
“Oh? Is that all?” Anna’s voice became heavy with Autumn twang laced with sarcasm. She rolled her eyes with her words.
“Fine. It is the color of his eyes. He had made me feel very special that day and I will always cherish that. There! Is that the juicy detail you wanted? I still do not understand why anyone is talking about it!”
“You know how stories get passed through this court,” Anna said.
Ella opened her mouth to respond but a male voice spoke before she could.
“Faster than a bachelor can loosen his belt at a brothel.”
Ella looked up to see a male with paper-thin, pale skin and short, ghostly white hair walk into her bedchamber. He was oddly handsome but appeared aged, as if he was a middle aged human. The points of his ears were longer than most High Fae and extended out past the back of his head. He dressed in simple Autumn clothing, a suit of brown with golden embroidery on the trim and a red tie.
He walked into the room carrying a case.
“Lady Ella, may I present the Autumn Court Crown Jeweler, Foss. Foss, this is Prince Eris’s betrothed…”
“…the beauteous Lady Ella Alexandria Ambrose,” the male picked up her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it.
Ella smiled at his manners. Gentlefae was the only term she could conjure to describe him. He wasn’t High Fae nor noble and appeared to be some sort of lesser faerie but unlike any that Ella had ever encountered before.
“I am pleased to meet you,” she said, smiling politely. Instead of letting her go, he tugged on her hand, a gentle request to stand.
“Let me get a good look at you, my dear. For it is I that is blessed with the honor of meeting you. I have heard the whispers and they please me. Gods, how the females of this court writhe and gnash their teeth with envy. And look at you! You give them every right to.” His baritone voice ended the sentence with a hiss. “I could not have imagined a more perfect match for Eris Vanserra if I had the flame and the tools to design and chisel you from a polished gemstone myself!”
“You flatter me,” Ella said with a blush, even with her dressing gown, she felt naked in front of his searing gaze.
“Anna, go gather her dress for this afternoon. I would also like to see samples from the wedding dresses while I am granted access to this level of the house. And there’s also the matter of the Summer Solstice gown.”
Anna gave a curt nod and left the room. Ella wished she hadn’t. The male faerie in front of her made her feel apprehensive. How had she lived in Autumn her entire life, yet never known of, let alone seen the male in front of her?
“Now, where were we?” he asked, clasping his hands together and slowly walking a circle around her, his cornflower blue eyes assessing the entire time. Such a peculiar color for an Autumn male.
Ella watched him curiously.
“You are not here on your own free will,” he commented with a low chuckle.
“No, my betrothal to Lord Eris was arranged by Lord Beron,” Ella explained.
Foss scoffed. “Of course it was. Are not all our circumstances hand picked by the High Lord himself?” he asked, coming to stand in front of her again.
“Unfortunately,” Ella answered, clearing her throat. He looked down into her eyes and grinned, showing perfect, too-white teeth.
“Enemies to lovers, my favorite kind of romance.”
Ella snorted. “What romance books are you reading? Not the same ones as me.”
“There’s a whole section in the Autumn Court library for this type of genre.” His tone was almost condescending.
“Eris and I are not a romance novel,” she snapped. “Maybe a fuckin’ tragedy.”
Foss laughed.
“I like you. We are going to be friends. Thank the Mother that Eris did not use the ring I made. Those types of rings were okay for your house sisters but for you,” he used his index finger to tilt her head back so he could look into her eyes. “Now that we’ve met I see the vision clearly. You are not like any other creature in this house. You will be the true definition of Autumn royalty. You will be his High Lady.”
Ella chuckled nervously, her eyes averting to the ground. If Beron heard Foss talking, what would he think?
“Nuh uh, eyes up here. A High Lady would never look down.”
“I will never be a High Lady. I do not have power,” she said, meeting his brillant eyes again. “And Eris would never…”
Foss shook his head, the simple motion interrupting her train of thought enough to make her stop mid sentence. His grin was firmly in place as he turned and his eyes immediately surveyed the dress that Anna carried in.
“Hmmm, elegant,” he murmured as he took a step towards her. “For today’s look, I think the topaz will speak volumes,” he told Anna.
“I agree,” Anna said, standing next to him and assessing the dress. Both had their back to Ella.
She sighed. She had been dressed by others her entire life and had thought that the scheming and significance of the clothes and jewelry she wore would go away now that her mother had succeeded in snagging Eris. Now, it was important for the rest of the court to see she was his betrothed and to make their arrangement look like a love story.
“I borrowed these from Lady Vanserra.” Foss held up amber-colored diamond teardrop earrings. “I am told they have a budding friendship and I figured they would complete the outfit perfectly.”
It appeared that his attention was completely on Anna now.
“Everyone will want to look at the engagement ring so we will leave the rest of her fingers bare but…” he turned and walked back to Ella with appraising eyes again. “Tell me, how have you lived your entire life with only one set of ear piercings?”
Ella
Ella felt a sudden surge of panic when Eris’s father briskly entered the sitting room she had been escorted to about thirty minutes ago. She had been summoned by the High Lord of Autumn having no idea what he could possibly want from her other than the dreadful inclination that he was going to give her instructions for the tea party she was about to host. The gathering had been set up by Forest House with the expectation that she would announce her choices for her ladies-in-waiting.
Ella had reigned in her fear but Beron Vanserra entering the room immediately put her on edge.
“Lord Beron,” she said and fell into a deep curtsy. When she returned to a normal standing position, she found the High Lord looking her over, as if assessing whether or not he wanted to incinerate her in the spot.
“Lady Ella,” he said finally with barely an incline of his head. “I wanted to give you the list of ladies you will choose today.”
“List?” Ella asked. “You mean a list of ladies to choose from?”
“No. These are your choices,” he corrected, pulling the list from his pocket. “Makes it rather easy for you.”
“I…forgive me, I don’t understand. I thought my ladies-in-waiting were my decision.”
“These ladies all had fathers who loyally served me. Bringing their daughters into the royal household as companions to the Princess of Autumn is a form of payment,” Beron explained, handing her the list.
Ella’s face bunched as she looked down over it. The names of females who had been less than kind to her in the past couple of weeks, if they ever had been to begin with. Names of females who had set their own eyes on Eris, had been with Eris more intimately than she ever had.
“This isn’t fair,” she protested. It was a comment more to herself.
“Ella, I have shown you an extraordinary amount of patience by overlooking your behavior over the past couple of months. Yet you still continue to act like an ungrateful child! I thought by now Eris would have beaten it into his future consort that she must be obedient and silent. These are the ladies you will choose. Their fathers were promised these positions and I will not break my vow just because you do not think it’s fair,” Beron said, moving so his face was inches from hers. She felt like his lethal brown eyes peered into her soul, filling it with rotting despair. “I know all of this is so overwhelming for your delicate little mind but do you understand?”
Ella nodded her head quickly. There would be no arguing with him.
“Say it!” he snapped.
“I…I understand, Lord Beron,” Ella said softly.
“Good.” His smile was feline as he straightened. “That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”
“No,” she answered, wanting to cringe when he ran his fingers down her cheek. There was something inappropriate about the act of familiarity that made bile rise into Ella’s throat.
“Enjoy your afternoon, my dear. Anything you need, make Felix aware and the servants will retrieve it. No expense is too large. Remember, you are entertaining our guests and representing this family,” he said, his voice now kind as if he were a father spoiling his daughter.
Her eyes meant his again. He looked at her with a likeness as if he hadn’t just alluded to his son beating her.
“Thank you, my lord,” she told him, her voice raspy. He nodded and turned away from her.
Ella narrowed her eyes. He quite possibly was the worst male she had ever encountered. She stuck her tongue out at the back of his head. Bastard!
“Where is Eris? That gods damn…”
Ella’s eyes widened with horror when they met Beron’s in the large mirror mounted on the wall before them.
Before she could utter an apology or duck for cover, Beron was turning and the back of his hand was connecting with her face. She could feel her skin splitting where one of his rings made contact with her cheek. Another blow and she felt her left eye swelling. He hit her a third time, cracking her across the jaw, causing her to bite her tongue. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth instantly.
“If I ever see your tongue outside your mouth in such an obscene gesture again, I will have Eris cut it out,” he snarled at her.
He wasn’t lying. Although Ella hadn’t witnessed any of the Autumn Court punishments, she had heard stories and met plenty of fae who had been victim of some sort of retribution, including those who had their tongues removed.
“I’m so sorry, my lord,” Ella said pleadingly, keeping her eyes averted to the ground.
“Where is Eris? In bed with one of his whores?” Beron sneered.
“I am not sure, my lord,” she answered honestly and for a moment she worried he’d strike her again.
“What worth will you have here, if you can’t even tell me his whereabouts?” he scoffed.
“I’m sorry,” Ella said softly, bowing her head. Beron said nothing more but she could hear him muttering curses and the rustling of his clothes as he left the room.
Ella dropped to the settee beside her, her chest heaving as she burst into tears. She would never survive life here. She was going to die here. Or worse, she’d live a life never quite meeting the expectations of the Vanserras next to male that never wanted her to begin with. Her heart ached with despair and she trembled uncontrollably.
The females on the list clenched tightly in her hand had already made it clear that she didn’t belong here. Eris and Beron made it clear that she was just an instrument of pleasure and breeding. Her mother had sold her, having arranged this the moment her father stopped breathing. She had no way out of this.
She jumped when someone sat next to her on the settee, fearful to even look up. She doubted Beron had come back but that didn’t mean he hadn’t sent someone else to punish her. Had he decided to make her punishment more severe?
“Ella, my dear,” the Lady of Autumn’s frail voice said soothingly. Eris’s mother had been so silent, Ella hadn’t even heard her enter the room.
“Why is he such a monster?” she cried, her tears turning into ones of relief.
“I wish I had the answer,” the older female answered in a hushed tone.
Ella’s sobs came out in soft hiccups as she tried to gain composure. She felt like a damned fool. Eris would be disappointed when he found out. He had warned her multiple times to watch what she said and did around his father.
After some time, she heard Eris’s mother sigh as she gently began to rub her back.
Ella looked up into understanding russet eyes. The Lady of Autumn’s hand moved to her uninjured cheek, caressing her softly, comforting her. It was a completely different sensation than the one Beron had incited.
“Come daughter, let me glamour you. I know how hard this must be but everyone is waiting for us and you will only anger him further by making our guests wait.”
“I wish Eris was here.”
Even as she said the words, she felt her fear turn into anger.
Eris had told her mother that he was in charge of her care but no one seemed to know where he had gone or how long he would be away. Sloan and Anna had only told her that he had decided to prolong his time away and nothing more. Was it common for him to disappear for days with one of his flings?
Ella had not noticed any of his normal females of choice gone from the group. Bastard probably had females in other courts at his beck and call too. And to extend his time away, he must have been having a grand time in her bed. Ella was probably the last thing on his mind.
She winced as the Lady of Autumn gently touched her bruises, glamouring them in the wake of her gentle hand.
She looked at herself in the floor length mirror that was on the wall in front of them. She looked as perfectly put together as she had been before her encounter with Beron but could still feel the soreness and swelling of her skin. The bruises remained but no one would be able to see them.
“I am sorry I cannot heal you,” Eris’s mother said. “Part of the punishment will be for Eris to see you this way.”
Ella nodded once. She was fine with it. She would wear her bruises like a badge of honor, even if she was the only one that knew they were there. They would serve as a reminder that she needed to play a game to survive here.
She sighed and stood, putting a mask of indifference on her face.
“Thank you. I’m ready.”
Eris
Eris walked into the drawing room and paused. It had only been a week since he’d last seen his mate, but it had felt like an eternity. Ella stood in a circle of females who were chattering and pretending to enjoy each other’s company while drinking tea.
A table full of delicate finger foods - brie and turkey sandwiches, freshly baked cranberry scones, an assortment of chocolate truffles, and pecan tartlets - had been set up to compliment the teas and other refreshments being served.
Tea parties were an Autumn Court tradition. His mother met with her ladies regularly for tea, as Ella would be expected to do with hers. Eris had always thought it sounded like the most relaxing, wonderful afternoon to drink tea and catch up with friends.
He had been disappointed to learn that it was a less than savory experience. Strict and proper etiquette was required. His mother had always told him how important it was for a lady to carry the conversation, maintain perfect posture and stay engaged in polite small talk with other females who were potentially spies for Beron or some other untrustworthy Autumn courtier.
The tea parties were a facade of female commodore. A fake pretense that the Autumn females came together to gossip and plan social events. Really, it was just another way for Beron to learn who was loyal and who was not. In his mother’s circle, there were those who were spies for Beron and those who were spies for Eris but no one his mother could fully trust.
Since his mother’s affair, Beron’s distrust in females was excessive. He had never cared about her whereabouts enough to implement spies before. Conversely, Eris only had spies in the group to make sure his mother was safe. He would have to figure out who, in Ella’s circle, he could pin down as a spy for the same reason.
Eris bared teeth when he saw Felix lingering in the corner of the room. Beron wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was spying on Ella already.
Eris looked from the valet back to the female he was here to see. He watched her gracefully sip from her tea cup, her posture poised and elegant. He felt like his chest was being constricted, the bond having a tighter hold on him than ever before. He had never seen a more ethereal female.
Helion’s words replayed in Eris’s head. “Even if your lady never has her magic, she’s obviously very powerful.”
The beginnings of a small smile played on her face as she listened intently to the conversation around her. She was so full of grace and dignified beauty that Eris knew the Mother couldn’t have chosen a more perfect mate and consort for him. They were meant to rule Autumn together. And everyone, including himself, would kneel to his female when the time came.
Ella turned her head towards him, as if she could feel his eyes on her.
Eris smirked when he caught the glimmer of gold in her ears. Foss had finally got his hands on her and now that the Autumn Court jeweler had met Ella, his choices were far more appropriate than what his father had suggested.
Ella was adorned in gold and amber jewelry, the perfect accent to her gown. The dress had a white bodice that hugged the delicate curves of her body tightly, the flowing skirt a matching color. Both had a shimmering chiffon overlay adorned with flowers and leaves of orange, amber and brown that sparkled with Ella’s purposeful movements in the sunlight. The sleeves were off her shoulder and made from the same chiffon as the overlay.
Ella’s blond hair was half up and secured into an updo, held in place by pins embellished with the same leaves and flowers as her dress. The rest of her hair had been curled and cascaded down her back.
Foss had pierced her ears a second time and Eris found himself pleasantly surprised that she had allowed it.
Ella’s eyes flashed to him again before she turned away. Eris knew he should look away too but couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.
His mother stood beside her, and the two would lean close to each other and whisper back and forth. Ella said something and a genuine smile bloomed on his mother’s face. They were rare, those beautiful candid smiles she usually reserved for him and his brothers. Lucien had pulled them from her more than anyone with his antics. Eris supposed that was when his mother had stopped smiling so brightly, once her youngest was gone. It was like her light had been sucked out of her.
His mother leaned closer to his betrothed again and spoke. Ella giggled, placing her hand over her mouth. The sound was beautiful and Eris longed to join them, longed to joke with and tease his mate.
He glanced at the other females around the room. His brother’s wives, Briar, Shayla and Tanzy, along with some of his old flings, Alette, Gabriella, Aurora, Breena, Violetta. Eris swallowed. These were who his mate had chosen for her ladies-in-waiting?
She wouldn’t be able to trust one of them. What had she been thinking? If this was her idea of rubbing his rakish behavior in his face, this wasn’t the way to do it. Even the other Vanserra females would report everything that was said back to his brothers.
When Ella laughed again, he turned away making sure the unreadable mask was firmly on his face. There were too many distrustful eyes in the room to see him yearning for her.
“Yes, I’ve heard you are good at entertaining. Unfortunately, this will be entertaining a Vanserra in a different manner. I think we’ll keep our clothes on.”
Eris’s head whipped back towards the group at Ella’s comment.
He smirked as he watched his fiancée talk with Violetta. The female, whom Eris had been with hundreds of times over the past few centuries nodded, blushing and looking slightly taken back by the remark.
Ella might not have magic, might not be able to defend herself by yielding a sword or dagger, but she was cunning and could socially destroy anyone she wanted. He couldn’t wait to train her to play the game his way.
Before he could turn around again, Ella caught him looking at her and glared.
Ella
“Must you stare? You are making me nervous,” Ella hissed, sneaking into the smaller anteroom that was attached to the drawing room she had been entertaining in.
Eris chuckled.
“I missed you too, bunny,” he told her with a smirk, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “I see you've met Foss.” His eyes roamed over her as she made her way down the couple of steps of the recessed floor. Ella wondered if Eris was imagining where all Foss had put jewelry on her.
The golden anklet on her right ankle suddenly felt heavy.
Once you let him see that, I have other places to put gold on you that he might enjoy.
She nodded her head. “He wanted to meet me before he started work on my tiara.”
“Good.”
Ella’s eyes flicked to his and she stared as if he was pulling her into a trance. Those glowing orbs of amber always had that effect as though they were flames and her own eyes, moths unable to resist the temptation and look away.
Despite him seeming genuinely happy to see her, she kept her guard up. After all, she had fallen for this trick so many times over the centuries. Eris would lure her in with sweet words only to laugh and demean her the moment it felt sincere. Besides, he wouldn’t be happy once he knew she had managed to piss Beron off a couple of hours prior to his arrival home.
“Ella bunny, you will promise me that you will refrain from putting yourself in any type of danger until my return.”
When she had promised, she had only meant she would not go into the woods. He would be disappointed in her just the same. He might as well get used to it. She had told him before she would never be obedient like his hounds.
“Things seem to be happening fast all the sudden,” she commented without looking away.
“I would assume that my father is getting impatient and wants to move forward,” he explained, holding her gaze.
She nodded. With every day that passed, this became more and more real. Eris would be her husband and she would be his unwanted bride.
“I see you got some sun,” she commented with a smirk, noticing the reddened skin on the tips of Eris’s pointed ears and bridge of his nose. The freckles scattered across his cheeks were a darker brown.
Why did he have to be so gods damn gorgeous? His red hair was perfect as always but had been pulled back and kept at the crown of his head and not free falling, with a few pieces that had pulled free and framed his elegant face.
Ella’s heart beat wildly. Why did she feel so attracted to someone she was supposed to loathe?
“That’s really your decision?” he asked, jerking his chin toward the room, ignoring her comment. His expression hardened as he looked down at her. "You won't be able to trust one of them."
Her smile faded. She clasped her hands in front of her and took a step back from him.
“It doesn't matter. Turns out it was never my decision. There are protocols,” she explained.
He nodded his head slowly as if he had just learned the information himself. Ella supposed Eris hadn’t been privy to it beforehand. She watched as he surveyed the room, eyeing up all his past lovers.
She wondered if he thought about how he had been with all of them. One, in the very room they stood in. Ella’s hands balled into fists at her side as she remembered walking in during a party to find Eris and Violetta in a compromising position. Anger coursed through her. How often would she come across such a scene now that the Prince of Autumn was her betrothed? How often would she walk away from finding him with another, aching for his attention? Aching for his touch?
His eyes snapped to hers as if she had asked the question out loud.
“You will be thrilled to know you’ve fucked all but one. It’s going to be convenient to keep seeing them all. No one will question why my ladies are coming and going from our chambers,” she added. She felt cruel saying the words but navigating a room full of vipers would have been easier than her afternoon had been.
“Ella…”
Just the way he said her name made her traitorous body feel an overwhelming desire for him. Desire that she did not want but made her feel like she belonged to him and came from somewhere deep inside, deep inside her heart. She shoved the feeling aside the best she could even though it threatened to put her on her knees.
“Briar and Tanzy are the closest thing I will have to what a lady-in-waiting should actually be, so if you could keep your dick out of both of them, I’d appreciate it. Besides, Liam is my friend and you haven’t laid with his wife.”
“Please, I do not wish to argue so soon,” he pleaded.
She sighed. She was not jealous. No. That’s not what this is. Maybe long ago it had been but now it was just the longing to have what should be hers.
“Okay then, welcome home,” she said softly before walking toward the exit of the room.
Eris did not deserve her ire. After all, he wasn’t acting any differently than he had for centuries now. It was Beron who had irked her.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
She turned to him.
“Turns out your father decided he wants those consort lessons after all. My ladies and I are going to learn how to properly walk into a room and how to balance in stilettos,” she explained. Beron’s troll-like servant had informed her of the High Lord’s decision. Further punishment for her actions, no doubt.
Eris grimaced. “Did something happen while I was gone?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she whispered.
“It does matter, Ella. What happened?” he asked, furrowing his brows together.
“I need to go. I do not need to have my tongue cut out because I’ve disobeyed the High Lord again,” Ella said sharply, curtsying to Eris before exiting the room.
Ella
Ella unclasped her cloak as she scampered into her bedchamber. She was certain she had slipped out of Forest House and into the woods undetected. This time.
She figured Eris would have come after her if he had known her whereabouts but he had never bothered her. Nor did she run into any monsters. It had been a peaceful walk through the Autumn forest with his smoke-hounds at her side.
She knew now was probably not the best time to push her boundaries with her betrothed but after the past couple of days - her run in with Beron, spending time with the females who would be her ladies-in-waiting despite not being able to give them her trust and knowing that most of them had been with Eris, meeting the Autumn Court Jeweler who was oddly intense - Ella just needed to get away.
She felt better now, as if she could face what was coming next.
She smiled as she hummed a tune, an Autumn Court song she loved to dance to, and hung her cloak on the golden hooks mounted on the wall next to the entry of her room. She headed towards her nightstand to retrieve her book. Anna would be coming to ready her for dinner soon and she wanted it to appear as if she had been there all afternoon.
The smoke-hounds followed behind her and laid down together in front of the hearth, their usual spot. Ella smiled at them, as if they were also playing the same game she was. No one would have missed them either, since they were with her most of the time anyway but now, they were lying down in their spot as if they had been there all day.
Ella stopped dead in her tracks when she saw a package lying on her bed. She stared at the gift wrapped box suspiciously, clenching her jaw as she walked closer. She tugged the card away, frowning when she noticed Eris’s exquisitely perfect handwriting.
Ella,
I would like for you to start joining me in my study in the evenings so we may get to know each other better. Anna will escort you to the correct place after your dinner this evening.
- Eris
P.S. Please use your gift before accompanying me tonight, as I am sure you smell more like a woodland animal than a lady after your excursion in the forest this afternoon.
Ella gritted her teeth and crinkled up the paper, throwing it in the direction of Eris's room. How did he know every move she made? How?
She angrily tore open the package to find a set of bath oils. Amber and cinnamon, jasmine and vanilla, sea salt and cider, citrus and mint. Ella felt her anger dissipate as she opened each tiny bottle and inhaled the fragrances one at a time. They were all so different from what she was used to but each one contained a hint of Autumn.
"Would you like a bath drawn before supper, my lady?" Anna's voice made Ella jump for the first time in a while. She had grown accustomed to her constant presence and even welcomed it.
"Yes, please,” she answered, following her into the bathroom with the amber and cinnamon oil in her hand. "Where did Lord Eris get these? They smell delightful,” she asked as she watched Anna turn on the facet to her clawfoot tub and adjust the temperature.
"He brought them back with him from the Day Court,” Anna told her.
Ella frowned, handing the bath oil over to the servant before turning away and stripping out of her clothes.
She didn’t want to think about Eris buying her gifts in the Day Court while being there with another female. Did he do it thinking it would make Ella forget the real reason he was there? Most females probably would never question his whereabouts, just be thrilled with the gift and happily get on their knees to welcome him home, not caring that some other female had been underneath him for most of his time away. Eris probably hadn’t even done his own shopping.
When she turned again, she found Anna watching her.
"I’ve never been to the Day Court,” she said, trying to push the negative thoughts away. “I have read so much about it though.”
“Maybe next time, he will take you with him," she said to her.
“I doubt it,” Ella muttered as she stepped into the tub. “I’m sure he thinks my place is here, raising his younglings.”
Anna smiled.
"You two need to get past your differences before you go make younglings together.”
“I don’t think the High Lord of Autumn cares if Eris and I have differences or not. I was told he expects grandchildren sooner rather than later," Ella answered as she sat in the tub.
“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to be civil. Maybe start by trying not to kill each other this evening," Anna implored, pulling Ella's hair up into a messy bun on top of her head.
"I make no such promises."
Ella groaned as she settled into the steaming hot water. Her leg muscles were sore from the training that Beron was putting her and her ladies through.
It had been centuries since she had to take the classes that ladies of the Autumn Court were required to take before attending court functions. Beron had felt it necessary to repeat the classes again, no doubt punishing her further for her actions.
Ella had forgotten how grueling they were. Autumn Court infantry, sentries and guards complained about their training but they had no idea what the ladies of their court were put through. Walking back and forth in heels, standing on the edge of a platform so that they could perfect her balance, curtsying. It all sounded easy in theory but the classes were relentless.
The company she was forced to keep made it no better. All afternoon, Ella’s mind kept flashing to the vivid scene from centuries ago of Eris and Violetta. How Violetta had been moaning and playing with her exposed nipples, her dress hiked up to her waist while the Prince of Autumn used his mouth to pleasure her.
Ella remembered how she had felt in that moment perfectly. How she had longed for it to be her instead. Violetta hadn’t seen her enter nor heard her retreat but Eris had. Of course he had, his eyes meeting hers, pulling away long enough to grin at her before going back to his sinful feast.
In addition to the classes and the unsavory memories, she could still feel the bruising on her face from Beron’s assault despite being glamoured. The last two days had been horrible and Ella was not in the mood to be kind to Eris.
“Well, do it for me. I will have to clean up after any blood shed,” Anna told her before leaving the room.
Ella giggled. She rested her head back against the porcelain tub, closing her eyes and letting the amber scent take her away to somewhere else.
She allowed herself to relax, spreading her legs slightly as she imagined looking down at a certain sinister male between her legs. A familiar set of deadly amber eyes peered up at her and he gave her that same wicked grin he gave her all too often now.
She let her hand dip under the water, spreading her legs apart further as she touched herself in the same spot she wished he’d use his tongue to pleasure her at the apex of her thighs.
“Don’t forget, Lord Eris is expecting you,” Anna called from her bedroom.
Ella hummed in response, sliding a finger inside of herself, imagining his finger there instead, his mouth still on her swollen bud.
Part of her felt ridiculous. She was repulsed by the male she was being forced to marry but she couldn’t help but find him devastatingly handsome and powerful. Gods, his power turned her on.
She gasped as she lazily added another finger inside her slit, using the thought of him inside her to pleasure herself. She wasn’t in any hurry to finish, enjoying the images of him she had created in her mind. No, she’d take her time.
